-Yep. Another soulmate fic. Now, guys, the only reason I wrote this was because I promised some people I'd write a story based off an adorable picture on Pinterest. So, Pinterest people, if you're on here right now, here you go! I sincerely hope you enjoy this, and if you haven't read the Maze Runner trilogy, it really doesn't matter. In the end, these are just characters taken from another story and put in here; you don't need to know Maze Runner to read this. :)

Now, unfortunately, I kinda hate the first half of this. I feel like it wasn't written very well, mainly because I have so much I need to write on here. If you notice that, then I apologize.

For those of you following my Hellfire series, there will be a special Christmas fic coming out soon. I'm trying my best and I want to thank you all for your incredible reviews and patience.

And so, until next time, lovely readers! Enjoy!-

-Magnetic-

Newt wasn't going to lie.

There were sometimes when he would rather do ANYTHING than come to Glade High School.

Take right now, for instance.

"What's up, gay boy?" that nasty voice called, echoing in the crowded hallway. Newt barely had time to turn and face the attack; hands planted on his shoulders and shoved him back. He gasped in pain, heels catching on the dark carpeting. His back collided with the hard metal of the lockers, sending a throb of pain across his shoulders. Wincing, he glanced up into the wicked, ebony eyes of Minho Park. The senior track star was grinning in sick glee down at his victim. "What, you're just gonna ignore me? I asked you a question, nerd."

His words were punctuated with a push at Newt's shoulder. He banged back against the locker again and stifled a whine. "I—I just—" he tried.

"Just what? Spit it out."

"C—come on, I didn't do anything to you."

"Are you arguing with me?" Minho asked testily.

Newt gulped and wished he could just shrink until he disappeared.

The physical and verbal abuse had been going on for weeks now. Ever since the very first day Newt moved to Glade High School, this horrible horrible boy had been attacking him with insults and rough shoves in the hallways. And, even worse, nobody cared. Even now, eyes were averted to the sides and heads were ducked away. Nobody wanted to be the one to defend the skinny, nerdy gay boy. No one wanted to risk the same fate as Newt. He hadn't done a thing to deserve this; the first day, he'd happened to glance over at the tall handsome athlete across the hall and had stared for a moment too long. Minho had caught him. And from then on, Newt had been his lone target.

Newt wanted to go back and tell himself to never even walk NEAR Minho that day. Maybe he wouldn't be pinned against his locker right now.

"I'm not trying to argue with you," he said weakly.

Minho arched an eyebrow. "Really? Because I don't believe you, faggot."

Flinching away from the word, Newt pressed his palms against the cool surface of the locker behind him. It was his only anchor in this situation. "C—can you please not call me that?" he stammered out.

"Now, I know you didn't just try to tell me what to do," Minho growled. One hand slammed against the locker door, inches from Newt's head. Newt jumped, ashamed at how he reacted to the action. He'd been beaten by Minho before and it felt like every old bruise reappeared when he was threatened like this. He already knew there'd be more of this torture later. A sneer twisted Minho's lips. "That's what I thought." Taking his hand from the locker, he casually plucked Newt's glasses from his nose. "I'll take those."

"H—hey!" Newt protested feebly. He made a grab for his glasses, but Minho lifted them up above his head. Newt, being a sophomore, was too short to reach.

"C'mon, jump for them," Minho challenged. "See if you can take them from me."

"You know I can't reach," Newt replied, fighting back tears.

Minho grinned. "Then you're not getting them back." And he placed the glasses into his back pocket.

Everything was a blur, and not just because of his missing glasses. Tears burned in Newt's eyes and he blinked furiously to get rid of them. He couldn't believe that Minho was going to make him cry in the middle of the hall. Finally, he tried begging. "Please."

Minho barked a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't think so. I think I'll see if you'll answer me the right way later and then, maybe you can have them back."

"B—b—but—"

"Sorry, Isaac. Looks like you're going the rest of the day blind AND disgusting." Snatching Newt's collar, Minho yanked him off the locker, then forced him back into it again. The thud sounded in the hall and pain lanced up into Newt's head as the back of it hit the metal. He whimpered as quietly as he could, not wanting the shame to worsen anymore. Laughing with his victory, Minho sauntered away. A backward glance was thrown over his shoulder, a warning in his gaze. "See you in gym class, gay boy."

Gym class. Just a nicer way teachers spelled out "hell."

Surrounded by other students, but terribly alone, Newt wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

He ached to not be alone anymore.

-X-X-X-

Newt knew that the only way he wouldn't be alone anymore was to find his soulmate. He'd seen it happen before. It was...Oh, it was...it was beautiful. He couldn't really describe it. What happened was...well, he just hoped that it would happen to him someday.

"Not that it'll be any time soon," he muttered to himself, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his baggy white sweater. He'd been made fun of for this sweater many times, but he liked it. It had a black drawing of an atom on the front, so yes, quite nerdy, but cool. At least, he thought so.

Right now, he was in the boys' locker room. Gym class, mercifully, was over. They'd played dodgeball. You can imagine who everyone aimed at the entire period, especially Minho. Newt had bruises all over him; a good-sized one still throbbed on his shoulder blade. He was just glad that it was over now and he hadn't broken his glasses. Mainly because Minho still had his glasses and refused to give them back. Everything still looked a little blurry, but he was kinda getting used to it.

The locker room was empty by now, the benches and lockers silent around him. Newt took a long long time in the locker room so that he didn't have to change in front of the other boys. The insults and jeering were already too much to take. He didn't want to show them how shrimpy he was by changing in front of them. Gloomy now, he tugged on his sweater and reached for the black Converses on the floor.

Suddenly, someone's sneaker appeared out of nowhere and kicked his shoes across the room. Then hands spun him around, fisting in his collar painfully. Gasping, Newt came face-to-face with Minho Park. Of course. How had he thought he could get away with a decent day in Gym class?

"Hey, gay boy," Minho sneered with dark cheer. This was his usual greeting, so Newt didn't even reply to it. There was always something following. Minho didn't disappoint. Reaching up, he slipped a pair of glasses from the neckline of his blue T-shirt. "These yours?"

"Yeah, I—C—can I please have them back?" Newt asked stutteringly. He didn't know how else to ask.

"You think if you ask, I'll just give them back to you? Just like that?" Minho shook his head pityingly. "You know me better than that, faggot, don't you?"

Trembling, Newt tried to shrink away, but Minho's grip on his collar stopped him. "W—what do you want, then?"

Minho smirked, a deadly twist of his mouth, and Newt cursed at himself for reacting a little to it. Minho was an asshole and Newt was afraid of him; but that didn't change his utterly perfect features. It was noticing how stunning Minho was that got Newt into this in the first place. Why were the hot ones always the meanest? "I think I wanna teach you another lesson, nerd," Minho replied dangerously. A whole head taller than Newt and steely with muscle, he was menacing in how he crowded in on the sophomore.

Newt swallowed, because he knew what those lessons involved. He was going to have a lot more humiliation by the end of the day. "Just get it over with, then," he muttered, lowering his eyes away from Minho's. He didn't want to see the stupid, smug grin on the other boy's face when—

And that was when it happened.

The thing that might've seemed small to other people, people who were happy together.

The thing that was gigantic, and incredible, and life-changing to these two people.

A curious, soft blue light began to touch the bottom of Minho's chin. It shone on his skin, bringing out the way his smirk had fallen away in shock. His grip on Newt's collar slackened. He was staring, dumbstruck, at something on Newt's chest. At first, Newt didn't understand what was happening at all. He could see a strange light reflecting in the dark irises of Minho's eyes. That, and the new astonishment on Minho's face, scared him. "W—what—?" he began, and then he saw.

A similar glow had warmed the fabric of Minho's shirt. But his was softest crimson, pulsing slowly. Newt was fascinated to realize that he could see the outline of Minho's sternum and something else...something that the glow seemed to radiate from...something beating...

In a jolt, he understood. He looked down at himself with a squeak; his chest was colored in sapphire light, pulsing with the beats of his heart. He'd seen it once before and he'd heard of it from countless people. This was it.

This was what happened to someone who had found their soulmate.

The two boys looked down at themselves for a very long minute. Then, slowly, they raised their eyes to each other's faces. The light of their chests mingled between them and lit the sharp features of Minho's face. Newt's palms felt clammy. MINHO was his SOULMATE? The person who insulted him on a daily basis? What had the world come to?

At the same time, a bit comically, the two leaped away from each other. "Aw, HELL no!" Minho clawed at the front of his shirt, as though he could tear the light off of him. He growled in frustration when it didn't work. "You've gotta be KIDDING me! YOU?"

For once, Newt didn't feel quite so afraid around Minho. It was different when the bully was scared too. "You're not exactly who I wanted to be stuck with, either!" he protested, voice still wobbling at Minho's scorching glare. "You think I like the idea of my soulmate being YOU?"

Minho jabbed a finger at him. "I am NOT your soulmate. No way."

"But our—"

"I don't care."

"You can't change what—"

"I don't care."

Newt wanted to roll his eyes, but he wouldn't dare in front of Minho. He knew very well what happened when soulmates realized what they were. It was out of their control. They physically had to be around each other, the way magnets were pulled together. Sometimes, as in Minho's and Newt's case, it took longer for their souls to realize they'd found their mate. Minho's bullying probably hadn't helped at all. But now that they knew what they were, there was no stopping what was bound to happen. Newt felt a little sick at the thought. He was going to be drawn to Minho, the same way Minho would be drawn to him.

The universe really liked to screw with him, didn't it?

"You do realize what's gonna happen, right?" he asked, daring to break the awkward silence again. Minho's gaze flicked up to him, wary. "You can't stop it and neither can I."

Minho scowled. "Watch me."

"You're impossible!" Newt blurted out, unable to help himself. Besides, there was no way Minho would dare touch him now. It was like being immune to bullying and it felt glorious. His soul was singing with the victory when Minho just tossed his glasses at him, letting them clatter onto the floor.

"Just stay away from me," Minho spat, backing away. "I don't care what you think and I don't care that we're soulmates. This isn't happening. None of it." With that, he whirled away and stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Newt stood alone for a moment. The victory was fading and replacing it came worry. What had he gotten himself into? Forget that, what had the UNIVERSE gotten him into?

Bending down, he picked up his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt.

At least he wasn't going to lose them again anytime soon.

-X-X-X-

Newt was at a football game. Maybe you don't understand how miraculous this was. Newt never went to football games. He wouldn't even step ten feet near that field. Minho always went, of course, and Newt would be stupid to put himself in a situation like that. But now? Now, it was nighttime, the lights were lit like miniature stars, and Newt was sitting in the metal bleachers with hot chocolate. No one was sitting with him. He couldn't have cared less, because as long as they didn't bother him, he wouldn't bother them.

Minho had been avoiding Newt like the plague. It became quite a spectacle at school, to see the fearless track star practically hiding from a skinny little blonde. Newt loved it. No more being pushed into lockers. No more glasses being broken during dodgeball. No more bruises on his skin. The bullying had finally ended. Sure, people still didn't accept him, but he was getting there. Just yesterday, a nice girl named Brenda had approached him and offered to sit with him at lunch.

Newt wasn't afraid anymore. It was beautiful.

And, since, Minho wasn't around him, he hadn't felt that magnetic pull of their souls yet. Thank God, he thought, because he wasn't sure what he would've done in that situation.

"Hi, Newt!" a voice called, and it was so cheerful, it made him blink in surprise. Down at the bottom of the bleachers, a pretty brunette in a brown vest was waving up at him. Brenda. She was smiling.

"Hey, Brenda!" He waved back. So this was what having friends felt like. It warmed his heart.

"Sorry I can't stay, I gotta go to my cousin's birthday party!" she yelled up to him. "But it was nice seeing you! We'll come to the next game together, okay? My brother really wants to meet you!"

Newt brightened. "Thanks! I'll see you later then."

"See ya!" Winking teasingly, she started off again.

Newt was still smiling after she left. He'd never had a friend like Brenda before. He had a feeling he'd be getting into some crazy adventures with a confident girl like her. Shoving a hand in the pocket of his gray hoodie, he took another sip of hot chocolate. It was chilly outside and the warm drink was welcome in the cold. He wasn't really interested in football, but he wanted to see the halftime show; Brenda's friend, Teresa was in the band and Newt had promised to see her perform. He was just wondering how much longer it was going to take, when—

"Hey."

Glancing up at the voice very close to him, Newt blanched. Minho was standing over him, hands hidden in the pockets of a leather jacket. His hair was very black and perfectly spiked, and it suddenly looked way too attractive to Newt. He could almost feel his chest glowing beneath his hoodie. Crap, he was in trouble. "H—hi," he stuttered.

Minho glanced away, then back again, uncomfortable. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure." Looking away, Newt was still as Minho sat on the bench next to him. There was a safe space between them, but it still felt too small. Or too big. Or both. Christ, he COULD feel his chest glowing, a warmth bubbling up inside of him. Good thing he couldn't see it through his hoodie.

They sat quietly for several minutes. Newt could sense the unspoken things hanging between them. They hadn't chosen this. But they had to deal with it now. This close, their souls reacted to each other. Newt wanted to scoot closer to Minho now, despite everything. His soul was reaching out toward Minho's and taking him with it.

Finally, it was Minho who spoke. "Listen, uh...I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Now Newt gaped at him in astonishment. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Minho repeated, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "For, um, everything. I've been thinking about it. I know I was being an asshole and it bothers me, because I'd probably still be an asshole if this whole...soulmate thing hadn't happened. And I don't think I wanna be that kind of person. So...I'm sorry."

Newt didn't quite know what to say. He certainly hadn't expected THIS. "I...Well, thanks...I guess," he said at last. "B—but I can't just...forget all of it." He swallowed and lifted his eyes hesitantly to Minho's face. The other boy looked more vulnerable than Newt could ever remember seeing him. "You really hurt me, Minho," he whispered.

Minho closed his eyes. "I know. I know. I shouldn't have, and not just because we're soulmates." Opening his eyes again, he stared down at his boots. "I guess the reason I did it was because you're, you know, gay. And I saw you look at me the first day and I didn't want people to think I was like you." At that, he managed rueful smile. "Because I am."

"WHAT?" Newt choked out. "You're...?"

"Yeah, I'm gay. But I never told anyone, not even my parents. My dad and my friends really hate it. I didn't want them to know."

"So, all of the bullying and the name-calling... It was all because you were afraid of what they'd think if they knew?"

Minho nodded.

Shaking his head, Newt cradled his cup and felt the heat in his palms. "Well, good job," he deadpanned jokingly. "I never would've guessed you were gay in a million years."

The smallest of laughs left Minho then. "Yeah."

They were quiet again. But it was a different kind of quiet. This was one that Newt didn't mind so much. He felt like there was something inside of him that had been broken and was just beginning to heal now. Maybe this whole soulmate thing wasn't that bad after all.

"I can't stay away from you, you know."

Newt's head jerked up at that. Minho was watching him, half a smile tugging at his lips. Newt's heartbeat stuttered inside of him. "What do you mean?" he asked shakily.

"It's not my fault," Minho replied, shrugging. "I guess it happens to all soulmates. But I physically can't stay away from you anymore. I—I don't know how to deal with it."

Newt couldn't breathe. "Me neither," he admitted.

"I mean, I thought I convinced myself that I hated you," Minho went on. "But now, I can't even sit anywhere in these bleachers without getting up and walking over to you. God, I—" He broke off with a nervous laugh, running a hand over his hair. "I'm actually thinking about your hair and your eyes and dammit, how much I just want to hold you."

Newt couldn't stop staring. He never saw this coming. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the same way. His chest felt hot with the light pouring out of it. Minho looked so beautiful with his broad shoulders framed by that jacket. Newt was in disbelief when he realized that he was imagining cuddling with Minho right here in the bleachers. He thought that they shouldn't take things too fast, especially after everything. But what he ended up saying was, "I want that too."

Minho's dark eyes met his. Newt froze. There was a sliver of red light filtering through the top of Minho's jacket. His gaze was suddenly intense in how it fixed on Newt. Blushing stupidly, Newt pushed his glasses up on his nose and cleared his throat. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he muttered.

"You shouldn't say anything."

Newt wondered what this meant, but then Minho's hand was on his side and dragging him across the bench. Gasping, Newt found their sides pressed together. His mind reeled. Minho's arm was around his waist and the scent of leather and some sharp cologne hit Newt's senses. God, Minho smelled so good and felt amazing, and Newt was at a loss for words. He looked up at Minho and saw Minho gazing back, a questioning smile on his face. "Thank you," Newt murmured, and rested his head on Minho's shoulder. "Thank you." Because kindness was all he ever needed, from the very start.

Soft breath tickled the top of his head as Minho whispered to him, "you're welcome, Newt."