Notes:
So spoiler alert to the end of the Death Cure. While I have read the books, this is for the movie. I do not own this movie or the books. Enjoy.
His feet were pounding the ground; when he arrived at the combat helicopter he hasn't been wearing shoes, somehow Gally gave him a pair. After quickly putting them all and tying them as tight as he could, they were a little large, but it would do. He looked to see that Branda has already left, sprinting off in the direction that they had come from.
He saw Fry and Gally running after Brenda yelling with Jorge not far behind them. He was breathing heavy and sweating more than he thought possible. Everything hurt, his lungs, eyes, head and his body. But none of that matter. Newt needed him and damn if he wouldn't be there for him.
So, before he even stopped to see if the other were all right, he sprinted once again back towards Newt.
He wasn't sure where he was going, everything started to blend, he barely even heard the chaos around him. In the distant, there was the sound of screams and gunshots and some sirens. Buildings were on fire, and it was to see and breath with the smoke, bodies were thrown about on the street. He kept running closing the gap between him and the others.
They make a sharp turn right, and he sees Newt and Thomas standing in a plaza. Minho saw Newt standing up and moving better than before he left him, he wanted to smile. 'We made it.'
After seeing Newt, he somehow was able to move even faster; it wasn't until he got closer, he saw them better.
The darkness and smoke clouded his vision, but he could still see Newt now. The blackness coming from his mouth and was running down his chin and the black veins consuming his face. He saw Newt had a knife in one of his hands and made a lunge for Thomas.
At that moment, everything slowed down. He felt as if he was moving in molasses, that no matter how hard he tried he was not fast enough.
It happened in an instant; one-second Newt was lunging at Thomas the next second it looked like they were hugging. When Thomas pulled back, Minho saw the worst sight he had ever seen; the knife was sticking out of Newts chest. Thomas looked at Newt and the blade and then grab Newt as he started to fall. 'No. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.'
People were talking, saying something, but all Minho could do was look at his friend. Newt wasn't moving.
Thomas reaches for the gun near him. More people are talking. Thomas runs off.
Minho finally is within a foot of Newts lifeless body. The knife is sticking out of his chest, there some blood around the wound that got onto his shirt. His eyes were open, mouth and teeth cover in that black spit, he had dirt and sweat on his face.
He wasn't moving.
Minho felt to the ground beside him; he doesn't know when he started crying or shaking. 'No. We were right here. We were right here.' Those words played on repeat. He notices that Frypan is on the other side of Newt, he is crying as well.
Minho with his hands still shaking grabs the knife and pulls it out. He wanted to throw up, its covered in his best friend's blood. He doesn't throw up though; he couldn't remember the last time he ate. He sets the knife down beside him. His eyes were finally tearing away from the fatal wound that still was bleeding.
He looks at his face. He hadn't been able to look at his face in the last few months really. He looks so young, younger than he remembered him being. He looks into Newt's eyes; he remembers how many times in the Maze, he had looked into those eyes, had seen them when Newt was laughing, crying and angry. But never like this, he couldn't look away.
It wasn't until Jorge bent down over Newt's body and said something, Minho still couldn't hear anything. But Jorge reached over and closed his eyes. Now Newt looked as if he was sleeping.
We need to leave. We have to find Thomas." Jorge said as calmly as possible to the two teens who were mourning the death of their friend. He repeated as Minho kept mumbling the word "No." Over and over again.
Fry stood up, trying to wipe off away the continual flow of tears. He made his way towards Minho.
"I am not leaving him." Minho finally said. Taking the sleeve of his shirt and genteelly wiped some of the blackness and dirt off him. His hair was still wet from earlier.
"Minho. There is nothing we can do for him." It was Vincent who spoke up this time.
Minho turned to Vincent, looking to see that both Gally and Brenda were crying as well. He couldn't tell if Brenda was crying because of Thomas or Newt.
"I AM NOT LEAVING HIM ON THE STREET!" Minho screamed, voice cracking and hoarse as he tries to breathe. He was still shaking and crying.
"There is nothing we can do," Vincent repeated in a calm voice.
"We can at least bury him," Minho whispered as he looked down at his friend again.
Vincent looked like he wanted to protest. However, he instead nodded. "You are right."
Gally took a step forward, "I saw something we can wrap him in just a way back." His voice cracked when he said 'him.' He started to jog back from where they came.
Jorge went back beside Minho who was still beside Newt and the knife. "I am going to see if he had anything on him." Then he went to check Newts pockets. He pulled out a red scarf that Newt had taken during their time in the Scorch. He had nothing else on him that wasn't a weapon.
He gave Minho the scarf, Minho noticed the bit of dried blood that was on it. He squeezed eyes shut tightly.
Gally came back with what looked like a tarp or a sheet and a roll of tape. "There was a construction site back there," he explained.
Jorge nodded at him, and both Jorge and Vincent took it and laid it out.
"Minho. We need to take Newt now."
Minho hadn't even realized that he had been holding onto his hand. He let it go and nodded. He finally stood and took a step back. Fry was right beside him, Gally on his left.
They all three watched as Newt was carefully picked up and then placed in the trap. They wrapped him quickly and taped him up as well.
Minho thought about how much he had seen this before. In the Glades whenever a boy died, either Ably, Newt or Minho did this. Normally it was all three, with one of them digging a hole. Never did he think that Newt would be the one in the tarp.
Once they were done, both Vincent and Jorge looked at the other five teens. Brenda had yet to speak. "We need to go." The two men grabbed Newt's body.
Minho was thankful they were carrying him. Even though Newt didn't ever weigh that much, and he had carried him before. He knows that he would never be able to carry him.
"Thank you." He chokes out as they make their way back.
The view is lovely. The ocean is nice and relaxing, waves crashing every few seconds. It is so peaceful. Minho made the cross from driftwood; it was the best he could do.
Jorge had dug the grave. Deep enough so the tide wouldn't be a problem. Vincent and Gally had found some additional plywood to make something of a coffin.
Once they got Thomas and got back, Minho opened the tarp one last time, to clean Newt's face and around his mouth. Newt was always a clean person; he couldn't let him be buried dirty.
He also cut off a lock of Newt's hair and put it in a little jar that he carried in his pocket.
The funeral was small, Thomas was still injured and out of it. So, it was Vincent, Jorge, Gally, Fry, Brenda, and Minho.
They all said a few words about Newt's life, how brave he was and stuff like that. Minho could barely speak. It hurt to know that the person he knew the most, the longest was gone. They had been through a lot together.
In the end, it was just Gally, Fry and Minho, they all swapped stories and memories of Newt.
Minho watched from the boat as the shoreline started to fade. Around his neck was the red scarf, he had managed to get the blood out of it. He was crying as he no longer saw the shoreline at all.
He walked away to go and sit in Thomas room, maybe he would wake up.
Notes:
I am so sad...I cried while writing this. But honestly, I did like the movie version more than the book. It seemed more real that Thomas would have done anything in his power to save Newt. Not that I hate the book. However, let's all agree that Minho would not have left one of his only friends on the dirty streets to rot or worse.
I might write a Newt lives fic. Cause he should have. Thanks for reading.