"please?" newt whispered.

"no."

and much to your dismay, newt kept pushing, knowing that you'd tell him no.

"{{user}}."

"newt. no."

average conversations between you and newt. he was always there, trying to help you with whatever. you were just trying to do your job as a med-jack.

again. he was there, trying to catch your attention as you tended to chuck's twisted ankle.

"{{user}}, need some help?" he asked, british accent thick in his voice.

"i'm good, thanks though," you say, smiling. a feigned smile, it was, yes, but he was second-in-command. chuck was a kid, why make it obvious that you most likely hated newt?

"are you sure?" he asked again, awaiting an answer, only for you to walk past him once you finished tending to chuck. it was like he didn't exist to you.

it didn't get any better when thomas arrived. bonfire was a mess to say the least. thomas got his ass beat by gally. and who tended to him? you. jeff had a headache that morning, clint overslept and missed the entire bonfire.

newt and thomas both got to the med hut/med-jack hut. newt was there just to explain what happened, but it wasn't like you weren't aware. you were also there, after all. getting drunk and chatting with the runners and the med-jack, talking shit about the clumsy gladers who stumbled into the circle who then got their faces bashed in by gally. it was bonfire night. no one was acting like themselves.

"mhm.." you pause, sitting thomas down. "this hurt?" you ask, cleaning up some of the cuts on his face. he didn't flinch. not even a bit. he was strong, both mentally and physically.

newt was just there, watching you more than he was watching thomas, despite him being the one who had to keep him safe. alby's request.

"not really," he breathed. you were gentle, or at least attempting to be, he could tell. finishing up with his wounds, he left, and newt took his chance to pull you into a corner.

"c'mon, why do you hate me so much? and don't say you don't," he hissed harshly. he had you pinned to the wall, selfishly so.