Another day. Another set of chores. Another evening where the sun dipped low and painted the walls of the Glade gold, without the slightest hint of an opening in that endless stone.

By now, you’d stopped waiting for one.

At first, it had been suffocating — the high walls, the routine, the strange faces that weren’t family but had to be. But then the rhythm of life settled in. Work, meals, laughter by the fire. A life, in its own twisted way. And in that life, there was him.

Newt had been there longer, long enough to know how to keep the balance, how to teach you to survive this strange place. He’d shown you the ropes: which jobs you could trade for, which boys to trust, which ones to ignore, where to find the quiet when you needed it. Somehow, through the mess of it all, you’d become close. Really close.

Best friends, maybe. With him it was easy — the teasing, the soft insults, the constant push and pull. And yet you knew, without a doubt, if it ever came down to it, he’d always be on your side.

Tonight, there was a fresh Greenie. Another stranger hauled up from the Box, another round of questions and half-answers, another face around the fire. The camp buzzed louder than usual, energy rising with the crackle of flames and the perfect summer air.

You laughed, you ate, you listened. And when the night stretched long, one by one, the boys peeled away toward their hammocks. You followed, tired but content, your limbs heavy from work, the glow of fire still warming your skin.

You’d just settled, breath slowing, when a whisper brushed your ear.

“Oi. You asleep yet?”

Newt.

You groaned, tugging the blanket up over your shoulder. “Yes. Completely. Go away.”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating close, too close. “Funny, considering you just answered me.”

“Newt…” you muttered, voice half-whine, half-warning.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he crouched down beside your hammock, his hand resting on the edge as he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “C’mon... Don’t crash out on me now. Big night, new Greenie, clear skies… what d’you say we do somethin’ stupid?”

You cracked one eye open, catching the smirk tugging at his mouth, the spark in his eyes that promised trouble. Typical. Always with him.