╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

I've got you.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

TW: vision

I walk over to Frypan's, a stupid smile on my face, my hand still tingling from Newt's touch. A warm feeling envelops me, making any chance of wiping a smile off my face impossible — what the hell is wrong with me? I shake my head. Snap out of it. No matter how hard I try to forget it, I can't rid myself of the image of his eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks, a gentle blush tinting his nose and his lips curled into a small, peaceful smile.

The blades grass lick my feet as I walk towards Frypan's and cool air fills my lungs. I can feel my face redden as I look down at my pinkie, intertwined with Newt's not even a minute ago. When I look back, he's curled on his side, his arm reaching out to the side of him as though he knew I was gone. My smile brightens.

"Someone's in a good mood," Frypan says when he hands me my plate, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't happen to be anything to do with a certain blond now, would it?"

"I've got not a clue what you're talking about, Fry," I say defensively.

"Sure, Greenie. Sure."

I glare at him before turning round and making my way over to the table where Chuck, Winston and Minho are sitting. My gaze flicks to Newt's figure across the Glade, who's now awake, standing up and dusting himself off, looking around him. He's confused. I chuckle to myself before sitting down next to Chuck, who sends me a large smile.

"Hey, Chuckie," I say. "How're ya doing?"

"You're startin' to sound like us more and more every day," Chuck says, grinning at me like a loon as he bites into his toast.

"Shut up," I say, nudging him with my elbow. I'm surprised how easily they've made it for me to fit in here. It's been little over two weeks, and already I feel like I'm part of their family. Even though all they're doing is talking to me, I feel grateful for that — I've got no one else. Nobody has. We don't even know ourselves properly, never mind our families before the Glade. There's a part of me that wishes that I could know. But there's another part that tells me that I don't want to know. My gut tells me that I won't like what I find out.

"What did I tell ya?" Winston jokes. "In a week or two—"

"I'll be speaking like the rest of ya, blah, blah, blah," I cut him off, making him scowl at me and Minho giggle.

"I really sound like that, huh?"

"Only to me," I say, a smirk sneaking onto my face. "You're so boring I zone out half the time when you're talking."

"Hey!" he exclaims throwing a piece of his toast at me, which I chuck back to him without hesitation, smacking him right in the eye.

"It's rude to throw food," Minho points out, stifling a laugh when Winston sends him an incredulous look.

"It's also rude to not give Newt your hair gel," he argues. "I think he needs it this morning."

"Sleep in the grass, Newt?" Minho calls as Newt walks into Frypan's. I turn around to see him, his hair tousled and a few leaves in it and I fight the urge to laugh. He shakes his head, making the leaves fall to the ground. A laugh escapes me.

Newt's eyes meet mine, and I fall into a pool of deep brown, lost in his soft gaze. A small blush creeps onto his cheeks before he tears his eyes from mine, flipping off Minho with his middle finger. "Yeah, I did actually," Newt says blankly.

"Ya look like klunk," Alby adds as he trudges into Frypan's.

"Gee, thanks, Alby," Newt rolls his eyes. "That's mighty nice of ya."

Our table all laughs at Newt, who sends us an annoyed glances which only makes us laugh harder. I look over to see Chuck, to see him grinning ear to ear, humming excitedly to himself. I tilt my head. What on earth could he be looking forward to?

"You're excited today, Chuckie."

"It's game day."

Winston picks up on my confusion and explains, "Once every two weeks or so, we all play games all day and then go and help Fry for dinner."

"Gally runs it," Minho says.

"Gally?"

"Yeah. It was his idea, surprisingly. Ya didn't hear that from me, though."

❀

"Hide and seek time!" Minho calls, running into the huddle of Gladers and screaming. We're all gathered in the middle of the Glade in one big circle, listening to Gally's instructions. We're all pretty out of breath, we just played tag for two hours, and now we're playing hide and seek, but with a twist. Once you're found, the seeker has to tag you. If you can get away, you get to go and hide again, but if you get tagged, you are chucked in the Slammer. The first one to get tagged is it the next round, and the winner gets the 'pride of winning', which according to Clint, is very worth it. We all begged to differ.

"Are we five years old?" Gally asks, raising an eyebrow at Minho.

"Chuckie's close enough," Frypan says.

Chuck throws his arms into the air before letting them slump beside him while the Glade erupts into laughter. "Hey!"

"You're being blasphemous, Gally!" Jeff exclaims.

"You can never be too old for hide and seek," Newt agrees.

"Dibs hiding with Thea," Jeff says, almost jumping on me and using my shoulders to bounce him into the air. I push him off with a laugh.

"I don't think so," I chuckle. "Find your own spot."

The Gladers are stuck in an argument about who's going to seek, and I take the time to properly consider where on earth I could hide where no one could ever find me. The only advantage that I have over these boys is that most of them are quite burly — which means all of the small hiding spots will be open for me to fit into. There's plenty I can think of.

"Rock paper scissors to see who gets to push Newt in the Slammer?" Minho whispers in my ear.

"You're on," I say, grinning at him. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot! I smirk at him when I shoot paper and he shoots rock. Minho scowls at me. Newt raises his eyebrows at the two of us, and I shoot him an innocent glance, one that he sees through immediately.

"Who's seeking?" one boy says.

"Everyone race to the wall and back, whoever's last is seeking," Gally says.

Choruses of 'Chuck's it' ring throughout the Glade, making me giggle as he throws his arms in the air again in defence.

"I don't appreciate the slander!"

"We know, Chuckie, but it's too damn funny," Clint says, giggling as Jeff slaps him upside the head. Chuck tells me that Jeff has a massive crush on Clint, and in all honesty, I'm not all that surprised. They'd make an adorable couple.

"Chuck's seeking then?" Newt confirms, nudging Chuck with a goofy grin.

"I don't wanna seek!" he protests.

I ruffle his hair. "Rules are rules, Chuckie."

"I'm counting to thirty and you shanks betta be out of my sight," he grumbles.

In that moment, the group of Gladers disperse, sprinting in all opposite direction. A group of them sprint towards deadheads, some to the Gardens and some to Homestead. Minho and I bolt to Homestead, Minho dragging Newt behind him with a sly grin. I pick up the pace, ignoring Newt's run — almost limping. Every time he walks or runs I'm reminded of what the griever did to him. Damn griever.

"Come on, Frog-face."

"We're all hiding in the Slammer," Minho explains as we run round the corner of Homestead, and the Slammer fades into view.

Newt rolls his eyes. "That's a good hiding spot."

Minho shoves him, "Hey, the sarcasm is reserved for me, got it, sunshine?"

"Besides, maybe we could pretend that Chuck already tagged us. I don't think Chuck would look in there considering that's where all the jailed people go."

Newt shoves Minho forwards, making him stumble as we laugh at him. As we close the Slammer, Minho and I exchange a mischievous look before Minho opens up the door and gestures for Newt to get inside.

"Ladies first."

"We're gonna get caught. Hey!" Newt yells as I push him into the Slammer with a loud laugh. Minho slams the door closed and locks it hastily, sticking his tongue out at him.

"Thea, I swear to God," Newt says.

"Whoops," I grin at him, "looks like you might be it next round."

"That's cheating!"

"Gally's not looking."

Minho nudges me, shooting a wink at Newt who tries to hide his amusement. "Come on, weirdo," he says to me, pulling me to the side.

Minho and I decide to hide in the hammock area, switching between trees when Chuck comes closer. The smell of vanilla and rain fills my senses, and I realise I'm by Newt's hammock. Minho and I both giggle when we hear Newt shout. Chuckie found him first.

❀

I didn't think when I climbed up here.

It's now the second round — Newt's it. I'm hiding in a thirty foot tree, right at the top, my legs dangling over the edge of the unsteady branch. I don't dare look at the floor swirling beneath me, instead up at the wall, my gaze not straying from the vines that caught my fall last time. I don't have that luxury in this tree. There's nothing to break my fall. It's different to the maze. In there, there was the promise that the walls were sturdy and I could pretend that I wasn't over one hundred feet in the air. Even now at thirty feet — pathetic in comparison — I somehow feel even more scared than I was in the maze.

Why the bloody hell did I choose to climb a tree? A freaking tree!

I begin to shake, my hands gripping into the bark. I gasp. My nails draw blood, but not from my fingers.. from the bark. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to rid myself of the vision. But I don't just see it this time — I feel it. Hot, thick blood sinks into my skin, almost like I were dipping my hands in an ocean of blood.

I need something to focus on. Anything to focus on.

Just then, something gentle lands on my shoulder, tickling me. I jolt, my eyes flying open to see a yellow butterfly fluttering. I anchor myself to the butterfly, focusing on how the sun shines on its golden wings and it's wings brush my skin ever so slightly. It's okay. It's not real.

The butterfly never leaves my side, not even when I'm shuddering and a tear drips down my face as the blood pours down from the branches. A muffled voice calls up to me, but I block it out. I don't know how long I stay in the tree before the voice is clearer. "You can come down now, Shuck-face. I found you!"

"I think I'll stay up here," I call to Newt, not daring to look down. I know that if I do I'll probably be sick. "Nice view."

"You afraid of heights or something?" Newt laughs.

"No."

I dare myself to look down at Newt — the Glade is spinning around me dangerously fast. His face is wiped of any signs of laughter, his brows furrowed. "You are, aren't you?"

"No," I choke out.

"Why'd you climb it if you're scared?"

"Don't ask me questions I don't know the answers to!" I snap.

"Can you get down?" I look back up at the wall, my breath shaking as much as the branch beneath me. I don't answer him. "Hold on, I'm coming up," he calls, and begins to climb the tree, almost slipping a few times. I cringe. Now we're both going to be stuck up here.

"I don't need help."

Newt ignores this comment and continues to climb higher, looking back down and wincing. "This is higher than it looks." His slender body makes its way up the tree faster than I ever could. Every so often, his head snaps to me, checking that I'm okay as he scales higher and higher. My heart is racing in my chest as Newt nears the branch I'm sat on, the blood still dripping from it. The butterfly is gone.

It's gone.

Where's it gone?

Another tear slides down my face as the blood seeps up the tree trunk, obscuring Newt from view. I squeeze my eyes shut, ridding myself of the blood.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice closer. I wait until I know the tears in my eyes have subsided before I lift my gaze to his eyes, evading the blood. But as soon as his eyes lock onto mine, the blood fades away. He inches closer to me, his arm outstretched. "I'm gonna help you," he says softly.

"Reassurance at it's finest," I try to joke, but my voice is strained.

"Come towards me."

"Are you mad?" I scoff. "I don't fancy falling."

"You won't," his voice is unwavering, concrete in the faith that I'm not going to fall. He outstretches his hand to me. "You'll have my hand."

I don't move to take it.

"Just let me help, Thea," he says, his voice not unkind. "It's not like I'm asking for your hand in marriage or anything."

I stare at him, and at his outstretched hand. It seems that's all Newt does. Helps me. He's not going to let me fall. With a hesitant nod of the head, I slip my hand into his, warm spreading through me, replacing the cold, bitter feeling I was consumed in a moment ago.

"It's okay," he whispers, helping me to my feet, careful to keep his distance from me, in case the branch should give way. I almost slip as I stand, but I use Newt's hand to steady me. He inches backward, not looking away from me. The branch jolts, snapping under both of our weight, sending my stomach lurching. My breath catches and Newt grips my hand tighter. "Don't look down, just keep looking at me."

I don't take my eyes away from his. The Glade spins underneath me, swirling in all different patterns and shapes, flying around me. The only thing that doesn't spin is him. As soon as we're close to the trunk, Newt wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest without hesitation. I'm still shaking, the blood now a distant memory as Newt holds me close to him, our hands still linked. "I've got you," he murmurs into my hair. "It's okay, I've got you."

I never want to pull away.

—
Thank you for waiting for this one, guys! It's a bit longer than usual, but ya'll deserve it because I've not updated in a couple days but I promise you I'm back on track now. Thank you for all of the continued support — it means the world.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Stay safe out there.

~ sophie xx
(2563 words)