#equest

Jesus. H. Christ.

Hunting down your boyfriend was harder than fighting off a Griever while in the Scorch, you decided. But you found him. Gally came back, you all saw him - but he kind of... disappeared. You would wake up, and his chores/jobs would be done. Firewood chopped, storage boxes built, blades sharpened, supplies were organized into boxes and labeled. But you never saw him - he was a creature of the night, but you knew he was avoiding you. You knew he didn’t want to look you in the eye. And part of you didn’t want to see him either - he killed your brother. He killed Chuck. But you knew it wasn’t him. You knew it. But he didn’t believe that.

Building E. Level 4. Hall 4C. Room 12.

Behind this door in front of you was Gally. A three inch, dark brown, mahogany wood door and a locking mechanism separated you from the love of your life. Your hand nervously trailed lightly over your stomach, your teeth sucked in your lips, and your hips swayed. You had second thoughts. You didn’t know if you could do this. If you could say it. But the door decided for you.

The door popped open and a rough, dry voice muttered. “Jack. Seriously. Go away. I finished my chores and I’ll go check the list in a few-” Gally’s tired voice said, rehearsed. But you cleared your throat and looked up, seeing the tall boy looking down, not even really paying attention. “It isn’t Jack. It’s me. And your chores for tomorrow are to get fire wood and to build new shelves. 8 feet high, 4 feet wide, 3 feet deep,” you said, before pushing the door open and sliding in yourself. Part of you believed - knew - Gally would shut the door once his mind registered all you said. So you left him no choice.

Gally shut the door, turning to look at you, his eyes had bags under them, his chest had gathered hair, his shorts had a random blue stain on them, and his feet were dirtier than your choice of vocabulary. “Y/N...” Gally mumbled, scratching the side of his neck as he glanced to the other side of his small apartment. You took a seat on a chair, your eyes flicking to the chair next to you. With a sigh, Gally reluctantly sat, but he sat on the couch a few feet from you, his eyes leerie to look at you as his head hung a bit lowly and his hands remained clasped together. He was just as opposed to this idea as you were standing outside of his door just three minutes ago.

“Look... we need, we need to talk, Gal,” you sighed, fingers raking through your hair. You needed to cut it - you hadn’t cut it since the Maze and it had grown ragged. “Y/N, I... I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry I just-” Gally began, an excuse bubbling up in his throat quickly and as if on command.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words came. The fell out. Easily. And Gally sat in his exact position, barely moving, his breathing seeming to stop. His eyes looked at you fully now, hurt almost. Confused. Asking so many questions at once. Your heart stuttered and you swallowed the fear in the back of your throat. He was a father. He deserved to know. You knew that.

“You’re the father. I... I 've been pregnant since the Glade. I... I found out only days before we escaped and... I didn’t know how to say it. Then everything happened and just,” you began and let out a deep breath. You closed your eyes, trying to find the words - hoping they were written on the back of your eyelids. While you thought, you suddenly felt someone's hands on you and jumped.

Looking down, you saw Gally kneeling in front of you, between your legs. His ear right above your belly button and his hands cradling on the lower of your sides. Your tummy was small. You were barely showing - you hoped it would be like that for most of the pregnancy, and it more than likely will honestly. Gally had a serene smile on his lips and you couldn’t help but feel proud. Feel like you were at home. Your hand easily covered his while your other hand slide into his hair and curled around the dark red, brown hair. Then Gally’s eyes looked up and they glossed over, his smile fading away as if it never existed.

“They’ll hate me. I killed their uncle. The baby is going to despise me,” Gally murmured, leaning back on his legs, his hand dropping to loosely lay on your lap. And your heart broke. You knew he was wrong - but you also realized your baby would never meet the beautiful light that was your little brother. And you wanted to cry for Chuck and you wanted to cry for Gally. And you wanted to cry to understand something.

“No, no, no. No Gal, no. They won’t. That wasn’t you. It was never you. It was WICKED. They... they killed Chuck. It wasn’t you. Our baby will love you. They’ll adore you, think you’re the most amazing person to exist,” you rambled, your hands finding his and holding them tightly. Gally turned his head tot he side and wiped angry, hurt filled tears from his eyes using his arm. His hands curled around yours and squeezed, his chest on fire and his body shaking from small sobs.

You cupped his cheeks and looked into the beautiful eyes that looked longingly into the night sky. And you saw the chapped pink lips that kissed all your burns and cuts every night and whispered a promise for a sweeter tomorrow. And you saw the freckles you counted when you couldn’t sleep and noticed he had a large one under his bottom lip you never noticed. And you saw the boy who loved so intensely and who tried so hard and always seemed to come up short in one way or another no matter how he acted. And your heart broke more than when Chuck died. Because you knew Chuck was happier, safer. He was watching you and giggling mumbling stupid jokes, waiting to see you again. He was okay. But Gally was in so much pain you could feel it radiating and rolling off in waves from his body.

It hurt to stand near him. You felt the pain and remorse. And it was such a suffocating mixture to inhale and move around in. It was terrifyingly saddening.

“Gally. Galileo. Look at me. Now. Look at me right now. This baby, our baby, is going to love you so much - so, so much. You will be the most amazing father just like you’re the most amazing boyfriend,” you said, a wicked and determined look twinkling in your eyes as you held his cheeks to force him to look at you as you spoke, “You’ll wake up and make our son or daughter pancakes when we don’t have work to do. You’ll teach them to build sheds and boxes and bed frames and bird houses. You’ll let them paint on your arms and you’ll cuddle teddy bears so they don’t think you’re alone at night. You’ll fight anyone who ever scares or harms your baby and will make sure they never have to live in the fears we did. You’ll sleep with our baby on your chest, a hand on their back, making sure they don’t fall or roll off - always protecting them even in your fucking sleep, you God damn fucking idiot.” 

You were crying. Tears streaming down your cheeks. “God, you fucking moronic bastard. You’re going to be the most amazing father and our child will never be able to forget you or replace you or hate you. Never,” you said, your voice hoarse now. Gally’s eyes were bright red and puffy, his body shaking ever so slightly from emotions and over stimulation. He pulled you down, pulling you onto the floor, his arms around your center as he hugged you close to his body. He felt the gentle curve and his heart swelled. He smelt the vanilla and lilac lotion and hair wash you still use even now somehow. And he knew.

Gally knew one day things would all fall into place. He knew one day things would make sense. And he knew that, one day, he’ll be almost as amazing at being a father as you are at being a mother already.