″ i fought for this love, but at what point is it no longer worth fighting for? ‶
[Winner of the E-Awards: "Best Series"]
---------------------------------------------------------------
The remaining Gladers think they're finally safe. Removed from...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Fan art made by the lovely @Fangirl_250 Do you have fan art? Send it to me via instagram (acreativeblur) or email (acreativeblur@gmail.com)
"Chuck, Hurry up," I whine, laughing as he carefully places toppings on his baked potato, sticking his tongue out as he focuses. He looks about eleven years old.
"Hey, creating the perfect potato is a process! Its an art!" He laughs back, putting on one last spoon of cheese. "Voila!" He puts the spoon away and picks up his plate and we walk side by side over to one of the cafeteria tables.
As Chuck takes a seat, someone taps my shoulder. I turn around and see Janson standing in front of me. "Ms. Coleman, I am terribly sorry to interrupt your lunch time, but there is someone we need you to meet with. It's urgent." He tells me.
I look at Chuck. He smiles and shoos me away. "Go ahead." I ruffle his hair and turn back to Janson.
Janson nods and hands me a portfolio stuffed with papers as he leads me into the meeting hallways. "Its a boy. Just follow the files and notes and you'll be fine. There isn't much time to explain, unfortunately," We land in front of a door. "He's in there. I am sure he'll be delighted to see you."
The door slides open and I walk inside, fixing my lab coat and look up to see who sits in front of me.
The tall figure. The brown hair. The dark, blue eyes. He is unmistakable.
"Olivia?" He asks, voice deeper than I last remember it.
"Oh my god, Aris?" I say, gasping as I take a seat. His mouth hangs open in disbelief.
"Olivia Coleman. I knew we'd see each other again." He says, smiling and shaking his head, small dimples forming next to his lips.
I giggle. "Of course, when you said that, we were both six years old and digging through the mud at the creek." I say and take a seat across the table from him.
He laughs, relaxing and leaning back in his chair. "Look at you, hard to believe that only several years ago your hair was cut short and you wore sneakers and tank tops."
"Well you haven't turned out so bad yourself," I playfully smirk, chuckling. "So what are you doing here?" I ask.
"I was gonna ask the same for you." He says, tapping his fingers against the table.
"I am a doctor here." I reply, straightening the papers in the folder.
"They brought me here about two days ago. They say they want me to help with the experiment," He says. He tone gets quieter. "I ran away from home. My parents..."
"The Flare," I finish his sentence. Despair clogs my brain. "Mine too."
"They say this experiment will find a cure for it." He adds.
