Hello! This is officially the longest single chapter I've done for this fandom! This was a request from fadingshadowss and I hope you all enjoy it! Newt's POV is down at the bottom and Minho's is up here!
Minho
I didn't know how, but I knew that in movies, when something terrible happens, time slows down. They were wrong. I blinked and Thomas went from being fine to spinning around and crumpling in a bloody heap on the ground.
A second was all it took.
One fast second where I could have done nothing.
My heart swelled and inflated in my ribs and the pressure made me want to explode. My legs twitched, then I was screaming and running straight at Blondie. My fist smashed into his nose as if through glass.
Then my body landed on top of him. I threw punch after punch, screaming at the shucking idiot who shot my best friend. My arms were a whirlwind of motion, missing and connecting and missing again. I felt crunching under my knuckles, and pushed deeper before punching again. Blondie had dropped his gun on firing and it was laying on the ground next to us.
He laughed as blood poured out of his eyes. Never again.
No one hurt Thomas.
NO!
ONE!
I threw my fists at him even faster and eyed the gun.
Don't let this shank win.
Show him what pain is.
Make him feel what Thomas is feeling.
I was straddling him now, and shoving my fists deep into his stomach. With a grunt I grabbed the gun and cocked it. He stopped laughing. My heart broke for Thomas.
Please let him be okay.
I'll avenge him.
I'll fire.
No one lays a finger on my friends.
My gun hand shook too much for me to aim and I put my other hand on top to steady myself. Blondie squirmed.
"Minho! Stop!" A few Gladers shouted at me. But there was too much blood rushing through—coursing through!—my veins.
We had lost too many people. All I had shucking wanted was a close to normal life! I thought we had that in the Glade. But then people started getting desperate. People started dying.
People started trying to die.
And now, I had seen enough blood to fill an ocean. My friends were gold and Blondie was trying to take that away from me. Nothing more. They weren't going to take anything more!
I just wanted to be happy. And now I was going to kill Blondie. I realized I was crying.
How many have you lost Minho?
Ben, Alby, Chuck, Winston, and now...and now maybe Thomas.
I trembled as I brought the gun up to rest right against Blondie's forehead. My finger found the trigger, slipped, and found it again.
For some reason I looked behind me to see the thing I had been trying to forget about. Thomas was still laying there. And his chest was just barely rising. His eyes were closed. Newt was crouched over him trying to stop the bleeding.
We locked eyes. He was crying too.
"Newt, help me," I mouthed, waiting for him to tell me to drop the weapon.
If he says stop, I will.
If he tells me to drop it, I will.
His face hardened with a fierceness I had never seen before. His eyes were red and fire roared just behind his pupils. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Then he averted his gaze.
I turned back to face Blondie and braced my body. I fired the gun. My whole body jumped with the force of the bullet pushing its way out the mouth of the weapon. Blondie's eyes glossed over and he slumped. I stood up numbly, and stared at him.
It was all I could do. Of all my talk, I had never actually killed anyone before. Blood poured from his head. Just another bucket in my ocean.
Thomas?
Did I kill Thomas?
Thomas wasn't blond.
But did I shoot him?
I couldn't comprehend anything. My mind accelerated without my body. I waited for the second where I would rubber band back into the moment. It never came and I stood numbly staring at my victim. Thomas? It was him, on the ground. With a hole in his head. Did I kill Thomas?
My body began to shake. An arm slipped around mine suddenly, gently pulling me away. I let it lead me like a sheep.
"Come on, Jorge thinks he can get the bullet out. You did good Minho. You did good," A voice kept repeating in my ear.
You did good.
You did good.
You did good.
I let myself drown in the soothing voice. Was the voice Thomas? Was he talking to me? I should answer, but how?
But when I looked up it wasn't Thomas, herding me away, it was Newt. He was struggling because my feet barely moved and he limped more obviously. Through his tears he smiled at me.
It was forced.
But I was grateful.
Thomas was dying. But I didn't have to be strong. I could just let Newt do it for me while I wallowed in heart-break.
I made a promise to myself that I would never let anyone touch Thomas or any or my friends ever again.
But for now, I was content to walk away from the world and ignore every feeling.
Newt
My body tensed as Blondie raised the gun. I knew what was going to happen. Without thought I tried to run in front of Tommy.
A flashback of a twelve or thirteen year old boy struck me. This had happened before.
I stuck out my arms and went to jump. My bad leg gave out. With a cry of anguish, I buckled and a gooey hole appeared in Tommy's shoulder. He twisted and fell. A scream resounded through the streets.
Half of it was mine. The other half belonged to Minho, who was charging Blondie like a bull. I took the opposite approach and wobbly stood up again. With a smack to my leg, I was able to rush over to Tommy.
His eyes fluttered like butterfly wings. My lip quivered. Blood was pouring out from his wound, and staining his shirt.
I wish Clint and the Jeff were here.
How did they fix you Newt? Remember!
In a spur of motion I struggled to get free of my shirt. Someone else handed me their's before I even got an arm out. I brushed as much dirt as I could off the shirt and folded it to the cleanest part, but it was still brown and grimy.
"He shot me," Tommy whispered huskily.
"I know Tommy. It's okay. Just try to stay awake okay buddy?" I couldn't remember ever using a baby voice, but it felt like the natural thing for this situation.
My fingers trembled as I pressed the cloth down on his shoulder. He winced and whimpered in pain. My heart shattered.
"Shh, just listen to my voice Tommy. Can you do that for me?" I leaned in close so he would hear me. He nodded with fogged eyes that were like smudges of charcoal.
I was crying uncontrollably. The shirt was full his blood and I had to turn it over onto the dirtier side.
"Hey, Tommy? I'm going to tell you a story okay? Just stay awake for me. Just stay awake alright?"
"It hurts..." His voice broke.
"I know, I know. Listen, once upon a time there was a group of teenagers. They were all thrown into a giant glade, surrounded by a maze. At first, the boys were all very scared and they all thought they would bloody die or go crazy," I choked on a sob. Tommy's eyes fluttered and he moaned.
"Where's Minho?" His voice was barely audible. I looked behind me. Minho was staring at me from his position on top of Blondie. He was holding a gun.
"Newt, help me," He mouthed. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him to stop being selfish because I had already given out all the help I could give. I was stretched so thin. Everyone seemed to constantly need my help all the time now. And right now Tommy needed it most. I nodded at Minho and turned back to Tommy.
"He's coming. Just listen," But Tommy's eyes were closed. I placed a hand over his face and brushed my fingers along his eyelids. He cracked them open a sliver.
"The...The boys were very, very scared. But after a little bit, everything got better. They were happy and lived together. And from then on," I winced when the gun-shot sounded. "They weren't scared anymore."
Tommy's eyes were closed and he was barely breathing. At that point I think I had been telling the story more for my benefit than his. Jorge was behind me.
"I think I can get that bullet out. With fire," He said. My stomach flopped over.
"Okay, okay. Just...not here," I said. The shirt hung uselessly in my hands. Tommy's blood cascaded over his sides. My hands were full of it. When he saw I wasn't moving Jorge called over a few Gladers to lift Tommy up. I watched them hoist his lifeless body onto their shoulders.
Jorge helped me stand and my leg almost collapsed again. It always acted up when I was scared, and pain twinged in my hip every step I took. I looked around for Minho. He was standing still next to a dead Blondie.
He was trembling and swaying. I went over to him and slipped my arm around his. His eyes were wide with terror.
"Minho? We have to go," I said, using the same voice I'd used with Tommy. He didn't seem to hear me.
"Come on, Jorge thinks he can get the bullet out. You did good Minho. You did good," This time his eyes flickered in recognition. I sobbed slightly and wrestled a smile onto my face.
It's always me.
It's always bloody me.
Cheering people up and helping people and lifting them up.
I was stressed and scared and broken inside. But everyone was always leaning on me for support.
My heart throbbed. Minho was a dead weight against my leg, but I said nothing.
You let them do this Newt. You let them lean on you.
But what can you do?
You're the glue.
And there it is! Please review and tell me if you want me to go on a little longer, I was thinking maybe until just after WICKED drops Thomas back off in the Scorch. But yeah, I hope you guys liked it!
Wolf Out...