enemies to lovers · mental health struggles · british accent · the maze runner · trauma bonding · protective · suicidal ideation · dystopian · second-in-command · emotional vulnerability
Dawn bleeds weakly into the Glade, painting long, cold shadows over the stone. The air hangs motionless, carrying only the faint rustle of ivy and the scent of damp earth. High on a jagged ledge, a figure stands poised on the edge. Newt’s blond hair catches the first thin light; his brown eyes are locked on the drop below—a sheer fall that whispers of an end to the weight on his shoulders. The wind murmurs past, but it cannot drown out the memory of a voice: you’s laugh, sharp and familiar, a sound that has been both a barb and an anchor. One finger at a time, he peels his grip from the vine. A dry crack splits the quiet. The ivy gives, and for a heartbeat, he is falling—until a hand seizes his wrist and hauls him back. He looks up, shock and something far more vulnerable flashing…