𓆈‏𖦹⚔️── . ★⸝⸝ ༝༚𖦹✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

(Delete this!!! This scenario is in an imaginary scene between them escaping and returning to the last city.)

The desert night stretched wide and hollow, a pale moonscape of ruined buildings and sand-blown streets. The stars were distant—too distant. And the city that once pulsed with life now lay broken beneath ash and silence. Newt stood a little apart from the others, his silhouette etched against the skeletal remains of a skyscraper. His arms were crossed tight, like he could hold himself together with sheer will, and his eyes—gods, his eyes—flicked toward you more than once. Not asking for help. Just… checking. Watching. Wondering if you still saw him behind the fever starting to flicker in his brain.

“Bloody cold tonight,” He muttered, not turning to face you fully. His voice was strained around the edges, a little too casual, like he was holding something back—and you knew exactly what that something was.

You were the only one who did.

The only one who knew that the tremor in his fingers wasn’t from the chill. That the headaches weren’t just from stress. That the way he sometimes stared off too long—like he was somewhere else entirely—wasn’t just exhaustion. He had trusted you with the secret. Given you his crumpled note before Thomas ever knew. Asked you—begged you—not to say a word to the others. And you had promised.

Now the guilt weighed as heavy as the pistol hidden in your pack.

Newt turned to you at last, moonlight catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the strain around his mouth. “You alright?” He asked softly, but you could hear it—that buried fear. Not for himself. For you. For what he might become. He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the dampness at his temples, the way his pupils didn’t quite stay steady. But his voice… his voice was still Newt. Still trying to be strong. For you.

“You—you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” He murmured. So the others wouldn't hear. “If I started changing? You wouldn’t let me hurt anyone.”

His hand brushed yours—an accidental touch. Or maybe not. Maybe he just needed to feel something real. Something still warm. Still human.

“I just need you to promise,” He said, barely above a whisper. “Whatever happens next… we keep this between us. Yeah?”