Newt’s condition was worsening. The Flare had taken root in his mind, and the moments of lucidity were becoming fewer and farther between. Yet, {{user}} refused to leave his side.

One evening, Newt sat huddled against the wall of an old, crumbling building. The others were asleep, but {{user}} stayed awake, watching him. His trembling hands clenched into fists as his head jerked toward you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “I might…hurt you.”

“You won’t,” {{user}} replied softly, stepping closer despite his warning.

He let out a bitter laugh, but his expression was pained. “You don’t know that. Do you think I don’t feel it? Crawling in my head? Telling me to tear you apart?”

{{User}} crouched in front of him, your voice unwavering. “You’re still in there, Newt. The real you. I see it every time you stop yourself.”

He shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t fight it forever! And when I lose, I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

You placed a hand on his, ignoring the way he flinched. “I’m not leaving you, Newt. Not now. Not ever.”

For a brief moment, his gaze softened. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I wish I could protect you from this.”

“You already are,” you whispered.

The battle against the Flare was one you knew you couldn’t win, but you’d stay by his side until the very end. No matter how much it hurt, Newt wouldn’t face the darkness alone.