LocalWhore

Sunlight peeked through the cracks of the Med-Huts' wooden walls. It wasn’t a warm light, but rather beams of cold silver you saw only when the world outside was miserable and overcast.

A heartbeat pounded painfully atop my head, reminding me of the sleepless night I had had previously. Believe it or not, falling into a dreamless slumber is a pretty difficult task when someone has just attempted to kill you. It didn’t help that Gally had spent a good portion of the night prodding more information out of me about Luke and his friends. His foot would tap violently on the ground whenever I spoke their names, the rage inside him begging to be set loose.

So, when my eyelids cracked open and I peered at the empty chair beside me, my heart had dropped to the bottom of my stomach.

He wasn’t serious, was he? When he said he would kill Luke? Surely not. He would be banished. But as I stared at the vacant seat beside the bed, a voice echoed within my mind. ‘This is Gally we’re talking about, ’ it said,and I felt my conviction grow weaker.

The outside world was much like I imagined it to be. Bleak and grey. What I had not expected was to see a group of Gladers in the distance surrounding the hut that we Builders had been working on for the past couple of weeks. In fact, it looked just about finished.

Carrying a plank of wood over his shoulder was little Chuck, his red cheeks visible even despite the distance between us. He placed the plank down beside whom I guessed to be Zart, who was hammering nails into the outer walls to secure them. I counted the fingers on my hands, assuming I was still asleep because this couldn’t be right.

Chuck was a Slopper, and he was carrying around wooden planks. Zart was a Trackhoe, and he was hammering nails. Newt was second in command, and he was helping Winston, Clint, and Jeff, two Medjacks and a slicer, fix the hut’s front door onto its hinges.

I counted once, then twice, and then a third time. Ten fingers. Not one more. Not one less.

Perplexed, I began walking over. I must’ve captured Chuck's attention because he was looking in my direction, grinning ear-to-ear. “Guys, she’s awake!”

One by one, they all turned to look at me, covered in a sheen of sweat and heaving deep breaths due to their labour. I found Gally amidst the mass, fitting in the last square of glass for the four-paned window next to the front door. He turned around, crow’s feet etched deep beside his eyes as he squinted through the bright grey sunlight, to find me watching him. His shoulders drooped, as though to relax.

A weight lifted off my shoulders. His hands weren’t covered in blood. I was so sure I was going to have to start the day with Gally’s trial for murder.

Chuck waved at me and then beckoned me over.

“What have I missed?” I asked as I stopped in front of the hut. It dawned on me then that I had never asked what we had been building, although now that it was all pieced together, I unmistakably identified it as a bungalow.

Gally swiped a layer of sweat off his forehead. “Do you wanna look inside?”

I looked to Gally, and then to the small crowd that had gathered around us, as if this were some grand opening and I was about to take some scissors and cut a ribbon. A few of the boys were smiling at me, encouraging me to go inside, even a couple of Builders I had never even spoken to before.

I remembered the conversation between Winston and Gally the night before, how Winston had said half the boys would be scared if one day they woke up and I was gone. I wondered how far that notion extended. To those I’d never even spoken to before? To Gladers I had only sent passing smiles to? Had I really become so important in the four months since I had arrived in the Box?

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

Gally bit his bottom lip, a smile teasing his lips. He pushed the front door open, allowing me to step inside. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t what I saw.

In the corner of the room was a bed, a real bed, like the one in Alby’s room, fitted with white sheets and topped with a plump pillow that looked more comfortable than the softest cloud in the sky. Beside the bed was a wooden desk and chair, a small lamp sitting atop shining a warm golden light on the walls and ceiling. There was even a mirror—jagged-edged and damaged by a crack or two, but a mirror all the same—attached to the back of another door within the room.

I looked at my reflection, seeing myself for the first time rather than looking in a rippling reflection on the Glade’s lake surface. My pants were baggy around my legs, and a maroon singlet clung to my torso. Muscles curved through my arms like rolling hills, which I imagined had grown during my time as a Builder.

Gally stood behind me, towering over my shorter form. I’d known he was larger than most people in the Glade, but seeing him compared to me in the reflection was a total mind-blower. He was so tall and broad that my entire body was shrouded by his. If he wrapped his arms around me, I would completely disappear into the mass of him. There was so much of him.

“Here. There’s more.” He reached around me to push the door open. On the other side was another room, albeit much smaller, containing a metal bucket full of water with a sponge floating on the surface. “Thought you might like your own place to wash instead of with all us boys,” Gally explained. Next to the bucket was what looked to be a wooden seat resembling a toilet. To my deepest gratitude, it came with a lid.

“This is all for me?” I asked. I spun around, taking in my new surroundings. “You all made this for me?”

Gally hummed a casual, “Mhm,” as if he had done me a simple favour.

A rock lodged itself inside my throat, and my eyes began to water. I thought they were all scared of me. I thought they hated me. I looked to Gally, feeling a deep need to grab him by the neck and pull him into a deep kiss, but then I remembered the audience waiting outside the front door.

“I don’t know how to thank you all. This is…” I shook my head, unable to find words profound enough to explain my appreciation.

“You don’t have to,” Gally replied. “You’ve been through enough to not owe anyone anything. The guys out there were just happy to contribute to protecting you.” He took a step toward me, and I glanced at the boys outside nervously, worried they could see the totally non-platonic way Gally was staring at me. He stopped inches away from my body, his hand barely touching my own. “I was happy to protect you.”

“Gally…” I whispered, my skin burning to touch his. I had half a mind to close the front door and put the bed he had built to good use. “They’re right outside.”

“Then you should stop looking at me like that,” he whispered in return.

“Like what?”

He sucked in a breath. “Like you’re thinking of all the ways you could thank me without saying a word.” My heart dropped down to my core, pulsing. How did he know? “Besides,” he continued, putting space between us again, “I’ve got something more important I need to deal with.”

“What could possibly be more important?” I teased.

The playful ambience drifted out of the room, and seriousness entered Gally’s body, turning his face to cold, cut stone. I immediately regretted asking, having realised I already knew the answer—Gally had spoken it to me the night before.

Luke.

part twenty-two [wip]

A sharp crack rang in my ears as my head smacked against the hard dirt floor.

It was hard to decipher whether it was the darkness of the night or the blinding pain radiating through my skull that had caused my vision to turn black. Little flashes of the world around me infiltrated the pain, and I could just make out a small puddle forming in front of my face. It was warm and sticky.

A young voice exclaimed something unintelligible above me. Another pressed a hand to the side of my head, and suddenly the pain was blinding.

I let out a groan.

“She’s alive,” said a voice I could only just make out. “Winston, go get Gally.”

“Jeff’s already gone to wake him up.”

Some senseless version of myself deep within my mind began panicking. Had we not been as discreet as we thought? How did they know to get Gally? Then my vision returned, and I saw the warm, sticky puddle growing quickly, and I was now panicking for an entirely different reason.

I closed my eyes, wishing away the situation that was unfolding.

“Keep your eyes open, She-bean; Jeff and Clint are coming,” someone said. I lifted my lids as much as I could and saw Winston looking down at me, his face riddled with worry. My lips tried to stretch into a smile. He smiled back at me and gripped my hand tightly, like you would a true friend. “We can’t afford to lose the best Slicer in the Glade.”

A tear slid from my eye, salty as it slipped between the cracks of my lips. “Thanks… Winston.”

“Greenie?”

Gally stood by a hammock, his face only lit by a nearby lantern, his wide eyes looking down at me as though I was already someone to mourn. A cavern opened up in my chest as I worried maybe I was.

He dropped down next to Winston, his large fingers brushing against my forehead. “What happened?”

“We think someone cut through the rope of her hammock,” Winston said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, was I?” Gally snapped.

My heart dropped. If I could’ve slapped the boy, I would have. Winston, however, had a much calmer reaction.

“Look, Gally,” he said evenly, holding his hands up. “I know you care about her. Nobody’s blind enough to miss that, trust me. That’s your business, not mine. But she isn’t just yours to worry about. She’s one of us. She’s been pulling her weight ever since she came up in the box, and I know half the shanks here would be scared to wake up and find her gone, so don’t bite my head off for trying to help.”

The hole in my chest began to close as Winston’s words stitched me back together. I wished it hadn’t taken me to be on death’s doorstep to hear that my placement amongst these boys was more substantial than I realised, but the sentiment still warmed me more than any blanket ever could.

Or maybe it was the blood sticking to my skin.

“Yeah,” Gally spoke. “Sorry.”

Hurried footsteps rustled the dirt. Jeff and Clint, strapped with various medical supplies, were now standing puffed beside the two kneeling boys beside me.

“What the hell happened?” asked Clint as Jeff dropped behind my head and began applying pressure to the wound on my scalp.

Winston looked at Gally with anxious eyes. Gally simply nodded, an unspoken question answered. “Someone cut the rope connected to her hammock while she was asleep, and she smacked her head on the ground,” the Slicer began. “No one was here when we found her, so we don’t know who—”

“I know who it was,” I rasped, and everyone looked at me.

I recalled the moment just before I came crashing down, the pair of eyes piercing into my skull from above as though they were intent on murdering me with their gaze. I could’ve told you who it was with just that knowledge, but it was the smile that really solidified my evidence.

I knew that smile anywhere.

“It was Luke.”

**********

“Ow.”

“Hold still. It’ll only hurt more if you keep moving around.”

I winced. It felt like a fire ant was digging into my head with little pincers.

“I told you, Greenie. Should’ve gone with Jeff. Everyone knows he’s way better at stitching people up than Clint.”

Clint looked perplexed. “Um. I’m literally right here.”

Gally shrugged. “Constructive criticism, man. You don’t get any better without it.”

“Constructive criticism,” Clint murmured as he continued closing the wound on my head. “I’ll show you some constructive criticism.”

I rolled my eyes.

Alby had come and gone within the past ten minutes, obviously having been quickly alerted to the situation once they had gotten my bleeding under control. I had told him I knew who the culprit was, that I was certain of my conviction, but he, like most of the other boys, was less inclined to immediately label Luke as an attempted murderer. It was a big accusation, regardless of his past antics and ‘acquaintance’.

Alby said that my suspicion was noted and a meeting would be held the next day, although it had offered me no reassurance. For the first time since I met him, Alby had disappointed me. I understood he didn’t want to go around shouting potential false accusations, but the idea that he would just have us sleep on what happened was unbelievable.

Then again, Luke had been in the Glade almost as long as Alby, and despite his misdemeanours, he had the advantage of having more reason to be believed. I was the only girl, the odd one out, and I had only been here for four months with a more-or-less unsettling reputation. For all Alby knew, I could’ve just been the girl who cried wolf.

There was a snip, and then an “Alright, you’re back in one piece.”

“Thanks, Clint,” I said, lying back on the bamboo bed. “Ignore what Gally said. You did great.”

He smiled at me. “Anytime, Greenbean,” he said, patting my shoulder. “I’ll leave you to get some shut-eye.”

The two boys glared at each other as Clint left the Medic Hut.

Gally, whose bulky arms were crossed over his chest, moved his attention back to me as we became the two sole occupants of the room. I frowned at him. “It’s a wonder you have any friends at all. You’re such an asshole.”

“They must be captivated by my incredibly good looks, then.” He pulled a stool over to the side of my bed and sat down. “Isn’t that what pulled you in, Greenie?”

My stomach fluttered, and I looked away. He had too much of an ego for me to handle.

“Why do you think it was Luke?” he asked.

Just the sound of his name had a shiver ravaging my skin. I started to think maybe keeping secrets from Gally was no longer sustainable, and that maybe I couldn’t handle this alone like I thought I could. Sure, I had become pretty decent at throwing knives and had gained a bit of strength from becoming a builder, but Luke was a man who was almost twice my size. After tonight, it became clear I was in way over my head.

I was no longer being taunted.

I was being targeted.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” I began. I couldn’t look him in the eye, although the agitated stare pictured in my mind made it seem like I was.

“What do you mean?” he asked, caution in his voice.

Before I even had the chance to start talking, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I looked down at my hands to find them trembling, so I clasped them together. Gally, having noticed my behaviour, placed a large hand on top, encompassing them both with his palm. I looked over at him to find that the agitation I was preparing to see was replaced with a much softer expression. Worry.

And then it all came out. It burst out of me, actually. I hadn’t realised how desperately I needed to talk to someone until the words kept falling from my tongue like an endless array of dominos. I started with the first interaction with Luke, when I had been putting together a wall for the hut, and how he had reminded me to keep my knife close.

“We won’t forget” was what he had said.

I told him about the person who kept stealing my blankets, the eyes I’d wake up to each time it happened. I told him about the stares I endured during mealtimes, when I was working, from hundreds of meters across the Glade. I told him about the dreams, about the smiles, about the knife plunging into my stomach over and over again every time I fell asleep.

Everything.

Gally’s hand had turned to stone atop my own, constricting my hands like a snake. He masked the anger well on his face, but I still caught the way his lips were begging to curve into a snarl, how his teeth clenched within his jaw, and how his usually watery blue eyes had turned into a violent, tumultuous ocean.

I knew what he was going to say before he even said it, but I couldn’t have imagined the animosity that shrouded his voice when he said—

“I’m gonna kill him.”

tags <3: @evelynstanmarvel @luvymelody @what-the-jams @lockeandkeyye @cherrystarship @sxserenity @andrianasinger @aoartstudio @annaiaweirdokid @h0ney223

The next couple of nights were nothing short of nightmares and blanket-snatching. I tried to stay awake to catch the culprit, but my body always gave in to the darkness that crept behind my eyes before I could.

People were beginning to catch on that something was wrong. I would wake up to myself gasping for air as I dreamed of dark eyes, uncanny smiles, and a knife to the stomach. And then came the teeth chattering as my body realised its layer of warmth had been ripped away in my sleep.

It wasn’t just me suffering anymore; it was everyone around me. I’d wake to groans from the boys sleeping in local hammocks, hearing a “shut up” now and then. Chuck tried to offer me his blanket once, but I refused. I couldn’t let a child go without warmth.

My lethargy was slowing the progress of the hut we were building, and Gally had made it clear how detrimental it was that we finish it promptly. He even allowed me time off work—although this was clear favouritism at play—to regain my energy. Instead of sleeping, I used this time to practice my knife throwing.

Sleep would do me no good.

I knew they were messing with me, Luke and his friends. I also knew it was just the beginning.

My knife flew straight toward the tree, nestling itself an inch deep into the trunk. The target had become a messy circle of scattered wounds, but the centre circle was still identifiable—the blade marks clustered tighter and tighter towards the middle, like a kind of gradient.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I plucked the knife from the wood. The sun seemed to have doubled in size today, turning the Glade into an oven meant to make us feel like one of Frypan’s rotisserie lambs. Half the boys had stripped down to their bare essentials, prioritising the danger of overheating; the other half were clothed head to toe, protecting their skin.

Gally was of the latter.

He was far from where I stood, working on our mysterious wooden hut with the other Builders who had all taken their shirts off, most likely due to a mix of vanity and an early onset of heatstroke. Gally was carrying a load of logs over his shoulder, which I assumed would soon be the roof, as it was the only part left to build.

Despite the distance between us, the definition of his muscles was easily spotted. His thick shoulders tensed as he brought the logs in front of him, arms filled with spiderwebs of veins, as he placed them on the ground.

I shouldn’t have been distracted by something as trivial as Gally’s body, but I had found that recently, all my mind could focus on were trivial matters. And they all led back to him.

Our eyes met from our places on either side of the field, and the space between us felt light-years across. My desperation—albeit shameful—for him must’ve been radiating off of me because Gally turned and spoke with another Builder nearby, who nodded in response to whatever Gally had said, and suddenly he was picking up his shirt, and walking in my direction.

My heart leapt into my throat.

What was happening? Maybe he thought I had just been standing around doing nothing and wanted me to start working again. Yeah, that was it. He was definitely coming over to scold me for taking advantage of the time off he had given me. I should’ve realised that being the only Glader he kissed could only save me from so much trouble.

I tucked my knife back into my boot and stepped into the forest, deciding that if we were going to argue, it would be best to keep it between us and the trees.

Leaves crunched behind me as Gally entered the woods, and an odd sensation began trickling down my body, like millions of little spiders were crawling over my skin. A stretched, toothy smile wormed its way into the forefront of my mind, followed by hands wrapped around my throat, and a knife being plunged deep into my stomach.

I wondered if entering the forest had been a smart move. Every dream I had revolved around being chased amongst these trees, and it never ended well.

“Greenie,” Gally spoke, stopping me in my tracks.

“If you’re here to scold me, just get it over with already.”

“Scold you?”

A branch snapped behind me, and suddenly warmth began spreading up my back. Gentle fingers brushed against my wrist and then trailed up the length of my arm. “You think I’m here to pick a fight with you?”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

Turning my head, I looked back at Gally, who was peering down from the ten inches he had on me. He brushed a lock of hair behind my shoulder with nimble fingers, and I found myself wondering how this boy was named the most aggressive person in the Glade. They all had it so wrong.

“Why are we out here then?” I asked, unable to stop myself from glancing at his mouth.

He wore a sly smirk. “You know why.”

His fingers moved under my chin, and soon enough, his lips were pressed against mine.

part nineteen [wip]

Gally took a seat beside me.

“Thought you lost your winning streak for a second there.” I nodded towards the blond boy who had found himself a group to squeeze into. “One too many drinks tonight, Gally?” I teased.

He raised his eyebrows pointedly, handing me a cup. “This is my first, actually. And what about you? Is this number seven or eight? I know you’ve got a problem with this sort of thing.”

“Ha-ha. You’re a real comedian.”

I tried to hide my smile, but it was no use. He seemed to be in unusually high spirits, an outcome of his recent win, which I was not going to take for granted.

“So,” he said, taking a swig of his drink, “why the sudden interest in knife throwing?”

“We won’t forget what you did.”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my own. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared for any close encounters with a Griever.”

“Right. Because you’re in that situation often, are you?”

Was it bad that I was waiting for the conversation to turn sour?

I took one sip in preparation, then a gulp, and soon enough, the rest of the cup had been emptied into my stomach.

Gally then asked, “Why don’t you come join the other Builders?”

There it was.

A piece of wood popped within the fire’s foundation, causing the flames to grow exponentially. My skin was just a couple of degrees above uncomfortably hot.

“I’m happy here,” I said.

He looked away, and even in my peripheral vision, I could see the frustration on his face. I could feel it.

“You have to start talking,” he replied, though it felt more like a command.

“Why should I?”

Gally turned to face me. “Because it was part of our deal. You become a Builder—you talk. It’s simple.” He watched me, waiting for a reaction which I didn’t give. He sighed. “We’re a team, Greenie, and you can’t have camaraderie if you can’t even have a conversation.”

“That’s a big word. Camaraderie.”

He buried his head in his hands. “You're impossible.”

I almost felt bad. But then I remembered that he didn’t have to go through anything that I did. He didn’t have to sleep in his leader’s bedroom in fear of being murdered… or worse. He didn’t have to put on an intimidating front just to keep himself out of harm’s way. He hadn’t been told that his only use in the Glade was to be a personal toy.

“We might be stuck here for a long time,” Gally began, emphasising his point with stern hand movements. “Maybe forever, I don’t know. Don’t you want to at least try to make friends in the meantime? You know, like, get along with people?”

The corners of my mouth began to droop. “I don’t like it.”

“You do it with me.”

“You’re different.”

“Why?” he said, exasperated.

Our eyes connected.

The past four months flashed before me. I saw a group of boys gawking down at me in the Box, only one of them barking commands to help me out. Then I was standing in front of the maze’s doors, staring out into the tall, stone corridor. I heard a familiar voice behind me say, “Don’t make me come in there after you, Greenie.”

I was in the Homestead, surrounded by a community of boys who were arguing over my purpose in the Glade, watching one boy grab another by the shirt as he advocated for my respect. I was lying in a bed, my eyes fluttering with the ache of sleep, listening to a promise being made, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I was sitting by a fire with a boy almost double my height, double my temper, and who had managed to double the size of my heart in mere months by being his hot-headed, surly self.

My eyes gravitated to his lips, naturally, and I knew I had exposed myself then and there. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple made it obvious.

“Greenie,” he murmured as though it were a warning. He was flickering between my eyes and my lips, and it seemed as though the whole world around us had paused just for us, for this.

“Yeah?” I whispered.

His shoulder brushed against mine, and electricity shot through my nerves upon contact. The hairs on his forearm tickled my skin, and the radiant warmth of his body transferred to mine as our arms somehow closed in proximity, and I felt so alive.

For a moment, I worried I had drifted off into a dream state because in no sane universe would Gally be leaning in closer, nor would our lips be inches apart. But he was, and they were.

“Why?” he asked again, his breath fanning against my mouth.

My stomach twisted and turned, and for once, it wasn’t because I was unnerved.

I was excited.

“You know why.”

tags <3: @evelynstanmarvel @luvymelody @what-the-jams @lockeandkeyye @cherrystarship @andrianasinger @sxserenity

The small warmth that sparked in your chest caught you off guard. It felt like a familiar burst of emotion that would soon spiral into a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. But this time, the familiar felt different in a way.

You picked up the carton, running your thumb over the cool surface before smiling softly. The packaging was how you remembered it still. “Yeah. I do.” You poked the straw in and took a sip, the sweetness flooding your mouth. “Thanks, Todoroki.”

“Shouto,” he corrected gently.

You looked at him, surprised.

“You can call me Shouto,” he repeated, his tone steady but not demanding.

Ok, so you understood that if you were outside, wearing your hero uniforms, calling him by his hero name would be appropriate given the setting. But then again, his hero name is his first name.

But to call him that casually?

Somehow, that felt intimate.

Like he trusts you enough to have you call him by his name.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay… Shouto.”

The name felt strange and soft on your tongue, though you remember practicing it in front of the mirror a billion times during middle school just because the teacher told you that a class representative’s duty is to always make her classmates feel included, but it made his gaze shift just slightly, almost like he was pleased.

You two sat in silence for a moment, you sipping your drink and Shouto just watching you—not in a way that made you uncomfortable, but in that calm, steady way of his, like he was listening even when you hadn’t spoken.

What is this natural charm of his?

Was he cursed with being this perfect embodiment of the word perfect?

“So,” you said finally, trying to break the silence. “Did you come all the way here just to hand me strawberry milk?”

“Yes.” His answer came without pause.

You choked on your drink. “Wait—seriously?”

“Yes,” Shouto answered again, tilting his head to the side. “You looked like you needed it.”

Your brows furrowed. “I looked like I needed strawberry milk?”

“You looked tired.” His tone didn’t change, but there was certainty in it. “And when people are tired, something familiar helps.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

You studied his face, the mismatched eyes, and the composure he wore like armor. Shouto wasn’t the type to hand out comfort freely—not in the way someone like Kirishima did, with loud encouragement, or Mina, with bubbly energy. His was quieter. Intentional.

“…You’ve gotten good at this, you know,” you said, smiling like you’re thirteen again and introducing yourself to him with the biggest smile.

“Good at what?”

“Noticing people.” You set your carton down, resting your chin on your palm. “Back in middle school, you barely spoke to anyone. You didn’t even look at me when we worked on that project. Now…” Your smile tilted just slightly. “Now you bring me strawberry milk because you think I look tired.”

Shouto blinked, thinking about that, then gave the faintest shrug. “I pay attention to things that matter.”

You decided to play cheeky and ask, “So I matter?”

“Yes.”

His answer was immediate. Unflinching.

As if he’d been holding this answer in for years.

You paused.

You weren’t sure what she’d expected—maybe hesitation, maybe a deflection. But his honesty landed with the weight of something unshakable. You scrambled for words.

“I—uh—that’s…”

He hummed, blinking as he studied your expression carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” you blurted out, too fast. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the straw. “Just… you don’t usually say things like that. It caught me off guard.”

“I see. Midoriya says I have a habit of simply saying what I think.” He nodded once, accepting that. “But it’s true.”

Your heart thudded unsteadily in your chest, and you quickly looked back at him, searching for something to say. Anything, really.

“You know, you’re really straightforward sometimes. It’s—kinda refreshing.”

“Would you prefer if I wasn’t?”

“No,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “I like it. I like that you mean what you say.”

Something flickered in his eyes then—not quite a smile, but a softening.

Again, silence enveloped you two as you sat like that for a while, you sipping your milk in small, thoughtful gulps while Shouto leaned back in his chair, watching the world through the window.

Finally, you spoke again, more like whispering this time. “You’re… really kind, Shouto.”

“I don’t think I’m kind,” he said, almost matter-of-factly.

“You are,” you insisted. “You just don’t realize it. You pay attention in ways most people don’t. You notice when someone’s tired, when they need a small reminder that someone cares.” You gave him a small smile. “That’s kindness.”

There was something in his expression that felt like he wanted to say something more, but you didn’t push it. You think—no, know now—that if he wanted to, he would let you know.

Shouto didn’t confess. He didn’t say the words that lingered unspoken between you.

But he didn’t need to—not yet.

Because as you finished the last sip of your strawberry milk, you realized that his presence was enough for now. His quiet certainty, his simple gestures, the way he remembered things about you that no one else did.

And maybe, just maybe, his heart was big enough to hold yours.

It didn’t have to be rushed.

Time would do the rest.

“Thanks again,” you said, your voice soft as you stood to leave.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. Then, after a pause, he added, “I’ll get you another one tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to! These are crazy expensive, you know?”

“I know. But you like them.”

“No, Todo—“

“Shouto.”

“Nuh uh, Shou! No more! I can get them on my own.”

“But I want to.”

“Still no!”

Because maybe Bakugou’s heart lay elsewhere. But Shouto—

Shouto had room for yours.

But lately, you’d started to notice where his gaze lingered. Not on you, not really. His eyes were always somewhere else—on the finish line, on the next fight, on someone who wasn’t you.

It hit you during lunch, of all times.

The cafeteria was loud with chatter, the usual noise of the class among the other students bouncing off the walls. You sat across from him, your trays between you, and he was eating with that familiar single-minded focus that made everything else fade into background noise. You’d been saying something about the new internship placements—you couldn’t even remember what anymore—when he cut you off without even realizing it.

“I need to shave two seconds off my time before the next mock battle,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his chopsticks paused mid-air.

You blinked, your food halfway to your mouth. “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’d be good.”

He didn’t hear you.

He was already gone, already somewhere in his head, running through strategies, calculating outcomes.

And you knew.

You knew that no matter how many late-night talks you shared after training, no matter how many times you tried to peel back his layers and understand him, you would never be the center of his world.

You would always be orbiting him, watching him chase something bigger, something brighter than anything you could offer.

You had asked him dozens of questions before—about his favorite food, about his childhood dreams—about what kind of hero he wanted to be. He’d answer most of them, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with a smirk like you were being nosy, sometimes with that rare, unguarded honesty that made your chest ache—because, wow, it’s always different whenever Bakugou answers them.

But he never asked you anything back.

Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t think to.

And maybe that was worse.

Because how could you hold it against someone when their heart simply wasn’t pointed in your direction?

You excused yourself after lunch, your smile tight, and no one noticed when you slipped out early. Not even him.

Thank UA’s school administration for cutting class early for preparation for another irrelevant school event.

Your feet carried you to the courtyard behind the dorms, the one where the grass grew uneven and the noise of the common room couldn’t quite reach. You sat on the bench, tucking your knees to your chest, and let yourself breathe.

It hurt.

Way to point out the obvious.

Not in the way you thought heartbreak would hurt—devastating and dramatic and impossible to ignore. It was much quieter than you imagined, almost polite. A dull ache that settled in your chest and made everything feel a little heavier.

Because you had loved him. You really had.

You spent a good two and a half years learning more about him to determine whether your feelings for him are actual feelings and not just some fleeting, cruel limerence. Because you don’t deserve limerence; he doesn’t deserve that.

You had memorized the cadence of his voice, the way it softened when he was tired, the way it sharpened when he was excited. You had paid attention to the way his hands moved when he talked, the way his shoulders tensed right before he lost his temper, the way his smile looked when he thought no one was watching.

You had cared enough to know all those things.

And he—he had never asked you what you loved, what you feared, or what you wanted from the world beyond all of this.

Not because he was cruel.

But because you simply weren’t where his heart lived.

It lived in his goals, in his future, in some version of himself that he was still clawing his way toward. And maybe—maybe in someone who could run beside him without slowing him down. Someone who burned just as fiercely as he did.

Not you.

Or maybe he thought that there was no point in simply asking.

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against your knees, and let yourself feel it. The sting of it, the loss of a fantasy future you’d built in your head, the quiet grief of realizing you had always been loving him alone.

You thought about all the times you’d waited for him after class, all the conversations where you’d tried to draw him out, all the little moments you’d saved like treasures.

And you let them go.

Well, not all in one go.

More like piecemeal. In fragments. Like shards of a broken mirror.

Not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

Bakugou would never change for you. He didn’t need to, and you shouldn’t—couldn’t ask him to.

Because you loved him as he is.

That’s the type of person you are.

And maybe, someday, you will stop caring.

Someday, you will wake up and realize you didn’t look for him first thing in the morning. Someday, you will hear his voice across the battlefield and it won’t make your heart jump. Someday, you would stop waiting for him to notice the things about you that you had been offering open arms all along.

But today wasn’t that day.

Today, you just sat there, breathing through the ache, letting it wash over you until it dulled enough that you could stand.

When you finally went inside the dorms, your face was calm again. No one would notice anything had changed. Not even him. You made sure.

And maybe that was okay.

Because loving Bakugou Katsuki had taught you something, even if it never became what you wanted.

It taught you that your heart was big enough to hold someone who might never hold you back.

And maybe, when you were ready, it would be big enough to let someone else in. Someone with an even bigger heart to hold yours.

the aftermath of confessing to him.

I couldn’t move.

It was like staring into the face of a lion, no fact more obvious than that I was his prey.

“Not talking?” he asked, still wearing an uncanny grin. “That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk.”

My heart pounded in my throat, in my chest, in my head, and my eyes were starting to water from the lack of blinking.

“I just gotta know one thing.” He lifted his index finger. His voice was so disarming, like a parent trying to coo their baby to sleep. That’s what made him so terrifying. “This was your whole plan, right—you using the fact that you’re a girl to try and get rid of the rest of us?” He tilted his head.

My feet instinctively shuffled back as if to send a signal to my brain to run, but Luke caught my wrist with his hand. He squeezed tightly, and I whimpered.

“I’m not stupid, okay?” His smile faltered, but he kept the mask on. “Did you know I was Marcus’ friend for two years?”

I said nothing. Even if I wanted to, the intense shakes riddling my body would have prevented me.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he demanded, tightening his grip.

I shook my head fervently, hoping the desperation in my eyes would make him stop.

“You knew we were close, though. And, I mean, that alone is cause enough for my banishment, as well as Liam’s and Erik’s.” Liam and Erik must have been the other boys. “But I bet you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I stared at him, a fire building in my chest.

As my silence weighed more heavily, his smile dropped. He dragged me towards him, causing me to let out a short cry. His face was mere inches from my own, and we were staring straight into each other’s eyes, but where mine were brimming with tears and emotion, his were empty. It was like someone had dug out a bottomless pit—there was nothing but darkness.

“I need you to listen to me very closely. Can you do that?” Frightened, I nodded in submission, as per his demand. As if it were even possible, he moved in the slightest bit closer, his free hand trembling in the air beside him, clenching into a fist as though he were restraining himself from touching me. “We won’t forget what you did.”

He only spoke six ambiguous words, but I knew what they meant.

It meant I was no longer safe in the Glade.

“Alby gave you some pretty good advice,” he continued. He then reached into his pocket, revealing to me a glimpse of a blade. His eyes squinted at mine. “Do you remember what he said?”

It was then that my fear washed away and was replaced with something new.

Rage.

This was exactly what I expected from the start. My accuracy only made the anger burn so much hotter.

“Keep my knife close,” I hissed in response.

“That’s it,” he whispered, and there was that smile again, the one that had my innards violently crawling.

In this moment, I realised a terrifying reality. When the time came, it was either Luke, Liam, and Erik’s bodies or my own that were going to be rotting in the Deadheads. If we put up a good fight, maybe it would be all four of us. I didn’t know which was worse: the atrocities they had planned for me, or my potential future as a murderer of three.

As Luke stood up, he spoke in a cheerful voice, “We’ll talk again.” And with a salute, he was off with the other Builders.

My stomach churned, a rush of liquid tunnelling through my oesophagus.

Gally, with his perfect timing, arrived just in time for any trace of Luke’s presence to vanish and to witness a perfect view of me spilling my guts onto the dirt floor like the charmer I was.

“What the hell happened?” He dropped to the floor beside me, patting my back as the puddle of my breakfast grew larger. The patting sort of made me feel worse, but I appreciated the gesture.

I shook my head, heaving into the dirt, eyes watering to hell. My mouth opened to speak only to shut again as the nausea bobbed in my throat.

“Come on,” he said. “You can’t work like this.”

He placed his hands on either of my shoulders, touch lighter than air, and coaxed me to my feet. Dead blades of grass hung from my fingertips, dirt coating the padding of my palms. Gally noticed this and, slowly, as if he were trying not to provoke a wild animal, he took each hand and brushed it off. The sweat on his palms only transferred my mess onto his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re a wreck, Greenie,” he spoke, a poorly hidden grin twitching on his lips.

If only he knew.

Luke’s smile pervaded my mind. It sat cruelly on the curve of Gally’s mouth, and when I thought of Chuck and his innocent toothy laugh, Newt’s attempts to hide his amusement whenever Frypan made a crude joke, and Minho’s high and mighty, too-good-for-you smirk, it was there too.

What had I done?

All I wanted to do was protect myself. Now three people wanted to murder me.

Gally led us across the Glade, stopping by Alby only to notify him of my condition, to which he sent us straight to the Homestead. As we grew closer and my thoughts became more tangled in blood and fear, my body became weaker. The world swayed around me, as though I were underwater, being tossed around by endless oncoming waves.

I could feel Gally side-eyeing me as we walked, just waiting for me to collapse into a heap. He didn’t ask any more questions about why my skin had gone greyer than a slab of cement or why sweat beaded my forehead like a leaking faucet. His focus was only on getting me to rest. I couldn’t tell anymore whether my stomach churned with sickness or butterflies.

We reached the Homestead, ascending the staircase towards Alby’s bedroom, I in front of Gally. “Don’t pass out and fall down the stairs. You’ll take me down with you,” he said, a hint of humour in his voice.

“No promises,” I breathed, feeling myself grow more lightheaded with each step.

The corridor was bathed in light when we arrived on the second level. Heat seeped through the wooden walls and beams of light shone through the window at the end of the hall, causing droplets to begin gliding down my skin.

God, I felt awful, and this might’ve been the worst place to make me feel better. Then again, it was away from prying eyes and soulless smiles, so it also could’ve been the best place.

“I think you should sleep it off for a while, whatever you’ve got.”

“Gally, I’m not sick.”

He laughed. “Right. Because you definitely don’t look it.”

My throat hardened, and that horrible feeling of tears welling in my eyes approached.

“Please, just trust me. I’m not sick.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head. He looked at war with himself, as though he were torn between contradicting me or accepting. The old Gally would have spent hours arguing about the logistics and probability of me being sick, but in these last few weeks, something had changed. He had changed.

There was a sigh, a pinch of the bridge of his nose, and then an “Okay. Fine. You’re not sick.”

I could’ve laughed in amazement, though if I wanted to keep this new Gally around, I knew it was better not to. Instead, I simply nodded and then turned towards Alby’s bedroom.

“I’ll have to get back to work. Do you think you’ll be okay here alone during the day?” he asked from behind.

The idea of him leaving me on my own did something strange to my heart—the feeling of it being tugged on. I didn’t like it.  I paused in my tracks, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, eyeing the window that looked out to the entire Glade. “Can you stay?” I asked cautiously.

Shame washed over me within milliseconds. It riddled my body so ferociously that I wanted to peel off a layer of skin just to be rid of it. I couldn’t believe I had asked him such a question. I might as well have written a sign saying, ‘I’m weak and dependent’ and stuck it to my forehead.

But then…

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

part twelve

Tendrils of silver light shone through the trees above, acting as my only source of light to navigate through the forest. My breaths were coming out in short, desperate puffs as my feet tenderised the ground beneath me, legs growing exhausted from unrelenting expenditure.

Shouts and hollers from my hunters bounced from tree trunk to tree trunk, closing in from behind.

They were going to find me.

They were.

Heart hammering, I whirled around a large tree, pressing my back to the bark in an attempt to conceal myself. I covered my mouth with two trembling hands. Tears were cold on my cheeks.

The sound of leaves crunching came closer and closer until they passed in front of me, continuing into the distance until they were inaudible. I closed my eyes, my shoulders relaxing with a long exhale.

That was when a hand wrapped around my throat, and sharp teeth smiled at me through the darkness.

“Got you, sweetheart.”

Moonlight was shining through the bedroom window when I woke. My knuckles were white as they clutched the blanket to my chest, the stiff ache in my fingers a sure indication that my body hadn’t had a moment’s rest despite apparently being asleep the entire afternoon.

“You okay?”

I jumped out of the bed, snatching the knife hiding underneath my pillow, and held it out in front of me.

“Jesus. It’s just me,” said the dark figure by the doorway.

I peered through the darkness, making out the shape of his lips and eyes, and the pronounced arch of his eyebrows. I lowered the blade. It was just Gally.

“Sorry,” I murmured. Placing the knife on the bed, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to relieve the tension already building in my brain. “Bad dream.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

He was sitting against a wall, hands hanging over his knees, which were arched in front of him, and although his face was shadowed, I could see exhaustion drooping his usually guarded features. I didn’t realise that when I asked him to stay with me, he would do so for well over five hours. Guilt began to eat me as I worried that my need for company may have been too selfish.

I fiddled with my fingers. “Gally?”

“Yeah?” he yawned.

Outside, the fires were still roaring, but there was hardly anybody in sight, just the odd few stragglers and one unfortunate soul who happened to be serenely relieving his bladder in my line of sight. Everyone else had gone to bed, which meant Gally and I had missed dinner.

“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked.

He thought about it for a moment, letting my question hang in the air. With a shrug of his shoulders, he spoke, “You asked me not to.”

And that was all he gave me. I had asked him to stay, so he did. Perhaps I was still lingering within a dreamlike state, because in my opinion, it felt as though his words had floated across the room and touched me in a way more intimate than a kiss.

“How did you get so sick today?” Gally asked. “It couldn’t have been Frypan’s food because we all eat the same thing, and no one else was throwing up their guts like you were.”

“Thanks for painting me a good picture.”

“Well, you were.” He adjusted his position, stretching one leg in front of him. “So, what was it?”

I thought about telling him the truth, and for a moment, I almost did. But the idea of Gally having to bear the weight of knowing that, at most, four of his fellow Gladers were going to die in the near future was unthinkable. Better to let him believe everything was fine until it wasn’t. Obliviousness was the key to happiness, of course.

I wished I could share the same oblivion.

“I’m not sure,” I answered in too high a pitch, the fallacy of my words making me mentally cringe. “The heat, maybe? It was pretty hot today.”

I couldn’t see his eyes too clearly, but I knew they were piercing through the dark towards me. The house cracked, wooden logs expanding from the high temperatures. Gally didn’t say a word.

“Gally?” I enticed.

“I don’t believe you.”

I shifted on my feet. “What?”

“You’re lying, Greenie,” he said, his voice lower than usual due to lack of energy. I stared at him, my cheeks becoming the victims of my gnawing teeth. “But I know you won’t tell me the truth even if I stay up all night asking for it, so let’s just go to sleep.”

I was speechless. He couldn’t even see my face, and he knew I was lying.

Gally extended both legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and then folded his arms over one another, assuming a very uncomfortable-looking sleeping position.

Feeling an awful feeling of guilt eat at my heart, I asked, “Do you want the bed?”

“I’m fine. Just sleep whatever’s happened off, okay?”

I wished it were that easy. Selfishly, I wished I could unburden myself onto Gally and tell him about what happened with Luke and what was going to happen in the future, and I wished I could bring him into the massive mess of a situation I had gotten myself into so that I didn’t have to bear it alone. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, let him in on, but I just couldn’t find the courage to do it.

Sighing, I climbed back into bed, tentatively pulling the covers back over my body.

How pathetic I felt. Here I was, wallowing in a bedroom that didn’t even belong to me over a problem I had accidentally created, meanwhile sacrificing the energy of another just so I didn’t have to do it alone. And I couldn’t even make it worth his while by answering his only question of the night, one that, again, only concerned me: what was truly wrong?

I concluded then and there that I no longer could be selfish. No more could I hide away in Alby’s bedroom. No more could I depend on Gally for safety. I had to do this alone, just as I had from the start.

As I slowly drifted back into a dream of moonlit forests and haunting smiles, I almost abandoned everything I had just claimed as I heard Gally say, “Night, Greenie. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

part thirteen

The sun had just barely slipped over the maze walls, shining a fanned beam of golden light across the Glade. Morning dew coated the grass beneath my feet, accompanied by a soft grey mist, its chill nipping at my ankles, though thankfully, it was just beginning to dissipate. Most Gladers were still asleep in their hammocks, only the odd few getting an early start to the day, including myself.

No more being selfish—that was the plan. This meant there were a few things I would have to change about my life. Number one, and arguably the most important, was having the ability to protect myself.

A small ring of circles had been carved into the oak tree standing before me. My knife dangled between my fingertips as I eyed the target. I drew the blade back, aimed, threw, and… missed the tree entirely, which was a pretty massive feat in itself considering the size of the trunk.

“Shit,” I murmured, retrieving the knife.

Draw back. Aim. Throw. Miss.

Draw back. Aim. Throw. Miss.

Draw back. Aim. Throw—

“Chuck!” The knife flew through the air, skimming between the tree and his head, landing in a patch of leaves. I looked back at Chuck, worry wrinkling my forehead. “Oh, my god, what the hell are you doing?”

His brown eyes were wide, shoulders tense. “I kept hearing you swearing to yourself—”

“Shuck. I was saying shuck.”

“You were saying shit.”

I blinked. “Okay, I was. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

He smiled, cheeks rounding into small pink apples. “Fry always gives the biggest serving to whoever’s first to breakfast.”

Of course. I had to applaud his determination. Frypan did know how to make a glorious breakfast with his crispy bacon and sunny-side up eggs, and, god, just thinking about his salted hash browns had my stomach threatening to tear itself apart.

“I walked past the hammocks just ten minutes ago,” I said, shaking my head. “Frypan’s not even awake yet.”

His smile dropped, and he sent me a faux glare—“You wouldn’t understand”—and then continued his journey towards the dining area.

“Okay, buddy,” I laughed as he walked away. Then I shouted, “You gonna share some with me?!”

“In your dreams!”

I smiled to myself, feeling an unfamiliar bubble of joy build in my chest. If I managed to survive in the Glade until the end of my days, I would be satisfied with the one friendship I had with Chuck. He was the first person to make an effort at treating me with kindness, and that was something I intended to keep forever, even if he was just a child.

I retrieved my knife again, aiming at the target. Just before I threw, another face appeared beside the tree, this one a little older and a little less outgoing. I was never going to get any practice in at this point.

“You hit the target yet?” Alby asked, stepping aside to look at the carvings in the tree, which were devoid of any puncture holes.

I sighed, the blade hanging by my side in shame. “It’s gotten close.”

He smiled, then nodded at me to continue as he watched,

Now this was pressure if I ever felt it. I blew out a stabilising breath and lifted my arm, lasering in on the target. Drawing my arm back, I then flung the knife through the air, following its spinning motion until the blade buried itself within the outer corner of the rings I’d carved.

I laughed.

Alby clapped.

So that was the key. Pressure.

Smiling, I plucked the knife from the tree, admiring the small hole it had created. “Hey, Alby?” I asked, running my fingers over the puncture wound.

“Yeah?”

May as well kill two birds with one stone, I thought.

“What are your thoughts on me sleeping in my hammock again?”

He crossed his arms, face returning to its usual stoic self. “I think it’s a dangerous idea,” he said. I looked away, biting the insides of my cheeks. “But if you’ve thought about it and are willing to face the potential consequences, I’m not going to stop you. It’s your life at the end of the day.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his lack of interference. Though I had to remind myself that Alby wasn’t a dictator like we all pretended he was; he was just a man who happened to lead us, and thankfully, he understood the importance of free will.

“Do you really think there will be consequences?” I asked.

Images of Luke, Liam, and Erik flashed in my mind, and I knew immediately that I had answered my own question.

“I’d hope not, but…” he trailed off, eyes drifting to the knife in my hand. He was silent for about five seconds, as though deciding whether or not to continue. “I know these boys. I’ve known every single one that’s come up in the Box, and the majority of them were decent guys that I wouldn’t think twice about.” His eyes darkened. “But when you came up, I started thinking twice. I had to. People change when new factors are added to the equation, and hardly ever for the better.”

I watched him, my skin prickling as he spoke.

“Marcus was a surprise. He had been here almost as long as I have, and there was a point in time when I had considered making him second in charge. But there were always these really small nuances that made me keep putting it off. I guess something in me knew better.”

I thought about what Marcus had said in the meeting: “Why else would a girl be sent here if it ain’t for our use!” And my mind couldn’t fathom the idea of such violating words coming out of a second-in-command’s mouth. Hell, Newt couldn’t even stand the sound of Gladers swearing around him, let alone speaking the words himself.

Marcus must’ve been a completely different person before I arrived, I thought. But if I went down that rabbit hole, I knew I’d start spiralling towards the idea that I was at fault for his change of behaviour, and consequently, his death.

Alby continued. “What I’m saying is don’t ever trust that you are safe. We are a community, and we have lived peacefully together for years, but we are all only human. It’s in our nature to be violent, so that’s why I told you to keep that knife. I’m doing everything I can to make sure you’re safe,” he said, shaking his head remorsefully, “but I’m no god.”

“You’re pretty close,” I said.

He chuckled, looking down at the ground, his smile quickly disappearing. “Just keep what I said in mind, alright?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Alby.”

He returned my nod, then walked away, heading off to do whatever it was that leaders did in a prison with four towering stone walls.

I twisted the tip of my knife on the pad of my index finger, adding just enough pressure so that it didn’t break my skin. I didn’t know how Alby did it, but he was somehow always right. The idea of there being a lack of safety by simply returning to my hammock hadn’t even crossed my mind. It seemed the right thing to do; it showed I wasn’t hiding anymore, wasn’t scared. But wasn’t that why I stayed in Alby’s room for so long? To hide from danger?

A flash of silver scurried along the ground in my peripheral vision, followed by the sound of little ticks, like a bug scampering on tiny legs. Like some predatory animal, my ears perked, eyes narrowing in the direction of the silver, only to find a small Beetle Blade now climbing the tree trunk I was using for target practice. It tilted its head towards me.

Without thought, I flung my knife towards the thing, watching the blade burrow straight into the centre of the beetle.

“Ha!” I smiled.

“Nice throw.”

I yelped, spinning around to find Gally, whose eyes were on the skewered Beetle Blade, his hands resting on his hips. I then laughed at the absurdity of having three people interrupt me in the span of ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, now looking offended.

I shook my head—“Nothing”—and ripped the knife out of the metallic camera on legs. “You coming to get breakfast?”

“Uh.” He seemed more confused than ever, probably believing I’d finally lost the plot. “Yeah. You done?”

I hummed an affirmation, looking at the two holes I’d created and deciding they would have to satisfy me for the day. Returning my attention to Gally, I asked. “Did you know Frypan gives bigger servings to people who are first in line at breakfast?”

“Why do you think I’m up so early, Greenie?”

tags <3: @evelynstanmarvel @luvymelody @what-the-jams @lockeandkeyye @cherrystarship @andrianasinger @sxserenity

Sleeping in a hammock again was a shock to my body.

I’d forgotten how unnatural it felt the first time I had slept in one when I arrived in the Glade, how it took me weeks to get used to the feeling of practically sleeping in a cocoon. Although I was grateful. A bit of back pain was actually the best-case scenario given my circumstances.

Alby had placed me between Chuck and Winston. He thought having me surrounded by people I knew and trusted would help with the transition and make me feel safer. Gally had asked if I wanted him close by in case of an emergency, but I rejected him on the terms of my newfound self-reliance. He didn’t take it very well, Gally being himself, but he got over it in a day.

Besides, if I wanted these feelings to disappear, distance was key.

My feet ached as I stood in line for lunch. The hut we were building was coming along quicker than expected, the Builders having one extra person to help out, making a massive difference. Regardless of the auxiliary hands, the workload was immense. The logs were heavy, the wood chopping was non-stop, and the time spent on my feet was disgusting.

I’d never given them enough credit for their work, and I’d never understood why they were all so muscle-dense until now, as I was starting to grow my own.

I folded my overworked arms over one another to keep them from trembling, smelling the salty aroma of cooked potatoes and a beef stir-fry. My stomach growled for some attention.

Scanning the area, I found Chuck sitting at a table with a few other Sloppers, chowing down on his potatoes as though it was his last meal ever. A few tables to the left of him were three boys, one a little bulky and the other two more lean, eating their meals together, alone. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and I couldn’t see their faces, but that feeling of nerves fraying beneath my skin told me everything I needed to know.

Luke hadn’t approached me since our last confrontation, though his warning still lurked in the forefront of my mind.

“We won’t forget what you did.”

The dreams hadn’t ceased, even as a week passed by. Always the same forest, always the same sharp, toothy smile just before I woke up in sweats. Some delusional part of me wondered if it was the universe giving me its own warning. To keep out of the forest.

As though my thoughts were being projected through a speaker above my head, one of the boys looked up, his eyes finding mine. He whispered to the boy next to him, and then the stockier one in front, Luke. Peering over his shoulder, Luke met my stare, and suddenly I was transported back to my nightmares.

He was smiling at me.

I frowned, knowing deep down that it was another warning.

Soon, it said.

The three of them began whispering to each other. One boy, I presumed was called Erik, rested his elbow on the table, hand splayed in the air before he tightened it into a fist, creating a crushing motion. They all laughed, and, god, if I had any food in my stomach, it would have covered the poor soul standing in front of me.

Gally, who had been a few spots ahead, moved in beside me. He slightly leaned down to my level, eyeing the same boys I was. “They’re not going to do anything,” he assured me, though I felt anything but.

They were making all sorts of violent motions with their hands, and I knew they wanted me to see. “You think just because Alby told them not to that they won’t?” I asked.

Luke threw a glance over his shoulder, his eyes catching on Gally for a moment. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Gally was quiet, seeming to be second-guessing himself.

“Just ignore them,” I said, turning away.

I wanted to tell him not to worry; I knew long ago my safety wasn’t promised.

**********

Later that day, the Box alarmed, delivering us a new Glader and fresh supplies. That brought our numbers up to thirty-eighty. I mean… back up to thirty-eight.

He was a beast of a boy with long blond hair; he came up looking for a fight, which most knew was just a thin mask for his fear. Regardless of his aggression, us Glader’s threw him a celebration, as we did each time there was a new arrival.

A bonfire roared within the centre of the Glade, billowing wisps of smoke into the night sky, the air acrid with its fumes. Boys were laughing, sparring, and hollering, all tinged with a bright, glowing orange as they hovered around the fire. I was sitting by a smaller, tamer fire, glancing over at the unruly crowd now and then, a dull ache in my chest, watching them all have their fun.

I hardly ever joined in on these things. The words ‘girl’, ‘drunk boys’, and ‘bonfire’ never sat too comfortably with me. And this made me hate new arrivals because, disregarding the danger of it all, no matter how much I wanted to participate, I would never fit in. So, I watched from a distance, as I always did.

Chuck was sitting with some Sloppers, a suspiciously ale-like liquid in his cup. He saw me staring and quickly hid the drink behind his back, offering me a much too pleasant smile. I shook my head.

Gally was in the fighting pit, sparring with the new Greenie. It had become a sort of rite of passage, Gally being the strongest Glader and all. Although this new boy was so massive, I could’ve sworn his biceps were the size of watermelons. The two were wrangling each other like two bulls butting heads, and the air was filled with more kicked-up sand than smoke.

I was worried Gally might actually get hurt.

The Greenie placed his hands on Gally’s shoulders, kneeing him in the gut, and I felt my own stomach drop. He fell to his knees, face crumpling in agony.

Instinctively, I stood up. My heart was racing. This guy could kill him. Easy.

But once again, my faith was misplaced. Gally recovered quickly and swung his leg in a wide, circular motion, sweeping the boy off his feet and causing him to land on his back, having knocked the wind from his lungs.

We had our champion.

Gally helped the boy to his feet and patted him on the back, probably calling him a good sport in a slightly demeaning tone. The two shook hands and parted ways, and Gally, smiling like a Cheshire cat, was being praised like a king. He wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely basked in the attention.

I sat back down, smiling to myself.

He picked up two drinks from a table, working his way through the boisterous crowd. It wasn’t until we made eye contact that I realised he was heading towards me.

“Greenie,” he greeted.

part fifteen [wip]