Author's Note: Hello everyone! I am back again, eager to make you guys' heart fall into pieces. (evil smile) For some odd reason, my English is going progressively bad, which I don't quite like. I forget the words, the grammar, even the sentences...So please ignore my bad English, I guess the writer's block is heading towards me...just like what the Flare is doing to our Newtie.
Also, my laptop has DIED, along with all my beloved 'A Crank Called Newt' Chapter 5, 6, and 7. I had to rewrite the stories while whining about my miserable life. Right now I am writing with my parent's laptop - yes it's incredibly uncomfortable. Just forgive me for the clumsy lazy update. I really really really appreciate your reviews, they're the reason I write :D Well, this will be enough for today's chitchat, so here we go :)
Chapter 5 - Running Out of TimeThomas was on the ground.
Newt was on top of him.
Squeezing his shoulders, pleading to shoot him in the head. Eyes desperately trying to gather shattered pieces of sanity.
Hey, Newt...Newt!
Thomas's voice sounded like a blur. He couldn't even make out his own shucked voice in such loud surroundings. Vociferous protests, rambunctious roars of smoke. Mostly, the uncontrollable explosions. His ears were throbbing, his head was aching. He couldn't stand watching his friend snarling, gurgling, losing the element we most valued, humanity.
Newt's red eyes were wet with tears flowing out. The ebony veins had already seeped through his skin and to his brain, conquering his beloved friend completely. But still, Newt wasn't fully beyond the Gone - he kept repeating this process like he just couldn't stop himself. He attacked, suddenly stopped, apologized in a harsh strained whisper, then attacked again. Just like a Mobius strip, just like a labyrinth. Just like...the Maze. Complicated, inexplicable, hopeless.
Hopeless.
Thomas's shirt was covered in dirt, and what disgusted him the most was Newt's blood. Crimson drools of blood were oozing out of his friend's parted lips, small cuts, and eyes.
"Newt! Please…"
Thomas barely dodged another accusing swing of a filthy fist, subconsciously staggering backwards. This fight was going to last forever if Brenda didn't hurry. Or one of them would die before the other one eventually does. I will, of course - Thomas thought to himself, peering at his fallen friend, again begging to kill him - die first. He just couldn't bear watching his friend let of the goddamned life in front of him.
"Tommy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
Newt scarcely huffed out, tears streaming down his cheeks freely. Gooey saliva was dangling his mouth, which certainly didn't bother a cranky friend of his to wipe it off.
"It's okay, Newt. It's okay."
Thomas tried to assure his beloved friend, putting his hands in front of him. Thomas was okay with everything that Newt did - even if he had attempted to kill him before the Gone, Thomas wouldn't ever blame him. Everything was a fault of his own, after all. If only he had given his blood to WICKED… Just a tiny drop of his… it could've saved millions, just like what Ava Paige had promised him. And Newt could have been one of the millions.
In a blink of an eye, Newt was on top of him again. Dripping saliva, he let out strained breathes, his gangly fingers gripping Thomas's shoulders. His knuckles turned white from gripping him so hard, Thomas had to rip his grasp off in order to hold Newt still. Newt's clothes were roughly ripped, some part shredded. His eyes were the Crank's - completely full of madness and bloodthirst.
But Thomas believed - or wanted to force himself to believe - that Newt still had the chance. The only thing Thomas had to do right now was to hold Newt still. Buy more time until Brenda arrives. Despite this fact, it seemed to be the most challenging thing to accomplish. Both physically, and mentally.
Thomas hoped, with all of his heart, he could close his eyes. Shut off his friend's pathetic sight. The one who had been the co-leader of the Gladers, the leader of the Scorch, the angel of Thomas, the glue for all people.
The one who he most cared, liked - and loved.
Suddenly his heart itched. No, it ached. Seeing his friend clawing and flailing his arms at him - was agonizing enough to choke him to death.
"Newt, please! ENOUGH!"
Thomas bellowed and frantically elbowed Newt's chin, earning a barbaric shrill from his raged friend. Newt struggled against his grip, but Thomas had the firm grip on Newt. Using his legs Newt attempted to jerk off free, failing again. His fragile form twitched and convulsed, and Thomas thought for a moment,
that Newt might be fully beyond the Gone, way too fully.
That was the moment when Newt suddenly stopped.
As if all of his functions had frozen, Newt jerked to a halt. His dull, grey eyes stared into the dim lights ahead. He did not move an inch. They just laid there, unmoving, having the most pleasant peace. A few confusing seconds passed.
"Newt?" Thomas called out in a raspy voice. He realized his muscles were still stiffened due to nervousness. His fingers were unconsciously digging into his friend's grey flesh.
"Newt? Are you...alright?"
Thomas called out again, this time his voice more clear and accurate. The term 'alright' did not seem to be the best to pick in this kind of situation - but he just had to ask. His stomach lurched as Newt lowered his head, his pupils meeting his own.
"Tommy," Newt whispered. "Tommy."
"Yes, I'm right here, Newt." Letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, Thomas loosened his grip. Newt lifted his weight off Thomas, leaving no difference since he was as light as a feather. He was now kneeling on top of him, Thomas's lean torso between Newt's parted legs. Thomas remained silently in his position, so careful that he might provoke Newt.
"I-I'm so sorry," Newt's lifeless eyes began to show sparks of sanity, slowly turning back to his typical, mesmerising brunette eyes. "Tommy, kill me...please. Or I will... do it... my...self." His voice merely above a whisper, Newt grasped a rifle. Without a word he lifted it to his head, closing his eyes and finger searching for the trigger, a piece of metal that would put him out of his misery.
"NO!" Thomas practically shrieked - snatching the gun out of Newt's and hauling it out of reach. Chills ran down his spine. He had just almost lost his closest friend.
"No!" Newt screamed. He tugged his wrists trying to get free of Thomas's hands, but it was no use. "Just kill me! Please put me out of this!"
"Newt, think straight! I would never kill you, bear that in mind. The serum will be here soon, just hang on a bit, okay? I'm here with you. Just...hang on. Please." Now he was begging. Begging so ardently he couldn't even recognize what he was saying.
"You don't understand a bloody thing." Newt snapped - his voice now back to his normal, deep, calming tone. Just pure hatred mixed in it.
"Understand what, Newt?" Thomas cautiously ask. What was it he didn't understand?
"I-This," Newt jerked his index finger at himself, pointing the dark veins spreading out on his neck. "was the last thing I wanted to show you. THE LAST. BLOODY. THING. You are the most precious person to me, who I most care about, and love.I can't stand this, just put me out of this misery." He spat out the words, each dearest letter piercing a hole in Thomas's heart.
Hearing those earnest sentences from his dying friend was so heartbreaking he just couldn't put up with it. He gritted his teeth and shouted.
"I don't care, alright? I. DON'T. SHUCKING. CARE. I don't mind your veins, your cranky behaviour - or anything else. All I care about is you! The shucking whole thing of you. I will love you till the end, no matter what. No matter how you change."
More tears spilt on the Crank's cheeks. His fists slowly tightened. Newt certainly did not want to live. He did not want to face Thomas after this. He hated himself - the veins, the limp, the meaningless life. Before the Gone fully swallowed him again, his brain finally grasped one last bit of sanity, and he managed a short, painful, sentence.
"Please, Tommy, Please."
Excuse my bad writing, I have been defeated by the writer's block. *sobs hysterically* I watched TDC for the seventh time today, and the death scene still shatters my heart. I'm still in shock while writing this sentence...Newt's death is just too much for me *sobs for the 10000000 time today* But most of all, thanks a lot and lot and lot for your kind reviews/support :)
To be continued!