Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Newt couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t know why. Where was he? Who was he? He didn’t know…anything. Only fear, only panic. And somewhere deep below that, coiled tight under his ribs… loss.

Did you lose what won’t return?

Newt had lost everything, even if he still wasn’t sure what "everything" included. He’d surely lost his memories, at least, because people weren’t usually born at the age of fourteen. He didn’t know any details about himself, and yet he knew this fact.

Did you love but never learn?

Newt also knew that the emptiness between his ribs wasn’t just for whatever life he might’ve had before waking up in that cold, dark box. There was a hole in his chest, rough and vaguely person-shaped. The ghost of a smile and a phantom laughter, imaginary arms wrapped around his shoulders and sweater paws drying his tears. It was all there at the very edge of his conscience, but Newt couldn’t remember anything, not clearly.
Newt was very lonely.

The fire’s out but still it burns

Functionally speaking, Newt was dead. He had no memory, no life, no past. He was like a doll come to life, a shell of a person pretending to still be human. He couldn’t even remember what that meant anymore, to be human.
And yet, he was. Still here, wherever here was. For some forsaken reason, he was alive despite it all. Newt was burned out, but somehow still burning.
He was dead, but still alive.

And no one cares, there’s no one there

There were other boys in the Glade, this mysterious place that was supposed to be his home. They had gone through the same thing, but somehow they still didn’t understand. Nobody understood, not really. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
Newt had lost something beyond comprehension. The other boys never saw just how deep that poison cut into Newt’s soul. Because the fire still burned. He still got up every day and pretended to be human.
But Newt was lonely. And no one cared.

Did you find it hard to breathe?

Newt’s chest constricted.

Did you cry so much that you could barely see?

In his head, he was back in the box, alone and in the dark with tears wetting his cheeks.

You’re in the darkness all alone

Newt braced his back against one of the trees in the deadheads. He buried his face in his knees, cutting off all but the tiniest sliver of light as he cried.

And no one cares, there’s no one there

The sun shone gently on his shoulders, but Newt was cold. He was alone.

~*~*~*

But did you see the flares in the sky?

Alby came first.
Newt raised tearstained eyes to find the boy’s outline against the deep, consistently blue sky. Alby smiled down at Newt, a crease of concern showing between his brows.
“You ok there, Greenie?”

Were you blinded by the lights?

Minho followed almost immediately, before Newt even had a chance to respond. The second boy came bounding up behind Alby with his mouth open to say something. When he caught sight of Newt, the question changed.
“What’s up with this shank?”
His words broke through the fragile moment.
Newt snorted, despite himself and despite every other situational factor that told him this should definitely not be funny. Minho seemed somewhat proud of this accomplishment, face breaking into a genuine grin as he caught Newt’s eye. Maybe it was because Newt smiled, too, in that moment, even if his eyes still sparkled with tears and his face was now ten shades of red.

Did you feel the smoke in your eyes?
Did you? Did you?

“Sorry—“ Newt stuttered. “Just…overwhelmed. Confused. Lonely. You get it.”
And somehow, Minho and Alby did.
They both sat down right there in the crumpled leaves, one on either side, and they each took one of Newt’s hands in their own.

Did you see the sparks filled with hope?

Newt was scared. He didn’t want to lose anyone else, not when he didn’t even know who he’d lost before. But here were two real people, trying to be there for him even though they’d just met. Here were two people doing the exact thing that he was; burning when they probably shouldn’t be anymore.

You are not alone

Newt’s chest was still sore, but he thought that this wasn’t quite like the box. His mind was dark, but there was a small light shining through, as much as it stung his eyes to look at it.

‘Cause someone’s out there, sending out flares

Newt didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Chapter Text

Alby and Minho helped Newt, they really did. They held his hand when he cried and gave him the strength and the reason to smile. They were there for him. And…it helped. Sometimes, Newt could even pretend that he was better, that things were actually ok. 

Still, it just… it wasn’t enough. Because there was still a hole in Newt’s chest, an aching emptiness that he couldn’t quite explain. He still wasn’t alive, not really. And he just… he couldn’t stand that. Couldn’t hack it, and didn’t really see the point in doing so, anyway. 

It was too much, and Newt was done. Crushed, defeated. He had given up. 

He wanted peace. Please, just give me some bloody peace.

All it would take was one last ounce of courage…

Did you break but never mend?

It didn’t work.

Newt was still alive, because of course it didn’t bloody work. 

Newt couldn’t remember much about that morning, only the wind in his ears and the sharp certainty in his mind. Newt had already decided. This was it.

Except that it wasn’t. Because after that, the memory dissolved into a confusing haze of excruciating pain. Blood and ivy and panicked shrieks, but no relief. Because Newt had fallen, and he’d screamed, and he’d bled, hugging his snapped leg against his chest. And then he must’ve given out, but he’d woke up again in Minho’s arms, and then again in the medjacks’ tent, all the while wishing he hadn’t woken up at all. 

It wasn’t fair.

Newt was alive, but he was broken. He didn’t think he was brave or stupid enough to throw himself off of the same wall a second time, not when he’d failed so miserably and been mortified by the first attempt, but the poison still bled through his mind every day. 

His leg never quite healed from the fall.

Did you hurt so much you thought it was the end?

Newt had thought he was done when he’d climbed the wall that morning, had believed with certainty that the adrenalin in his ears would be the last he ever felt as he plunged towards the maze floor. Even as his leg had gotten tangled in the ivy and he’d swung from the wall like some sick trapeze artist, he hadn’t expected to make it back to the glade alive. He would fall eventually and crack his skull open, or the grievers would find him first. 

But the grievers hadn’t found him. 

Minho had.

Lose your heart but don’t know when

Maybe he’d lost his heart that morning in the maze, when he’d tried to end it all. Or maybe it’d been lost sooner than that, when he’d made the decision or when he’d come up in the box in the first place with no memories and the distinct sense that something, someone, was missing. Maybe he’d lost his heart right then, when everything was taken from him. 

Or maybe he’d never had one to begin with. Maybe it had been stolen long ago, long before what Newt could even remember. He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

And no one cares, there’s no one there

Minho didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Newt just wanted to find peace.

~*~*~*

But did you see the flares in the sky?

Before Newt even knew what was happening, Thomas came barrelling into his life, so full of curiosity and light and hope. From the moment he ran from the box, the new greenie was always moving, always fighting. He was like a pulsing light, streaking across the sky even as it went to gray. Like a beacon of hope, even in the darkest of days.

Were you blinded by the lights?

The world was in chaos and the glade was in ruins, and Newt’s hands were covered in so much blood that he wasn’t sure who it belonged to anymore, but he was laughing. Actually laughing. Time and time again, he found himself running, staring into the face of the unknown. It was a light so bright he couldn’t comprehend, and yet it was right there in front of him. 

Their new reality outside of the maze was difficult. Painful. It was full of questions and uncertainty. Still, Newt felt free in a way that he hadn’t in such a long time. Because out here they had a purpose, a direction. They all did. That motivation united the group in a way that felt grounding. It kept Newt’s mind from trying quite so hard to betray him at every turn.

Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? 

Did you? Did you?

It didn’t make any sense; Newt thought that he’d never been quite this close to death on a daily basis, and yet he couldn’t remember ever feeling more alive. Maybe it was the rush of it all, the adrenaline. The exhilarating sense that it was now or never, do or die.

Or maybe it had nothing to do with the experience and everything to do with the people. Because when Newt found himself running from the smoldering ruins of the glade and the steaming sands of the scorch and the blazing remains of the last city, there was always someone there by his side, and he grew to trust them all more every day.

Minho. A snarky smile and knowing eyes, paired with a dry sense of humor and a steadfast refusal to back down, ever.

Frypan. Full-body laughter and joy that took over his whole face. He could make light of any situation, calming the group with his cheerful presence.

And Winston. Quiet and stable. The cranks had taken him from them. 

Gone. Just like Alby. Just like Chuck.

Newt didn’t think it quite fair that he’d gotten out and they hadn’t, but he thought maybe it was his responsibility now to live on for them. 

So he did. He lived.

Did you see the sparks, filled with hope?

The sparks were in Thomas’s big, brown eyes. In the way they sparkled when he got excited and burned when somebody tried to tell him no. Thomas refused to take no for an answer.

And Newt loved that. Loved the steel in Thomas’s voice and the fire in his eyes, and the quieter nights when they’d sit together by the fire, sharing secrets in the dark.

You are not alone

Hope, Newt thought, was a fickle thing, there one moment and gone the next.

But that was ok, he’d decided. It was ok, because it was here in this moment. It was in the pause for breath between bouts of laughter, in the silence of love and respect for those they’d lost, in the angle of the sun and the ground beneath his feet and the gentle hand on his back that said keep going. Keep going. 

Keep going, Newt. I’m right here.

‘Cause someone’s out there, sending out flares

It was a slow realization, one that reached Newt gradually after months of wondering and wanting and searching. But it was true, no matter the time it took for him to see it.

He had friends by his side. Real people who cared, who understood what he was going through, at least to the best of their ability. People who were willing to sit in the fire with him and laugh through the ashes and the flames.

Someone’s out there, sending out flares

He had never been alone. 

Chapter Text

Did you lose what won’t return?

Newt was gone.

He was dead, taken by the flare like so many of their friends.

Thomas didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know what to do without Newt.

So many moments had passed. Whispered questions and shared glances and pounding hearts. Thomas hadn’t questioned any of it. Hadn’t thought to explore what it all meant. He hadn’t felt like he had the time to wonder, not until it was too late.

Did you love but never learn?

Thomas had loved Newt, and now he was gone.

~*~*~*

But did you see the flares in the sky?

Newt had never had a chance, but he’d always tried to make one. Even when it was all hopeless, the world and everything in it had let him down, when Newt couldn’t bear to open his eyes to another day, he’d still tried to make it bearable for everyone else.

Were you blinded by the lights?

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they’d all been so blinded by the bright smile, the wise words, the hope that Newt had always shared but never felt. 

He’d always been there, always been solid. He’d been the light, even when he was too tired to believe in it himself. And maybe everyone else had been too busy soaking in that light, trying to reach the sun, that they hadn’t realized all that lay behind it. 

At least, they hadn’t for a while.

Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? 

Did you? Did you?

The light had burned a hole through the center of Newt’s being, just like the sun scorching the earth. He’d tried to cover it up for a while, like enough hastily tied straps could hold an entire person together as he was tearing apart at the seams. But there hadn’t been enough fabric in the world to conceal the gaping wound in Newt’s chest, and the smoke had refused to be filtered back out of the air once it was present.

Did you see the sparks, filled with hope?

Still, there had been moments, like sparks of life coming through the ashes.

Moments of light, of love. Laughter and genuine connection. Mornings watching the sun rise and nights under the stars. Stupid jokes and dumb dreams. Conversations. So many words, drawn from hearts that felt like they were made of everything and nothing all at once. A hand on the shoulder. A twinkle of the eye. The warm taste of Frypan’s soup and of the laughter on their lips. The taste of home, even if it wasn’t a real place.

You are not alone

Newt had been battered. Broken. Traumatized.

But alive.

And that life? It’d felt like light. Like a flare in the sky, like a call for help and a promise that it was coming all at once. It had felt like connection, even in the worst of times. 

‘Cause someone’s out there, sending out flares

Even when the fire had been burned out, leaving the tender veins in Newt’s chest exposed, he’d never been alone.

There had always been another heart, or maybe several. More flares, each of them glowing, burning with the knowledge that someone else was out there, that someone understood.

And Thomas thought that he did. He finally understood.

~*~*~*

Chapter Text

The bonfire burned bright. Thomas thought that maybe everything in his heart burned brighter. 

Anger. Love. Despair. Hope. Memory.

But did you see the flares in the sky?

Maybe the sparks were the brightest, shooting into the sky like a cruel, ironic memory.

Were you blinded by the lights?

The flares exploded in the stars. Not a call for help, but a declaration. 

“There is life here. There is joy, and love, and memory so pulsingly bright you can almost taste it.”

Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? 

Did you? Did you?

The world had tried to kill Thomas. Tried to kill all of them, to break them down, beat them into the ground until there was nothing left. Maybe it’d even succeeded. 

Alby was gone. So was Chuck. Jack. Winston.

Newt.

Did you see the sparks, filled with hope?

So many names. Too many graves. They’d all died fighting something that was so much bigger than themselves, but dammit if they hadn’t lived first.

You are not alone

And they lived on even now, in the smallest of places. Newt lived on, in the name carved into a rock and the words scratched into an old journal, in the lights exploding in the sky. He lived in the knowing glances shared between eyes haunted by memories, some of them ugly, some beautiful. 

Newt lived on smiles that would never really be the same, but that would still appear nonetheless, because it’s what he would’ve wanted. Because the memories were still beautiful, life was still beautiful, even if it really, really hurt.

‘Cause someone’s out there, sending out flares

Newt would never truly be gone.