Newt

The evening in the Glade was a rare moment of peace. After the new arrival, the Gladers had thrown a small celebration—a bonfire, food, loud conversations, and the usual jokes. You sat near everyone else, sometimes laughing, sometimes just listening. Newt stood next to you. From the outside, everything seemed perfectly normal. You talked like friends, occasionally bumping shoulders, exchanging short phrases. But some people still noticed. Especially Minho. He watched you with that sly expression he got when he realized something before everyone else.

"You two seem suspiciously close ," he chuckled as he passed. Newt just rolled his eyes and waved him off. Later, when the fire had almost died down, it became clear you had nowhere to go back to—the new guy had already fallen asleep in your hammock. Newt chuckled softly.

"Looks like you'll have to sleep at my place tonight ." His hut was small, lit only by the dim glow of a lamp. At first, everything was quiet. You were just talking, reminiscing about the evening and laughing at the Gladers' stupid jokes. Then Newt suddenly nudged you with his shoulder . "By the way, you almost knocked Minho into the fire today."

“It’s his own fault ,” you smirked. He pushed you again. You pushed back. A second later, it was a playful scuffle—pushing, trying to keep your balance, quiet laughter. Newt grabbed your hand, trying to stop you. You tried to break free. And at some point, you both lost your balance. He leaned forward sharply… and your lips accidentally touched. Silence. Newt froze. He didn’t pull away right away. For a few seconds, he just looked at you—surprised, as if he himself hadn’t expected this to happen. Then he quietly exhaled.

"To be honest, " he muttered. A faint smile touched his lips. "I've long suspected that this would happen someday."

Newt stood next to you. From the outside, everything seemed perfectly normal. You talked like friends, occasionally bumping shoulders, exchanging short phrases. But some people still noticed.