Thomas Sangster/ Newt Imagines& GIFs

165. It's a Buggin' Girl- Part 11

A hospital. You were in a hospital. 

Or was it some sort of lab? 

Yes, that was it. You were in a lab. 

People wizzed past you, adorned in lab coats and blurred out faces. Why were their faces blurred? Your heart pounded. Head darting from side to side, you struggled to remember why you were there. 

Your throat was on fire- had you been screaming? 

Your hair was wet. 

Your fingers pruned. 

Why did it feel like you were drowning?? 

Suddenly Newt appeared from around the corner, or what you thought was Newt . He was unrecognizable- completely and utterly reversed. 

His hair, usually so disheveled, was combed back without a strand out of place. He was pale and eerily thin. Any and all remnants of his work in the fields was gone, and the person suddenly walking towards you was a shell of the boy you knew. 

“(Y/N),” He braced his hands on your shoulders, “They’re doing it tonight, love. We’ve gotta go. We’re next. We’ve gotta get out.” 

There was a wild look in his eye- an unsettling mix of fear and paranoia. His gaze darted around the room, glancing over the blurry faced lab technicians. It was as if he couldn’t see them. 

You tried to speak, to move, and found you couldn’t. A pang of terror spread through your chest at the sudden realization that you were in danger. Both you and Newt were in grave, grave danger. 

“(Y/N)!(Y/N)!!” A distant voice called out to you with an accent so unmistakable that it had to belong to Newt. Turning your head, you looked at the terrified boy standing in front of you. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You jolted awake. 

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), are you okay, love?” 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, to make sense of your surroundings. When they finally did, you saw Newt standing in front of you. Locking eyes with him, you recalled the nightmare you were trapped in before. Had it meant anything? No. No, it was just a dream. 

Wiping a hand across your brow, you found a thin layer of salt covered it. In fact, your entire body was drenched in sweat. Chest still heaving up and down, you desperately tried to calm yourself down. What kind of a fool gets so worked up over a dream? 

“I-I… I’m fine.” You brushed Newt off and sat up from the hammock- he couldn’t know the truth. He couldn’t know about your sneaking suspicion that you’d known him from before. Before you’d ever laid eyes on him in the Glade, he’d meant something to you. Somehow, he’d been special. 

“No, (Y/N), you’re not fine.” Newt followed you in your desperate attempt to flee the situation, “You were screaming in your sleep, love.” 

“Just, uh, just a bad dream. That’s all.” 

The sun hadn’t risen over the Maze’s doors just yet, and the Glade seemed to be blanketed in a sense of calm. You channeled it. Sucking cool air into your lungs, you forced your breathing to slow. Figure out what the dream means first, and then tell Newt. Figure out who you are first. Then you’ll tell him. You’ll tell him everything. 

The sense of panic you’d woken up to had faded away, and all that remained was Newt. Your rock. 

His voice was soft as he spoke, “You were having a memory…. weren’t you?” 

How the hell did he know? 

“What? I-that’s not possible. I can’t remember anything, Newt. I don’t even know my last name.” 

“That’s a buggin’ lie and you know it.” He shrugged, “You were experiencing a memory- happens to all of us. Usually they’re so vague nobody can make sense of ‘em. But from the way you’re shaking, I have a feeling yours was clearer. I also think I know what it was about.” 

“What do you mean you know what it was about?” You whispered into the cool night air, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. 

He stilled, eyes shifting downward, “I….(Y/N), there’s something I have to tell you.” 

You nodded for him to continue. 

“I…..I think I knew you before. Before any of this shit happened….I think I was in love with you.” 

Your jaw must have visibly dropped to the floor. 

When you didn’t respond, he inched closer and put a gentle hand to your cheek. His touch was soft, cautious, as his thumb moved in slow circles just above your jaw. Looking into his eyes, Newt truly did feel like home. Or some version of it. He was the eye of the storm- your one safe place in the midst of all this chaos. It was him. He was it. 

“Before you came to the Glade I think I was having dreams about you, (Y/N). Memories. In all my time here, I’d never had dreams like that before. The faces, they were usually blurred out. But yours was crystal clear. Every time.”

“I-I….” You were stunned to tears, and, in a moment of weakness, you decided to trust this boy. You would trust him with your secrets. With your life. With anything and everything you were. 

You would trust him. 

“My dream was about you, Newt. We were in a laboratory and you were screaming that we had to get out. That they were going to get us and we had to leave that night.” You slowly cupped your hands in his, “I don’t know what any of it means and it’s terrifying. And I’m scared you’ll figure out who I am before I do and I’m scared you’ll hate me for it. Because I-I think I’m the reason we’re trapped here. And, Newt…..when I look at you I feel like I’m dying.” 

His head cocked to the side, “Dying?” 

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. You suck the air out of me, you make my heart beat, and I have no idea what to do about it.” You were babbling now, desperately trying to make him understand every dark and twisted thought you’d had in the past couple of weeks. Desperately trying to explain the startling realization that you loved him so much it hurt. It physically hurt. 

Instead of responding, he took your hand and kissed it softly. Once. Twice. Pulling you closer he started kissing the tears from your face. One by one until he moved down to your jaw, where WCKD was stamped in ugly, black letters. He was so heartbreakingly gentle, trying so devastatingly hard to mend your broken bits, your chest stopped heaving and your eyes eventually dried. 

“Look at me.” He said, voice commanding in a way it so rarely was, “Don’t ever apologize for the person you were before. Ever. None of that is your fault. We’ve had this conversation before, love, and I still mean every word: none of that matters now.” 

You nodded and he continued, “We’ll tell Alby about the dreams when he wakes up- okay?” 

“Okay.”