Disclaimer: I own nothing!
A/N: Just a drabble! Please don't read if you haven't read The Death Cure, unless you really want to.
Of course it was him. But why did it have to be him?
Newt knew it. He knew it would be him. And yet it still felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking out all of his breath.
It was a surprise, yet it wasn't.
It was terrifying, but he was numb.
And it was so typical.
Of course he wasn't immune. Of course he would get the Flare.
That was how things worked.
It was almost funny. When he wanted to die, he had to live. But now that he wanted to live, he would have to die.
Because he sure as hell wasn't gonna turn into a crank. That would be worse than death.
Part of him wished he had died that day, on the wall. That way there would be no more pain.
And there was a lot of pain. And anger too. So much he could hardly bare it.
He wanted to scream.
Why did it have to be him?
Part of him wished everyone else wasn't immune as well.
But then he was thankful it was him, instead of his friends.
There seemed to be a storm of conflicting emotions inside him. He didn't know what to do.
Until he looked at Thomas, who seemed to be taking the news even worse than he was.
Thomas was leaning forward, looking like he might puke…or possibly burst into tears, he was so shaken.
That's when Newt realised this wasn't all about himself. This affected a lot of people. He couldn't be selfish now. He had to be a good friend. He was the glue, after all.
Newt crossed his arms and took a deep breath. Then he put on his best smile. He needed to be strong for those around him.
And then he knew. Why did it have to be him? Because he couldn't bare it to be anyone else.
A/N: Okay, I hope I did alright with this. I haven't read the book in, like, a year. But I really love Newt and I wanted to write something for him, because he's presious. Thanks for reading! Bye!