𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

                                    

                                          
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
                          
Heard you like Clint. 
                          
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
                          
I pull away from Newt effective immediately, my heart thrumming in my ears, and not because of the height. It's the first time I've hugged anyone since being here, and I didn't realise how much I needed one until now. For the first time since being here, I felt completely and utterly safe in his arms, even though I was thirty feet in the air. 
                          
Newt insisted I go after him, just in case he could catch me if anything went wrong; everyone knows that getting up the tree is the easiest part — it's getting back down it that causes the most issues. However, I told him no, in part because I'm a little embarrassed but mostly because I feel like a stupid, scared, little girl. I'm not going to give the other Gladers any more reason to be misogynistic. I know my friends don't have those views, but a lot of the other Gladers do, and it infuriates me. 
                          
It only takes a few minutes before Newt and I are down from the tree, my mind spinning so much that I don't even realise how high I am away from the ground. Newt just helped me. Again. And how many times have I helped him? Zero. It's unfair — I need to try and find a way to make it up to him. He shouldn't have to deal with me in a mess, and though I know he'd do it without complaint, it's not fair on him.
                          
"Are you okay?" Newt says, jumping off the tree and landing on the ground next to me. He's always thinking of other people that he neglects himself, a habit I've noticed he has from being here the past couple weeks. 
                          
"You tell anyone about that and I swear to god I'll feed you to the grievers," I warn him. 
                          
He just rolls his eyes and laughs — possibly more annoying than his unrequited kindness. "Okay, Scaredy-cat."
                          
"You are not calling me that," I snap. 
                          
"I am," he says, his face breaking out into a grin. "You call me Frog-face."
                          
"You secretly love it," I retort. 
                          
"And you'll learn to love Scaredy-cat."
                          
I scoff and begin to walk away from him, "I doubt that highly."
                          
Newt jolts forwards and before I can leap away, his hand taps my shoulder. I send him a glare. I'd almost forgotten we were playing Tag Edition. "Tagged you," he mocks. "In the pit you go."
                          
"That's cheating!" I say, even though we both know it's not. 
                          
"You chucked me in the Slammer."
                          
"Minho's idea."
                          
He smiles at me, pushing me towards Homestead. "So quick to throw him under the bus, huh?"
                          
I kick him playfully in the shin before walking as slow as I can towards the Slammer, my head hung. I do not like to lose. It's okay though, I'll get Newt back for that. My feet scuff against the grass, mud flying up my ankles, unearthing a few insects. I immediately stop when I see the commotion I've just caused, the insects scuttling around in panic. I stare at them for a moment, and then leap over them, a frown working it's way onto my face. That's how we must appear to grievers. Disposable. Not a threat.