Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, BUT HAVE Y'ALL SEEN THE SCORCH TRIALS TRAILER????? THOUGHTS???

-✼-

Almost as soon as the Maze doors closed for the night, I noticed the jingling of keys and heard Thomas' door open. I sat up from where I laid on the ground and waited, expecting mine to open next, but nothing happened. I climbed on top of the chair and yelled to Alby, who was standing outside.

"Hey!" I called, causing his head to jerk toward the window I was peeking out of. "You gonna let me out or what?"

Alby waved his hand in dismissal. "You get an extra fifteen minutes in there from when you got out before."

I simply blinked at him, unable to believe what he was saying. "You can't be serious."

"C'mon, amigo, let her out already." I didn't even notice Theo until he spoke. He was beside Thomas, giving him a water bottle to drink out of. His curls were a mess and he looked worn out and sweaty from work. My pig of a brother gulped down almost the entire water bottle in two swallows.

Alby shook his head. "I'm back and I can't even make one joke," he grumbled sarcastically, taking out the key ring and coming toward my cell. "Nah, I'm kiddin', girl. You can come on out. You shanks aren't dead, are ya?"

'Shank, I might be,' I thought as my door swung open and a gust of wind flew in. I got down from the chair and hobbled out, my legs asleep from sitting for so long. I leaned on Theo for support, and he handed me the water bottle Thomas had just drunk out of. Noticing with annoyance there was only a quarter of it left for me, I glared at my brother for being so brotherish.

Speaking of Thomas, he was staring at Alby like he had just resurrected from the dead. Alby noticed. "Shuck it, boy, what you lookin' at?"

Thomas shook his head slightly. "Wha— Nothing. Just seems crazy you healed so quickly. You're fine now?"

I refrained from saying something about how I had also gone through the Changing and I had healed instantly as well. It wouldn't help the situation in the slightest.

Alby flexed his right bicep proudly. "Ain't never been better."

Theo nodded. "That's good. With both you and Dylan Stung one day after another, the Med-jacks were on pins and needles tryin' to care for you guys-"

"Wait." Alby looked confused, frightened, even. He turned to me. "You were Stung, too?"

I stomped on Theo's foot as hard as I could. "¡Mierda!" he cried, hopping on the unharmed foot and wincing with tears in his eyes. "Was I not supposed to say anything?"

Alby shook his head. "We'll discuss this later. And Theo, I lied. I feel like a piece of klunk twice crapped by a Griever."

I wondered if being Stung automatically gave you a sense of humor or something, because this was the most sarcasm I'd heard from Alby ever since I came up in the Box.

"Yeah, you looked it yesterday," Thomas said blankly. I snorted as Alby glared at him, causing Thomas to backtrack quickly. "But today you look brand-new. I swear."

"Nice save," I mouthed to Thomas.

"Shut up," he mouthed back with a roll of his eyes.

Alby leaned against the Slammer, opened his mouth to speak, then noticed Theo and I were still there. I got the feeling we weren't wanted, so I grabbed Theo — who was still grumbling in pain — and lead him out of there.

"C'mon Theo," I said as I dragged him along, the boy hobbling next to me due to his pain. "I'm starving."

"Dinner ends in, like, five minutes," Theo informed me, finally getting over the pain and standing on two feet. "You better run."

And I did. I was not going to miss that meal for anything. I sprinted to the Kitchens, pushed open the door, and skidded to a stop in front of the counter.

"Food," I said blankly. One of the Cooks named Alfie looked up, nudged Frypan, then went back to cleaning dishes.

Frypan saw me and dropped whatever he was doing. Since some people were still idling around by the tables, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Don't tell, but I got you a real feast. I knew you'd be comin' late, so it's still hot— don't worry. There are cookies in the cupboard if you want some. Help yourself."

And set before me was heaven. A plate full of roast beef and mashed potatoes with steaming greenbeans and carrots sizzled as I accepted it with wide eyes, inhaling the wonderful aroma. I quickly thanked him ten times and sat down with it, digging in as soon as I did.

Theo came in a few minutes later with a grumpy look on his face. He limped slightly more than usual. It reminded me of Newt, then I instantly felt bad for not talking to him right away. I promised myself I'd do it after I ate.

"What's with the limp, grandpa?" I questioned jokingly as Theo sat down across from me on the edge of the picnic table's bench. He glared at me sharply, eyes narrowed.

"You wanna see what's with the limp?'" He took off his shoe, then his sock, and I got scared for a moment, because hey, I was eating, and what if his foot smelled?

But it didn't, and I soon discovered why he showed me his foot. There was a red, swollen blotch near the center. It was quickly forming into a large bruise, yellowing around the edges. One of his toes was bleeding a little and I felt even more guilty at the sight.

"Aw, shoot, Theo." I frowned. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to actually hurt you."

"Sometimes I question whether or not you really have my best interests in mind," Theo mumbled as he put his sock and shoe back on. His eyes were downcast the entire time.

I remembered what Frypan had said about the cookies and went to the cupboard, quickly finding the plastic container. I opened the lid, grabbed one, and held it out to Theo. "Cookie?"

He blinked at me with a blank look on his face. "I'm allergic to gluten."

I shrugged, putting the cookie back into the container. I tucked it under my arm and kept it with me until I finished my food. "More for me."

"You know, you might want to save some for Thomas," Theo suggested after my fourth cookie. I paused, about to reach for another, then shook my head and shoved another into my mouth.

"Nah."

-/-

After dinner, I could barely navigate back to the Homestead. The sky was an inky, pitch black and there was no way I could see where I was going. I mean, the lights were on in there, but all the Gladers slept on the ground and I kept tripping over people. One time I actually fell on top of someone, my face inches from their surprised features. Oh no.

"You know, I kind of like this position," the boy said, smirking. He looked to be about thirteen, with a square jaw and rounded, wide eyes. Some kids around us sniggered at what he said.

"You know, I really like the position where my fist is in your face," I sneered, then pushed myself to my feet.

"Burn!" A high-pitched voice whooped.

"Shut up, Dave," someone shot back.

I ignored them and continued on my way to the Homestead, apologizing every time I stepped on a person (which happened way more often than it should've). Finally I made it, running inside and slamming the door shut, standing there for a moment and praising that I actually got inside without dying. I then climbed the stairs and opened the door to mine and Newt's room without knocking first.

Newt was sitting on his bed without a shirt on, and I really didn't know how to feel. First I was embarrassed, but then I wondered why because he was my boyfriend, but then what if we weren't dating? Was it even official?

"Are you gonna come in or just stand there?" Newt asked with a hint of a smile on his face. I blinked and snapped out of it, taking one step in the room until I realized something.

"Oh crap, hold on." I rushed to my dresser, grabbed night clothes and a pad, and then bolted downstairs and outside to the bathroom. I came back quickly because it was really dark and scary out there, and I always felt like someone was behind me. I sprinted up the steps and back into our room, forcefully closed the door, and leaned against it while breathing heavily.

"What was that?" Newt questioned, amused.

I regained my breath before responding. "I got scared because it was dark and I didn't want to get murdered."

Newt stared at me before bursting into a fit of laughter. A flush of embarrassment rose within me from my stomach to my face before I sat on my cot, facing him as he continued to laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said once he sobered up. I stared daggers at him. He got up, walked over to my bed, and sat down next to me. His arm went around my shoulders. "Aw, c'mon, you know I'm not serious."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "Yeah, I know. But seriously, please don't laugh. I have every right to be scared."

Newt let go of me and gave me a confused and concerned look. A crease formed between his eyebrows. "Why's that?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and wondering if I'd said the wrong thing. "Well, I mean, being the only awake girl in the Glade in two years obviously has the boys shaken up."

"Is this about those buggin' cat-calls?" he asked. "Because I thought those stopped."

I stared at the ground. "So did I. But when I was in that Slammer, boys just thought that it was suddenly okay to harass me just because I couldn't do anything about it."

"They what?" Newt's eyes filled with anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I handled it myself," I replied calmly, actually looking at him this time, watching interest replace the fury.

"What did you do?"

"I can't tell you because it may result in another day in the Slammer," I laughed nervously, suddenly wondering how badly I had hurt that boy. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

"C'mon, you can't just leave it like that!" Newt whined like a toddler.

I smirked. "Oh, but I can."

Newt raised his hands. "I beg to differ."

I said, "Oh no."

Knowing he caught me, Newt came closer and started tickling me. He brushed his fingers across my stomach, on my arms, neck, and anywhere he could reach. I thrashed, kicked, and laughed uncontrollably. At one point I actually kicked him on accident which only made me laugh harder. I was getting cramps from being unable to breathe.

"Stop!" I shouted between gasps and laughs. The pain in my stomach intensified the longer he tickled me. "Stop!"

Before I even knew what I was doing, I grabbed Newt's arms, held them in place, and used most of my body strength to try and flip us over. However, I seriously misjudged our placement and we both ended up falling onto the ground, my elbow at his throat and the rest of me pinning him down. He stared at me with wide eyes. I mirrored his expression.

"Woah," he managed to get out.

"Woah indeed," I confirmed, turning my head to the side so I wasn't breathing heavily on his face. But somehow one of his arms escaped my hold and he turned my chin, pulled me down, and kissed me. To his credit he tried to hold it for longer than just three seconds, but my lungs burned due to lack of air and I pulled away, still trying to regain my breath.

"You have" — I gasped for air - "to do that when I'm" — another gasp — "not fighting for oxygen."

He simply grinned at me. "You are so cute."

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at the fact that he just called me cute, and I smiled back at him. Rolling off of him, I laid on the ground next to him and stared at the ceiling.

Newt took my hand in his, making my heart speed up. "Does it ever bother you that I have all my memories of you, and you don't have all yours of me?"

I shrugged. I hadn't thought a lot about it, but I could tell he did, and it made me sad once I truly realized what he meant. He remembered everything about me. In a sense, he knew more about me than I knew about myself. And it wasn't very fair to him that he knew everything about me and I didn't even know his favorite color or anything.

"What's my favorite color?" I asked to test him.

"Indigo," he answered right away, "because you can't decide if you like purple or blue more. You also hate orange." He paused. "What's mine?"

I thought for a moment, coming up absolutely blank. "Um...green?"

He was quiet for a second. "You guessed."

"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly.

"That's okay." But it really wasn't, and I felt guilty. "At least you got it right."

Newt held up our entwined hands so they were in the air and our elbows were still on the ground. He rubbed his thumb back and forth gently. I felt like crying. To him, it was probably an absentminded action. But for me, that was the first time he ever held my hand.

"Yes, it does bother me," I said, not elaborating because I knew I'd break down if I did. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?" Newt asked.

"The memories," I replied. "Like ... how do you remember me?"

Newt put our hands back down. "As soon as I woke up in the Glade, a face swam in my thoughts just out of reach. It was your face. It took me a while to realize who you were and that you weren't coming here, at least for a while, if at all. At night I'd have dreams — memories, really — and sometimes I'd miss you so much I'd cry at night. And don't tell anyone this, but half the times I cried when I first got here wasn't because I was sad for myself, it was because I missed you, whoever you were."

I felt more tears prick at my eyes and that weird feeling you get in your throat when you're about to cry, so I let go of his hand. I sat up, closed my eyes, and covered my face with my hands. 

"Dyl, what's wrong?" Newt asked sympathetically as he, too, sat up and rubbed my back in comfort.

"It's not fair to you!" I exclaimed, my voice muffled by my hands. "It's not fair that you know everything and I know almost nothing. I don't want to do that to you."

"Dylan, I'm not sure I understand what you're saying," Newt said calmly as if talking to a shark that was about to attack him.

I removed my hands from my face. "How many times have we held hands?"

Newt pondered my question for a little while, then came up with nothing. "Too many times to count."

"Ask me that same question."

Newt gave me a confused look, but did as I asked anyway. "How many times have we held hands?"

"Once," I replied as another tear fell. My nose started to block and the lump in my throat grew. "We have held hands once. Don't you see? You remember things and I don't. I can't treat this relationship — if that's even what this is — the same way you do, and I never will, because I will never remember as much as you do. Never."

Newt was quiet as his face filled with understanding. "What do you remember?"

"You braiding my hair for the first time, and the time in the hallway. That's it," I responded. "And you probably have braided my hair thousands of times and that's why you're so good at it, but when you did it for me a week ago it was so special. Don't you see, Newt? Every baby step you take will be a milestone for me, and I'm not sure if one of us can keep up."

Newt hugged me to his chest, arms wrapping around me and keeping me secure. "Don't worry. I'd wait years for you to catch up if that's what it takes."

gif is dylan smiling as a reminder that yes she does have a soul

____________

hella long chapter for the hella long wait and some newlyn fluff to make up for it

do you guys realize why dylan is so upset? if not i can explain a little better. its not that she's pitying herself for not having the memories, she's pitying newt for having them when she doesnt. she feels bad bc she doesnt remember some things that might be special to him, and things that are special to her are normal for him. get it now?

ALSO THEO MY MAINNN YES

dedicated to tylergposey bc i love their comments on every chapter aww

~kristyn