The Maze Runner: Newt Imagines

BFF To BF

(Edited)

Description:

When you could see the sun peaking through the trees from behind your eyelids, your brain told you to wake up. You sat up in your hammock, and stretched your arms lazily above your head. Looking around, you see that most of the boys were already up and moving around, slouching off to breakfast.

You had slept in a little that morning, because you didn't have to run today and you had never been more grateful for the day off. Each runner was allowed one day a week off, because there were nine runners, and only eight sections and today happened to be your lucky day.

You slipped your black boots on, and stood up off your hammock having to catch yourself on a tree before you tripped. A loud yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your arms behind your back, groaning when you feel the series of cracks and pops.

Once you were fully awake, you decided to go get some breakfast, wondering what kind of poison Fry slipped into the food today. You got to the counter to see Frypan set a tray of eggs, hash browns, and bacon down in front of you.

"Thanks Fry," you said with a smile gratefully accepting the food.

Frypan replied with, "No problem (Y/n). And just a quick heads up, your bff over there isn't in the best mood right now," he warned.

He was talking about Newt who happened to be your closest friend out of anyone in the Glade. Unfortunately, you happened to have a slight crush on the second-in-command, but you swore to yourself he would never find that out.

"I got this," you say, playfully winking at the cook.

He chuckled in response. "I'm prayin for ya, girl."

You walked over to a pouting Newt in the far corner of the room, sitting at a table all by himself. "What up buttercup," you said with a smile. One of the best parts about your friendship was that you were one of the few people who could get Newt to loosen up and drop the strict act. Clearly, that wasn't the case this morning.

He just looked up at you with a sulky expression, his cheek propped up on his fist before looking back down at his tray. "Hi (Y/n)," he grumbles, picking at his eggs with his fork.

"Hey what's up with you today," you ask curiously, your grin disappearing. It was rare that Newt was ever down like this, and you wanted to figure out why.

"Oh nothing. I'm fine." He sounded sad, but there was a sort of warning behind the words. Ignoring your gut feeling, you keep pressing for answers.

"Come on. I've known you long enough to tell when your lying," you say to him with a smile. "Just tell me what's going on. You know you can talk to me about anything. I'm just trying to help," but the reaction you got was something you had never expected.

"Well your not helping alright!" He snaps in his British accent. "If you want to help, get the bloody hell away from me! That's how you can help!" He glared darkly at you as the whole room went quiet.

Shock and hurt was clearly written across your face, your mouth hanging open slightly as you stare at him. He continued glaring daggers at you. Having lost your appetite, you stand up, knocking your chair backwards as you stride over to the trash cans, dumping your plate of untouched food. You less than gracefully toss your tray on top of the trash bin with the rest of the pile before storming out of the building.

You slammed the door to the kitchens shut as you walked out, and once you were outside, you ran to the deadheads, tears streaming down your cheeks. Newt had never talked to you like that. No matter how bad his day was, or how upset or frustrated he was, he never yelled at you.