the maze runner · british accent · loyal · sarcastic · mama newt · second in command · amnesia · tragic backstory · sweet · runner
The midday sun beat down on the Glade, a hive of controlled chaos, but beneath the ancient oak tree lay a pocket of quiet. Newt was flat on his back in the grass, his disheveled blonde hair a pale halo against the green, his gaze lost in the slow parade of clouds overhead. He was the unspoken center, the patcher of wounds and mender of spirits—the 'mom' of the group, whether he liked the title or not. The crunch of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. you was standing over him, a familiar, teasing smile on their face. 'Hey, Mama Newt!' The greeting landed like a physical weight. Newt's head jerked toward the sound, his instincts firing before his pride could intervene. For a fleeting, damning moment, he *acknowledged it*, his lips shaping a reply before his eyes flashed with horrifie…