𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Fine. It was a little funny.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Squinting at the sudden light filling my vision, my eyes fly open, my senses overloaded. Bile rises in my throat, but I push it back down, leaving the bitter taste of sick in my mouth. From here, I can just about see Newt's hammock, and I look at him for as long as I dare, his arms hung loose by the side of his hammock and chest rising and falling evenly. He looks so peaceful; I can almost pretend that everything were as normal.

Newt would come and wake me up as per usual, and I'd protest and groan at him, to which he'd only smile or laugh at me. I wish we weren't fighting. Two days ago, the mere notion of ever having such an argument with him would make me laugh — if there was one thing Newt and I did well it was get along.

I regret what I said. I wince as my own words play on repeat in my head, taunting me.

I didn't ask you to care!

The hurt that flickered across Newt's face when I said that is ingrained in my memory, making me wish I could take it back. But I wouldn't take back the argument, even if I could. We don't agree on certain things, and that's fine. This was bound to happen, in fact, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner.

That doesn't change the fact that it still hurts.

❀

I jog over to the walls, my legs aching from the combination of the past week's running and my exhaustion. I probably only slept for a hour last night, tossing and turning in my hammock — Chuck had to whack me a couple of times to get me to stay still. I wouldn't be surprised if it shows, I bet I look awful. I brushed my hair this morning with the brush that came in the little box of stuff for me, so at least I don't look completely battered. Minho is already by the wall, his hair gelled to perfection, leaning against the cool stone. He almost laughs when he sees me. Rude.

Do I look that rough?

He gives me a small smile and a classic Minho eye roll before his eyes fix on something behind me. I don't want to turn around, I can practically already smell the vanilla scent I correlate with only one Glader. Newt's jogging up to me, Ben not far behind. Newt doesn't look like he slept much — if at all. His golden hair is tousled on his head, and deep bags are set under his eyes. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and the rest of his shirt is crumpled. He avoids my gaze like the plague.

He spares me a look, but not into my eyes. It's only now that I miss the eye contact that he used to keep all the time, even if it was a little intimidating. With that, he walks past me and over to Minho, who raises his eyebrows at him as he arrives. I turn back to see Ben smiling at me as he runs over, his blonde hair shining in the sun. His clothes most likely used to be white when he first arrived, but over the months, the white has faded out into a yellow toned beige, much like the rest of the Glader's clothes have. My green top has only faded slightly, and since it's a dark colour, you can barely see the dirt on it.

"Hiya, Greenie," he says. "I'm meant to run with ya today. Bet you wanted to run with Minho, huh?"

"No," I say, a little too quickly.

Ben only laughs at me as the doors open, a horrible screeching noise echoing around the Glade, making me cover my ears. Ben pats me on the back and pulls me along next to him. "S'okay, Greenie."

I shove him off me with a smirk. "Stop calling me Greenie. I do have a name."

I smile at Minho before Ben and I sprint into the Maze, and I inhale deeply, the cold air filling my lungs with cool relief.

"A very weird one," Ben argues.

"At least mines not as generic as Ben."

"Touché," he chuckles as we turn the first corner and disappear from the view of the Glade. I turn around to see Minho going the opposite way doing a werid jump in the air, clicking his heels together which makes Ben and I burst out laughing. Even though I felt like klunk, I have these shanks to cheer me up and in the grand scheme of things, a small argument isn't that bad. The likelihood is that Newt and I will have made up by tomorrow. Ben continues, "I don't like it when other people are right."

"That's something we have in common."

The thing is about the Glade, is that I never expected to have a family when I first got here. It's the only thing I've wanted more than being a Runner and helping everyone find a way out of this hellhole. And now I have it. I've ended up with a dozen brothers. And I couldn't ask for anything more than that. That's the only thought that gets me through the toughest days, the reassurance that although everything's changing, new Greenies sent up each month and the walls and maze constantly changing — our family is constant. It's the one thing that grounds me. Keeps me from being jacked in the head.

❀

Running through the maze with Ben is as fun as it gets, cracking awful jokes every turn in an attempt to make us feel better — and it does. I almost forget about the heavy weight on my chest as Ben makes yet another Griever joke. I roll my eyes at him. When you first meet Ben, he seems closed off and intimating, but it's only when you're completely alone do you find out he's none of those things. If anything, I'm the more intimidating one of the two.

Ben smirks. "I have a new one!"

"Seriously, Ben, I'm not listening to another—"

"Why is Minho's favourite colour pink?"

I sigh and pull out my notepad, jotting down our location and the wall moving down a different corridor. The notes we have to make as we run are stupidly detailed, although I already know what they're going to be. The pattern hasn't changed in the two years the Gladers have been here. As far as I know, the pattern is regular. Lord help us when it changes. "I don't know. Why is Minho's favourite colour pink?"

"Because he's a flaminho."

"Shuck you, that's an awful joke," I say, biting back a chuckle. Ben stares at me, an eyebrow raised incredulously. "Fine. It was a little funny."

"I'm going to start callin' him Flaminho now."

"Do it," I say with a laugh. "See if you get slapped."

Ben rolls his eyes and picks up the speed, and we emerge into a wider area, the walls even higher, wider, and farther apart than usual. I've never been into this part of the maze before, and even though I've seen it mapped in the room, it doesn't compare to what I'm seeing before me right now. In between the slabs of stone sprout grass and weeds, creating dappled patterns of green amongst the dirty grey.

"The blades are past here, right?"

"Right you are," Ben confirms. "What's the deal with you and Newt? You two looked like you wanted to kill each other back there."

"Sort of had an argument. Don't really wanna talk about it."

Ben shrugs, taking out his notepad and writing as he slows to a walk. "That's understandable," he says, his head still down reading the notepad. "He can be a right stubborn shank when he wants to be."

"Don't I know it."

He laughs cynically and rolls his eyes, his voice thick with frustration — a distinct tone change from his flaminho jokes a second ago. "Came up to me this mornin' and told me if anything happens to you I get thrown in the Slammer."

"What?"

"Yeah," he scoffs. "What'd I tell you? Right stubborn shank. I told him no of course, just to wind him up."

I don't believe a second of it. "You're such a gossip."

"Fair warnin', you can't trust me with any secrets," Ben says, grinning at me before turning around to go back. I check my watch, and I curse slightly. Perhaps putting Ben and I together wasn't such a good idea, since we spent most of the time making Griever jokes instead of doing our job.

"We're running a little behind right now," I say to Ben. "No pun intended."

"That was even worse than Flaminho," he giggles.

"Still funnier than the jokes you spent five minutes thinking of."

"Whatever, Greenie."

❀

"Hey Chuckie," I say, almost jumping onto his hammock next to him. It's been a long day, and in all honesty, I just want to go to bed right now, even though I haven't had dinner yet and I'm starving. Minho, Ben, the other Runners and I spent our time in the Mapping Room, comparing notes and adding them to the pattern. There were a few subtle changes today, and I can't help but think something big is going to change soon.

Chuck's holding something wooden in his hands, wrapping his little hand around it as if it was the only thing in the world that meant anything to him. His brows are lowered, his lip trembling slightly. "How're ya doing?" I ask softly.

"Okay, I guess," he whispers, his eyes not leaving his hands.

I tilt my head. "What's wrong?"

Chuck looks up at me, his eyes glistening. A tear falls down his face, and instantly my hand reaches out and brushes it away and I give him a small smile. Whoever made him cry is going to find my fist in their face. Before I can finish my thoughts about what I'd do to the people who upset him, his small voice speaks up.

"We're never goin' to get out of here, are we?"

"I— I don't know Chuckie." Honesty is the best policy, even when it's disappointing at best. Chuck's a smart lad. He can detect a lie if I were to feed one to him, and a lie is the last thing I want to tell right now. "But we can try. There's got to be some way out of here, don't ya think?"

"Yeah. I guess," he says, leaning his head on my shoulder. I wrap an arm around his back and tickle his sides slightly, and he slaps my hand off of him with a small grin. "Do you remember your family?"

"Family?" I hesitate. "You lot are my family now."

"But I mean before that."

The first night I was here, I remember thinking about how my family wouldn't miss me, how they wouldn't even notice I was gone. But now, I don't find myself thinking about them that much. I hope they're okay, I really do. I don't think I would ever want to know what happened to them — I still get the same feeling I had weeks ago that I won't like what I hear. "No, I don't."

"I hope my parents are waitin' for me."

"I know they are, Chuck."

"How d'ya know?"

"Because you're the ray of sunshine in the Glade," I explain. "You always have a smile on your face. We love you for that. And if I can love ya within three weeks, then your parent most certainly love you. They raised you Chuckie. Even if you don't remember them, they remember you. And they miss you."

Another tear falls down Chuck's face, but he wipes it off before he realises I've noticed. My heart jolts as he does so. He's got all of this pressure on him to be happy and joyful, that it actually makes him everything but.

"It's okay to be sad sometimes, Chuckie. I get sad, too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Quite a lot."

"It doesn't show."

A chuckle at him. "That's the point."

Chuck stares out at the maze, watching the vines sway in the wind, lost in thought. I stay silent. Sometimes what people need isn't a shoulder to cry on, just someone to sit there with them. Sometimes that's enough. It's enough for me. He opens his palm very slowly, revealing two little statues make of wood. They're incredible, and so neatly done it could pass as a professionals work. I smile at them in his hand.

"I made two of these," he explains slowly. "One for Mum and one for Dad. I want you to have one of them."

"No, Chuckie..." I begin to protest.

"Yes," he jumps in. "Because I don't know if I'll make it out of here, Thea. I know you will. You have to. And you can give them to my parents. I just have to find someone else to give the other one to."

Chuck opens my hand and presses one of the delicate figures into it, and curls my fingers around it, giving me a smile. "You'll find someone," I say.

"Maybe it'll be the next shank that comes up in the box in a week," Chuck says with a little giggle.

"A week? It's gone by so fast."

"Time tends to do that."

I grin at the smiling boy next to me, and tighten the little statue in my hand. "Shut up."

—

Hiya, guys! I hope you liked this chapter... no Newt unfortunately. People don't always get on with each other, and disagreements are important and healthy in a friendship :)

Anyway, I hope you're all doing good. If anyone is feeling under the weather, or feel like there's something they need to get off their chest, my dm's are always open, and I can't promise you much, but I can promise you that I can listen. Your mental health matters :)

AND HOLY SHUCK WE REACHED 2K READS OH MY GOSH! I. Can't. Thank. You. Enough!

Stay safe slintheads <3

~ sophie xx
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