This is a companion piece to my story Tears of Titanium, what they are referring to in Chapter 17. (Newt's suicide attempt) It can be read separately though.

If you haven't read that story, I encourage you to check it out! There's adventure, friendship, intrigue and Newtmas!

Trigger warning: Suicide attempt

Reviews are always appreciated!

The gathering of Gladers disbanded solemnly, focusing on the ground as they walked slowly away, each wearing a grim expression on their face. Some walked with a shovel over their shoulder, while others carried one remaining wildflower, but Newt stayed behind, still focusing on the boy buried in the ground in front of them.

His name had been Leo.

He had been a Runner.

He had floppy black hair, a too-wide smile, was short and scrawny, and scurried around the Glade like a roadrunner.

Now he was a fresh turned mound of soil, marked with a crooked cross and a bouquet of flowers.

Newt dug a fist into his eyes and let out a long, drawn out sniff.

Leo had been so excited a couple days ago. He was convinced he had found a way out of the Maze, excitedly telling Newt, the Keeper of the Runners, how he planned to explore it the next day. He said it was a hole in the wall, covered by a thick blanket of ivy. How he was going to go through, and then come back for everybody, how stoked he was to finally free everybody.

It turned out to be just a thick blanket of ivy.

With no hole behind it.

And Leo spent so long trying to find it again, that he didn't make it back before the doors closed.

A Griever had dragged him all over the Maze, leaving a smeared blood trail all through the corridors, before dumping his body by the doors to the Glade.

It sickened Newt to be following a trail of blood as he was running.

"I'm sorry Leo," Newt murmured, sinking slowly to his knees in front of the grave, rearranging the flowers until they looked nicer. He had apologized to the dead so many times now, each time promising he would find a way out for them.

But this time?

It was different.

He was the Keeper of the Runners for shuck's sake! He had run every inch of that Maze himself. And he knew. Oh he knew. He knew it was fruitless to promise freedom, as there was No. Way. Out.

"Newt."

Newt looked up to see Minho standing behind him, a concerned expression on his face. "C'mon. They're crossing his name off. Gally wants all the Keepers there."

"Alright." Newt stood up with a sigh, casting one last look at the gravesite.

"Look, Newt…" Minho started, then trailed off. "There's nothing you could have done."

"There's nothing anyone can do anymore," Newt replied bitterly under his breath.

"Huh?" Minho looked confused, not hearing what the blonde had said.

"Nothing." Newt grumbled, before walking slowly to join the other keepers by the wall of names. The silent clinking of the knife against the concrete echoed eerily around the quiet Glade as Newt kept a frown on his face, focusing on Alby striking through the name Leo.

There had been no party last night, and everybody went to bed early, but Newt didn't feel rested. Every time he closed his eyes he could see Leo's mutilated body laying in front of him, staining the Maze floor red. It wasn't smart to run the Maze without a good sleep beforehand, but Newt still found himself lacing up his boots next to the Kitchen, Minho grabbing their lunches.

"You want an apple or…" Minho trailed off, looking through their fruit supplies. "An apple?" He peeked underneath another tray, trying to find a different fruit. "Wow, we really need to give the Gardeners some more to work with, huh?"

"Yeah," Newt said, though not really listening to what Minho was saying.

"It's Box Day today," Minho said, tossing Newt his pack. "Maybe we'll get some better seeds."

Or we'll just get another scared Greenie who can't even remember his own name. Newt thought bitterly. It'll never end. We get one, we lose one. Another name forgotten by himself, another name forgotten by the others.

But Newt responded with a distant "mm-hmmm", and stood up with a little bounce. He quickly gave his legs a stretch, and followed Minho towards the opening doors. They rumbled like the soft thunder, the gears clanking, revealing the darkness of the forever corridors and ivy.

"Okay, you're going west today, right?" Minho asked, casting a sideways glance over at Newt.

Newt had given the other Runners the day off, to grieve for Leo, but really, everyone knew that they were too scared to go when they saw what the Grievers were capable of. Minho had insisted on running though. He was determined there was a way out, the dumb shank.

And Newt?

Well, what else was he really going to do?

The doors slid open fully to reveal the slightly damp scent of the Maze, and the two Gladers nodded once to each other before taking off into the Maze.

Newt usually liked running. He liked the release, the power it seemed to give him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the connection of his feet with the ground. But today, it seemed tiring, tedious, and pointless. Newt didn't run as hard as he usually did, only slightly jogging, finding himself being distracted by the rustle of ivy or the crack on a stone. He turned countless turns, endless straightaways, until stopping at another intersection of walls.

It all looks the bloody same he thought, hands on his hips, until sinking down onto the floor. He lay flat on his back, his aching muscles cooling against the stone, staring up at the cloudy sky.

What was the point in running anymore?

There was no way out of this shucking place.

"Newt!"

Minho's voice echoed from somewhere in the distance. Newt groaned, and pushed himself up off the ground.

"Hey Newt!" The voice grew closer, and a couple seconds later, Minho appeared from around the corner, breathing heavily. "Hey. Box is going to come up soon." A frown grew over his face as he noticed Newt not panting. "Were you not running?"

"I...uh...was enjoying the sky," The lie slipped easily past Newt's lips.

Minho looked up at the bleak cloud cover, and skeptically looked back at the British boy. "Uh-huh."

"So...the Box?"

"Yeah."

The two started running again, back toward the Glade. They rounded the final corner and turned onto the last straightaway, before slowing down to a walk.

"Hey, are you okay?" Minho shot a slightly concerned glance towards his friend.

"I'm fine." Newt said shortly.

"Okay, but…" Minho waved a hand around his face. "Your face is all...frowny."

Newt tried to pull out of a scowl, only realizing he had been wearing one by the slight pinch he felt between his eyebrows. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Yeah, but-"

"Just drop it Minho!" Newt exclaimed, a lot more aggressively than he was intending to.

Minho put his hands up in surrender, muttering a quiet "Geez," under his breath, when the Box siren went off.