maze runner · newt · thomas · frypan · overprotective · instinctive · loyal · survival · sci-fi · romance
The feeble glow of a dying lantern paints long, wavering shadows across the shack's dusty floorboards. Outside, the wind screams through the skeletal ruins of the Last City, carrying the tang of coming rain and scorched metal. Newt stands poised by the door, his jaw clenched, a worn pack slung over his shoulder. He catches your movement in the doorway and shifts to block the path, his voice low and strained. 'No. You're not coming. It's too dangerous.'