Chapter Text
The plain inhaler with your name on it was something nobody had ever seen before. Nobody even knew what to do with it. You didn't even know what its purpose was. Obviously, it was important but how was the question?
You got the answer when you woke up one night wheezing and coughing, the air in your lungs vacant. For a moment, you swore you were dying, that something had crawled into your throat and enlarged itself.
That's when the inhaler made perfect sense. And since then you had it on you at all times while Newt carried your backup, just in case. You couldn't run, couldn't be around the bonfire too long, and in general swore you couldn't have as much fun. That would mean risking dying, and you weren't very cool with that.
But sometimes you pretended it wasn't there at all, that you didn't have any restrictions in your world.
The Glade was celebrating, going hard the way they always did. A little off to the side, the Slicers were playing jacks out of wood the Builders had reluctantly carved. Smoke was in the air, bright orange and yellow flames lighting the Deadheads. Drinks were being passed around by friends, golden liquid sloshing around.
It was a beautiful event, a signal of standing up for friendship and better days despite what the odds were. It was bright, happy, as close to normal as you could get.
Sitting on the sidelines with Chuck, you watched Gally battle Greenie, cheering at the slightest change. With ecstasy in the air, you exchanged glances with the small boy, wide grins on both your faces. Right as you turned back, Greenie was harshly shoved into you, sending you tumbling back.
Your face burned as the air left your lungs, causing a weird gasping sound to leave you. Everything from tonight, the adrenaline, the smoke, the movement hit you all at once, causing you to cough into your elbow. Once at first, then a long, drawn out wheeze. Your hand went to your pocket, searching your inhaler, only to find it empty, knocked out during the fall. Nobody else seemed to notice besides Greenie and Chuck, one who was staring blankly, apparently malfunctioning, and one who was already running to find help.
Standing up, you held your breath as you started dragging yourself to the medhut. That didn’t last long, another asthmatic cough leaving your lungs.
Newt was quick to find you the second Chuck warned him, spotting your figure dragging yourself to help. As though there was never a limp, he ran up to you, taking your hand and urging you to sit. Trusting him more than you should, you shakily sat, firmly squeezing his hand.
Pulling out the inhaler he knew would come in handy one day, he wrapped an arm around you while shaking it. When he thought it was enough he removed the cap with one hand and put it to your lips. Working on autopilot, he squeezed the top while urging you to breathe. The medicine was subtle relief in your airways, just enough for your eyes to stop watering. When he realized your chest was falling a little slower, he did it again and pulled it away.
You let out another deep cough before closing your eyes, focusing on air and Newt. He was rubbing your back while whispering soothing words in your ear. You nodded, as though to acknowledge that you were still alive, and rubbed your watery eyes.
“I-I don't know where my inhaler is,”you said weakly, placing a shaky hand on the ground to stable yourself.
“That’s okay. We can find it in the morning when we can see. Nothing to worry about,”he promised, his arms still snuggly around you as he helped you stand. Your legs shook, heart pulsing, too many what if's racing through your head. You opened your mouth to point out the million things that could happen but shut it when no sound came out.
“It's alright. We'll request a new one if something happens. This should last until then,”he comforted, walking you back to your hut. You barely managed a tired nod as you practically leaned against him, a willingness in the midst of the death trap to trust Newt with your life.