#newt death

[gluednewts]

thomas loved newt so much and he was so young when he watched him die and now he has to live the rest of his life without even a picture to remember him by

[hocuspocusneedcoffeetofocus]

I‘m so sorry

[passable-talent]

hey roe, idk if you’ve done maze runner stuff before, but how abt newt x male former glader, established relationship, and they find him dead at the end of the death cure (movie or book)? I might want my heart ripped out

am I ready for this? no. and I never will be

decided to go with movie, as it’s easier, and there are gifs

gets bloody. major character death. spoilers? ig?

basically this was my personal study in human grief. enjoy having your heart ripped out! (I hope)

The streets were littered with chaos, and it was terrifying.

You’d felt terror before. You were familiar with the emotion, and had been for as long as you could remember. The glade, grievers, the scorch, cranks, you’d faced them all.

But this was worse. Sitting behind a concrete wall barely two feet high, listening to Newt struggle to breathe. It was terrifying beyond measure, to know that he was dying, and to know that the only thing that could stop it was just too far away to get to in time. But you tried not to lose hope- you just focused, focused on the mission.

Thomas has promised you that the lot of you were getting Newt out alive. You’d promised each other- you’d get him out. Newt was getting out of here alive, and there was no other way. Gally and Minho lead the way while you and Thomas supported his either side, holding him up when his own feet couldn’t. You made your way through a few blocks before Newt collapsed, and fell against a wall. You and Thomas followed him down, and there was a pause while all five of you caught your breath.

But a Berg flew overhead, and you felt there might be hope.

“That’s them,” Thomas said, “that’s them. We gotta go.” He scooped Newt’s arm over his shoulder, and you did the same, heaving him up from the floor. You wouldn’t listen when your legs told you they were tired.

“Go without me,” Newt insisted, breaking off to cough and spewing more black from his lips. You first looked at Thomas, then at Minho, not believing that they would ever leave Newt. You knew that they’d leave him just as soon as you would.

“Minho, Y/N,” Thomas said, his tone somber but serious. “You gotta run ahead, grab the serum, and get back to us as soon as you can.” Your gaze flicked to Minho, for his reaction, before you turned to Thomas.

“Y/N, go,” Thomas said, and you knew it only made sense. You and Minho were the fastest runners in the glade, back in the day. If anyone could do it, it would be one of the two of you.

“He’s right,” Gally added, “I can cover.” Gally stood, and Minho grabbed Newt’s hand, and your heart broke some more while you listened to Newt struggling to get his words out.

“Thank you,” he panted, “thank you, Minho.”

“Hey,” Minho said, leaning closer. “You just hang on. You hear me?” Minho let go, and moved aside.

You kneeled in front of Newt, and cupped his jaw. His hands came up and wrapped around your wrists, his eyes searching yours.

There were a million things to say. A million memories you wished you had the time to talk about with him, in this moment. You wanted to tell him that you needed him to stay alive. You wanted to tell him that you’d be okay if he didn’t. You wished you could give him peace, or hope, or anything.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie, not then. So you for had to make a choice.

In spite of the black he’d been forcing from his lungs, you kissed him. You didn’t know if you’d get another chance.

“Be alive when we get back,” you ordered him, and the three of you went running.

Like never before was your resolve strengthened, and you felt almost superhuman. Your stomach and throat were tight, as you held your grief at bay, because to you it felt like you’d already said goodbye. But still you hurdled over crumbled concrete barriers and dodged between crowds of people who were running the opposite direction.

Teresa’s voice cut through the chaos and your vision finally began to cloud with tears, because it felt like salt in a very, very large wound. You chose not to believe it, just for the moment, just to keep your feet moving, because to know that Thomas could’ve have saved him all this time was too much for you to bear.

You came up on the Berg, and another burst of speed brought you onto the platform.

“Brenda!!” You shouted, hand already outstretched. “Give me a serum!” By the time you reached her she had grabbed one, but instead of giving it to you, she went charging off past you. You followed, and so did Fry, and Gally. You and Minho broke through their line and went out ahead, he and you and Brenda being the fastest, and charging through the streets, through the fire and the explosives hurtling from all directions. Brenda got away from you, and you hoped that she’d make it in time.

Your feet brought you to the scene just behind her, and when she froze, you had to stop yourself from assuming the worst.

But it didn’t matter.

Newt was on the ground, a knife buried in his chest, and you, in that moment, lost everything.

Your mind. Your hope. Your strength.

Because you’d lost him.

“No!” You shouted, and on your way to him your feet finally gave out. You collapsed onto your shoulder inches from him, and crawled the final foot, pulling up your torso to let your hands frame his face. Still he looked up at the sky, but you knew there was no breath left in his lungs.

Your tears fell down your face and the taste of salt invaded your mouth, but no sound left your lips. Your grief was too much for words, for even sounds, other than the raspy inhale and exhale that was clouded by a closed throat. Your chest shook, and a tightness held your whole body as you leaned forward, resting your forehead to his.

Still, he felt warm.

You couldn’t breathe, the way your chest was tight, your stomach was tight. It was paralyzing, how deeply you were wracked with grief. You didn’t notice as Thomas walked away, but as Minho and Fry approached you leaned back, your hips falling from where they had been resting on the heels of your shoes, and you stumbled to the side, one hand catching you on the ground while you finally forced out a sound.

A brief, soft wail, to the stars above, blotted out as they were by smoke and flames.

You leaned forward again, shaking hands cupping Newt’s face again, your fingers sliding into his hair, which you had once known to be so soft. Your thumbs slid back and forth over his cheekbones, tracking through the dirt and sweat.

You leaned forward to kiss him, one final time.

“Y/N, we gotta go,” Minho said from behind you, and still you held onto Newt’s face. You felt an arm slide up and under your shoulder, and it began to pull you up.

“Wait!!” You shouted, your vision blurred but clear enough to get you back to Newt when you flailed out of their grip, legs kicking until you once again collapsed at his side. Your hands returned to his face, and you brushed his hair from his forehead, his eyes still staring up to the sky.

“Y/N-“

“Wait!” You shouted, stomach again so tight that every word came out forced, even as you threw one hand back to stop them from coming closer.

You collected yourself onto your knees, beside Newt’s chest, and looked down at the wound that had killed him.

It was Newt’s own knife. You recognized the handle, even though the blade was buried in his muscle and surrounded in still a spreading puddle of blood, soaking through his clothes. You watched your hand shake as you placed it on his chest, right into the center of the wound, your thumb and forefinger bordering the blade.

Your other hand, you took to the handle of the blade, and you pulled.

“It was Newt’s knife”, you heard yourself repeat, as you pulled the blade from his chest. You were lucky you couldn’t hear the sound, but you felt it, the way the flesh stuck and tried to hold. When you pulled it out, the reddish black liquid dripped from the metal, but you wiped it in the fold of your elbow before putting it into a sheath at your hip. Just like Newt had had.

You stood up, and stumbled backwards, still your eyes on Newt even as Minho grabbed your shoulder and yanked you away. Your eyes stayed on Minho’s feet while you ran through those same three damn blocks for the third time, still tears cutting down your face, and your stomach still fighting to curl in on itself.

The moment you stepped foot into the Berg, you collapsed, practically skidding against the front wall. You looked at your hands, as they’d been smeared in Newt’s blood, and turned the palms away from you, resting the clean knuckles against your lips. But when they pulled away, you discovered them black, and you remembered the blood you must’ve collected from his lips.

You wanted to get up and help Thomas, but Vince clapped your shoulder and told you to stay down. So you stayed, watching while they struggled to collect Thomas, watching while they tended his wounds.

You were numb, now, staring at the drying and cracking blood on your hands. Frypan kneeled in front of you halfway through the flight, and held toward you a wetted white cloth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, but you brought your hands closer to your chest. It was a stupid reaction, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to lose the only things you had of him.

“He deserved to be buried,” you whimpered, saliva stringing between your lips. You were a mess. “And not under that city.”

“Y/N,” Fry said softly, taking your hand slowly in his. “You’ve got his knife. You don’t need to keep his blood.” After a moment’s pause, you nodded and closed your eyes, letting him wipe your hands up. You let him coax your chin forward while he wiped up your face, and you spent the rest of the journey looking at your clean hands, as they held a clean knife.

You weren’t nearly the same for weeks. You kept to yourself and grieved. You didn’t do much, other than sit around a fire with Minho and Fry, and occasionally Gally. The day Thomas got up, you hugged him tightly, knowing that he would need it just as much as you did. Minho, the next morning, walked with you out to the stone, where he carved Alby’s name, then Chuck’s. He put the chisel into your hands.

“He loved you,” he said, and gave you the hammer too. “You’re always gonna have that.” You swallowed down a lump in your throat, and lifted your arms.

You made peace with it. And carved his name.

-🦌 Roe

[sakubabypowa734]

The maze runner 30 days challenge🏃

🌟Day 29: The saddest death

All gladers' death are sad, even Teresa's death gave me goosebumps. But, Newt's death devasted me... I cried everytime I watched it...

[newtmasworld]

Did you hear my heart? It's broken again

[xminewt]

[THE DEATH CURE MOVIE SPOILERS!]

Minho: How you feeling?

Newt: .. terrible. *puts his hand on minhos shoulder* it’s good to see you though.

Minho: *puts his hand over newt’s and nods*

Minho: *moves over to Thomas and Gally* how long has he been like this?

Thomas: He’ll be okay, we just got to get to Brenda. She’s got the serum.

____

Minho being worried about his boyfriend hurts my heart

[thisemopanda]

the movie screen take on page 250 ruined me and now i am dead inside and need emotional support

[gluednewts]

years after newts death thomas notices he is starting to forget tiny details of newts face. he hasnt seen him in years, maybe decades, its been so long since he died.  so he takes up drawing and spends hours on each portrait, making sure to get every detail exactly right. with every detail he draws he’s reminded of another and another and he keeps drawing newt until he can cover the walls of his room with drawings of him. he draws a tiny picture of newt and keeps it in the necklace with the letter so that he always has a picture of him close to his heart and he never forgets a detail of newts face again.