#maze runner reader insert

It looked like another life. There were… girls there? And familiar surroundings, you thought. They looked at you like you were one of them. You ran with them, ate with them. You healed their wounds and let yourself be healed. 

Sometimes you saw the edges and walls of the maze, burning deep hues of many colors and closing in on you. You recognized the place, of course, but sometimes it felt… different. You knew the maze was always shifting, always changing, but this one in your dreams made something click in your gut, like it wasn’t the same set of shifting walls at all. 

It came only in bits and pieces, but you knew this must be something important. It dared you to recognize it. 

Then you’d wake up, to your real life, back sore from being in a hammock, and the gray of the morning would make your dreams ebb away. Your eyes adjusted to the sight of boys running through the fields of the Glade, demanding you to get up and do your job along with them. 

You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut again, trying to chase the visions that were leaving you unapologetically. 

“Good morning.” A low voice resounded above you. You opened your eyes.

With his hands folded behind his back, Minho leaned forward and blew sharply into your face, making your hair tickle your forehead. 

You punched him in the shoulder lightly. “That’s not something I want to smell this early.”

“Guess you should get up then.” 

You swung your legs over the hammock and stepped out, stretching your arms above your head.

“How was your night?” He asked, falling into step with you as you headed away from the tented area and toward the gardens, blinking yourself awake and rolling your shoulders back and forth. 

“Cryptic. And you?”

You had told only a couple people about the dreams, and not in great detail. Only that you were receiving whispers of memories from before the Maze, like most people in the Glade. Nothing enough to be distinct. Just tugging at the brain, leaking a previous life. Minho was one of those few Gladers you talked to about it. He had stood up for you for a moment a year ago, and now the two of you had grown closer.

“Slept like a baby.” He replied.

You ran your hands through your hair and crouched at the foot of a plot you had been working on for the past few months. It was making steady progress so far. It felt good to have a hand in growing life and food here, and it etched away just slightly at the monstrous imposter syndrome you often felt as a Glader.

Not everyone was as amicable with you as Minho was. Some boys gave you distrusting looks, others didn’t find it necessary to speak to you. Many went out of their way to step in and complete a job you were working hard on- sowing crops, building tents- as if they were saving themselves the inconvenience of fixing whatever you were bound to mess up. 

It was an impossible double standard that you had complained about in the first few months. 

“You complain that I don’t do my part enough, and then take over before I can. Either trust me enough to grow your food- OUR food- or leave it alone, and know that I could’ve helped if you grew a pair.”

It was Adam you had been speaking to. Alby stood next to him, eyes darting between the two of you.

Adam threw his hands up in frustration. 

“This is what I mean! She’s just being a bitch for no reason.”

Alby held his hand out. 

“Stop. The both of you. If you’re going to fight, I’ll gladly throw the both of you in the pit until you’ve calmed down. And then the others will have to pick up your jobs. Do you want that?”

“Of course not.” You said through your teeth. You could feel your chest buzzing with anger. But if you blew up, everyone would look to you to blame, not Adam.

Adam sighed. “I don’t want to have to rebuild a stupid bench just because you want everyone to put in an equal share.”

“He’s being immature.” You said, only looking at Alby now. 

“No one is saying you’d have to rebuild anything. We are all Gladers, and we need to trust one another. If she’s willing to put in the work, and is doing her part, then we don’t have a problem.” Alby said firmly. 

He had made you both shake hands and continue working on opposite ends of the Glade. Adam scoffed something about how the whole situation was bullshit and later, during dinner, very pointedly avoided sitting on the bench you had finished building.

You, Newt, Minho, and Fry had sat on the bench together. It was sturdy and gave you no problems. 

“I don’t know how you do that.” You continued, not taking your eyes off of the budding plants in front of you.

“What?” He asked, crouching alongside you and adjusting his vest before staring at the garden just as intently as you. 

“Sleep well, I mean. Those hammocks are seriously killing my back.”

“I run it off.”

“Sure.”

You stood, brushing off your pants and began to walk off until Minho placed a sturdy hand on your shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To get the watering can…?” 

He shook his head. “The Box should be coming up any minute now.”

You smacked your forehead. In the haze of your dreams last night, your mind had woken up elsewhere. 

“God, you’re right. How could-”

And then, it started. A ratchet of clanking and the turning of gears. Heads turned, and a small crowd was already waiting at the edge of the Box. That included Gally, Newt, Ben, Peter, and Alby. 

Minho was already running toward the scene. He called after you.

“You can water your plants later!”

You scoffed and ran after him without another word. 

You were usually the first member of the crowd for these kinds of things. News from Runners, arrivals from the Box, anything. But you had forgotten today. You shook off the guilty feeling that you were getting too comfortable. 

Pushing through the group of boys, you joined the front lines of whoever was peering down at the box. Gally was already bracing himself to jump down inside, until a terrified voice resounded from below. 

“Wh-where am I? Help! Help!!”

A shiver ran down your spine. There were murmurs among the crowd. Gally’s eyebrows furrowed. He paused in a half braced stance. 

“Anybody!”

That voice… It's so young. 

Out of the rest of the crowd, you were the Glader to lean down and offer your hand.

“Hi.” You said.

He blinked back at you, reaching out to take your hand.

You put a firm group on his elbows, helping him climb up onto a crate and then out of the Box and onto the grass. You heard a few boys mutter something about ‘maternal instincts’ and chuckle. 

“Try not to panic. It’s okay.” 

He clutched onto your arms like you were someone he’d known for years, someone to trust. 

“Where am I?” He asked. Then, he jerked his head back as if something had just hit him. “Who am I?? Holy shit, I don’t know who I am!”

A few chuckles came from the crowd. You placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay. This happens to everyone on the first day.”

The boy paused. He scanned the crowd, taking in his new surroundings. “Everyone?” He asked, addressing you directly. “What is this?”

You opened your mouth to give a canned response that most people gave to all the Greenies, but paused. Briefly, you met eyes with Gally. His gaze was hard, but he was looking at you inquisitively. In the past year, this was the first Greenie you had spoken to as an introduction. As the person to help first. For the most part, it was you knowing your place. You knew you stuck out. You knew Alby was in charge of things like this. It felt awkward to you to explain the Glade to new Greenies, as if you had arrived in the same way. As if you too had climbed out of the Box, into helping hands. As if you hadn’t run for your life out of the Maze into sharp daylight and suspicious faces- which had become your first firm memory. As if you fit in at all. But this boy who you had just helped climb out of the Box was proof of more difference. Someone else who stuck out, like you, if not to a different degree. You changed your mind, and the next words came out soft.

“Somewhere safe.”

It was a lie, if you looked further into it. But enough to make the kid stop shaking.

𖣠

He was a nice kid. You could feel it radiating from him underneath all the panic. After a few hours of inconsolable emotion in the pit, the others dragged him out and he was immediately met with teasing and a kind of performative sympathy from the other boys. 

He was looking for friends more than anything else, you noted. Immediate community. He was sharp and curious. He had a light sense of humor that refreshed the way you tried to look at the Glade with an eagle eye, uncovering its layers, understanding it as something trying to outsmart you. 

He went by Chuck.

“I can’t get my head around it.” You said while hungrily eating your food, the bowl of jerky and bread slices balancing on your knees as you sat on a bench in the shade. You had helped build it. You had done a lot of odd end jobs for the place you now felt forced to call home. It gave you focus. Newt was sat next to you, eating his meal just the same. 

“Around what?” He asked, not looking up from his meal. 

You finished chewing a bite of jerky, then tilted your head, gaze focused elsewhere. “He’s young. Not close to anyone else’s age around here.”

Newt hummed. “It’s strange, for sure. But not totally unreasonable. He came up in the Box, at the right time, right place. He’s a kid, yeah, but otherwise everything has been routine.” 

You stared down at the bowl. “I know that.”

Newt looked up at you. “What’s bothering you?”

You stood up suddenly, setting your bowl down and standing in front of him with your hands on your hips. 

“It’s just… I’m looking for clues. For more… discrepancies. Chuck is a little different too… like me. I mean, the circumstances are very different, sure, but… it just makes me wonder where we came from more and more. And why we’re stuck here.”

Newt set his bowl down slowly, and met your eyes. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know you're looking. And I know you're trying hard… in the maze, too, looking. Just try not to ambush him.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows and crossed your arms. “Ambush?”

Newt chuckled, grabbing both of your empty bowls and standing. “Yeah, you know. The way you have with all the other Greenies.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, on the way to the kitchen.

You stood there dumbfounded. Sure, you had caught every Greenie early after their arrival and asked them a few things. If there was anything strange they remembered, any detail that felt off to them. Anything in the Glade that stuck out to them. Anything that they felt separated them from the rest of the group. Were you really that persistent? 

Ben shook you out of your thoughts. He was jogging toward you, calling out your name. 

“Hey. The rest of us are ready.”

The vest felt tight around your shoulders and chest. You nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Four weeks ago, you had become a Runner. 

Or, more accurately, four weeks ago Minho had stumbled into your small hut (your one place of privacy from the other boys) and discovered everything you had scribbled down when you woke up with instructions on your lips from hazy dreams. 

200-300 ft high

8 sections (but I remember 14?)

Walls move this direction

Rotate

Always run along border

Different creature than the dream ones

“What are these?” He had asked, sifting through loose papers. 

“Um… notes. Memories. Some things I keep track of for how the Maze shifts around.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been inside.”

You raised an eyebrow. Minho exhaled. “Save for that one time.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I just… I’m confident I could find my way around if you sent me in there. If you showed me a map. I could do it.”

You hadn’t expected to do it right then and there, but you were making a case for yourself.

Send me into the Maze. Make me a Runner. 

Alby’s words echoed in your mind.

None of this is a coincidence. 

Minho squinted at you, as if trying to spot something in your eyes he hadn’t seen before. He was sizing you up. 

“What would be different then if you joined the mapmakers? If you outlined the place instead?”

“I have to go back in there.” You said quickly. “You have to understand. I didn’t come here the way the rest of you did. There’s some sort of secret that I know I’m stumbling into, something that could help us, get us out of here, but… I won’t know more unless I go into the Maze. As a Runner.”

There was a pause. Minho stared at you for a long moment. You could see the gears turning in his head “Okay.” He said.

“Okay?” You replied. “Okay like, you’ll call a Gathering okay?”

“No.” He said. “I don’t know what the other Keepers are going to say about this if I bring it up firsthand. I’ll talk to Alby and Newt first. Then we’ll do a gathering. But…”

You put your hands on your hips. Would this all really work? 

“But even if the other Keepers disagree… I think Alby and Newt trust you. Hell, I trust you. I don’t know how much. But enough to know that you need to be out there too.”

And that was how it happened. After some fighting and constantly having to make a case for yourself, you were finally able to put on that vest and run into the Maze. 

Currently, you and Minho were supposed to just touch around the border of Section 7 that intersected with the other parts of the maze and begin to map out that area- while finding a better shortcut back. 

Ben walked with you to the entrance. You matched each other's stride, though he seemed to walk a comfortable distance away from you.

The others were waiting at the entrance. Minho didn’t hesitate a second longer to glance at you both, nod toward the Maze, and head inside with a jog. 

𖣠

More cold stone and tangling ivy. As soon as you and the other Runners started to feel like you had a handle on the place, it would shift and throw you off and surprise you again, taunting the impossibility of escape. 

There was no walking around here. Both you and Minho were at a steady run, passing by the giant ‘7’ that was marked on one of the walls. 

He led you both to the right, before stopping briefly to peek around a corner. 

“Dead end?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, I-”

There was a chittering noise behind you.  Immediately, it felt like your blood froze. You never got used to that sound. The way it made the hairs on your arms raise. You grabbed Minho’s elbow. 

“This way.” 

Heading in the opposite direction of the corner he just looked around, you both crossed into section 7 away from the Griever’s noise. 

“The rest of the group shouldn’t be too far off from us. We can regroup from here.” He said.

“Shouldn’t we try to explore that intersection more?” Your brows furrowed. “The space has shifted to be more open than before, and I think we can cut through it to get back into the Glade faster-”

Minho shook his head. “I agree, but after we find the group. There’s Grievers nearby and we can’t search for a shortcut if we’re dead.”

“I know it’s not worth it to be hasty, but I don’t think this section will be open for much longer.” You pressed. “Once we find the group it might shift itself closed again, we can pay attention to the timing if we stick around the border for a bit longer.”

Minho shook his head firmer. “No. It’s not safe.”

You were growing frustrated. “It’s never safe.”

“I know, but you need to know what battles to pick. What risks are worth taking. And right now, we need to go.”

Your argument was further cut off by another chittering noise. It was closer this time. On the other side of the wall, just around the corner, mechanical limbs scraped against the stone floor with an ugly sound. 

Both you and Minho met eyes. He brought a finger to his lips, grabbing your shoulder with his other hand. You stayed quiet for a moment. Maybe, if the Griever didn’t know the both of you were there, it would pass you. Just maybe. 

It clunked its way into view, coming into the gap where both of you were squatting at the end of the section. If it kept its eyes forward, didn’t sense you to its left, you would be safe. 

The Griever paused. Its head snapped toward you. 

Or not.

Immediately, you were up and running. Side by side, you and Minho navigated in and out and through different sections of the Maze, skidding around the corner as you heard the Griever take off in a run toward you.

Your stomach crawled as you ran. Something in you felt guilty. Just to your left was more of the space along the border of section 7 that you had been desperate to explore. If you could observe the walls and their position from there, you could expand the map that the Runners had been using for the past couple months. Minho was leading you in the opposite direction. But you had a feeling.

You diverged, booking it and turning toward your left into section 7. Minho yelled after you, almost pausing, until you heard the Griever roar. Alarmed, he tore himself away and kept running toward the right, away from you. 

Now separated from each other, you noticed a small, square shaped gap in the wall to your left creating an entrance into the section that was separated by the rest of the wall.

Why would it cut through like that?

You quickly got onto your knees and pushed yourself through the gap, which was just small enough for a person to fit through. Arms reaching out, you wiggled your hips through and landed onto the ground. 

Not far behind was the Griever, which slammed its body into the small entrance in attack. 

You yelped, falling onto your butt and watching as it frustratingly stuck an arm through the entrance, clawing for you. 

Breathing heavily, you noticed that you were safe for now. There was no way it could follow you through that gap. 

Until it found another way around, that was. You shot up to your feet and turned away from the Griever, starting to chart new territory. 

It was a wide open space, unusual and different from other parts of the maze. As you walked, you noted divots in the floor that looked suspiciously like beams or sharp walls were meant to shoot up from them, stopping whoever got this far by isolating them or blocking them from leaving the section. 

You crouched down, running your hand along a divot. 

What triggers this?

You suddenly got the feeling that you should step far away from the divot and continued to navigate the new area, keeping a better distance from any other divots marking the floor. 

It’s like a minefield. 

You looked up, noticing the way the walls were… rounding out?

Instead of cutting in perpendicular, at an angle like most other sections of the maze, these towering walls seemed to be sneakily curving around, almost like it was creating a vast arena. 

You knew what this might mean. If the area was lethal, seemingly more dangerous than other sections… it had to mean you were closer to finding the truth. Closer to an exit. Why else would the maze try harder to eviscerate you?

The divots, the rounding corners… What happens here when the place activates? When we get close enough to the exit that it wants to stop us?

You looked around suddenly, panicked. Sure enough, far in the distance slabbed onto the walls were huge circle shapes protruding. They looked like they would hinge open, like a door. 

For Grievers to come out. 

Now you knew you had pushed enough. It was time to go before you got caught by one of those things again. 

You ran back the way you came, checking out the small gap you had come in from. It was quiet. 

I can’t be sure that it’s safe… But there’s no other way back.

You crawled through the gap and crouched, silently. No chittering noises. 

Carefully, you stalked along the edge of the wall, listening if the same Griever was still waiting for you. No sound. You peeked around the corner. Nothing.

You knew better than to relax. So, you took off from around the corner at full speed, determined to find Minho again. 

Something followed you a second after. Huge and clicking and determined to get you this time.

Damn it!

You didn’t look back. You knew where you were going now.

Turn right, left, around… section 6 coming up…

As soon as you rounded the next corner, you promptly slammed into someone’s chest. It shocked you, and you looked to see who you had effectively scared.

Minho!

“Where did you-”

“No time!” You shouted, grabbing his arm. He understood. 

The both of you ran until you could see the light reaching out toward you from the exit into the Glade. 

“Did we lose it?” He asked you, breathless.

“I hope so.” You said back. 

Ben and Hank had already returned for the evening, and were headed toward the Map Room. 

The adrenaline was still coursing through you, and you placed your hands on your knees to catch your breath. Minho crossed his arms. 

“You can’t run off like that.” He said firmly, staring down at you. It wasn't the first time this had happened.

“Sorry.” You said, standing to face him. “I just… I had a feeling.”

Minho rubbed his face. “‘Feelings’ might get you killed if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I know. But the risk was worth it. I found something.”

He turned toward you, closer. “Something new?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes. I think it’s important. I need to…” You paused, looking at your hands, observing two of your fingers that had rust colored stains on them from touching the divots. 

Minho nodded to the direction that Ben and Hank had gone in. “Map Room. Let’s go.”

You both headed over there in a rush, taking a quick stride. 

“Just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for being stupid.” Minho continued.

“I know.” You responded. “Just… let me explain all this first. Then you can decide how mad you need to be.”

Teresa ended up half-heartedly apologizing to you, mostly for Thomas’ sake, although nothing really changed. She still felt the need to mark her territory anytime you were around, but you hadn’t been involved in anymore screaming matches since the morning you woke up across from Thomas, so you supposed that was a plus. 

You had become very good at putting on a brave face and turning the other cheek anytime you would see Thomas and Teresa together, even though you could feel your heart being ripped a little more each time you saw his hands around her waist. Every quick kiss on the cheek, every brush of her hair behind her ear, and every “I love you” were seen by you from a distance, through teary eyes that you’d instantly blink away, in hopes that your anguish would be masked. And up until earlier this week, you had thought you had been doing a  good enough job and that no one had noticed, but leave it Newt to crack your tough exterior. 

------------------------------------------------

DAY 53

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been sitting alone out here for the last hour?” your blonde friend asked as he sat down in the grass next to you. 

You flashed him a pitiful excuse of a smile, “Hey, Newt. Just a lot on my mind, I guess...” you trailed off, knowing damn well why you were sitting here looking up at the names of the gladers that have been lost over the years, dusk consuming the sky above you. 

It had been exactly two years since Thomas came up in the box, and the majority of the gladers felt it necessary to throw a party; one in which everyone gets way too drunk off of Gally’s infamous drink. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by people who were celebrating the man you had undoubtedly begun falling for, while he held hands with the girl who managed to wrap him around her finger, so you escaped to the concrete memorial on the other side of the glade. 

“Yeah, I can tell. I’ve been able to tell for the last month. Spill it, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.” Newt questioned, a concerned tone to his voice. 

You looked at him reluctantly, not knowing how to put your ordeal into words. 

“I know it has something to do with Thomas.” he said lowly, his eyes not moving from the etched concrete in front of him. 

“Yeah... it has everything to do with Thomas, actually.” you mumbled, his name leaving your lips causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Are you finally seeing the connection thing I was telling you about?” he asked in an almost relieved manner.

“I’m not just seeing it Newt... I’m being completely consumed by it.” you murmured as your head lowered, hands playing with a few blades of grass. 

His head snapped to look at you, obviously taken by surprise at your rare admittance of emotions. 

“Care to elaborate?” he asked gently, a small sigh being elicited from you. 

“It’s like a constant need to catch my breath. When I’m not around him, it’s like I can’t find a way to get enough air. And when I see her in his arms, it’s like all the oxygen in the world couldn’t cure the emptiness in my chest... But when I’m around him, talking to him, seeing him smile, it’s like I’ve been drowning and he’s saved me-- I can breathe again.” you spoke with hesitance, the pain from speaking the words aloud having a bigger effect on you than you anticipated.

“And you know what the worst part is? I feel like I have no control over it. My mind is screaming at me to get the fuck over it, but my heart won’t budge. And to put the cherry on top of it all, he is perfectly happy with Teresa and has no idea I’m over here dying, or you know, metaphorically drowning... and I don’t know how much longer I can tread in this dangerous water.” you added, now looking up at the moon that was beginning to rise in the sky.

Newt was now looking at you, mouth agape in shock at your confession. He took a few deep breaths before turning to face you.

“Y/N, I... I don’t know what to say. I knew that there was something going on, but I didn’t realize just how bad it had done you in.” he said softly, still trying to come up with any kind of advice. 

“I’m not Thomas, so I can’t tell you what his feelings or thoughts are, but I can promise you that it’s not as black and white as you think. Teresa is really good at painting a pretty picture for the world, but behind closed doors, it’s a different story. It’s not my place to tell, but the bottom line is that things aren’t that great between them, and as hard as it is to hold on to something so painful, don’t give up hope. You obviously feel like this for a reason, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas was feeling a similar kind of way.” he spoke with a hint of confidence in his voice, which gave you a dose of reassurance you didn’t realize you needed. 

You were silent for a few moments, absorbing the words that your friend just delivered. You found yourself counting the stars that began lighting up the sky above you, thinking about the life you had before the maze. You wondered if you had ever experienced pain like this in your past life, or if this was the first time and maybe that’s why it hurt so bad. You wondered if you had ever experienced intense emotions like this for someone before, and if so, you hoped it was reciprocated and not one-sided like your current situation. You wondered if you knew someone like Thomas, someone so strong and captivating and brave... everyone should know someone like that at some point in their life. 

“Do you really think he could have any kind of non-platonic feelings, or are you just saying that?” you asked quietly, hating that you had reached this point of searching for desperate answers in your friend. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” he spoke clearly.

----

Newt left after awhile, the intense conversation dwindling down to normal small talk. You stayed for another thirty minutes or so, watching the party from afar. The bonfire cast a beautiful glow on the scene, illuminating the gladers that were gathered around. You couldn’t help but smile watching all your friends laugh and let loose, something that didn’t happen often in the glade. But when your eyes fell on Thomas’ lips kissing Teresa goodnight on her way to leave the party, the familiar ache of heartbreak returned to your chest, tears stinging your eyes. You tilted your head back in effort to keep them from falling, breathing now rapid and shallow. 

“Damn it, Y/N. Get it together, you’re so much stronger than this.” you spoke aloud, anger surging through you. You weren’t sure exactly why you were angry; maybe because you let yourself cry over a guy who could care less, or maybe because you were stuck in a heart-wrenching position that you couldn’t break free of.

Much to your dismay, the tears fell anyway. You stood up quickly, needing to be in alone in your room before the emotional episode threatened to get worse. You walked steadfastly towards the small huts that unfortunately resided on the other side of the glade, past the bonfire. In attempt to avoid anyone and everyone, you walked along the perimeter of the buildings, as far away from the party as possible. 

The tears were still streaming down your face, your hands working skillfully to wipe them away the second they emerged, when you ran into something--not something, someone.

The second you collided with his chest, your body was slammed with a wave of strange comfort that you were not in anyway expecting in that moment. You hadn’t seen the face of the person whose arms were now holding you up, but you had a pretty good idea. You looked up and were met with the whiskey eyes you had dreamed about every night for the last month, bringing a surge of emotions with them; anxiety, sadness, nervousness, fright, anger... hope. You pullled away quickly to wipe the tears from your face, instantly missing Thomas’ touch on the soft skin of your arms.

“I-uhm, I’m sorry. I should’ve looked where I was walking.” you mumbled as you wiped your face, looking down at the ground beneath your fidgeting feet.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying...” he said softly, his gaze boring into you as he took a step closer. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you said a little more clearly, an cold edge to your voice.  

When you finally looked up at him fully, he felt his heart drop in his chest. Seeing you so hurt, broken, and teary eyed was something he never wanted to witness. He couldn’t deny the growing feelings he had for you, even though he wasn’t sure if “feelings” was the correct term. Could he have feelings for someone else while he was in a relationship? And if not, then what do you call the need to always make sure the other person is okay, even if from a distance? What do you call the feeling you get when you see them walk into a room, and your entire mood shifts? What do you call the feeling of sadness when you see them unhappy? What do you call the excruciating feeling of seeing tears streaming down their face?

“Y/N... you can talk to me.” he whispered lowly, taking another step closer to you.

With each step he took closer to you and each soothing word that left his lips, your anxiety, and anger towards the whole situation, would increase ten-fold, making it almost unbearable to be in the situation any longer. Yet, you found it ironic that all you wanted in the moment was to collapse into his caring embrace. 

Unfortunately, that feeling lasted for only a few seconds, anger undoubtedly taking it’s place. You honestly weren’t sure why, but you were suddenly over taken with rage over the whole predicament you found yourself in with Thomas. He was the only person to ever make you feel this low, and at that point, you had had enough. 

“You know what, Thomas? Leave me the fuck alone. I actually can’t talk to you, because I can’t even look at you without feeling the hatred your girlfriend has for me, which doesn’t seem to affect you in the slightest, by the way. And I think we both know if she saw you breathing the same air as me, you’d both be fighting for days. So I’m gonna leave and you go find your girl, for both of our sakes.” you spoke harshly as you wiped tears from your eyes, anger and sadness ultimately getting the best of you.

“But I-I just want to make sure you’re oka-” you cut him off.

“No, Thomas, I’m not okay! I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways, so just drop it and go find Teresa, I’m sure she’s looking for you.” your words were laced with venom as you stepped past him, your heart shattering more and more with each step you took away from him. 

Thomas stood there, paralyzed by your bitter confrontation. Not only was he unprepared for your outburst, but he was completely taken aback by it. He didn’t know what to think in the moment. Why were you so mad at him? What made you so upset in the first place? Why was he the one person you couldn’t talk about it with? He felt more pain than he thought possible, and he was beginning to wonder if the “feelings” he’d been getting for you had something to do with it. 

Thomas went to bed that night with his mind running nonstop, thinking about you and the encounter that had happened. He was determined to get some answers, no matter what it took...

------------------------------------------

DAY 58

A lot had happened in the glade since the night you fell into Thomas’ arms. 

You avoided him at all costs, seeing his face bringing up too many unwanted, visceral emotions. Not only was it agonizing to be around him, but it was confusing too. One minute you were immensely angry because he made you feel this way, and the next you were heartbroken because you hopelessly wanted to be the one in his arms. You knew damn well that both of these outlooks were pitiful and unreasonable, but you simply didn’t care. It was your own internal battle anyway, right? 

Thomas on the other hand, was enduring his own kind of suffering. Not only was he having the regular issues with Teresa, but he was slowly being consumed by his growing theories behind the confrontation he had with you. He didn’t even fight with Teresa anymore, he simply let her yell at him while his mind wandered off to you. He thought about the words you said, repeating them in his head over and over again, trying to understand the meaning behind them. “I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways.” 

He could feel his presence in his relationship slipping, and he honestly didn’t care. He hated how exhausting it was to be with Teresa, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His longing to understand your torment was beginning to take up more of his mental space than the need to continually reaffirm his crumbling relationship, and it was concerning to him how easy it was to let the change of mentality to transpire. 

----

Both of your personal thoughts, along with every other glader’s, were brought to a halt the day Ben stammered out of the woods, a demented look in his eyes as he chased Thomas. The second he had to be knocked out with a shovel, confirmed what you all had feared; he’d been stung. 

His banishing to the maze was nothing short of torturesome. Ben was a good friend to all, and it was agonizing to watch him being forced out into the maze, body covered in purple and black contusions and swellings, eyes dark, skin pale. 

Once the walls closed, a solemn ambiance fell across the glade, no one muttering more than a few words for a remainder of the evening. From your bed that night, you could hear the metal hitting the concrete from across the glade; Ben’s name being crossed out, joining the others who have perished in this hell of a maze. You thought back to the day in the tent when Ben told you his thoughts on Thomas and the way he reassured you that your feelings were valid. It broke your heart that you never got the chance to thank him. 

“Thank you, Ben.” you said quietly into the darkness of your hut, the clanging of metal still ringing through the brisk night air.  

---

The following day started with a glade-wide meeting, everyone’s attendance necessary. When a tragedy like this happened, there was always a conversation the following day that gave people an opportunity to mourn the lost. But more importantly, this assemblage took place to discuss the transfer of responsibilities that the fallen glader had. With how quickly things changed in the glade, it was important to keep things running smoothly. Normally this change of job for someone was nothing more than a planter switching to a cook, or a builder switching to a tree chopper. But occasionally, it would be a major switch...

After all the kinds words and stories had been shared on Ben’s behalf, Newt and Alby moved to the front of the crowd.

“Thank you all for your caring and compassionate testimonies, Ben was a great man, and even better friend. He will be deeply missed by all of us.” Alby said clearly, his voice slightly hitching towards the end. 

“As you all know, it is now time to pass his position as a runner off to someone. We need at least three people running at all times, for safety and efficiency.” Newt said loudly, addressing the entire room. 

“We thought this would be a difficult decision, but after deeply considering it, we realized it may have been one of the easier decisions we’ve had to make.” Alby added, confidence apparent in his voice. 

Newt cleared his throat before taking a step forward into the small aisle way between the rows of seats.

“We have decided that Y/N will take Ben’s place as a runner. After her impressive dash to save him during his seizure, and the referral from another runner that was given to us last night, we’re confident she is the best choice to fill the position.” Newt spoke sincerely, a small smile landing on his face once he finished.

Upon hearing his words, your stomach dropped to the floor, your mind running a mile a minute. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY would they pick me? I’m not cut out to be a runner. I can’t possibly work with Thomas every single day. 

Then your focus flashed to something Newt had said, “the referral from another runner that was given to us last night.”. You knew it had to be Thomas, he was the only one to have seen you run through the maze. Why would he do that, why would he willingly want to work with me, knowing Teresa would kill him, knowing the words I said to him earlier this week. WHY?

Everyone’s eyes were now glued to you. Most were encouraging, but there was one set of eyes that were burning into you like a flame from a few rows in front of you-- Teresa. 

What you didn’t notice though, was the smile that flashed across Thomas’ face when Newt announced your name, and the way his eyes were now brightly gleaming at you. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t sure what the repercussions would be, but he knew he couldn’t take anymore days not filled with your soothing voice, angelic laugh, and radiant presence. 

---------------------------------------------------

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. . .Thomas. . .

It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade.  You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day.  The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.

Suddenly, you get the creeps.  It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone.  The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered.  You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.

A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed.  There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.

So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet.  Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace.  You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.

Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.  

“Hello?” you call frantically.  

Suddenly, Thomas appears.  He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours.  But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.

“What’s going on?” he demands.  Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation.  Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy.  It’s plain to see that he is furious.  His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched.  You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, get out of here.”

As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you.  His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.

You manage a nod.

“We’re going to tell Alby right away.  This isn’t going to happen to you again.  Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.  His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

. . . Newt . . .

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone.  Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.

Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground.  Resources were limited in the Glade.  It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated.  You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined.  Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.

You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror.  It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy.  Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.

There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.

After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom.  To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in.  You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.

“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-”  Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently.  He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern.  “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze.  He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.

“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up.  “How’s it going in there?”

Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger.  You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.

“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier.  Maybe I can make it up to you.  Come on out before I go in there!”

Newt can’t contain himself anymore.  He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.

It is so worth it.  Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously.  He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.

“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade.  Do you understand, shank?”

Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed.  He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.

“Coward,” he mumbles.  Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture.  “I mean it, you know.  He’ll never bother you again.”

. . . Minho . . .

It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time.  The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much.  You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you.  You mentally scold yourself.  You can’t afford to think that way.  A Runner knows better.  With a wince, you continue limping on your way.  It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close.  If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.

Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching.  Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.

“Hello?” you call.

“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope.  You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up.  There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.

“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace.  He’s right to go so fast.  Time is running out.

“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.

“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain.  “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”

Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.  His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs.  Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”

You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting.  “Why did you come out here?”

“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants.  “Usually, you check in with me right away.  I knew something had to be wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close.  There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously.  It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.

The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you.  Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder.  You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.

“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised.  “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up.  “And he will face the consequences.”  He looked over at you, finally catching his breath.  “You’re safe now.”

. . . Gally . . .

James had been haunting your steps for far too long.  He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances.  What could be done about it?  It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought.  He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.

This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.

A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away.  You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.

So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action.  Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart?  Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?

You don’t really like the latter option.  Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.

As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area.  Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.

“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I might,” James replies cryptically.  “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”

You fold your arms across your chest.  “What could you possibly want?”

“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”

You make a face as the disgust hits you.  “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.”  You wave off the concept, turning around.  You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools.  This just wasn’t worth all the trouble.  Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”

“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you.  The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight.  If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.

You give him one last chance.  “Let me pass.”

“Come on, just one kiss.  Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.

“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes.  His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.

“I, uh.. We…”  They break off in stutters and fumbled words.

“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.

“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.  Gally walks over to the bench and pauses.  He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside.  “Are those yours?”

You recognize it immediately.  “Yes, these are the ones.”

“You shanks had better never even speak to her again.  Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod.  With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.

“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly.  “Thank you.”

“They won’t bother you again.  I’ll make sure of it.”