He did not accept the extended hand towards him. Why he pressed him so much? Couldn't he live his mourning for a while, in peace?
"Bloody hell, Minho, leave me alone" Newt said, looking him in the eyes without blinking, in a defiant way. He knew the true intentions of Minho (to make him responsible of the Glade now that Alby was gone), but at the same time he couldn't stand it. Others could perfectly take over the Glade in a decent way, so there wasn't a reason to be so worried. Furthermore, he felt useless, with no confidence at all. He wasn't a good leader, he wasn't good enough to be Alby's successor.
On the contrary, Minho…
"Go and take charge of the Glade" Newt frowned, in absence of Minho's response.
"Listen here you shank", a chill went through his back when Minho replied, adopting a more severe approach than before. Newt felt a harsh shiver going down his spine in the very first moment that his ears heard Minho's strict voice. "Also, you're the only one crying in the corners instead of helping".
"I haven't even cried" Newt thought, with anger slowly increasing on his head. Minho definitely wanted to drive him crazy, didn't he?
"You should take over this place, after all you were Alby's second-in-command, didn´t you? You should know how to handle a situation…"
"I wasn't only his right hand!" Newt shouted, surprising even himself in the beginning, but then continued with renew strength. "I was more than that, I…, I…"
He went speechless. Then he tried to find the right phrase.
"I had something with him." Newt thought.
No, it would have been a complete and filthy lie to say it out loud. And if it were true, he wouldn't be able to confess it anyways. Probably if the rest knew about it, they'd probably be uncomfortable in presence of a "faggot".
A pathetic "fag".
Recalling, he knew that he was different from the others in that aspect since the very first moment. When he was rising from the box towards the Glade he felt shocked, claustrophobic, almost puking because of the intense fear of that place carrying him to nowhere. And when the superior gates opened from outside, even with all the panic that made his hair stand on end…
He felt relieved. Relieved due to Alby's calm face, due to his grave voice granting him welcome, due to his stout figure that looked like a real shelter.
Yes, just in that very moment he realized that he was unlike the rest. Because the rest didn't even have to think about that awful feeling of keeping silent about his thoughts or sensations, because the others didn't have to think about potential discrimination. That frightful awareness of having to hide completely his words…
All that effort to fit with the others.
The rest had never had conversations about girls before (maybe because they didn't even know how a real teen girl looked like), but simultaneously they also never talked about boys. No one seemed to look themselves with different eyes, maybe due to fatigue, or maybe because they indeed had no interest in men at all.
But when Teresa arrived… "Bloody hell, they looked like animals in heat" he recalled, with a little trace of bitterness. Obviously nobody said anything in her presence, but when she was away… it was completely different. He heard them, while they were drunken thanks to Frypan's grog, arguing about how the other girls would look. Of how they feverishly wished to leave the Glade, hoping to meet a girl who could fulfill all their personal parameters. He stayed away of the drunken madness as much as possibly like Minho did, but Alby joined the community, entirely forgetting his role as a leader.
Even with that improper uninhibited attitude, of the Alby he thought he knew; even with those comments that shattered his smile… Even so he never was able to close all the doors. The doors leading to his heart.
Until that day when Alby denied any chance with him.
"I… I was confused" Alby said, without hesitation, without realizing the pain that flooded through Newt's heart.
What a klunk had it been, but even so Newt recovered quickly. He later ensured of destroying every fragment of attraction to him. And in later times when they both were recovering and beginning to be the same ones as before, just when Thomas arrived the Glade and was adapting very well to all of his tasks…
Why those Grievers had to take away Alby's life just when everything was peaceful?! Making him remember his life due to a medicine…
Newt watched him facing that dreadful process, trying to stay calm. Why those shuckfaces made something so… so horrible to Alby?
Why?!
"Look Newt. I…" Minho's voice broke the atmosphere that was surrounding Newt.
He looked directly to Minho's eyes, angry. Couldn't he give some peace for a while? Why he had to be so stubborn?
"Minho, you better tell me something important, otherwise…" he answered sharply, in a colder way than he tried at first.
But the thing was that he wanted everyone to leave him alone. Even Minho.
"Bloody hell, why it's so hard?" He thought, angry.
"It's important" The rage vanished in an instant from Newt's face. His voice ... was incredibly serious. And then he continued "I know about that… thing between you and Alby. I saw you both".
"No…" Newt said and felt his extremities becoming paralyzed for a second, while his mind covered the blank walls of his consciousness with only one word
No. No. No.
He managed to drive his limbs to work again and after some troubles finally he stood, all the effort to turn his back from him.
"I dunno what you're talking about" he muttered. His skin began to bristle.
"Shuck, don't even try to play dumb" a pissed smile took shape on Minho's face, with a little annoyed voice. "I saw you two… kissing".
Newt sighed, while frowning, with all the fear marking his face like molten iron. Minho knew it all from the very beginning. Maybe that was the reason why he became aware of the spacing between them, maybe that was the reason of why he took care of Newt on his darkest hours.
Because he knew from the beginning that things between Alby and Newt had not worked. There was clearly the reason behind his sudden behavior change, of that sudden disposition of staying by his side at every moment.
Maybe he enjoyed seeing Newt down? Maybe he thought that, by helping him, he would reveal the real cause of his nightmares?
"Bloody hell, no…" Newt thought. Minho wasn't like that. He couldn't be like that. But, how to prove it?
"Minho, did you told someone?" he asked, without daring to turn, with scarce voice.
He closed his eyes with fury, frowning even more than normal, and embraced himself. It was supposed that nobody could knew of that day, of that damned day that he still felt torturing him within.
Why Alby had been so careless?
If he would have been more careful, Minho would have not been able to see them. It all could have been buried inside his own memories, and nothing else. It all could have ended like a nightmare.
If it had happened on that way... Over the years he would have to wonder if anything had happened or whether it was a mere dream, a delusion product of his confinement on the Glade. When aging, even Alby could have joked about it, and finally with their deaths, the incident itself would pass away. A memory that would die with them both, without falling on nobody else.
But that might not be. They will never be able to laugh about it while aging... because Alby was already dead. Their bonds would never have a "forever", because he no longer lived.
And that hurt. As if he was being stabbed with a sharpened knife.
"No, I haven't told anybody, who do you think am I?" Minho whispered while smoothing his voice, nearly making a laugh.
Newt prepared himself with all the courage he could muster and tried to look at his eyes, but couldn't. Minho was suddenly blurry.
Actually, the whole room was blurry.
"Newt…"
He touched the corner of his eyes with his own fingers. Tears founded. He wished to laugh due the irony, and then he desperately wished to vanish himself due to the embarrassment.
Until Minho came he couldn't cry, his eyes were completely dry. Precisely he had hidden from everyone because he wanted to mourn in peace, without being spotted his emerging weakness; after all, he had become the leader since the moment Alby had left the physical realm.
And leaders don't cry.
"You dragged me into this, bloody hell" he spitted, mumbling, while tears were stocking and flowing from his eyes. "I didn't wanted…"
"I did not wanted to show you my own weakness" he thought. His words didn't suffice and finally he accomplished what the desired from the beginning. He pushed aside Minho and quickly left, while cleaning with one hand any sign of pathetic tears.
He ignored those steps behind him. Ran, he ran to leave Minho behind. Why he had been able to crack him, as if he was a weak blade of grass?
Weak. He felt weak, weak like the day he heard Alby telling him that all was a confusion.
The same kind of weakness…
Even with the storm of his thoughts, he managed to keep his eyes and awareness on the road. Transiting through the furthermost places of the Glade, moving away from public observation. He didn't wanted to be disturbed ever again.
He wished deeply to never be found again by Minho, because if that happened… Minho could easily fully destroy him.
Then an awful sensation went by all his back. A shiver.
If that happened, maybe Newt would have a worst shock than the day he tried to commit suicide. Because even then he wasn't able to cry more than a couple of tears, accepting somehow his fate and therefore, denying to follow his own destiny.
He remembered himself while was leaping from one the walls with the adrenaline flowing through his veins. And then an unexpected moment, just before of getting stamped to the floor, where he felt that everything was wrong. That terrifying feeling of that he mustn't have jumped.
In that very moment he saw a face showing in his memories. Only a face.
It was not the one that belonged to Alby.
It was Minho. His face.
Shaking his head in order to forget his past, he returned where Alby had been interned recently, with those Med-jacks watching his health with all their strength. Nobody was there, he had lost sight of Minho and the others hadn't noticed him either.
Serenity at last. But then he realized that his desire of crying had vanished into the air. It looked like his brain had dragged him to exhibit himself to being vulnerable just in front of the less suitable person, as if were some sort of conspiracy went against him.
A sabotage by himself, to himself.
But it didn't even matter anymore. What is done is done, and at least the pressure over his heart had eased a little. A small but necessary catharsis.
With softness he sat on the bed that Alby had occupied just a few hours ago. Even he could still feel the heat from his body there, entangled with its blankets.
He rubbed his eyes again. No, nothing would emerge from there, not even a single teardrop. His eyes were dry as usual. Then he slightly frowned before opening his eyes and stare at the floor.
He held his breath. There was something that seemed to be out of place, it was lying on the floor, showing only a portion of itself. He crouched and took it with his hands, with his heart beating chaotically when he touched the undisputed tact of paper.
His hands trembled while he held it directly in front of his eyes. A letter envelope.
"Alby…" Newt murmured.
The envelope had a pristine white color, without any traces of either soil or damage. Perhaps he had secretly requested some paper to The Box? Newt had never seen a piece of paper that wasn't yellow or brown. This was one so white… as if had just left the factory.
Perhaps since when he had it hidden?
A drop of sweat fell from his forehead, and he forced himself to breath normally to ease his nervous hands. Then he turned the envelope.
And there, scribbled with the distinctive writing of Alby, written quickly, with the high pressure of his pencil nearly piercing the thin envelope…
There were only two words.
"To Minho".
