sequoia !

Were you sometimes instigating the arguments that the two of you would spend ages referring back to and bickering on? Yeah. Did he almost always piss you off first? Definitely. The two of you just couldn’t seem to keep your mouths shut around each other.

Honestly, as much as it irritated you, it also comforted you, in some strange way. It was a constant in your life—something that’s been around so long that it would be weird if you didn’t snarkily comment on a stupid action he performed.

It meant that things were going smoothly and the only thing you really had to worry about was making sure he didn’t back you into a corner and prove you wrong.

And while you tended to argue during serious times as well, it wasn’t as light hearted as it should be. So debates about which supplies to buy in town were a lot more welcome than whose fault it was that the two of you were being chased by angry Fire Nation ships.

Those kinds of serious situations weren’t as common anymore now that you didn’t have to worry about the Fire Nation sending soldiers out for your heads. The worst it could get is getting on the bad side of some pretty capable pirates, and you’ve already done that before.

Thus, as the two of you walked through a heavily dense forest, your conversation quickly diverted into something silly.

“Can’t you carry some more?” You complain loudly, shifting the uncomfortably heavy baskets in your hold as you peek around them to glance at Sokka’s back. “It was your idea to buy all of this useless junk.”

“Useless junk?” Sokka repeats, utterly offended at the brutality of the terminology. “You have no sense of taste! You can’t just call this stuff junk! It’s future beauty!”

“Did your father say that when you were born?” You reply dryly. “How disappointed is he now?”

Sokka gasps. “Take that back. My face has always been beautiful.”

“I was raised to never lie to someone.”

“Oh, so you think you’re funny, huh? I’ll have you know that I’m the humor of this duo. Of our whole group, actually. You know, I think it’s safe to say that I’m the funniest person in the Earth Kingdom right now!”

“Do you ever do anything but praise yourself? Speaking of which, aren’t you the one always priding yourself on your ‘immense strength’?”

“Uh, it’s not ‘priding’ myself if it’s stating the truth. That’s just an observation.” He replies without turning back, carrying his own share of goods, two in his arms and one strapped to his back.

“Definitely.” You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the dull pain that was beginning to grow in your forearms. “Which means that you have the strength to carry more.”

“It wouldn’t be a struggle!” He says instead of an outright ‘yes’.

“So…?”

“Well, I could. But, you know, I just really don’t feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“Gosh, I’m just so glad that you can hear!” Sokka chirps happily. “Sometimes you act like you don’t hear me. I was getting really worried about you.”

“I can hear you just fine, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means.”

“Well, no, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me as to why? Because from what I’m hearing, which is outrageous, by the way, is that you don’t like hearing my lovely voice. But that just can’t be true.”

“What if it is?”

“It’d be a lie, which you were brought up to never do. Can’t go back on your teachings, can you?”

“It wouldn’t be a lie, actually.”

“It most certainly would. Why else would you keep talking to me if you didn’t want to hear my voice?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“You act like a kid. Grow up!” You stick your tongue out at him despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. The two of you were currently taking a so-called ‘shortcut’ through the woods to get to a village in the Earth Kingdom, which rested between two cities that you were transporting goods between.

(That, and the things that Sokka had begged you to buy because he claimed that they would serve as useful in the future. This included things like bits of oddly shaped metal and broken tools. You weren’t so sure.)

You were supposed to meet up with Toph and Katara there.

Now, listen. Sokka and maps were not a terrible combo. He had gotten a lot better at reading them. However, you feel like you’ve been walking for ages, and all you can see is trees, trees, and more trees.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” You ask, looking around as best you can.

“Doubting me already? I was hoping you had a little more faith in me than that.”

“I have no faith in you at all.” You retort. “In fact, with the way things are going, I think I might have negative faith in you. There’s no trail beneath my feet at all!”

“It’s called a shortcut because no one takes it.”

“That’s not why it’s called a shortcut.”

“Don’t worry about the specifics.” He looks like he might wave his hand dismissively if they weren’t so preoccupied. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Sokka groans dramatically, turning around to face you. “I know where we’re going, alright? Just leave all the tracking business to me. You can do whatever you want when we get to the village.”

You stare back at him as you slow to a stop. Then, you scowl. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He says that, but he always tries to do it anyway. He turns back around and marches forward into more trees, and you can already feel a headache starting to form.

If you weren’t all cozied up in a free room in the village by sundown, you were going to throw a fit.

—

…

Okay.

So.

There was a problem.

A big problem, actually. A huge problem that had hindered the progress that you two were making, if that was any at all. For all you know, Sokka could have been leading you the complete opposite direction than where you were supposed to be.

The problem unfolds like this:

“Do you hear that?” You ask, tensing up as you look around suspiciously.

“Your voice? Loud and clear, commander.” Sokka responds sarcastically. You don’t even register it at first, too focused on trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that had caused you to stiffen.

“No, shut up.” You shake your head, gripping the baskets tighter. “I thought I heard…whatever.”

Even if you had heard footsteps, it was probably one of yours. Besides, it’s not like Sokka would take you very seriously if you did mention it. When it really came down to it, he trusted you, but this wasn’t an active war zone, so you two brushed everything off like a joke.

“Okay?” Sokka continues to move forward, but you don’t really let your guard down yet. Maybe it meant that the village was nearby, and Sokka really had led you through a shortcut.

By now, the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, and you were growing increasingly exhausted. You had stopped once for lunch, in which you had argued about how much you should have brought and how long this was going to take. It must have been a good three hours or so of walking by now, if the two of you had left at four.

You aren’t too keen on camping under nothing in a woods you were unfamiliar with. Your arms ache and the breaks increase in number.

“Couldn’t we have taken the longcut?” You groan, your legs stumbling as you push yourself forward.

“What, are you gonna cry? Man up, be a soldier.” Sokka puffs up his chest. You decide not to scream at him.

You’re just about ready to throw the baskets down and declare that you’re turning back when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You stop dead in your tracks. You know this feeling. Your lips part and your eyes only get to widen just for a second before a sharp slice splits the air before you and a curved dagger’s gleaming point presses against your neck.

“Move, and you’re dead.” A heavy voice sounds behind you. At the moment, you’re weaponless. You’re not like Toph or Zuko or Katara. You can’t conjure the elements to save yourself now. Your bow and arrow are far from here and your own knife is tucked against your hip. You can’t move to grab it without your neck being sliced open.

At this point, Sokka has turned around. You can see a sliver of him, just the top half of his body, from where the baskets block your view. As he turns, his mouth is open like he’s going to berate you, and then he sees the dagger and whoever is behind you and his eyebrows shoot up and then furrow heavily.

Before he can say a word, another man jumps down from the covered branches above him, similarly holding a weapon to the back of his head.

Great.

Just great.

“I told you that taking this shortcut wasn’t a good idea.” You say weakly, your gaze flickering between the dagger and Sokka. His jaw clenches, his grip on the baskets tightening.

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” The man behind you barks, the sharp end of the knife pressing deeper into your skin. “Now drop them.”

You decide not to further prove the bandit. You have no idea how many people he has, just waiting for the opportunity to slice off your head, or how eager he is to do it himself. Besides, if all he wanted was the goods in the baskets, you’d be more than happy to just hand them over and be on your merry way.

The baskets drop to the ground. The man nudges your elbows and, begrudgingly, you keep your hands up where he can see them.

“Pockets, too.” He orders. “Weapons, money, everything.”

You grit your teeth and do as he says. For the most part. You still have your own dagger on you. You’re not too keen on a close combat knife fight, but if you had to do it, you would. Still, it’s risky. You don’t know if he has reinforcements. Sokka’s dropping his own supplies. You try to meet his gaze, but the man won’t let you.

Holding back a sigh, you drop your knife, as well.

The man—who is masked from the nose down and at least twenty years older than you—kicks things around as if trying to validate their authenticity. He looks over to the man with Sokka, who nods.

“Are we good to go?” Sokka asks, flexing his fingers.

You’re expecting a ‘yes’. Most bandits don’t care for anything but stopping travelers and taking their goods before abandoning them to the elements of the night. You could deal with that. Bandits never stayed too close to villages, so you’d probably have to venture all night to find the right way back, but you could deal with that.

“Hm.” The man behind you, who presents himself like the leader, brings the knife down from your throat. You let out a breath, your eyes flickering up to Sokka, who’s already looking at you with a strange intensity that makes you want to avert your gaze instantly.

It’s not you who breaks it, though. The masked bandit reaches up and grabs your chin, turning your head to face him. His eyes lock onto yours before they dart all across your face, his fingers twisting and turning the angle at which he examines you.

Then, he snaps his fingers and raises his left hand. The air behind you whooshes, and an unknown number of feet plant themselves into the earth.

“This one will bargain for a high price.” The masked man notes, and suddenly everything seems a hundred times more serious than you imagined. “Take him, as well. We can’t have him running off and telling, and I don’t want to bloody my hands tonight.”

Panic flashes on your face, and you scramble for something, anything that you can use against them. You hear Sokka yell, and your head snaps towards him just in time to see him crumple to the ground.

A frustrated cry escapes your throat and you whirl back around, your eyes scanning the darkening floor.

Before you can even dive for your dagger, something collides with the side of your head, and you collapse.

—

You come to at some time in the night.

The first thing you notice is the uncomfortable sensation of something wound around your ankles and wrists. You immediately recognize it as rope. Your back aches terribly, but it’s nothing compared to the soreness of your head.

You blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness that is only barely illuminated by a few torches in the distance. Your spine presses against the rough bark of a tree, and your head pounds as you try to recall just how you got here.

It comes back in an overwhelming rush.

“Shit.” You whisper, fumbling with the restraints as you squint and try to look around. “Shit!”

“Shit indeed.” Someone responds. You jolt and snap your head in the direction of the voice, only recognizing it as Sokka’s after a moment too long. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Sokka?” You ask dumbly, trying to find his face in the darkness.

“One and only. Miss me?”

“I was knocked out. How could I have missed you?” You grumble, your eyes flickering between what you think is his face and the torches around you.

“Maybe you dreamt about me.”

“You wish.”

He laughs light-heartedly like the two of you aren’t tied up in a bandit’s camp and going to be auctioned off. Though, apparently, that’s just you.

“Can you take this a little seriously?” You basically beg, failing to kick at him with your restrained legs. “How long has it been?”

“Don’t know. It’s cloudy tonight. I woke up a while ago. I’d give it ten minutes.”

Shit.

This was bad. You’ve been wiggling your wrists around in the ropes, but all it did was press tighter and further irritate your skin. You could barely see a thing, and you didn’t know if there was anyone listening. You have no idea where your weapons are, or where you are for that matter.

“Why the hell did I follow you?” You ask, though it’s more to yourself than him.

“You’re acting like I planned for this to happen.” Sokka huffs. “Which I didn’t by the way.”

“I sure hope you didn’t.” You can’t even massage your head to attempt to soothe the pain. “Ugh, they got me bad.”

Sokka falls silent at that, like he actually feels guilty about it. His breathing stays steady, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

“You’re not dying, are you?” He asks finally. You snort.

“I’m not that much of a loser.”

“Didn’t think so.”

It turns out that there’s not much to talk about when you’re being held captive by people who could be standing right behind you at all times. Devising an escape plan is necessary, but you have no idea where to go from here. You don’t have anything to slash the ropes or defend yourself.

“Do you think Toph and Katara will notice?” You try, even though ideas are not jumping into your mind at a good enough pace.

“At some point. I’d say that they were expecting us by…tomorrow evening?” Sokka hums. “Still, can’t say that they’ll know we got kidnapped by bandits.”

Ugh.

The only thing that makes sense is to fight back and run for it. The problem is that there’s no way that they’re going to willingly undo your binds, and even if they do, there are at least five of them. You don’t think any of them are benders, but you’re not going to take that chance.

You and Sokka are good fighters. Together, you make a good enough team. You just need your hands on some weapons, which, if they were smart, would be kept as far away from you as possible.

First things first, to fight back, you needed to know the real number of people you were going against. You couldn’t knock out five and call it a day. You’d get cut down by a sixth or seventh instantly.

“I hate you.” You mumble under your breath. “I hate you so much. I hate you. Why is this my life right now? I hate this. I hate you. I—”

“I get the feeling that you might hate me.” Sokka interrupts.

“Shut up. Don’t talk to me. I’m mad at you.”

“I had an inkling.”

“I said shush.”

For once, he obliges. You stare pointedly at a flame in the distance. Beneath it is a lousy makeshift tent that could barely house one grown man.

An idea pops into your head.

You would like to call yourself a smooth talker. Despite all your fights with Sokka, you know how to butter someone up and persuade them just enough to get your way. It comes with being brought up in a world where corruption and mistreatment spread like a cold.

Smooth talking might not get you anywhere, but pretending to be a poor, helpless, defenseless loser might. At the very least, they let their guards down and believe that you’re not a threat for as long as they keep you.

Except the thought of presenting yourself like that makes you want to throw up. If anything, you just wanted to do what you truly did best.

Cause an unnecessary scene. Argue. Fight back. Refuse to stand down.

Logically, you should just oblige and wait for a way out. But you don’t know how much time you have or what kind of people this group contains.

At the moment, all you feel is frustration and anger, and you need it out.

“Hey!” You yell up at the trees, stomping your tied legs on the ground. “Where is everyone? Come on, fight us like real men, you cowards!”

“What are you doing?” Sokka hisses, his shoulder colliding against yours harshly. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Just follow my lead. I sure as hell am not following yours again.”

“Don’t—”

“I know you can hear me!” You call louder. “I’ll scream all night if I have to!

“What are you even try—”

“Come down—”

“Will you shut your mouth?” That same heavy voice from earlier, the one belonging to the masked leader, comes from behind you. You straighten up, trying to find him. It’s not hard when he’s carrying light with him.

“Not if you don’t listen to me.”

Two other men stand beside him, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

“Do I need to bind your mouth shut?”

“You need to man up and fight me. If I win, we leave, and if I don’t, you sell me.”

Sokka shoves his shoulder against yours again. “What are you—”

The man on the right explodes into shrieking laughter, throwing his head back and howling up at the sky.

“Ha!” He exclaims wildly. “Do you hear this bitch, boss? She’s bluffing through her teeth!”

His crooked teeth are very apparent as he leans in too close for comfort. His hand slams down onto your head, his fingers grasping your hand and yanking it back.

“Hey.” He says solemnly, all laughter gone from his eyes. “When you speak to the boss, you speak with fuckin’ respect, alright?”

In turn, you spit in his face.

He reels back, wiping at his face with a disgusted cry. Then, the burst of anger comes. He surges forward and before you can even blink, a sharp, stinging sensation blooms across your cheek as your head snaps to the side.

“You bitch!” He yells, grabbing your head again. “Who do you think you are, huh?!”

“Hey!” Sokka shifts beside you, though there’s not much he can do to fight back, his voice laced with poison. “Get your fucking hands off—hey!”

The man only retreats when his boss grabs him by the collar and yanks him back.

“Did I order you to harm the captive?” He asks slowly, his eyes fixated on you. “She won’t sell for much if her face is messed up.”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” You huff back angrily. “I said—”

“I know what you said.” The boss cuts you off. “I’m saying you won’t sell for much once you’re cut down.”

“I won’t be cut down.”

“You seem confident.”

“You seem scared.”

“Hey, wait just a minute.” Sokka butts in. “What—you’re going to fight her for what happens to us?”

“You got a problem with that?” The man questions, leaning closer. “Would you rather take her place?”

“Y—”

“No.” You shake your head quickly. “I’m fighting. End of story.”

“The lady has spoken.” He leans back, waving his hand. “Clear the area around us.”

“Yes, boss.” The man who had attacked you grumbles, retreating with the other.

You had two options, now. You could fight, win, and leave, though you don’t know the bandits will uphold your end of the deal. On the other hand, you could get untied, pretend to fight, then run to untie Sokka and make a break for it.

But you weren’t a coward. You’re not going to throw away your honor by running away from a fair fight. If they tried to go back on what they said, then you could run. For now, you’re standing your ground.

“Got a choice in weaponry?” Boss asks.

“Give me the sharpest one you have.”

You end up with a makeshift spear. It’ll have to do. Torches are lined in a circle around you. You can finally see clearly. At the moment, there are six bandits, including the boss, in sight. There are definitely more of them.

Sokka is still propped up against the tree trunk, his expression dark and his entire body tense. He doesn’t protest. You’ve already shot him down enough to get it through his thick skull. This is your only way out right now.

“Out of the ring, out of the fight. You pin the other person to the ground, you win.” Boss says, holding the same dagger he used to stop you hours ago. “Your move first.”

“That’s nice of you.” You reply, twirling the spear before jumping forward.

Boss is fast. He’s quick on his feet, leaping out of the way at the tip of your spear thrusts into the space right where his shoulder had been.

The difference in weapons was going to serve as a bit of an obstacle. A spear required distance. A dagger required proximity. If he got close, you could jab the spear up, but not at the same speed. If you stayed far, the only thing he could do was throw the dagger or try to run.

You’re trying to end this early enough to be out of these woods by sunrise.

He strikes like a sea serpent, his movements sharp and concise. You step out of the way and jab your spear into the blade, trying to knock it out of his hands. His grab stays solid, and he pushes back instead, sending you stumbling backward and trying to regain your footing.

He takes advantage of that choice, leaping forward with the dagger poised to stab into your collarbone. Your feet righten themselves just fast enough to turn your body to the side. It nicks your skin, rips it just enough to draw a couple beads of pretty red blood, but nowhere near enough to matter.

The bandits cheer in unison around you. You clench your teeth and twist your weapon beneath you, jabbing the end of it beneath his ribs as he passes you.

It should have stopped him, should have knocked a bit of wind out of him at the very least. Instead, he just grunts and whirls back around, posing defensively.

The asshole is wearing armor. You didn’t get any armor!

With even more rage filling your body, you stab forward, trying to find any uncovered spots that would prove useful to cut. He predicts nearly all of them, the clashing of steel sending metaphorical sparks into the air around you.

It gets quicker. More precise, less precise. You’re letting your irritation take hold of you, making you more sloppy. You’re sure that your skin is riddles oozing cuts, none of which are serious enough. You just need to get him on the ground or out of the ring somehow. The latter seems easier, but you’ve been fixed in the very center and he doesn’t seem keen on moving to the edge.

Think. What’s the best course of action here? Running to Sokka is an option, since none of them are standing too close to him, but in the time that it takes to cut his ties, they’d be on top of you. You could continue to fight, but at some point, you could mess up and lose your dignity, freedom, and only chance at escape.

Earlier, you had thought about putting up an act. Playing innocent. It was far too late for that now, but acting was never out of the question.

Which meant…

Boss swings the dagger back and forth as he suddenly begins to overtake you. The closer he gets, the harder it is to react in time, to block his attacks. This is perfect for you.

When a swipe gets a little too close to your neck for liking, you yank up the handle of the spear, though you let the grip of your shoes loosen as you hold the spear up lightly. Then, when he hits you again, harshly, you dramatically throw yourself backward with a cry, falling to the ground and rolling a few times more than necessary, just for show.

The spear clatters away, just close enough for you to reach out when needed. You can feel the post of one of the torches against your back. If you did this right, then you should have landed in front of Sokka.

You keep your face hidden as your shoulders shake. Cheers from the bandits arise, and the footsteps of the boss send vibrations through the earth beneath you. Closer. Closer. Your fingers twitch in the direction of the spear.

“You talked a lot for such a little show.” Boss says smugly from somewhere above you. He’s not close enough yet. Another step. He stops right in front of you. You peek up just to see him raise the dagger. The cheers grow louder, combined with a strangled noise behind you that could only belong to one man.

Now.

In a split second, you prop yourself up on your palm and swing your feet up from behind you, knocking them into his ankles. Boss stumbles back in shock, and you take the moment to your advantage, grabbing the sharp end of the spear and jabbing the butt of it into his stomach. He falls to the floor.

No time for pinning. You don’t know how angry his mob will get with your trick.

You spin around while the rest of them are stunned, locking eyes with Sokka who sits, gaping.

“There’s no time to marvel at my abilities.” You say quickly as you crouch beside him, slicing through the ropes as quickly as you can. The bandits are already running towards you two. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

The moment the ropes tear, you yank Sokka up to his feet, ignoring whatever he might be trying to say to you. You grab his hand and run, the bandits too close for comfort behind you.

With all of them chasing directly behind you, it’s easy to not get cut off, not until after you’ve passed through half the camp and found your weapons.

“Shit, grab those!” You command, shoving Sokka in that direction, skillfully picking up the abandoned spear as well.

You don’t need to look back to make sure he’s following. You know he will be, and yet you do it anyway because you never know, really.

Just as you had hoped, he was carrying the important things, wisely leaving behind his stupid junk.

With that in mind, you keep your gaze forward and run like the wind.

—

“Holy shit.”

It feels like a dream when the two of you make it out of the woods, simultaneously collapsing at the side of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. The bandits might have long since stopped chasing after you, but you were taking no chances with staying in those woods any longer.

You’ve just barely pulled yourself back up to your feet when Sokka’s hands grasp your shoulders tightly, spinning you around to face him. Before you can protest, he starts berating you.

“Alright, what the fuck was that?” He demands, shaking you back and forth.

“What was what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. “Oh! Me saving our asses?”

“You call that saving our asses?” Sokka scoffs. “That was—that was stupid!”

“We’re out of there, aren’t we?”

“Uh, yeah, at the cost of—” He cuts himself off, his eyes narrowing as his gaze flickers over your body, lingering on the cuts you had sustained both in the fight and through the endless brush slapping against your skin as you tore through the woods.

“Those? No big deal. I don’t even think they’ll scar a day.” You brush him off, reaching up to grab his wrists and pry his hands off of your shoulders.

“That’s not the point!” He drops his hands reluctantly, one of them immediately coming back up to tug at a loose lock of his hair.

“Then what is it?”

“That you took that risk.”

“That’s kind of what life’s about, Sokka. You can’t do anything if you don’t take risks.”

“What’s life’s about? You didn’t need to do that! At all!”

“I definitely did. How else would we have gotten out?”

“How—any other way, that’s how!” He throws his hands up in frustration, shaking his head. “Why would you ask to fight?”

“Because I know how to?” You scrunch your nose up. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely. And again, you got all messed up.”

“I would’ve gotten ‘all messed up’ no matter what we did.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Not like this.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into a fight like that with no backup.”

“Where was I supposed to get backup from?”

“Me! I was right there!”

“You were tied up!”

“You could have untied me!”

“I did!”

“Yeah, after the fight!”

“Ugh!” You groan, covering your face. “We got out of there, what more do you want from me?”

“I want you to understand that it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Well, it didn’t.”

“It could have.”

“What does it matter?” You ask, crossing your arms. At this, Sokka grows increasingly baffled.

“Are you insane?” He practically shrieks. “Oh, you know, maybe he would have cut you badly enough to kill you, or have won and sold you to some underground market, but obviously that’s not serious at all.”

“I could have gotten out of that.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Stop trying to act so tough. You’re not.”

“Are you calling me weak?” You glare at him, your lips turning down into a frown. “I thought Suki beat the misogyny out of you already.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m—I’m supposed to—you can’t just throw yourself into a fight like that without relying on other people. I thought Aang taught you that already.”

“Oh, right, because I was supposed to trust you to have my back. Might I remind you who got us kidnapped in the first place?”

Sokka has the decency to wince at that, taking a step back. “You know I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you did. After all, it was your idea to cut through—”

“I know it was my fault!” He interrupts, a strange tinge of regret laced in his words. “I’m sorry, okay? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” You reply.

“I’m—I’m being serious right now, okay?” He warns. “I didn’t mean to get us captured, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to get you sliced up in that fight. Because I told you to take the shortcut, not do that!”

“What do you want me to do, Sokka?” You ask, exasperated. “It’s in the past now. I can’t exactly go back and change my course of action.”

“I want you to maybe value your life a little more.”

“I value my life plenty.”

“Clearly not enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I—I just don’t understand why you’re so adamant on throwing yourself in harm’s way all the time. There are other ways to go about conflict.”

“That’s just the way I know best.”

“Yeah, well, I hate it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. An awkward silence falls, and you find yourself suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks lowly, his voice a lot softer than it had been earlier. “Nothing that needs to be stitched up?”

“Nothing of immediate concern.” You confirm, reaching up to poke at the cut on your collarbone.

Sokka steps forward, hand hesitantly coming up to pull yours away, his thumb brushing against the dried blood.

“When I was younger,” he begins, his gaze fixated on the cut, “there was a time where I was obsessed with proving myself worthy. I mean, Katara was a waterbender, and I was just…me.”

“I have nothing to prove.” You reply. “That’s not why I do this.”

“Let me finish.” Sokka shakes his head. “My dad had to yank me out of the water one day, because I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, I’d learn. And…and he was afraid. And it was weird to me, because my dad was never afraid.”

You let him keep going.

“He was afraid for me, because he didn’t like seeing me in danger. Hurt. Trying to do things that would only harm me.”

Oh.

“If you were worried about me, you could have just said so.” You say gently, your eyes watching the movement of his thumb. “I wouldn’t have teased you that bad.”

“When you fell, I knew you were faking it. It was too…off. Too weird and forced. But it still felt like you failed. And I thought…that you had finally pushed yourself too hard and were going to face the consequences.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Too much for my own good.”

Sokka clears his throat quickly, dropping his head. He looks down at you and clasps your shoulder. “What I’m saying is that you need to stop worrying other people with your recklessness and start actually using your words to make plans like I do. Okay?”

“I don’t wanna be like you.” You frown.

“I don’t want you to be like me. You’ll taint my reputation.”

There was always something waking you up. Whether that be the cries of a child nearby or the early morning workers that never cared enough to hush their voices, you were easily stirred from your sleep faster than the rest of your friends and family.

But this wasn’t a cry or a voice that caused your eyes to slowly blink awake.

It was the absence of them.

Yours and Aang’s shared bed was empty save for you. Your arm stretches out towards his side, feeling for someone that you know isn’t there. You find the space warm. He got up recently.

You know that the sun hasn’t risen yet, and you know that there was nothing that needed his attention other than a night of good rest.

And you know that the both of you leave when your dreams won’t let you rest.

Wordlessly, you push yourself into a sitting position, stretching your arms up and resisting the urge to groan and go back to sleep. Aang’s thoughts took over him when he was alone, and you couldn’t let that happen. Not when he trusted you enough to love you like this.

Your bare feet move across the cold floor and you rub your eyes to try to see better in the darkness. You don’t hear anything out of the ordinary, no sniffles or wails like you might expect from someone else.

Despite the fact that you know exactly where he would retreat, you check around the rest of the home anyway, just to make sure. As expected, he isn’t there, everything left just as it had been when the two of you went to bed.

It’s easy after that. You step outside, the cool air sending prickles down your skin. You try not to shiver, rubbing your arms lightly.

Aang stands just a couple of feet away. His lips are pressed into a tight line. He stares ahead at the horizon, his eyes unmoving even as you step up beside him. His fingers grasp the rail tightly, and his body remains still.

You don’t pry. You stand there with him in silence, taking in the view that he sees as well. It’s pretty out, with the moon casting a glow that illuminates even the darkest of places.

Three minutes pass. And then—

“You shouldn’t stay up.” Aang says. The only thing that changes about him is that his lips are moving. Everything else remains constant. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

“That doesn’t matter.” You reply simply. “And so will you.”

“Sleep.” He says it like a command, even though you both know that you won’t follow it. “I’m fine right here.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is that the problem?”

At this, his shoulder tense up. He leans forward a bit, his knuckles turning pasty white. His jaw clenches and unclenches.

It’s not anger.

It’s pain.

You know what this is about.

“Aang—”

“When is it not?” His voice sounds hoarse, like he has to force himself to say it.

You don’t reply. The last thing he needs is for you to argue back with him when all he really needs is to just let it all out before you pitch in your own arguments.

Another few minutes of silence go on. Your eyes stay fixated on him while he continues to look anywhere but ahead of him.

“They were scared.” He continues. “I don’t—why—I’ve never thought about that part before. But they were all…they had to have been so scared.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his head bows down.

“It’s hard to think about. We’ve never had to know true fear like that. Things were so peaceful. But seeing the Fire Nation soldiers come and…” He trails off, his head dropping further.

You stay silent. Waiting.

“They needed to be saved. They needed someone to protect them. And the Avatar—that’s what the Avatar is supposed to do.”

He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “And I just left them behind to fend for themselves. I—I know that it’s not like I was a master of all four elements, but I could have done something. But I just abandoned them.”

“I abandoned everyone. How many…how many people died because of the Fire Nation’s attacks? How many people died because I was gone and didn’t do anything to protect the world?”

His breathing grows heavier, like something worse has plagued his mind. He swallows thickly and takes a shaky breath. And then, his head turns to you for the first time. A storm brews in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip wobbly like he might start to cry.

“How many people would have died if Katara and Sokka hadn’t found me that day?” He whispers quietly. “If they hadn’t—if they hadn’t, it might have been them, or Toph, or Suki, or Zuko, or—or you, or all of you and thousands more. All because I ran away like a coward.”

You look back at him. He can’t take it. He ducks his head down and closes his eyes again. He doesn’t continue. You don’t think your heart could have taken it, either.

Sometimes, you forget what a heavy burden Aang carries on his shoulders. It’s easy to act like everything is okay now that the Fire Nation is in Zuko’s hands and you don’t have to worry about saving the world or protecting your own nation.

But Aang doesn’t get that privilege. If anything, it’s doubled for him. He will always have to make sure that everything is in balance, not just here but in the Spirit World as well.

“Aang.” You call softly. He doesn’t dare to look at you. “You were scared, too.”

He shakes his head. “Not like them. Not like they must have been. I was scared for nothing, and that cost them their lives.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“Which is why I shouldn’t have left.”

“Aang, you were twelve—”

“And there were kids younger than that!” He explodes, albeit not violently. It escapes his lips instantly, his voice cracking as he covers his face with his hands. “And there were people older than that. That doesn’t make their lives any less valuable.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“I know.” His voice is barely audible. “I know.”

“Did you mean to do it?” You ask after a brief moment of silence.

“I…what?”

“Did you mean to abandon them? To leave them to fend for themselves?”

“No! No, I…I never…”

“You made a mistake.” You lean forward slightly, still refraining from reaching out. “You did it because you were a kid. That doesn’t mean you’re responsible for everything that happened after that. You were told of that burden so early, Aang. You aren’t to blame for the reasonable actions you made because you were a child.”

“Normal kids don’t make mistakes like that.” “Normal kids don’t bear the weight of the world on their back.”

“Which is why I should have been better.”

“Which is why you should’ve gotten the chance to learn before being told.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it.” Aang repeats, his head lifting again as he glances at you.

“Would you blame anyone else?” You ask, tilting your head. “If I had been a twelve year old Avatar that had left home, would you blame me?”

“That’s different.”

“You know it’s not.”

Aang sniffles softly. You purse your lips.

“You didn’t fail anyone, Aang. They failed you by telling you so early.”

“It wasn’t their fault.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He takes in a sharp breath. He looks out at the moon, and then back.

“You did more than enough to redeem yourself. You saved the world, Aang.”

“That doesn’t make up for their lives.”

“But it creates a better world where no one else will have to. In their memory. In their honor.”

You’ve had similar conversations like this before. You know that your words alone won’t be able to heal him from this. Those scars will stay forever, fading slightly and then reopening time and time again. It’s not something that goes away so easily.

But you can try.

“I just…I’m selfish.” He says suddenly. “I want them back so badly. I don’t care who. I just want someone, at the very least. Just one Air Nomad. It’s my fault, but it’s…I’m so alone here.”

You can’t tell him that he has you, that he has his friends. You’re not connected to his culture. You have your own history, your own traditions, your own values. His were exclusive to his people. He’s the only one who remembers them.

“Those belief systems aren’t gone.” You reach forward, tapping his chest, just above his heart. “You still carry them with you. It’s…it’s not the same, but you can teach others. It won’t leave with you.”

“It’s not the same.” He confirms, shaking his head. “I just…wish there was someone else who understood.”

“...I wish there was someone for you, too.” You respond.

Aang nods slowly, exhaling, and then straightening up. Reluctantly, he opens his arms, like he feels as though he doesn’t deserve it. You don’t hesitate to surge forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. He doesn’t hold back, either.

His head rests on top of yours. Neither of you need to say anything, just letting the other’s presence comfort you both. You want to say more. You want to reassure him a thousand times over that it’s not his fault, that he didn’t deserve to have to go through all of this alone.

You pull back slightly to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He, in turn, brushes back your hair from your face.

“Do you want to write key things down? Parts of you that are important? It helps to keep a record.” You suggest.

“I’d like that.” Aang agrees, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

It’s not the same.

But it’s something to offer him solace. Something that might help, no matter how little. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it must pain him to know that there’s no one else out there like him. This was a start. In the future, there could be more. You’d do anything to help.

If he needed you to split the sun in half, you would do that for him, too.

Very platonic. As platonic as it could possibly get. So platonic, in fact, that you had never even thought of dating him or anything silly like that.

(Well. Maybe that last part was kind of a lie. But it had only been once or twice, back when you were stupid teens trying to figure out how to save the world.)

You, personally, thought that it was obvious.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

“I’m pooped.” Sokka sighs loudly, leaning heavily on your back as he peers over to glance down at Toph, who stood before you, crossing her arms.

“What distinguished vocabulary you possess.” You reply, smiling lightly as you reach up and pat blindly at his arm.

“Thanks. I try.”

“Oh, I can tell.”

“Can you?” “Of course.”

He hums happily. “I appreciate it.”

Toph clears her throat loudly. You turn your attention back to her quickly, an apologetic tone in your voice.

“Sorry, Toph. What were we talking about?”

“Nothing important.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares right at you, although not quite at your eyes. “Sokka.”

“Toph. Wonderful to see you, as always.”

“Can’t say the same.” She replies, deadpan. For a moment, Sokka jostles against your back, an offended noise leaving his lips before you lightly jab an elbow into his side. He gets it after a moment.

“Ah!” He perks up, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you quickly. “Ha! I get it! Good one, Toph! Real knee-slapper!”

Toph lets the faintest smirk appear on her face.

“I’m sure we all got it.” She says, leaning back on her heels. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I say hi to my friends?” Sokka tilts his head, his cheek brushing against your ear. “Is that a crime, Toph? Am I going to get arrested?”

“It’s a crime when it’s the two of you.”

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Everything.”

You turn back to exchange a look with Sokka, who shrugs back at you, just as, if not more, confused.

“Okay.” Both of you say in unison as you look back at her.

“Ugh. Don’t do that. That’s weird.”

“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I was just stopping by to say hi.” Sokka stretches, taking a step back from you. You miss the warmth that came with him. “Got things to do, people to see, yada yada.”

“I’m sure you do.” Toph responds, raising an eyebrow. “But with all of your impending duties, you just had to come say hello?”

“How could I not? I heard very familiar voices and I couldn’t resist.” Sokka’s hand finds its way to your cheek, pinching it lightly and tugging before letting it go. He knows better than to try that with Toph. He learned the hard way.

“Oh, we know what you can’t resist.” Toph cackles. You don’t get it. You turn to Sokka, a questioning look on your face, but once again, he looks just as clueless.

“Uh…sure.” He smiles, patting your cheek where he’d just pulled.

You laugh softly, swatting away his hand. “Aww, well, we appreciate it.”

“I don’t.” Toph interrupts.

“You definitely do. I can feel it in your bones.” Sokka declares confidently.

“My bones?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve developed bone bending. I can detect what you truly feel. Of course, I’ve always had this ability. Say goodbye to being used as a lie detector, Toph. I’m the new big deal, and heart rate won’t matter this time. This is all in the bones. You can’t fake bones.”

“Bone bending, huh? Enlighten me.” You grin, shifting your weight onto one leg as you turn to focus your attention on him.

“I’d love to.” Sokka beams back. “Now, this all started way back when—”

“Well, I’m sure you’d love to, but weren’t you just plagued with ‘things to do and people to see’?” Toph cuts in.

Sokka looks thoughtful suddenly, like it had slipped his mind completely. “You’re totally right. Bone bending just gets me so distracted. I’m very passionate about it, you see. It’s kind of my whole thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. Sokka looks utterly delighted as he takes a few more steps backward.

“Alright, see you guys later. Don’t miss me too much.”

“We’ll try not to.” You reply happily. He puts a hand to his lips and loudly blows a kiss to the two of you, spinning on his heel and happily whistling something off-tune.

“I can’t stand you two.” Toph complains as Sokka leaves. You know that her volume is always loud enough for everyone around to hear. Sokka turns his head back, just barely, to stick out his tongue.

“Jealous!” He calls, and then he’s gone. You laugh and wave at his back as he goes.

“What?” You ask as you look back towards Toph, whose expression can be described as nothing but disgusted. “What?”

She scrunches her nose, fanning under it like she’s trying to get rid of a painful odor. “I would say ‘you know what’, but you don’t, which is what makes this worse.”

You blink. Okay. Vague. Thank you, Toph.

“I hate lovebirds.” She continues, walking forward. As she passes you, she hits your arm. In turn, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her head.

“Get well soon?” You try as she playfully shoves you off.

“I should be saying that.”

As she goes, she mumbles something about idiot boys and idiot girls that she surpassed in intellectual ability. You didn’t dare to doubt her.

Recently, she’s been doing things like that. Unclear words that could rival proverbs of ancient past and riddles that would make anyone’s head spin. Sickened looks and scoffs and odd comments. And it was only when you and Sokka would interact.

Weird.

You didn’t think there was anything to warrant the behavior, but Toph was a little difficult to understand sometimes, so you didn’t really think much of it.

And then Zuko would flash weird looks when Sokka would wrap an arm around your shoulder and Katara would stare when you leaned against him.

Which was also weird.

Everyone had their own lives, now that you’d all grown up. You weren’t a bunch of (pre-)teens worrying about the fate of the world anymore. You had more normal but tiresome responsibilities, which meant not seeing each other as often.

But the times you were all together, all you would get were funny looks.

And you weren’t stupid. You knew that it was for a reason, but you truly couldn’t understand why.

So, of course, you decided to consult your beloved friend who would never keep you from the truth.

The Avatar himself.

“Aang! Hey, Aang!” You call, waving wildly at the retreating flash of yellow and orange you know and love.

Aang stops in his tracks, turning around with a thousand-watt smile already lighting up his face.

“Gee, you’re excited!” He notes, grabbing your forearms as you slow to a stop in front of him. “What could I have done to deserve that?”

Sometimes, you catch a glimpse of the little boy you’d met all those years ago. It’s the same with Toph. It melts your heart and makes you sad, knowing how quickly time slipped by, how tall and strong and wonderful the kids you knew got.

“I need advice. Help. A talk. Whatever.” You shake your head.

“What’s going on?” Aang’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he glances down at you. “Nothing bad’s happened, right?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” You correct, rubbing at your cheek lightly.

The two of you sit down on a nearby bench, your foot tapping against the ground quickly. You slam a hand down on your knee to make it stop. Aang raises an eyebrow.

“Okay. Uh…why is everyone acting funny?”

Aang thinks about it for a moment. “They are? Who’s everyone?”

“Toph. Zuko. Toph. Katara. Toph. Have I mentioned Toph?”

“No, I don’t think you have.”

After a beat, the two of you erupt into giggles. It feels oddly childish for how old you are now, but it feels good to relax.

“Seriously, though.” You clear your throat. “They just keep saying weird things and casting judgmental looks. Have I secretly been declared the enemy of all?”

“Not that I know of?” Aang shrugs, leaning back against the back of the bench. “Do they just…always do it?”

“Always? No, no. It’s…it’s only when Sokka’s around.”

Aang freezes. His eyes widen slightly and his lips pull back into a faint grimace, but you’re too busy letting your words take over to notice.

“And I don’t even get it at all! What could possibly be the reason for all the funny behavior, huh? It’s not like Sokka and I have been acting differently. If anything, I think we’ve been acting the exact same this whole time. As normal as we possibly could be. I haven’t said or done anything out of the ordinary, not that I know of, so whatever warrants this has to be—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Aang raises his hands, cutting you off. “I think I see the frustration.”

“Do you?” You ask, exasperated. You slump back against the bench.

“Definitely.”

The look on his face looks strained, like he’s trying to hold back an awfully pained expression. It only makes your worries worse.

“What?” You ask desperately. “Don’t beat around the bush like Toph does. I’ll cry.”

“You won’t cry.” Aang says simply. “Uh…where to start…”

That’s a terrible beginning to an explanation. That means there’s a lot to go over and you were in some deep trouble.

You wait not-so-patiently for him to continue.

“Sokka…and…you…” He begins slowly, clasping his hands, “are very…close.”

“...yes.” You nod back just as slowly. “Aren’t we all?”

“Well…yeah. But there are different levels of being close.”

“Sure.” You agree. “Like you and Katara.”

“Right! Like me and Katara.”

“Right. So the problem is…?”

Aang bites the inside of his cheek. “The problem is…that you and Sokka are very close.”

“You said that already!” You complain. “What’s so wrong with that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that we…are…wondering…about…the extent…of your relationship!”

The pauses he includes almost make you want to strangle the words out of him. Instead, you take a deep breath and try to collect your thoughts. The extent of your relationship? There’s only one thing you can come up with to explain that.

“We’re not fucking.”

“I didn’t say you were!” Aang cries, a faint hue of red dusting his cheeks like he wasn’t the one to insinuate that.

“Then what were you saying?”

“I was saying that maybe you and Sokka are a little closer than everyone else is!”

“I…guess?” Your eyebrows knit together. “Not really, though, right?”

“Ehh…” Aang trails off, glancing away.

“What?” You pry, leaning forward. “Say it. I won’t say anything.”

“Ehh…” He repeats, turning his head completely around.

“Aang!” You grab his face and snap it back around. “Stop avoiding the topic!” “I’m just trying to think about how to word this!”

“Just say it straight up! I won’t say anything!” He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘you will’ but you ignore it for his actual input instead.

“Let’s see…okay. You’re very…comfortable around Sokka, right?” “I’m comfortable around everyone.” You respond.

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not. I’m the same with everyone. Aren’t I?” You try to think back on it.

“I’d say you’re a bit more affectionate with Sokka.”

“Affectionate how?”

“Well…you know…the basics.”

“Such as…?”

Aang clears his throat. “Uh…you guys hug a lot?”

“I hug everyone. That’s not weird. You hug everyone. Is it weird to hug people, Aang?”

“No!” Aang shakes his head. “Hugging isn’t abnormal. But you kiss him, too.”

“On the cheek. There’s nothing wrong with kissing people on the cheek, or anywhere else.” You cross your arms. “I kiss everyone, too. I kiss you on the cheek. I kiss Katara on the cheek. And Zuko and Toph.”

Aang runs a hand down the side of his face. “Right. You do.”

“I do. So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s just that…you…kiss Sokka on the cheek like I kiss Katara on the cheek.” He snaps his fingers, leaning forward once he’s made the connection.

“Uh…” You close your eyes, picturing the four of you side by side. “But you and Katara are together.”

“Yes…” Aang nods supportively.

“Sokka and I aren’t together.”

“Right…”

“So how would I kiss him that way if we’re not together?”

“Exactly!” Aang claps. “You’re close to him in a way that Katara and I are close, except you aren’t together.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s getting at. Once you do, your entire body seems to heat up.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” You shake your head so hard you might rattle your brain. “So—you’re saying that everyone is acting weird because Sokka and I act like we’re a thing?”

“Basically?”

“But we’re not!”

“You could be?” Aang tries. “I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?”

Loaded question. Your mind shortcircuits, your heart skipping a beat as the idea firmly plants itself in your head. You and Sokka? You and Sokka?

It’s not like it was a completely foreign idea. You see where Aang’s coming from, but also, that’s Sokka. Sokka, who’s been the same with you since the day you met. Sokka, who’s been by your side for years and never said a word about it. Sokka, who you’ve watched get and lose partners over the span of your journey together.

He wasn’t ugly. Quite the opposite, really. You could admire that without having a silly crush on him.

But…but you did like him. Kind of a lot. That didn’t mean it had to be in that way.

Still…you did get a lot happier when he was around. And you were more comfortable with his presence and letting him place a hand on you or an arm around you. You’d let anyone do that, but you suppose that maybe you wouldn’t be as ecstatic and content with it if it had been Katara or Toph instead.

Those were feelings, though. Normal feelings. You think. You’re not quite sure, actually. So what were all the weird looks for then? Did the others find your relationship odd, or did they…

“Honestly…everyone thought you guys were dating.” Aang cuts off your train of thoughts as if reading your mind. “I mean, that’s just what it looks like.”

“For how long?”

“Huh…I don’t know. It’s looked like you’ve been dating for years.”

“Years?” You repeat increduously. It can’t have been that long that the two of you had been…ugh. This was hurting your head. You still hadn’t answered Aang’s question.

I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?

What would that entail, anyway? With what Aang’s saying, nothing would change. Except the presence of actual kisses, and maybe waking up with him, and living together and—

Okay. That got too real too fast. Your face flushes and you turn away slightly. Aang—alert, lovely, and too observant for his (your) own good, Aang—catches on instantly.

“You do!” He cries, overjoyed. “You do want to be with him!”

You shake your head quickly, but he enthusiastically points at your leg. “Look at that speed! You only do that when you’re really nervous!”

True to his word, your leg was bouncing at the speed of light. You slam both of your hands down on your knee to make it stop, your eyes wide. “Not so loud!” You hush him, despite the fact that you were probably being just as loud.

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, leaning in to grin at you. “But you do like him!”

“I…maybe?” The roar of emotions in your heart implied a more honest sentiment.

“You do. So…talk to him.”

“I can’t just talk to him.”

“Sure you can! He’d get it.”

“How would you know? He thinks this is all normal.”

“No way he does. Sokka’s not that stupid.”

“Does that mean I was stupid for thinking so?”

“I didn’t say that! I just meant that he’s probably having an epiphany right now, too.”

“Is he?” You raise an eyebrow. “And you would know that how?”

“Katara wanted to talk to him earlier.” He shrugs.

Crap. Okay. So the two of you were being cornered and told exactly what’s going on between you both. Definitely comforting.

“What do I do? Aang, guide me through this, now.” You lean in closer, eyes darting around like Sokka might pop out of any corner.

“Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s a stranger anymore. You’re never afraid to speak your feelings. So…just go for it.”

“That’s not clear enough!” “It doesn’t have to be. Do you want this turning point of your life to be pre-planned and rehearsed?”

“I…guess not.”

“Exactly! It’ll be more authentic and successful if you just lead with your heart and go for it.”

“I can’t just do it now!”

“Then don’t. Sleep on it. Let yourself grasp the lines of your emotions, then ask to see him, and go!”

“What if he hates me for it? What if he really thinks that this was all friendly?”

“He won’t. Trust me.”

“How would you know?”

“You know who knows Sokka the best?”

It doesn’t take a second to reply. “Katara.”

“Exactly. Their sibling bond is really strong. And Katara is completely convinced that he really lo—likes you.” The stutter goes unnoticed.

“Are you sure about this?” You chew on your bottom lip. “What if everything gets messed up?”

“It won’t. I promise. Even if the impossible happens, you and Sokka have been friends too long to let this damage you in any way. It won’t change things.”

“I don’t know. This is pretty big.”

“Bigger than defeating the Fire Lord?”

You crack a smile. “Maybe not.”

“Definitely not.”

A long, deep breath mostly calms down your nerves. You nod slowly, leaning back and looking around.

“Okay. I’m going to…think about this. Sleep on it.”

“Good.” Aang nods back. After a moment, he looks back at you. “I think you guys would be really good together.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re like two halves of the same person. You’re both better and more complete together.”

“Aww, Aang. You’re so sweet.” You smile, pinching his cheek. He laughs softly and pushes your hand away.

“I’m serious. You’re one of my best friends. You deserve to be happy, and I think Sokka would help with that.”

You might actually cry now. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. It takes less than a second for Aang to reciprocate, squeezing you so tightly you might lose your breath.

Neither of you say a word. You don’t need to.

After a few seconds of silence, Aang breaks it.

“Also, we’d pretty much basically be siblings if you two got marr—”

“Aang!”

—

You weren’t lying to him when you said that you’d actually think about it.

You did think about it. You slept on it that night and dreamt about it. You ate breakfast the next morning thinking about it. You worked and thought about it. You took a walk and thought about it. You talked to Zuko and thought about it.

In fact, it hadn’t left your mind once.

Because the moment the realization was planted in your brain, you weren’t able to let go at all.

You were lucky to not encounter Sokka for the majority of the day. You might have died if you did.

Now, the problem was that idea carried over into the next day. And the next day. And the next. Until it had been nearly a week since your eye-opening talk with Aang, and you had barely interacted properly with Sokka since.

It was stupid to think that no one would notice. It was kind of obvious.

Really obvious.

Toph and Sokka are sitting together and talking? Great! You’ll sit down next to Toph and let her lay her head on your lap while you let them mostly speak.

Katara and Sokka are walking together? Lovely! You’ll let Katara stand in the middle and act as a barrier while you try to grasp the overwhelming feelings he brings.

Everyone is hanging out after dinner? Fantastic! Zuko can take your weight as you lean against him and try not to fall asleep.

Aang, too smart for his own good, did not allow you to use him as a wall.

He caught you on day six, pulling you aside.

“So…what did we talk about?” Aang asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“To talk to him, yeah, yeah. I’m thinking right now, okay? Can’t a person just think?”

“Not like this! You’re not even trying to act normal anymore.”

“Just give me a couple of more days. I’ll get there. Promise.”

You were now closing up on day seven, and you still had no idea what to do.

You wanted to talk to him about it. Of course you did. But the idea of actually having to face him and talk about something so personal felt so…weird. You just didn’t want to have to do it. Not now, at least.

Except you did want to talk to him. You didn’t know how, but you really did want to. You were good at talking, just going with the flow, so why did this mess you up so bad? Ugh.

Night was falling, and you weren’t feeling any more tired than you had a couple of hours ago. You’re smart enough to know when you’re not going to get any sleep. So, obviously, you have to take a nighttime stroll instead to clear your head.

That would help. Walking always helped, even if you drowned in your own thoughts first before letting yourself be pulled out.

You all were staying in a relatively small village in a relatively large house together. Did that make it harder to avoid him? Yes. Did it make it more suspicious? Yes. Which is exactly why you should have gone out on a walk ages ago.

Well, you can’t change the past now.

It’s not too lively outside. Things are dying down, and most people are retreating to their homes after a long day of work. A couple of them greet you with tired smiles as you pass by, which you return with double the energy. Waves and calls of good night’s take up most of your initial excursion, leaving you no room to think until you get to the very edge of the village.

It’s quieter out there. The moon shines down on you, peeking through dark clouds that might bring about rain later. You’re not too sure about the forecast.

As you make your way along the perimeter, you try to gather your thoughts, you really do. They’re just as much of a jumbled mess as they were way back when you first figured out what the two of you truly were. Or, tried to figure out, at least.

What you do know is that you like Sokka. Like like, bordering onto actual love, which is a terrifying thought. How could you have been in love with him for all this time and not know? Scary. You’d like to stick to like like instead, just for now, just so that you don’t implode.

You don’t know if he likes you back. Aang swears on his life that he does. You want to believe him, but doubt always makes its presence known, no matter how much you try to push it down. You can’t force yourself to believe it, but you can try. For now, you’re just going to think about this logically.

He might like you back.

So…how to bring it up? Something tells you that ‘Hey Sokka, I talked with Aang and I realized that I’ve liked you for a while now, you should let me be your girlfriend’ won’t really work.

You could be really sappy about it and have a nice long speech prepared. Or you could go out on a whim and say something simple.

Neither sounds very appealing to you. You want something meaningful, but like Aang said, not forced. You want it to matter.

You don’t even notice the figure standing in front of you until you crash right into him, too focused on staring into nothingness. Apologies are already spilling from your lips.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The man reassures, grabbing your shoulders to stop you from tripping over yourself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Sorry again. I’m totally fine. I really don’t know why I—sorry.” You respond, trying to shove down the embarrassment that comes with nearly knocking over a stranger you definitely should have seen coming.

“No harm done, promise.” He reassures. His hands have not yet left your shoulders, and when he notices that, he quickly drops them like he’s been burned. “You must have been deep in thought, huh?”

You offer a shrug, rubbing your arm. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Love troubles?” He asks. You startle, taking a step back. He laughs and tilts his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m not that obvious. I’m not…am I?” You ask desperately, nearly hissing as you lean forward, your voice hushed in fear of someone else nearby overhearing.

The man offers you a comforting grin. “To me, maybe. I’m not too sure about anyone else.”

“So you know about love troubles.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not go accusing a guy without even asking his name!” The man raises his hands in surrender.

“Ah…you’re right. Sorry. May I have the name of the gentleman who I nearly knocked over?”

“Why, of course. I’m Lee.”

You do not believe that for a second, but Lee was a pretty popular name. You let him off the hook.

“Well, Lee. I suppose we’re both having our own love struggles.”

“Maybe we are.” He offers a one-armed shrug. “I think we’ll get past it.”

“I sure hope we do.”

It’s weird, the concept of mildly opening up to a guy you’ve never seen before and likely never will, but that’s also comforting. He’ll forget all about you at some point, and you him, so you won’t have to worry about gossip spreading. No one will care.

Before you can do something stupid like dump your entire life’s story on this guy, he speaks first.

“I think that you might have a name as well.” Lee asks, shifting his weight as he leans on his leg, a little closer.

“I might.” You joke.

“And that name is…?”

You open your mouth to reply, but when your name is said, it’s not your voice that responds.

It comes with a heavy arm around your shoulders, firmly planted behind your head, completely wrapping around your body. It comes with a warmth you’re very familiar with and a scent that can only be matched to one man you know.

“I’ve seriously been looking for you everywhere. I mean, I nearly had to start checking under everyone’s beds, and I don’t really want to know what I’d find under Zuko’s.”

Sokka.

Okay. Awkward. Lovely. You’re kind of afraid.

Lee looks a bit taken aback, his eyes widening. His gaze meets yours and he mouths ‘love?’ to you, to which you breathe out and nod.

Sokka catches this instantly.

“What was that?” He asks, squinting. “A secret code? That was weird.”

Lee coughs. “Uh…we were just talking.”

“Right.” Sokka nods, stretching out the vowel as he raises an eyebrow and looks between Lee and you under his arm. “Cool. Well, we’ll be going now, alright? Bye.”

He turns you right back around, his arm guiding your body and forcing you to follow after him. You turn your head back to look at Lee, who smiles at you. You look back front, then back at him again, to which he forms a heart with his hands and a thumbs up.

Your cheeks flush pink. Sokka’s free hand plants itself on the top of your head, swiveling it back to face your front.

“Why—are you blushing?” Sokka cuts himself off, sounding absolutely scandalized. He lifts up your face and appears to analyze it, his fingers grasping your jaw.

“No.” You deny pathetically.

“Holy bison, you are.” He shakes his head. “Hold on. What was going on back there? Who even was that? Why were you out so late? Was that your…your secret lover?”

His voice spikes in pitch, just like it would back when you were teens and his voice would crack. This was really embarrassing now.

“That was…not…my ‘secret lover’. I don’t have a ‘secret lover’.” You correct, reluctantly pulling his hand down. “I just went for a walk.”

“Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble upon a handsome guy down there and spark conversation.”

“That is exactly—a what guy?” You nearly shriek.

“Don’t act innocent. I can see right through your ruse.” Sokka’s arm does not loosen around your shoulders as you continue to walk.

“What ruse?”

“The one where you’re trying to convince me that you weren’t sneaking out to see a guy.”

“I wasn’t doing that.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Walking.”

“Walking. Right. That didn’t look like walking.”

“Well, it was. Until I accidentally bumped into him.”

“Bumped into him!” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I guess you stumbled right into his arms, too!”

“That did not happen.” You frown. “Why are you making stuff up?”

“I’m coming to plausible conclusions.”

“You aren’t.”

“I am.”

“You weren’t even there!”

“Exactly! Who knows what else went on before I got there? Did you exchange poetry? Recite haikus to the stars?”

“None of that happened!”

“Of course not. So I’m just supposed to believe that you haven’t been avoiding me and seeing some villager for the past week.”

Before you can try to refute his claims, he shushes you, his finger pressing against your lips.

“And don’t even try to deny the avoiding part. I’m not stupid. You can attempt to cover up seeing him, but you can’t pretend you haven’t been running away from me.”

His finger leaves your lips, and you fall silent. He was right. You were avoiding him, just not for the reason he thinks.

“I…was not…seeing Lee in the village.”

“But you were avoiding me.”

You chew on your bottom lip slowly. “It wasn’t avoiding.”

“It most certainly was.”

“I just wouldn’t call it that.” “I would.” “I wouldn’t.”

“Well, then what would you call it?”

“...taking some time to myself?”

Sokka frowns. “Really? Of course, that doesn’t apply to Katara, or Toph, or Aang, or Zuko. Just me.”

Right. If anything, you had doubled your levels of affection with the rest of your friends. You swallow thickly, trying to find the words.

“Maybe I needed a bit of time from you.”

Why did you say that? Why would you say that? You can’t even try to take it back.

Sokka falls unusually silent. The only sound is the fall of your syncretized footsteps against the soft earth.

“Why?”

You barely hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been listening for something, anything to leave his lips.

“Nothing important.” You were making some really bad decisions.

“It was important enough to give me up.”

“I didn’t give you up.”

“It sure feels like you did.”

You don’t have a response for that. Sokka sighs.

“Listen.” He starts, his fingers flexing against your shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re seeing…‘Lee’...in the village. That doesn’t matter to me. What—I’m talking right now, wait, you can defend yourself later—what matters to me is that you stopped finding me to find him.”

“That’s not what this is. You keep bringing Lee up, but he’s not the reason—”

“Then what?” Sokka interrupts, albeit not harshly. It’s soft when it shouldn’t be, which is why it stops your words despite the lack of violence in them. It just sounds…defeated.

What do you say now? That you have feelings for him and instead of dealing with them like an adult, you’re acting like a teenager with a crush that will never be reciprocated? That you’re practicing what it’ll feel like if he rejects you?

It’s stupid. You know he won’t do something drastic like lash out or insult you if you say something. You know he’s not like that. You know that you’re both better than that. But your mind just keeps jumping to all of these horrible ideas, and you have no idea what to believe and what not to.

You think that you should start with your heart.

“I talked to Aang a while ago.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything. He nods slowly, like its encouragement to keep going. You do.

“A week ago.” You continue. You know that he knows that’s when this whole thing started. “I wanted to know why Toph was acting so strange that day.”

“Yeah. That was weird.” He replies simply, his mind clearly elsewhere. You don’t know if that’s good or not.

“And…we talked.” You conclude, nodding along like you’d just revealed the secrets of the world.

Sokka waits for you to keep going. When you don’t he looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s it?” He scoffs. “That doesn’t explain anything! What did you talk about.”

“That’s private information.”

“So why would you tell me that?”

“I don’t know! That’s kind of what led to this whole thing, okay?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, let’s start over.”

“Starting over. Got it.”

“You’re avoiding me.” “If that’s the word we have to use.” “It is. Something happened, and you’re avoiding me. Aang and you spoke about something, and you’re avoiding me.”

“...yeah.” “Okay. So what was that ‘something’?”

There was no use trying to beat around it now. You need to man up and spit it out. That’s right. You’re a grown adult. You can face your feelings.

“We…are close, aren’t we?”

Sokka stiffens for a moment, but he nods. “Yeah. I’d say we’re pretty close.”

“More so than normal?”

“Uh…let’s define normal?”

“I don’t know. Like the way I am with…Toph?”

“Toph can’t be used as an example for normal.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Sokka. Whatever. What I’m trying to say is…is that…Aang let me know that we’re…like him and Katara.”

“We are nothing like those losers.” Sokka puffs up his chest.

“Sokka.” “Sorry. Continue.”

At least you know that he’s not really pissed at you. He wouldn’t joke around if he was. That’s a good sign.

“It means that everyone thinks we’re a thing.”

He stops in his tracks for the first time since your conversation began.

“A thing? Like a couple kind of thing?” He repeats, the disbelief coating his voice clearly.

“Yeah. Like a couple.”

“Huh.” His nose scrunches up. “So…you found that out…and you decided that you couldn’t be seen around me anymore lest Lee find out?”

“No!” You cry, swatting at him. “Stop bringing him up! I don’t even know him!”

“What am I supposed to think?” Sokka bites back.

“You’re supposed to believe me!”

“I’m trying!” “It sure doesn’t seem like it!”

His arm finally drops from your shoulders as he covers his face and groans. “Okay. Fine! You don’t know who Lee is. I believe you. But you avoided me for some reason.”

“I told you the reason.”

“People think we’re a couple. You’re…embarrased, and you decide to stay away from me so that they don’t think that anymore.”

“That’s not it.” “Well, that’s what I’m hearing right now.”

It’s your turn to cover your face and groan. “It’s not that part of it.”

“Then which part?” “I’ll tell you if you stop asking questions.” You uncover your face just in time to catch him zipping his lips.

Is this it? Do you just say it straight up, now?

“I just…needed some time to think about the…extend of our relationship.” You breathe out. “That’s all.”

“So…you wanted to reflect on what we truly were.”

“Yeah.”

“And you came up with…?”

“I…don’t know.” You confess. “I don’t know.”

Sokka exhales slowly. Is that a bad sign? Maybe.

“We’re…friends.” He says.

“We are.” You repeat hollowly.

“Right. So…that’s cleared up, then.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” You say before you can even think about it.

Sokka’s breath hitches. He stays silent for a moment. “Yeah. I didn’t think so, either.”

So you were both on the same page there. You agreed that there was more to it than friendship. That’s…good. Hopefully.

“Was it only because you needed to think about what we were?” Sokka asks.

“What?” “You avoiding me. Was it just because of that?”

“I…yeah?”

“So it wasn’t that you…you hated the idea of being with me and had to distance yourself to stop the assumptions?”

“What? No! No, that wasn’t it at all. I just needed to think about it.”

Your outburst takes him by surprise. Once the words register, his raised eyebrows lower into an expression that looks more relieved than anything.

“Okay. Good to know.” He wets his lips. “And…and you’re being honest about that guy—” “How many times do I have to say it?” You groan. “I don’t know him! I bumped into him and we spoke for a little bit. He has his own love troubles to navigate.”

You try to ignore the fact that you called what’s going on between you ‘love troubles’ so blatantly. You know he caught onto it. You know he knows that you know. Neither of you say anything about it.

It was kind of annoying, the way he just kept going back to Lee like he was—

Holy shit.

“Oh.” You say simply, turning to face him completely. “You’re…jealous. You’re jealous.”

“Wha—what?” Sokka splutters, taking a step back, his hands raised as he shakes his head vigorously. “Me? Jealous? Of that guy? No way!”

“You are!” You protest, taking a step forward to make up for the distance that he’s putting between you two. “That’s why you’re so pissy!” “I’m not pissy!” “You so are! I get it! I get it now! You’re so upset because I was with him!” “I’m upset that you’re pretending to not know me anymore!” “It’s doubled because of him!” “So what?” Sokka turns it around suddenly, taking a step forward with a sudden surge of confidence. “Huh? So what if I was upset? I have a right to be! You start avoiding me, and then I go out for a walk to clear my head, and I find you all buddy-buddy with some random guy all alone at night, and what am I supposed to think of that, huh?”

You gape at him, but it’s obvious that he’s not done.

“The only thing I can think is that you’ve found a new guy to replace me or something, either as a friend or—or something more, and I haven’t even been able to have an actual conversation with just you in a week and here you are just all over this guy like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen and—ugh!”

A hand flies up to dig his fingers into his scalp. “Whatever. Whatever. Forget it. It’s stupid.”

His incoherent mumbles and pacing that leads him away from you snap you out of your stupor. “Wait. Wait! Sokka, hold on!”

Sokka stops, slowly turning around to face you.

“It’s…it’s not stupid. It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m the stupid one. I don’t know why I avoided you like that for so long. I should have just been straight up with you and done things like an adult. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was casting you aside or seeing someone else or anything along those lines. Really.”

The two of you are standing face to face, yours angled slightly upwards to meet his eyes. Sokka’s fists clench and unclench. Silence suffocates you until he closes his eyes and breathes out.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize or anything. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and accusing you without just asking first.”

“I guess I still have some growing up to do.” You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly.

“I think we all do.” Sokka replies. “But that’s the fun of it.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

When you fall silent, it’s much less awkward this time. Still, you know that it’s not the end of your conversation.

“So…you were jealous.” You bring up again.

“Are you going to let that go anytime soon?”

“I’ll think about it.” You smile, but that’s not the reason you brought it up. “Why?”

“Why? Maybe because you were talking to a guy I didn’t know. Alone.”

“You called him handsome.”

“He kind of is. Alright, how was I supposed to feel seeing you talking to a handsome guy I don’t know all alone?”

“The others wouldn’t have reacted the same way.”

Sokka huffs. “No. They wouldn’t.”

“It’s different, then.”

“Yeah, it’s different with you. It’s always different with you.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. Sokka meets them for a moment, then grows flustered and turns away.

“I…I do like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He mumbles.

“Like me? Or…like like.”

A quick hesitance. “The second one.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.”

So…Aang was right. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, but once it does, it becomes a complete mess. Your body performs about a hundred actions at once, including overheating, fidgeting fingers, rapid blinks, and nervous twitches.

“Are you going to say anything, or are you going to leave me hanging?” Sokka asks, his own nervousness concealed under a confident demeanor that you’ve long since been able to see through.

You nod, your lips parting. Here it is. This is your chance to say something, to tell him how you feel, how you want more and how you—

“I love you.”

…

You did not mean to say that. It was true, it always had been, and your heart had known that, which is why it took over instead of your brain. But you were supposed to start off slow and sweet, not jump straight into it.

Before you can even apologize for the way it made both of you freeze, Sokka’s lips parting in shock and yours quivering as if unable to take the recoil of the confession, he moves.

In an instant, his hands fly up to cup both sides of your face, his thumbs resting on your cheeks as he pulls you up to meet him halfway.

His lips are slightly chapped, contributing to a vague rough feeling that’s drowned out by the overall gentleness that comes with the kiss. It’s a simple press of lips to lips, his perfectly slotting in against yours. His hands stay firmly planted on your face, and your hands come up to rest on his chest in turn. You tilt your head slightly, but the moment you make a move, he snaps back.

His eyes are blown wide, a regretful expression on his face that scares you into believing that he’d realized that he didn’t actually like you or something. He backs up, his hands slowly falling from your face. “Crap. Sorry. Was that too soon? That was too soon. Sorry, I should have asked, I—”

You grab him by the collar of his shirt and tug him back down again. His hands shoot up, and then quickly find a place on your waist. In turn, you loop your arms around his neck. It’s not any more rushed than the last one. He’s savoring you with a gentleness you didn’t think you’d ever experience. He doesn’t push hard, just enough to make a imprint that you can’t easily get rid of.

This time, you pull back, making sure to keep your arms around him. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Differently. It’s fond, and while he’s looked at you like that before, there’s something so loving in the way his gaze softens that it practically turns you to mush.

“We could have done that a week ago.” He whispers to you.

“Guess we’ll have to make up for missed time.” You respond, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

“I like the sound of that.” Sokka smiles, dipping down to steal another kiss.

BONUS

“So…were you lying when you said you didn’t care I was out with Lee?” You ask as you walk back to the house, Sokka’s arm wrapped tightly around your side.

“Oh, yeah. I was lying straight through my teeth. I was going to cry and everything.” He grins back, swooping down and pressing a quick kiss to your head as you cross the threshold.

As you turn, you hear something shatter. You jump slightly, your head swiveling to find the source as Sokka pulls you back and his shoulders tense.

“You…you did it!” Aang cries, a shattered glass at his feet. He sounds suspiciously on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe it!”

“You didn’t believe in me?” You tease, relaxing as you rest your head on Sokka’s shoulder.

“Not at all.” Aang jokes back. “But hey, I’m happy for you. Even if nothing’s really changed”

He was right. The only thing different about you guys was that you could kiss him on the lips. Still, it’s not like you’d want it any other way.

“I’m happy, too.” You reply with a soft smile. Sokka beams, grabbing your chin and kissing you again.

You don’t think he’d get bored of that anytime soon.

You wouldn’t, either.

You didn’t really mean to hurt him, not if he complied and didn’t attack you first, but it would be stupid to pretend that you didn’t have the means to fight back if he did. Him and his whole group, those boys and the couple of girls they brought along, ranging in ages but mostly appearing to be around the same as you.

The weird part is that you don’t want to shoot at all. The fighting and mistrust that came with escaping the maze nearly makes you miss it. It’s dangerous out here, in an unpredictable way that wasn’t so overbearing the way it was in there. You don’t want to not trust these people, these other kids, but keeping your guard down will only get you killed.

You keep your gun fixated on him and his blonde friend as Harriet guides the old man and the brunette backwards.

“You two.” You call, nodding. “Move. Let’s go.”

Slowly, they rise, and the moment your eyes lock onto his, you swear you feel something in your chest just jerk.

You breathe out softly, trying to ignore the pang that it caused. This was no time for…for some love at first sight shit, if that’s what this was. You grip the gun harder, eyes narrowing. He stares right back at you like you were something crazy.

Like maybe he felt it, too.

Pushing it out of mind, you turn to the next group of crouching teens.

Harriet’s in front. She’s headstrong, she’s resilient, and she’s stubborn. She doesn’t back down. So the moment you catch her body language, her arms shaking a bit and her gun faltering, you step up beside her, ready to have her back at any moment.

Seeing Aris is not what you expect.

“Holy crap.” You mumble, the quiet sense of awe being the only valuable noise throughout this whole thing. The others fixate on you first, their gazes wary and hesitant.

“Aris?” Harriet asks, her voice laced with disbelief. She yanks down her mask when his group turns towards him, and in an instant, the exhaustion on his face seems to lift as he pushes forward to embrace her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You pull the mask down your face as well, your gun laying limp against your body as you grab him as well, laughing softly to cover up your shock. “We thought you were dead.”

He squeezes you tightly, pulling back just enough to scratch the back of his head. “Nah, not yet.”

You knock your fist against his skull a couple of times. “Absolutely nothing in there, Aris.”

Aris just grins, turning to Sonya to hug her as well.

His group doesn’t seem as thrilled to see you all, instead glancing between each other with varying levels of surprise.

“Uh…what’s going on?” One of them asks. He asks. Gosh, you’re already singling him out, that’s so embarrassing.

“We were in the maze together.” Aris explains as you pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t do anything stupid again, okay?” You warn, to which he nods, and you know very well that he’s going to do something stupid again.

Harriet calls down the others from above the cliff, and all of you move together through the tunnel and towards your cars.

So…maybe, just maybe, you make sure that you end up in the same car as him. You’re just a bit curious, is all. Nothing more to it. You nearly jump into the front seat once you see him get into the back of one of the cars, but that was just because you really wanted to get back to base.

As you follow after Harriet and Sonya, you decide to strike up conversation, just to see who these guys exactly are.

“Well. You guys must’ve come a long way.” You begin dumbly, turning in your seat to look back at them. It’s only a bit of their group. The blonde that he was hiding with, one who had been hiding with Aris, Aris himself, and him. Gee, you’d really like to have some names.

“You could say that.” Aris replies with a shrug. “Wish it didn’t take us so long.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re really lucky to have found us. We’re moving out at daylight tomorrow.”

A silence falls, and so you continue. “So…I only know Aris here. Care to share who I’m riding with?”

The blonde is Newt, next to him is Frypan, and next to Aris is Minho. You decide not to comment on the first couple of names. Aris, in turn, introduces you, and you offer them a cheery wave.

“Aris, the girls are going to want a complete debrief, just so you know.” You warn. “I’d demand one now, but Harriet and Sonya would throw a fit if they didn’t hear it first, also.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” He replies, eliciting a couple of laughs.

“I’m curious.” You admit, looking forward for a moment at the heads of the others in the car in front of you. “What was your maze like? Was it harder? We got out a good while ago.”

“You calling us incompetent?” Minho asks. That is not the kind of response you wanted. You raise your hands quickly.

“I’m just asking! I hear that not all mazes were the same.”

“They aren’t?” Frypan leans forward. “Like, how?”

“Bet your maze wasn’t made out of ice. Aris, why did we get stuck with that one?”

The discussion that that prompts nearly makes you proud of your previous home, until you think about it longer and figure that the only thing to be proud of was somehow surviving long enough to be rescued.

“You climbed up?” Newt furrows his eyebrows.

“After a while, yeah. The hard part was not getting snatched up by Shades.”

Aris shudders in the backseat. You find it hard not to as well. Before you can really start comparing the two mazes, you make it to the base.

Thomas in the other car is a bigshot, Brenda is infected, and Vince and Mary are having a bit of a quarrel, but all is fine with your group, so, selfishly, you can’t really find it in yourself to care all too much about what’s going on with them.

You sit with Aris as he recounts what he’s been doing since you all assumed he was dead, only half paying attention. Your gaze keeps drifting towards the ‘Gladers’ on the ledge near you. You don’t get it. You’ve never been hooked on anyone like this, so why do you keep wanting to turn around and stare right at Minho until…until what?

With a long groan, you cover your face.

You did not have a crush on this guy.

Was he attractive? Yes. Did butterflies crash into the walls of your stomach when he looked at you? Probably.

But you’re not that easy!

Are you?

Of course not. You are nowhere near that easy to get, so you refuse to acknowledge the strange assortment of feelings that come with him. Besides, even if you were developing some sort of puppy crush, this world was no place for one. Relationships needed to be kept clean. You couldn’t afford such extreme bias when it came to life and death.

Like Thomas and that Jorge man when Brenda fell.

But…but if that was Sonya or Harriet or Aris that fell, you think you would have jumped in front of them the same exact way.

You love them, you truly do, and a crush would only take that love and twist it more against your critical thinking. You couldn’t afford that. It would be different if it was Aris. But it’s not Aris. It’s a guy you barely know at all. You can’t trust him, not yet.

It takes less than a moment for everything to change. You barely recall what led up to it. Just the faint blinking of light in the sky, the roar of the wind, and your hands flying up to grab Sonya and Aris as you freeze up.

You couldn’t trust anyone new.

It’s a mess of memories. The sound of gunshots, the crackling of the tasers, the guttural screams, and the roaring of fire. One moment, you’re crouched beside Harriet, some of those boys helping you, and the next you’re on the floor, a faint cry falling from your lips, staring up at the sky.

They drag you by your collar, fingers digging into your skin painfully as they shove you to the ground first. Minho ends up next to you. You are decidedly not going to feel anything as his shoulder bumps into yours. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you.

They line you up like livestock, pressing weird shit to your skin and logging you like merchandise. You want to jump up and grab them, strangle them, turn their guns around and fill their heads with lead. But you can’t create a scene without backup. They’ll shoot you dead before you can do crap to them. So you grit your teeth until it pains your jaw, ignoring the sting in the back of your eyes.

You don’t listen when they call out your number. You don’t care. It’s hard to focus on anything but the ringing in your ears, so when they shove Thomas down beside you, you barely notice at all.

Dumbass. Are you just going to give up like this? Look around.

The voice in your head slightly helps. No, you lied. It doesn’t. It’s a mess, that’s what this all is. It’s a mess when the berg lands, it’s a mess when Mary dies, it’s a mess when they drag you on, and it’s a mess when the fighting starts again.

It’s pure silence when you take off.

—

You wake up in a white room.

You feel weird. Different. Dazed. Just outright odd. You sit up quickly, pushing aside the dizziness that it brings.

There’s a camera in your room. The only furniture is the bed that you sit on. The outline of two doors are visible, but where one has a handle, the other doesn’t. You stand up slowly. You aren’t restrained in any way, you don’t think. Your limbs move as freely as they want.

You walk up to the door, pressing your ear against it.

Nothing.

You step back slowly, taking a shaky breath.

Okay. You were taken away. The last thing you remember is lifting off. Now you’re here. This is probably one of WCKD’s places. If everyone is in the same situation as you, then Aris and Sonya should also be isolated in a place like yours. Were you all together, or were all the rooms located as far away from each other as possible?

How do you get out?

How long has it been?

Is anyone going to save you?

Harriet would. You know she wasn’t taken. You remember looking at the faces of everyone there. Minho was. None of those other boys were. You’re sure that his friends would come for him as well.

How long would you have to wait for that?

If you flew off, it had to be a long ways away from the Right Arm’s base. It could take days, weeks by foot, for all you know.

The door beeps and you startle, quickly stumbling backwards.

There are two guards. No guns being pointed yet, but their hands rest on them like a warning.

“You. Out. Now.”

You didn’t have anyone to back you up if you fought. One unarmed girl against two gunmen was far from a fair fight.

So you go with them.

Neither of them speak to you, but you want answers.

“Where am I?”

Nothing.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Nothing.

“Where are we going?”

“Be quiet.” The one behind you commands. “You’re getting basic tests done. Do not ask any further questions.”

Weirdo. You think to yourself, rolling your eyes as they guide you down the halls.

They weren’t really lying. Doctors take over when you get to your destination. They check you to make sure that you aren’t hiding any sort of weapons. They lay you down and take your blood.

To fight back, you have to comply first. You can’t make yourself untrustworthy from the start. They’ll guard you more, and you never will get a chance to escape. You follow their instructions and stay compliant.

They scan your bones, your brain, your blood. They whisper to each other in hushed voices, with words that you barely catch.

...tests…years…a7…brain…chemical…

Sounds fancy. You don’t know shit about it.

They send you off afterwards. You don’t know if it’s the same guards that take you back. They all look the same with their creepy helmets that they cowardly hide behind and their over the top uniforms.

You hate them.

Time is hard to track. You sit on your bed and think for a long time about everything. There are gaps in your memory, but overall you think you understand what happened. It all happened so fast, it’s hard to believe that it was real. But the chill on your skin and the mental and physical weight on your body knows better.

They bring you food at some point. You really don’t want to eat it. You don’t know what they might have been, but they’ve probably done something and you didn’t trust it at all. You don’t care if you starve. There’s no way you’re eating anything they bring you.

Some time after, they take the plate away. It feels like a long time, maybe an hour or so. With no sun to watch, it’s hard to tell.

More time passes. You try to think of what to do, but nothing substantial comes to mind. You don’t know anything about this place. Try as you might, everything relies on assumptions and guess work. You need more time here to figure out an escape plan, but you don’t want more time.

Ugh.

The lights go out after what should be a couple more hours. You have no idea what time you woke up, got tested, and when the lights shut down, but it must be night time now. You don’t know if it’s early evening or midnight.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

They don’t test as much on the second day. They scan things, monitor your heart rate, and check your sight.

Instead of taking you back to your ‘room’, they turn.

“That’s not the right way.” You supply helpfully, but neither guard seems to care. Rude. You really hated these guys, no matter if they were the same ones as the first day or not.

A doctor stands in front of a door. She presses her card against a keypad. Noted. Cards are needed to access some doors. You mentally thank her for the unintentional input.

The guards force you inside.

It’s similar to your room. It’s a little larger, and unfurnished. It doesn’t seem inhabited at all.

Not until your eyes fall on the boy in the corner.

The door shuts behind you. There are no windows to the outside halls like a lot of the other rooms. It’s isolated. You falter, taking a few steps and looking around. What if they put you with a crank, and wanted to watch you get mauled?

The boy lifts up his head slowly.

It’s Minho.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Your heart skips a beat, but it’s more in surprise than your earlier crush, or so you hope. Your lips part in shock, and you try to form any words, nothing coming out.

He doesn’t look so good. He already seems drained, with faint eyebags, but there’s a fire in his eyes that tell you that he hasn’t quite given up yet.

Still, his eyebrows raise when he catches sight of you.

“Huh.” He says simply.

“Minho.” You respond. He nods slowly, looking around.

After an awkward bit of silence, you sit down against the wall opposite of him. You’re not really sure what the point of this is. Were the doctors going to come in soon? Were the two of you supposed to fight each other? Or just stare?

You tap your fingers against your arm nervously.

“Why do you think we’re here?”

“Hell if I know.” He shrugs, flexing his fingers. “I figured this was solitary confinement.”

“Did you fight them?”

Minho’s lip quirks up, a smirk on his face as he glances at the door you came in from. “Shuckfaces had it coming.”

He’s impulsive, you note. He’s either quick to anger or doesn’t care enough about following the rules. You usually aren’t, either, but something about this place requires a bit of patience from you to keep going. You’d wear yourself out if all you did was fight.

It reminds you of the meeting you and the girls had after Aris came up.

Yeah, fighting isn’t exactly your favorite pastime. You were tired of it. You just wanted to live normally, if normally meant freely.

“How long have you been awake?”

He answers quickly. “Three days, including today.”

So he was up a day earlier than you. Why? Did they knock you out with some sort of shot or gas on that berg?

“Have you seen anyone else?” You ask quickly. If he’s been here longer, maybe they locked him in here with someone else before, too. Or he’d seen one of your friends in the hallway, passing by to get tested.

“What’s with the interrogation?” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Question after question after question. Let me ask you something.”

You blink. You hadn’t noticed, but you had been questioning him like he was a criminal. You didn’t mean to. Ouch. Hopefully you two weren’t on bad terms.

“I haven’t seen anyone else from the base.” He answers after a moment. “You’re the first one.”

“...yeah. I haven’t, either.”

A mild panic starts to form in your chest. You’re scared. That’s what it is. You don’t know where you are, what they’re doing to you, how long it’s been, if your friends are okay, or what to do next.

It reminds you an awful lot of coming up in the box all those years ago.

Minho catches it, the way your breathing grows a little heavier.

“They’re watching.” He advises lowly, his voice barely carrying over to you. “They always are.”

Your eyes flicker up to the corners of the room. A small camera sits in one, pointed downwards at the room. You’re sure they have more. Cameras, microphones, guards outside the doors. Everything you could possibly imagine to control you, keep you contained.

Like animals.

You sit together in silence. Minho stares ahead, a storm in his eyes. He’s planning. You don’t know how much he knows about this place, but he’s thinking. You are, too. You’re trying as best as you can to recall details. The ID cards used to unlock certain doors. The timings of food. The guards. The tests.

You don’t have much, but you have something, and it’s more than just your name.

Knowing that they’re listening, you don’t want to bring up anything that’ll make them more wary of you. You need to gain some semblance of trust to have security on you be as minimal as possible. Besides, if you started talking about escape now, you’re sure they’d break you down in an instant.

Problem is, you have no idea when you would ever be able to speak to him without anyone listening. They could have microphones in these clothes for all you know.

Time passes. It doesn’t feel like very long before the door opens. Your head snaps towards the noise, while Minho jumps up his feet in an instant.

Five guards. Two of them gesture for you to get up, while the other three look at Minho. Looks like you were right about them increasing security for more…‘rowdy’ subjects.

Once they push you outside, they lead you down the right side, while Minho’s guards shove him to the left.

You don’t know if you’ll see him again, or when. Maybe you should have tried more. It could have been your last true human interaction for a while.

You don’t know what to think of it.

—

You’ve never been a light sleeper, so when the lights turn on, you’re up.

You just have time to rub the sleep out of your eyes when the door opens and they bring food again. Breakfast. You still don’t know exactly what time it is. At some point, you might have to stay awake and start counting as the seconds go by.

Your stomach hurts badly. You know that refusing to eat will only make you weaker and prove escaping to be near impossible, but you don’t know what’s in that food. It could be some weird drug that forces you to really comply.

But you’re not trying to kill yourself with thirst. The water could be tampered with as well, but your throat is painfully dry and it hurts to even swallow.

There’s a bathroom where the second door outline is. You turn the handle. There are cameras there, but at least they were courteous enough to give the actual bathroom part a door.

Water from here should be safe, right?

You grab the handles of the sink and turn them slowly. Clean water emerges, pouring down the drain. It looks clear. It’s cool on your skin, dripping from your palms. You cup your hands together and bring them to your chapped lips.

Nothing about it feels off. It tastes like regular water. You gulp down a generous amount, sighing out in mild relief. It does nothing to satisfy the dull hunger pangs, but it helps with the emptiness in your body.

They take the food awake a while later.

This time, you count.

Approximately fifteen minutes after taking the food, they come to you for the tests.

It’s never the same room. It’s almost always a different doctor, different color fluids, different shades of light. It’s confusing. Maybe it’s supposed to be. Your bare feet hit the ground lighter than the guard’s boots. It’s cold. You wrap your arms around your bare arms and squeeze lightly.

It’s harder to keep seconds when they do tests, because they’ll ask you to concentrate on a moving finger or relay information to them that they present. You estimate at least half an hour of questions and deliberations between the doctors.

From what you can hear, it’s almost always something about your brain.

The guards move to take you back. A sharp tug in your chest comes at the realization that this is where they would bring you to that room again, if they were going to at all.

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Nervous. Anxious. Mildly afraid. You continue down the same path as before. Your heartbeat quickens when you get to the wrong turn they made the day before.

For a second, it appears like they’re taking you straight back to your room, and your heart sinks to your stomach. Your shoulders slump and you breathe out in disappointment.

Except you don’t.

The guard behind you grabs your shoulders and steers you left.

Your heart jumps again with anticipation. They might not be taking you back to that room, but you’re going somewhere different, and that information alone is enough to have you back on alert again.

Similar doors as before. The same walls. The familiar ground beneath your feet. Right, then left again. Straight, all the way to the end of the hall. Left.

And it’s right there.

It’s the same doctor as last time, lifting the same ID to unlock the same door to the same room again. That’s different. That’s an outlier. It’s never the same people, never the same room. It’s supposed to confuse you, disgruntle you enough to where it makes it difficult to formulate an escape plan.

But this is different.

This is a constant variable in your stay.

Or so you hope it is.

You try not to get your hopes up too high before going inside. You could be talking to a stranger there for all you know. Or maybe, just maybe, it’ll be Sonya or Aris.

When you step inside, you find that it’s Minho again.

A control group.

The door shuts behind you. You wait for a moment before sitting down slowly in the same place as the day before.

“It’s you again.” Minho notes. “I was wondering if it would be.”

He sounds different. More…contained. Like he’s pretending to act normal for the cameras inside the room.

You nod. “So was I. Do you wait here long before they bring me?”

“135 seconds.”

He’s counting them too. Your eyes flicker to the camera for a moment. He follows your gaze.

“Oh, great, I know how to count. They’ll be all over me, won’t they?” He scoffs. Your face burns in embarrassment. That is not what you meant by that. You just weren’t keen on letting them know that you both were starting to pick up their routine already.

But you can’t even say that.

You’re a coward, aren’t you?

You’re too afraid of what they know that you’re making it harder to pick new things up as well.

Whatever. You can get through this part. But you want to talk to him again, not keep count of how long they keep you here. You’re not too sure that he wants to talk. His lips part again and again. He’s counting the seconds.

You clear your throat.

“Uhm…are we still the only people we’ve seen?”

“Can’t you tell what I’m doing?” He asks.

“I can. And I don’t care.” You reply with a sudden boost of confidence. “We don’t even know if this is going to become a regular thing. I just…can we just pretend that we’re hanging out or something? Feel some guise of normal? In here at least?”

Wow, you’re pathetic. It’s barely been three days, and you’re already starting to crumble due to the lack of authentic human interaction. The guards only demand obedience, the doctors never address you as anything but a lab rat, and the mirror in the bathroom isn’t the best company a girl could have.

And here’s Minho, a human, a human you knew before this happened—albeit not very well at all—that you think that you could like as a person, and you’re not letting the opportunity to regain the fraying bits of your will slip away because he wants to count the seconds.

Minho stares at you for a moment, his dark eyes fixated on yours. For a moment, you feel like taking it back and demanding to be let out, just so the humiliation alone doesn’t cause you to keel over and die. And then—

“Fine. Okay.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Let’s play pretend and act like it’s normal. Sure. I can do that.”

Extremely backhanded response, but you’ll take it.

“Well, okay. How’s…how’s the weather?”

Minho isn’t too ecstatic about the question. He raises an eyebrow and leans back against his wall.

“Absolutely lovely. Y’know, I just love it when it’s like this. Warm enough that you aren’t sweating enough to flood the Glade, and windy enough to cool you down the moment you start.”

You crack a smile. “So you like warm weather, then?”

“Can’t say I remember cold weather.” He shrugs.

“It’s cold here.”

“That’s artificial. It’s fake.”

You hum in agreement. “I agree, though. Warm weather is nice. Our maze was so cold.”

Minho leans forward a bit. “Ice, right?”

“Ice. I remember when I came up in the box, I practically froze to death. But I was there for a good couple of years, so I got used to it. Our newer girls hated it.”

Sonya complained about the chill whenever she could. It would drive the rest of you nuts because you knew that she was more adapted to it than almost all of you, but she’d still whine about it anyway.

Gosh, you miss her already.

“It was nice when we were with Vince and Mary at camp.” You distract yourself the moment those thoughts come. “I could get used to that.”

Minho nods slowly. “It was…a good camp.”

His expression turns dark, his eyebrows knitting together. “It was good. Until…until Teresa shucking ratted us out like nothing.”

You try to remember names. The boys are crossed out immediately. You don’t recall knowing anyone named Teresa that was with you before them. There were only two girls in Minho’s group. Brenda was infected. So Teresa…Teresa must have been the blue eyed one.

You blink. “Teresa? Wasn’t she…with you?”

“The very one. Apparently she was with them the whole time.”

There is no need for clarification on who they are. Still, you’re kind of surprised that he knows that she was the reason behind this. He must have heard that before he was loaded onto the berg. You know that you were being dragged on just before the second round of resistance began.

They must have known each other for a while. Aris’ story claimed that they escaped with her. So all that time…all that time, she was playing along.

You can’t trust anyone.

Can you trust him at all?

You watch him as his thoughts seem to take over. His jaw clenches a bit, and his hands start to shake minutely. His lips part just enough that you can see his teeth gnashing together. His eyes are dark and his eyes are filled with something that you can only put the name of ‘disgust’ to.

He looks good. An unwelcome voice in your head declares. You shove that thought out of there instantly. This is nowhere the time for that. If anything, you don’t even know if you can make a friend out of him. You sincerely doubt that he’d want to trust anyone again.

Even if you were stuck in the same situation as him.

Because so was she.

Conversation doesn’t continue that day. The guards come for you just a few minutes later. They gesture you out first, then Minho. He still has three guards.

You turn your head to look back at him as they lead him the other way. His head stays forward. He doesn’t look back at you.

You still don't really know what to think of this.

—

By the third time, you’re convinced that this is going to become a daily thing.

Sure, they could be pretending so you start looking forward to it, just for them to pull the rug out from beneath your feet, but you can’t help but already start feeling attached to that one sense of consistency.

You’re bad at this sort of thing. Not trusting. You can try as you might, but your heart always leads before your head, and that gets you in and out of situations you’d rather not be in. It’s a gamble. It never turns out perfect, but then again, nothing ever does.

Admittedly, you’re a bit distracted on that third day. You follow orders and try not to bounce your leg, waiting, waiting, waiting. Once you got him to talk a little yesterday, all you can think of is talking again. You’ve always been a big talker. It’s an escape for you, a remedy for your ailments, a way to find the light at the end of a tunnel.

Usually, it doesn’t matter who it is. You had a nice conversation with a crank you were running from once. But here, it’s different. Too fake, robotic, and inhumane.

Except for Minho.

You’ve ‘properly’ spoken to him once, and you’re already ready to assign him the role of your lifeline in this place.

It’s odd. You’re usually not that quick to trust, are you?

The guards come to take you to the room. It’s the same path as before. You’re still making sure not to act out of line, so you don’t ask any questions and keep your back straight.

Same doctor. Same ID. Same room.

Same boy.

The door shuts, and you sit down across from him right after. His head is already up, looking right at you.

“130 seconds. You were faster this time.”

“Maybe you were late.”

Minho shrugs. “Maybe.”

You can’t help the smile that’s already threatening to surface.

“So…we got our favorite weather down.”

“We did.”

Right. What next? Favorite color seemed silly, and didn’t spark much room to talk more after that. You’d rather not think about your maze again, lest you start mourning the friends and routine life you left behind in there. Testings were completely out of the question. You wanted to talk to him to escape that kind of stuff, not debate it.

You’re coming up blank. Not good! You refuse to sit in silence right now, but nothing is coming to mind. You rummage through your brain for something, anything.

“Have you fought back again?” You ask simply.

He looks a bit taken aback. “Who do you think I am? Of course I fought back again.”

“It won’t get you anywhere.”

“It’ll get me a good reputation.”

“The opposite, I think.” You note. He blinks, and then scoffs, though it sounds more like a laugh than something distasteful.

“Sure. But I’m not some goody two-shoes that’s going to obediently follow whatever these slintheads have to say.”

You stay silent on the fact that, technically, you are one of those goody two-shoes. Bringing up fights probably wasn’t the best conversation starter, but you can’t take it back anymore. For a moment, you think he’s not going to say anything more, and that you’ll sit in silence until they unlock the door again.

“Have you seen anyone else yet?”

“No. Just you.”

“Guess I’m special, then.” He says sarcastically, crossing his arms, his muscles flexing beneath the sleeves.

“Guess so.”

You don’t know why it’s Minho and not Aris, for example. You had no real relationship with him before this. Huh, maybe that’s why. But it could have been any of those other kids. Was it pure chance or a predetermined decision?

They open the doors a while later. It feels like a longer while than yesterday. You didn’t count this time. Still three guards for Minho, and your two. They lead you down the same paths as the last two times.

You glance back at him as he goes. He looks straight ahead.

You’re hoping that you can get some sort of alliance with him as time passes.

—

You two fall into a sort of routine after.

Minho is always there before you. He always recites the seconds in between his arrival and yours, and it’s always over 120 and below 150. You sit down exactly adjacent to wherever he does. Then, you ask him a question. You spend your restless nights thinking up things to spark conversation, then mentally storing them and hoping they won’t slip your mind in the night. Morning comes, you do your tests, and you go inside and ask them.

He always responds. Sometimes sarcastically, sometimes truthfully, and sometimes hesitantly, like they bring up memories he hasn’t dwelled upon in a while.

Honestly, you’re losing track of the days. After about fourteen, you’ve stopped being able to remember. It must have been a little over half a month since you woke up and since you’ve been put in this room with him.

It’s the highlight of your day, honestly. It lifts a weight from your shoulders, and if you close your eyes, you think you can imagine a fire between you two. Sonya and Harriet’s shoulders press against yours as you lean back and laugh freely. Minho grins, Newt and Frypan on his sides, pushing and shoving at each other playfully.

That’s far from reality.

But you can’t stop dreaming about it.

—

It’s around the month-ish mark that he surprises you.

“How do you have so many shuck questions?” Minho asks just as you open your mouth.

You think about it for a second, and then shrug. “It’s pretty easy.”

Minho is not enlightened by this statement. Instead, he leans his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly.

“You’re hopeful.”

Is he about to analyze you or something? You lean forward a bit, pursing your lips.

“Sort of. I’m just…not too excited to let them break me down.”

“It’s not just that.” He shakes his head. “You think they’re coming.”

You let his declaration roll around in your head. He’s right. Maybe not a ‘them’, but you think that Harriet would come for you. Maybe Vince would.

“So do you.” You reply, tugging at your thumb lightly.

“Yeah. They are coming. I know they are. Stubborn shanks.” Minho breathes out.

Yeah. They kept fighting until the berg left. You could tell from just that that they would be searching. Still, you don’t know where you are, and you don’t know if they know where you are.

“It’ll take time.” You bring up the harsh reality. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here. What they’ll do before our friends come.”

“Clearly. But you’re not going to give up because of that, are you?”

“No. No, I’m not.” You shake your head firmly. “They’re…they’re coming. We just have to keep going until then.”

Minho nods. “Good that.”

For a while, it’s silent. That’s how all of your conversations seem to go. It starts off alright, then it brings up things that force you into the corners of your mind that you don’t want to face. Then the guards come, and you’ve lost minutes of human interaction. Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s him. Neither of you complain or call the other out about it.

“Don’t let them break you down. I don’t want to be stuck here with a hopeless shank.”

You look up at him. There’s no joke in his expression, like he’d honestly be upset if you came in one day sulking and brooding about the end of your life. He would be, you think. You know a lot more about him than you used to. Not enough.

“Good that.” You repeat. He pauses for a moment, and then grins at you.

“Already picking up Glader slang. You trying to be an honorary member?”

You grin back at him. “Only if you become an honorary Icer.”

The guards come for you. As always, you glance back at him. For a moment, it looks like his head turns a bit to the side, and your heart skips a beat, until the guard behind him jabs the butt of the gun into his back.

Right. He wasn’t very obedient.

Each day brings about something new. You try to avoid bringing up the maze, but it comes eventually. It’s the basis of all of this. It was inevitable that one of you would want to talk about it at some point.

So you do.

“Keeper of the Runners. Did you guys have Keepers?” It seems to only just occur to him that your experiences weren’t exactly the same, and that meant gaining insight into what his maze could have done differently.

“Keeper…is that the person in charge of your ‘Runners’?” You snap your fingers, leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. We assigned the best girls to lead the group. We didn’t have a lot, though.”

“Of girls?”

“Yeah. It was pretty hard not to die. The cold, the Shades, accidents even.” You hum. “So…you led the Runners, then.”

“Yep. Maze doors would open with the sunrise, we’d go out. Our walls would change, so we’d have to check it out, memorize and map in notebooks, and then record that in the Map Room.”

“Sounds hard.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got good stamina and memory. It was a breeze.” He brushes imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “What did you do? Clean? You don’t seem like a Runner”

You scrunch your nose and roll your eyes. “No, I didn’t clean. And we were more…Skaters than Runners. I was actually very good.”

Minho blinks. “You scoped out the maze?”

“No, not really. We all could skate, so going out was easy enough, and on the very low levels we trained all the girls to climb.” You bite the inside of your cheek softly. “Again, we lost a lot of girls to the Shades. So I usually went wherever help was needed. Cooking, healing, you name it.”

“You were flexible, then. I see.” Minho leans to the side. “But you must have had a favorite.”

He’s right. You did.

But thinking about it means thinking about the other girls and thinking about the other girls means opening your heart to the hurt you’ve tried so hard to lock away.

“I liked building.” You say quietly. You can see the surprise on his face, like it wasn’t something that he had expected. You suppose that it makes sense. There’s nothing about you that really screams ‘hammer and nails’, but it felt good to build.

Building meant stability. Long term commitment.

It meant that there was a home.

It meant you were safe.

“Didn’t take you to be the type.” He says finally.

“No one does.” You reply.

They take you two back a few minutes after. At some point, you’d like to start counting to see how long it really is, but you suspect that it’s about half an hour or so worth of conversation each time.

You look back at him. He stares straight ahead.

—

Some days are worse than others.

Minho’s little ‘threat’ about losing hope ended up biting you both in the back. It’s not like both of you completely folded in on yourselves, but some days, it all just seems pointless.

Maybe that’s just how you feel, though. He never talks to you about how he is.

One day, he doesn’t even look up to acknowledge you. His arms are wrapped around his legs, his face resting on his knees. You don’t say a word. After a few minutes, you realize that you likely won’t speak to each other at all.

You’re okay with that. He needs time, is all. Something must have happened, or a wall in his resolve must have shown some cracks, and he just needs a day to patch it up. In a place like this, your shared room of sorts is the only sense of honest peace he can get.

So you count the seconds until the door opens, forcing your mind not to wander so that you have an honest amount.

As you predicted, it was just about 1500 seconds, placing you around 25 minutes or so. Since you’re sure that you made a couple of mistakes and started later, you’d estimate half an hour of being placed together a day.

You still look back when you leave.

He still doesn’t.

Neither of you acknowledge the missed day when you sit down. You just start talking like everything was normal, and you catch a hint of relief in his face, and he responds just as he normally would.

That was that.

You didn’t grill him for answers or beg for his thoughts. You didn’t coddle him or tread lightly. You just continued like you normally would.

Selfishly, it’s not just to reassure him that you didn’t mind it. It’s because you don’t want things to change. You don’t want a mistake in your routine, and if you created a rift between the two of you by being too pushy, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Do you know how long it’s been?” You ask him one day.

“Too long.” He grumbles back.

It continues. Sometimes, you wake up with a rock in your stomach, and all you can think of is your friends, and it hurts. Your chest tightens and tears sting in the back of your eyes. You started to slowly eat until you figured you could trust the food, but that progress is thrown out of the window on those days.

You find yourself too mentally exhausted to maintain any sort of optimism. They take you to the room, and Minho perks up when you get there.

“You’re late. 148 seconds. I was really starting to worry.” He cheeses, shifting his legs beneath him.

Yet on days like those, your lips are dry and you have no motivation to speak. You just curl up in yourself and bask in the knowledge that there is someone like you with you right now. His presence is comforting enough for you. He quiets then. You feel bad about bursting his bubble. He seemed to be in a good mood, but your heart just wasn’t into pretending right now.

But he’s okay with that.

He doesn’t bother you about it, and when the guards come, he silently goes.

If you hadn’t forgotten to look back at him that day, you would have seen him looking right back at you.

The next day, his shoulders slump and tension leaves his body when you smile at him and start talking again.

—

You’re not quite sure when it happened, but the two of you have been inching closer and closer together.

It could have been going on in miniscule movements from day one. It might have started the day you stayed silent when he was upset. It was possible that it began after your bad day.

Either way, by around four months in, where the two of you used to sit across from each other at separate walls somewhat in the middle of the room, you’ve made it to the corners. You don’t think you really realized until you found yourself walking a considerable distance to match his position. That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time. Blindly following him, finding where he’s sitting and making yourself comfortable right before him.

You glance up. The camera points to the rest of the room. You’re sure that at the moment, it can only see the top of your body. Useful information. You make sure to store it with the rest of the ‘good for future reference’ knowledge you’ve been noting.

Despite the two of you still being the same distance apart, Minho feels closer. Maybe it’s because you know him now. Not everything, not really, but things that matter. You’ve observed him from his answers, from the way he talks, and the way he reacts to things and acts on his own.

You’re sure that he’s watched these things from you, as well.

“Does our magical question girl here have a new topic for us to intensely discuss?” Minho asks, his arm resting on a propped up knee.

You laugh softly, half-shrugging at him. “I’m really running out. I’m going to have to do some mental restocking soon.”

“Scary. I can’t believe you’re running low.” “We’ve been here a long while.” You defend.

Minho nods. You can’t say that you haven’t started picking things up, but you also can’t say that you have a very detailed escape plan. You’re relying too much on the idea that your friends will come at some point, but neither of you want to ask how long you should wait before trying to break out yourselves.

Because doing it yourselves means giving up on them.

“Isn’t it weird?” You begin, the back of your head pressing against the wall. “You’re the only other non-WCKD person I’ve seen.”

“We’ve talked about this before.” Minho points out. You shake your head.

“Doesn’t make it any less true. I just…I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

“You think I do?”

He was kind of annoying sometimes. But you liked him anyway.

Which was a whole thing that you still didn’t understand either. Since the day you pointed a gun at his chest (a not so romantic gesture), you’ve been drawn to him.

You’ve been drawn to other people before, so that’s not something different for you. You were drawn to Rachel in the Spring. You were drawn to Aris. You were drawn to Mary. But with Minho, it was different in a way. Like a string had wrapped itself around your heart, and each time he moved, your heart would have to follow.

You’re sure that that’s what having a crush must feel like, but why him? Why did your heart decide that out of everyone, it was him?

You didn’t have the slightest clue.

The problem wasn’t the little crush you developed before things went to hell. The problem was that it never went away.

It stayed present when you saw him again for the first time after being stolen away from your friends. It stayed present when he didn’t bother you about your bad day. It stayed present when he laughed at your joke or smiled your way. It stayed present when his head cocked to the side, something you’d learned meant that he was really listening to what you had to say.

If anything, that little string tightened and grew until it turned into thick rope that practically strangled your heart.

So yeah, maybe you think about him before you go to bed, and you’re wondering what he’s doing when you eat breakfast, and you’re practically itching with excitement during your usual tests.

You even almost try to check your appearance in the mirrors and the windows, before a flustered blush overtakes your face when you realize just exactly why.

The two of you have essentially been kidnapped and are being experimented on. There’s no time for crushes.

But it doesn’t feel like a crush. It feels like more than that.

You don’t know what to think of it.

“Did you have mirrors in your maze?” You ask him around five months or so in.

“What, to look at ourselves in? Nope. Had to rely on other Glader input.” Subconsciously, he rubs at his chin.

You didn’t have one, either. The ice wasn’t particularly reflective, but girls with long enough hair could at least pull it around their shoulders to check. Eye color reports came from other girls, as well as age estimations.

You had a mental image of yourself, but seeing yourself as you truly were in that bathroom mirror for the first time was…it was scary.

It wasn’t exactly what you had expected. You had a few things down, but the girl that looked back at you seemed like a stranger. Your eye color was just as told, and you looked to be about sixteen or so, maybe a year older. You didn’t exactly have birthdays to keep track of yourself.

It felt like you, though. You looked at the girl in the mirror and your heart just knew that it was you.

Your heart claims to know a lot of things.

“I think the other guys were jealous of me and tried to downplay my good looks.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You agree, right?”

He just backed you into a corner. Two options. You agree that he’s attractive and risk humiliation, or you disagree and…and he reacts in some way, either offended or playful.

“I’d rather look at you than Janson.” You decide that maybe that wasn’t the greatest compliment, but he smirks anyway.

“Wow. I’m honored. You’d rather look at me than an old man.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I? Enlighten me.” He folds his arms, his head tilting. You’ve moved even closer than before. You continue to stay underneath the camera and at some point he must have noticed, because he slowly started inching closer towards you.

By now, he’s close enough that if one of you reached out, you’d touch the other’s shoulder.

“What do you want me to say?” You ask, your heart suddenly thumping faster. “Wow, Minho, I can’t believe that girls aren’t tripping at your feet and asking for your hand.”

Minho nods approvingly. “I do like that. However, there are no girls but evil doctor women around here, so it’s not like they can.”

I’m a girl. You think to yourself, quickly shooing it away right after.

“I’m sure they’re missing you out there.”

“Oh, I know.” He flexes his arms, and your eyes quickly dart away before he can catch you looking. You clear your throat and redirect.

“I was just asking because we didn’t. We didn’t have them with the Right Arm, either. It was a little surprising to see myself in the bathroom. I didn’t realize it was me at first.” You laugh a bit.

Minho smiles a bit, his head turning to completely face you. You feel paralyzed when he does. His eyes drift over your face, his eyebrows slightly furrowing in concentration, like he was looking for something within you.

You try not to flush pink or start sweating beneath his careful gaze, silently begging for it to be over soon before you embarrass yourself beyond no return.

After an agonizing half a minute or so, he hums contently, leaning back.

“Got something to say?” You ask weakly, swallowing thickly and trying to regain your composure.

“Yeah, actually. I think we’re the only two good looking shanks in this whole building.” Minho comments, glancing towards the door. “Everyone else is hiding their ugly shuckfaces beneath masks.”

You barely even register the second part of his statement, too caught up on the first. He thinks you’re both good looking. He thinks you’re good looking. He spent all that time looking at you to decide that he liked the way you looked. Was he hesitating and trying to find one thing that redeemed you? Or was he taking in the fact that you were a girl for the first time since you were put here together?

Whatever the reason, you have to turn away to hide your burning skin, and you’re eternally thankful for the opening of the door and the appearance of the guards.

Minho hasn’t fought back in a while, so he’s got two guards, the same as you. You let them lead you out, fighting the harsh thump in your chest down.

You turn to look back at him.

He’s already looking.

You’re taken aback, your lips parting in surprise. Just as quickly as you catch his eyes, it’s gone. You looked back too long, and the guard behind you warns you with a friendly jab with the end of his gun. You stumble forward, just barely catching his slightly shifted expression, turning your head right back around and following wordlessly.

You know what you want to think of this.

But you can’t let yourself do that.

—

You’ve ended up sitting side by side now.

Both of you huddle together in that little corner, and neither of you say a word about the sudden proximity. You talk just as you normally do—albeit your skin is definitely a lot more heated than it would be if he was on the opposite side of the room—and joke around like usual.

His shoulder presses against yours, and you can feel every one of his movements. You’re not sure when that became normal. Maybe it always was. But he doesn’t seem to shy away from physical contact at all.

When bad days return, he still continues to sit in that corner, despite his lack of motivation to speak. You sit by him regardless, just not as close as normal. You don’t know if he’d really want anyone close if his mind is a clouded mess.

But just in case, you slowly outstretch your hand. Your palm slides against the cold floor, stopping just shy of the middle of the space between you. Your fingers splay out, your pinky twitching slightly closer towards him. He isn’t folded in on himself, so you know he can see it.

A beat passes. He doesn’t react. You don’t retract your hand anyway.

You count the seconds in your head to pass the time. His grip on his arms begins to loosen. His right arm drops to the floor. Slowly, his hand moves towards yours, his fingers splaying out similarly. A long few moments pass, and his pinky finger brushes against yours. Your breathing hitches slightly.

Then his finger hooks itself around your and tugs on it lightly. He drops his face on his propped up knees, just letting his finger rest atop yours.

You continue to count the seconds. The only reason that you notice him tugging your hand closer is because you were feeling and looking for any sort of shift.

Within five minutes, his whole hand is resting on top of yours. His breathing is heavy, labored like he’s just run through a whole maze again. You take a risk and move your hand, trying to flip it over. He flinches slightly, pulling back. You quickly grasp his palm, intertwining your fingers loosely. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and then let your conjoined palms rest between the two of you.

Four minutes pass.

Minho squeezes back.

Just like before, neither of you say a word about it the next day. But you think that maybe he inches a little closer to you than normal, and maybe he’s less witty with his responses.

Maybe that’s all that matters.

It’s the same when he does it for you.

He’s sitting in that corner by himself. He looks up when he hears you coming. His eyebags look a bit darker than normal. You’re sure that yours are worse, too. You barely bothered with splashing water on your face in the morning, too weak to even feel like checking yourself.

You know how things go for his bad days, so you only hesitate for a moment before plopping yourself down beside him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, like he can just feel the misery radiating off of you in waves.

Mindlessly, you lean heavily against him, practically slumping against his side. He reacts instantly, his right arm lifting up and finding a place around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer. You rest your head against him and close your eyes.

If you pretend, you can imagine that it feels safe. For just a moment, you’re laying against him and the two of you are at the Safe Haven. Fire crackles around you, warm and comforting, and the soft voices of your friends decorate the air.

The coldness of the room brings you back before you can dream too long about it. That, and your own vague consciousness berating you for imagining such a future with him. But you can’t help it.

Except you really can’t. You hadn’t thought of the image manually. It had popped into mind suddenly, like something triggered it.

You don’t pay any attention to it. It’s your feelings playing tricks on you, that’s all. You focus on the gentle rubs that his thumb presses against your shoulder.

“Something’s coming.” He mumbles into your hair. “I can feel it. Stay alert, alright?”

You nod slowly, barely registering the warning. You’re tired. You’re so damn tired of this place. You want to see your friends again before their faces become blurry memories and their voices foreign sounds that you couldn’t pinpoint any longer.

They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re coming.

But the mantra barely scratches the surface at comforting you, and Minho’s presence does just a bit more than that.

Something turns in your stomach, and it’s telling you that you need to stay alert.

For now, you let him just sit with his arm around you and your body weight against his. It’s been almost half a year. You realized it that morning, and your walls started to slowly crumble down around you. Half a year. If you remembered your birthday, it would have passed. Half a year. Six months. Six months of this undecipherable hell.

It hurts.

You want to go home. You want to see your friends again.

Six months of the only person you’ve truly talked to being Minho.

Maybe that’s why you’re so much more different around each other than you used to be. You couldn’t imagine being so close to him, not when he appeared wary and mildly stand-offish all that time ago. It feels longer than half a year. It feels shorter. Your mind is a mess, and your body only hurts with it.

You don’t turn back to look at him this time.

You wish you did.

—

The doctors aren’t making any sense when they take your tests. They sound more frantic, their hushed voices quickly spewing out words you can’t make sense of. Every now and then, one of them looks at you, rapidly averting their gaze when you stare back at them.

It’s weird. You don’t know what it’s about, but that feeling of change deep in your gut is starting to make itself known again, and it’s scaring you a bit.

Relief washes over you when the guards come again, leading you down the halls. They seem a bit different, too, but maybe that’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You’re not sure.

You arrive at the room, and you walk inside expecting the same scene as every other day.

What you aren’t expecting is for Minho to not be there.

Your heart drops. You look around, wondering if maybe he’s just sitting in another place, but the room is completely empty except for you and the camera in the corner. You turn back to look at the doctor, but the door is already swinging shut behind you.

Okay. Cool. Maybe he was just late, that’s all.

Slowly, you make your way to the corner, sitting down. You count the seconds. Each number increases the anxiety you feel. What if something bad happened to him? What if he got into a fight and there were too many and—

At 147 seconds, Minho gets shoved into the room.

He swears under his breath, turning swiftly to glare at the guards on the other side of the door. Three of them.

You receive a total of one glance, and then he turns on his heel and marches towards the corner completely opposite of you.

Oh.

Maybe it’s a really bad day that’s got him all riled up. The last thing he’ll need in that case is your hovering. You shift and lean against the corner, staring down at your hands and the small cuts that adorn them. Your nails were getting pretty long.

His breathing is heavy and burdened, like he was close to spilling over in pure rage. You don’t have the slightest clue why, but you know better than to ask him, not while he’s as far away from you as he could possibly be.

Were…were you the reason for this?

No, there’s no way. You hadn’t done anything to him. You leaned against him the day before, but that’s nothing for the two of you. You hadn’t even spoken yesterday. There’s nothing you could have done to him.

Right?

Whatever the case was, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get an answer out of him today. You try to count the seconds, but your mind wanders after every few numbers. Aris. Sonya. Harriet. Vince. Mary. Safe Haven. Change. WCKD. The future.

It’s just today, you try to tell yourself. He’ll be back to normal tomorrow.

It’s barely been five minutes, and yet a hole begins to grow in your heart, something akin to loneliness.

Don’t be like that. He’s not gone forever. You won’t talk today, so what? That’ll make two days without conversation, but that’s nothing compared to how long it’s been since you’ve last seen your friends.

Some days are worse than others. He’s just having an absolutely terrible one right now, and he doesn’t want to sit near you. That’s completely fine with you.

It almost feels like they’re keeping you in here for longer than you’re used to. You chew on your lip and think of happy thoughts that don’t involve WCKD at all. It doesn’t really help.

The doors swing open, and Minho stands up instantly. He moves towards the door and shoves his way through, barely putting up a fight when one of the guards grabs his arm and twists it behind his back.

You move slower, taking your time to get to the door. Your guards (you’re sure at this point that it’s always the same ones) seem to like you a little better, because they don’t rush you at all. Instead, they wait nicely and patiently for you to get in between them to leave.

You turn back.

Minho is already long gone.

—

You can’t even begin to describe the next day.

Waking up meant dealing with sore limbs that were completely fine the day before. You groan as you roll off the bed, rubbing a hand harshly against your face. Just as you pick yourself up off the floor, the door swings open. Two guards stand there.

“Let’s go.”

Vague. Odd. You’ve never had to be taken anywhere else this early before, but maybe you overslept or something. An alarm rings in your brain, telling you to not let your guard down. You’d be a fool to do something like that.

You keep your back straight as they lead you down the halls.

There are a lot more guards than usual, guns pointed threateningly at you as you pass by. You let your eyes wander, taking in everything new, everything weird. You’re prepared for anything out of the blue.

Despite reassuring yourself of that, you nearly trip and land face flat on the floor when you see two guards leading another girl down the hall that continues before you.

She seems just as surprised, her mouth opening in shock. The guard behind her shoves her forward, and she shakes her head and continues, taking a turn. Your guards push you to follow her.

You continue down the hall until you reach a large set of doors. They’re opened by a couple of men in masks, their ID cards beeping with each swipe.

Outside. You’re outside.

It’s still dark outside, but you can tell that the sun is just about ready to rise. Around you, at least a hundred guards are ushering double the amount of kids into large buses. Your mind races, trying to catch up with the sudden change.

They’re moving you.

You get into one of the buses mindlessly, your eyes flickering over each kid, looking to see if you can recognize anyone. Your heart sinks when you don’t.

You’ll see them at some point, you’re sure of it.

The drive is completely silent. Gunned men stand around you all, and the boy next to you is completely frozen in his seat. There are no windows on the bus, and the driver's seat is blocked off from view. You estimate a little less than half an hour of a drive.

It’s brighter out when they usher you off.

No one tries to fight back. They’re tired. They’ve been beaten down before. They’re defenseless right now. There’s nothing you guys can do.

Hopeless.

They transfer you onto a train. This time, they don’t have gunmen, instead opting to chain you to the roof. The tops of the car have squares of barred metal, allowing for some light to filter through.

Still, you don’t recognize anyone. You’re put in a seat right at the wall. The chains make an irritating sound each time they’re pulled.

They don’t place anyone in the seats beside you.

Weird.

It’s a long time before you start moving, and it’s an even longer time before you hear gunfire.

Shouting. Shooting. Running. Banging. It all carries out somewhere above you, beside you, around you. Someone’s here.

Harriet could be.

You know it’s useless to get your hopes up, but you know that it’s Minho’s friends racing along the top of your cars. There’s no one else it would be.

But they’re looking for him. You don’t know if they’re coming for you.

The sounds of fighting fade into the distance. Around you, kids are screaming, yanking on the chains, begging for release.

You recognize the sound of the berg. You recognize the sound of it flying away.

With it, silence.

Then Minho is standing at the front of your car, his face dark and haunted. His eyes are blown wide, his lips parted, and most of all, he looks…defeated.

They push him down the rows, and your heart beats faster as you realize they’re bringing him to you.

He’s yanked down into the seat, the chains tied around his wrists. You stare at him for at least a minute, trying to read his expression.

He doesn’t look back at you once.

You feel a heavy pit in your stomach, and it feels an awful lot like hopelessness.

Reassurance doesn’t help. You try to convince yourself that it’s because he was really upset yesterday and his friends didn’t get to save him today that he refuses to look your way. But something tells you that it’s deeper than that. Worse.

You had spent six months waiting for freedom. And it was close, so close, and it slipped away just as fast as the window opened.

You don’t know where you’re going now. You don’t know what they have in store for you. You don’t know when you’ll see your friends again. You don’t know if you’re going to be okay. You don’t know if Minho’s going to return back to his normal self.

You’re afraid.

The future is unclear, and you don’t know what to do.

You hate this.

That’s not to say that everyone else isn’t. You’ve all been on edge the last couple of nights, watching the maze walls between tasks, like you’re all waiting for something bad to happen despite the fact that nothing should be going on.

Or maybe that’s just you.

But if you’ve been getting a bad feeling, and Newt has also been strange recently, then that should be enough to ring some alarms in your head.

Sometimes, Gladers just get a little under the weather. You’ve been there. Alby’s been there. Hell, Gally has been there. It shouldn’t be odd that Newt might just be thinking a little too hard about the predicament and you and the other boys are all in. All of your Greenies had gone through that in their first few days, and then it wore off once they got a role to work with.

All this thinking about it was useless. If Gally noticed you slacking off, he’d have a fit.

You glance over at him for a moment, just to make sure that he hasn’t been glaring holes into your back while you lose yourself in your thoughts. After finding the coast clear, you tug on the rope tightly, making sure that the logs were well put together.

You glance towards the maze doors again, then up at the sun. The Runners should be back in a while.

You were not distracted. You were very focused on your work and your surroundings.

You do not jump when a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

Gally’s face appears at your shoulder. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Does that look off to you?” He asks instead of berating you like you initially thought. You follow his gaze to one of the huts. As he said, it appeared a bit lopsided, like the wind had pushed it into a tilting position.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“Figured. Go get one of the Bricknicks on that. Shouldn’t be our job to spot klunk they haven’t fixed up yet.”

With that, Gally turns with an irritated grumble, and you let the tension from your shoulders go. It wasn’t like you hated the guy, but he made himself pretty difficult to get along with. But you weren’t too keen on starting a fight with him, so you held your head high and decided that at least attempting an alliance would be good enough.

While you’re searching for a Bricknick, the runners come back. You just barely spot them retreating to the Map Room.

Man. Well, you weren’t expecting to catch them before they ran in. They were always on a mission, refusing to let distractions waver them until they were sure that their duties were completed.

You’d catch up with Newt during dinner, then.

The sun dips behind the maze walls, and you wrap up your portion of Gally’s newest project. You had to admit, the guy was good at what he does.

Your eyes scanned the crowd as you picked dinner from Frypan. You liked to consider yourself as an expert on most of the kids there. The Greenies, not so much, but everyone that’s been around just about as long as you have had a little file in your head.

Newt isn’t anywhere around, though.

Ben claps you on the back as you pass. You grin and slap back at him, continuing to scan the crowd. The fire lit things up fine enough, but there were still some figures cloaked in the darkness that might be him.

“Hey, shank!” Winston calls, waving a bandaged hand at you.

“Winston!” You call back. “Clint and Jeff are tired of you, shuckface!”

He laughs as he turns back to the other Slicers, one of them hitting up upside the head and ruffling his hair.

Minho. Alby. Mike. No Newt.

Must be some bad day.

You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, sitting down next to Peter. You push around at your food, narrowing your eyes and keeping a look out.

No Newt.

Actual idiot. You think as you stand up. Can’t be a runner if you don’t eat.

You weave your way through the crowd, swiftly picking up another plate of food from Frypan’s kitchen, ignoring his angry protests as you turn on your heel, walking backwards as you shoot him an apologetic look.

“It’s for a good cause!’ You defend, jogging off towards the Homestead.

You’re not positive that he’d be hiding out there, but it was a good place to start. He could claim being tired, which is what you would do if you wanted everyone to piss off.

Were you the exception? Hopefully. If not, you’d make yourself one.

Just as you expected, you find him sitting near one of the posts, his back pressed against the wood as he stares ahead.

“Hope you didn’t die. It would be a pain to explain to your Keeper.” You tease, making sure your entrance is loud enough to make your presence known. Despite your intention being not to startle him too badly, he jolts anyway, his eyes snapping to yours.

“...hey.”

Wow. That might have been the most pathetic greeting you’ve ever received in your life.

“Gee, maybe you really did die.” You comment, sitting down next to him and pushing the plate into his hands.

“Who knows?” He responds dully. Weird. Odd. Mildly concerning. You take note of that and put it in your pocket for future reference.

He holds the plate in his hands, staring down at it with an unreadable expression. You sit in silence for a second longer before clearing your throat and shifting.

“Ahoy there, mate.” You try again. “Bloody something with a fancy accent there.”

Newt tries for a smile, but it only lasts a few seconds, weak and awkward. His face falls slack again.

So maybe this was a bit more serious than you thought. With a newfound goal in mind—get to the bottom of whatever was making Newt so upset—you switch up your attempts at conversation.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Not hungry.” “No? You just ran the maze, dude. There’s no way you’re not starving.”

Newt shrugs, now refusing to even look at the plate. “Guess I just got used to it.”

“The hunger?”

“Yeah.”

“That means you’re still hungry. You just don’t feel it much.”

“Right.” “So…eat something then. Or I’ll have to feed you. Here comes the airplane.”

Newt makes a half-assed attempt to shove your hand away from his face, which is something at the very least. He rubs at his face and props on leg up, placing the plate beside him.

“Why are you so…” He trails off, growing uncertain as if he was regretting asking. Unfortunately for him, you were one of the nosiest shanks in the Glade.

“Charming? Handsome? Personable?” You offer with a cheeky smile.

“Positive.”

You blink. “Me? Positive?”

“Yeah. Not like you’re runnin’ ‘round all cheery. You just…keep going.”

“The word you’re looking for is perseverance then.”

“Look at you, word whizz.” Newt says sarcastically. “It’s positive.”

“I hear you.” You scratch at the back of your neck. “I dunno, anyway. Guess I just got used to it.”

“This hell?” “Yeah.”

“It’s still hell. You just look at it in a better way.”

“I guess so.” You push the food at him again. “Can’t get the job done if I’m mourning a life I never knew, can I?”

“S’ppose not.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s the point of all this?”

“What, the maze?”

“Sure. The maze. The jobs. The box. All of it.”

“Age old question.” You wave your hand dismissively. “If we knew, things wouldn’t be this way. But we don’t. So we’re just going to have to continue working until we get to the exit, yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why should we keep working?”

Newt nods slowly.

“It’s the only thing we can do. We’ve tried everything other than the maze, haven’t we?”

“Working isn’t a way out.” “It’s a mental escape, really.” You shrug, your eyes drifting towards one of the wall entrances. “Keeps you busy. Keeps your mind off of everything else. I guess it doesn’t work as much for Runners, since it’s connected to the real escape, but…yeah.”

“An escape.” Newt repeats.

“An escape.” You confirm.

He watches you for a moment, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that probably should feel insanely awkward, but doesn’t. After a beat, he turns away, looking back at the food.

“You can’t run tomorrow if you don’t eat.” You say. “Alby will be on your ass if you slack off. And Minho.”

“They will.”

“So…eat.”

“You’re awful stubborn today.” “And you aren’t?”

Newt glares at you, wavering slightly when you glare right back at him. With a large sigh, he picks up the plate and takes an agonizingly slow bite.

“Satisfied, are you?”

“Plenty.” You respond smugly, leaning back, forgetting that there was no post for you like there was for Newt. The next thing you know, you’re lying flat on your back, staring up at the sky.

Silence.

And then—

—he laughs.

It’s not anything over the top. Newt doesn’t laugh the way Minho or Frypan do. He isn’t as quiet about it like Alby or Ben. It’s a little less lively than you know his laugh is, but he does it regardless. His eyes shine for just a second, and his lips turn upward and he turns the other way to conceal it.

For some reason, it makes you happy.

“Slinthead.” You grumble, the dull pain being the last thing on your mind as you rub the back of your head.

“Says the idiot.” Newt huffs out.

“Whatever. Eat your dinner before I spoonfeed you.”

“Terrifying.”

He’s pretending, but he’s not magically better. You can tell that much. His movements are still slow and his eyes continue to stare into nothingness, but he feels a lot more present than he did earlier. That’s got to be something, right?

“What were you doing all the way over here?”

“Couldn’t take the noise.”

Your eyes drift towards the fire. Yeah, you were a rowdy bunch. You couldn’t quite blame him.

“I like it.” You nod in their direction. “Feels…homely.” “Sappy shank.”

“Woah there.” You jokingly warn, a grin on your face. “I’m just saying, I’d much prefer a crowd like that than be shivering all alone.”

“Guess so.”

Newt wasn’t lonely. You don’t think he was, anyway. He seemed to get along just fine with pretty much everyone else. He was a little reserved, but in a good way. That’s just what you thought, at least.

The look on his face tells you that he might not think the way you do.

You chew on your cheek slowly, contemplating being genuinely nice or disguising it as a joke. You figure that no one would tease you if they didn’t know any better.

“Listen, Newt,” You start, shifting your weight. “I get it. Everything—everyone—else can be a bit much at times.”

Newt hums slowly.

“Still, it can’t be that fun sitting here by yourself.”

He shrugs.

“...I’m just saying, if you wanna mope around, you might as well do it with someone else.”

Newt stiffens for a bit, and you regret every word and you’re about to say something stupid to follow up on it, until you catch a ghost of a smile on his face.

“You want to make a brooding bum of yourself with me?”

“Hell yeah.”

He squints at you, his body still tense, and then he breathes out. “Sure. Why not? Just don’t talk so much. It doesn’t look good with the sulking.”

“Can’t. I’m programmed to never shut up.”

“I’m doomed.”

Again with that laugh. Everything about him tonight feels like only half of him is really into it. It’s throwing you off. Have you noticed anyone else having days like this? You really don’t think so. But you’re just setting yourself up for humiliation by bringing it up.

Was he lying to you now? Was he only pretending that you were getting to him, laughing along but secretly despising you for ruining the drowning in his own mind?

He better not. You’d beat some sense into him, then.

You couldn’t keep an eye on him all the time. You rarely saw him, especially nowadays when his routine was to wake as early as possible, leave, return, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Huh. You might have gone insane doing that.

Why couldn’t Newt?

Runners were strong mentally. They had great memories and quick-thinking skills.

But were they good at killing those feelings?

You shake your head. That’s stupid. The kids here in the Glade were dull sometimes, but they weren’t…weren’t jacked enough to do something crazy like lose their minds over the endless cycle of wake up, work, not escape, repeat.

Right?

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Newt as he hesitantly continues to eat dinner. He was strong. Mentally. Physically. He wouldn’t think crazily like that, would he?

But it came to mind for a reason. Because it was a possibility. Not just for him, but for you, for everyone else.

You swallow thickly, forcing the idea out of your mind. No, none of you were like that. You couldn’t be. Everyone wanted to survive, to live long enough to see the world outside of this place. No one here wanted to die before that.

Newt’s eyes stare meaninglessly into the earth. His eyebags were dark. His skin looked pale and tight around his bones, like he wasn’t in the right body. His wrists were incredibly skinny, and his hair was more dry than fluffy.

Didn’t they?