Thomas Sangster/ Newt Imagines& GIFs

173. Too slow

Author's Note: Not an alternate universe, but I did change some canon stuff to make the story fit. Not like a lot of stuff, but Alby doesn't get stuck in the maze with Minho and Thomas, and Teresa hasn't arrived at the Glade yet.  

No, no, no. You thought, running desperately. You had gotten turned around in the maze (how stupid was that; you had been a runner for a year and a half and now you were going to die in the shuckin' thing), and now you didn't think you were going to make it to the doors before they shut.

__y/n__, you suck, You mentally scolded yourself. C'mon, run just a little harder and you'll make it! 

You nearly sobbed in relief as you ran around the bend, and the entrance to the Glade finally came into sight. Newt, Minho, Thomas, Alby, and all of your other friends were waiting for you, and when Thomas caught sight of you, he cheered. 

"Come on, __y/n__, you can do this!" You heard Minho say, but you felt your heart drop. The doors were already closing, fast, and even though you put all your energy into just moving your legs faster, c'mon, faster!, you knew you couldn't make it. 

You weren't that fast. You never had been. Minho always raced you back to the Glade, and every single time, he beat you. No matter how much you trained, you still weren't fast enough. 

You saw on Newt's, Minho's, Alby's, and Thomas's frowning faces that they knew it too. 

"__y/n__, you shuckin' shank, put everything you have into it!" Minho shouted, and you scowled. 

"Damn it, Min, I am!" You hollered back, and even though your feet kept pounding against the pavement, the walls were closing faster than you could run. You saw Newt move to run into the maze, but when you glared at him harshly and Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders, he stilled, even though you knew that everything in him was telling him to run forward. 

You were close enough that you could see the glistening of unshed tears in his eyes, but too far away to be able to soothe him.

"__y/n__!" Newt's desperate cry of your name was the last thing you heard before the doors to the maze slid closed, and you skidded to a halt, only two feet away from the stone wall.

You were close. So, so goddamn close. 

But it wasn't enough. 

You fell to the ground, panting harshly and struggling to breathe as hot tears slipped from your eyes. 

You were going to die. No one had ever survived a night in the maze, and you knew damn well that you wouldn't be the first. You were too slow to outrun the Grievers, and there was nowhere to hide from them.

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Newt stared at the wall in shock for a solid minute after the doors had closed and sealed __y/n__ inside.

He couldn't lose you. 

He just couldn't. 

He had already lost his memories, his life, his freedom, and too many friends to count, did they have to take away the one person he still cared about more than anything?

He needed you. Alby was the leader of the Glade, and Newt was the second in command, but you were the den mother of the Glade. You checked up on the other Gladers regularly, making sure that they all got enough food and sleep, and letting them know that they always had someone to talk to if they needed it. Everyone loved you (even Gally couldn't find it in him to say anything bad about you). 

You were smart as a tack, always coming up with new, better ways to build things (like the time you had figured out how to weave grass into a tub that was tight enough to hold water, and everyone in the Glade had been able to have a real bath for the first time in a long, long time), incredibly sweet, constantly telling stories to the younger Gladers to help them sleep, and extremely helpful, willing to assist anyone with absolutely anything (even the silly stuff, like when Frypan asked for your help in making a pie for the other Gladers, and the sensitive stuff, like the time a Glader by the name of Charles, now known throughout the glade as Charli, asked you for some of your clothes because they felt more like a girl than a boy; you gladly loaned her some and gently corrected someone anytime they referred to her as a boy).