-🎀-

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who gets frustrated - at the fact you’re on his mind too much. he’d grumble obscenities under his breath whenever he caught himself looking at you or thinking about you as he zones out, when he really should be focusing on his job

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who unconsciously pushes himself harder when you’re watching or near him.

if its when he’s in the fighting pit: he’d roll up his sleeves to the point his muscular arms are bulging out the tight shirtsleeve - making up excuses when asked about it by his friends, saying things like:

“they just feel better when I go to land a punch - no biggie,” (but it isn’t a “no biggie,” those muscles are far from that and he knows it - lets just hope you realise it too)

he’d pull off more tactical moves and stronger throws of his fists.

or if its a normal day of building: he’d take things out of gladers hands, even shoving them out of the way, just so he’d be in your field of vision.

“gally- wait you just said I was positioned here a few minutes ago!”

“not anymore - go and help out, somewhere else shuck-face,”

thinking about!gally before he knew he liked you, who suddenly snaps/scoffs at you randomly. If you’re too close - at the teasing jokes you make, you know what? even at the sound of your voice.

you know and he knows that he doesn’t mean it, after all your good friends, but it starts to confuse you. which only makes him snap back even more.

its almost comedic.

but really it’s just a defensive mechanism to him - a barrier he puts up to help push down bubbling feelings that keep arising in his chest.

-🎀-

gally who thought he was pretty good at keeping his emotions in line, finally ends up cracking when he lets himself sit with his thoughts.

-🎀-

thinking about!gally who now knows he likes you, suddenly becomes ticked off by any guy who gets your attention - he might throw some shade or a sarcastic comment at them but shrug it off when you mention it.

though, if the glader you were speaking to, ever brought it up - he’d go and make a scene out of it.

pushing at gally’s chest a glader steps in front of him, “what the hell dude, what’s your deal?”

shoving the male in front of him slightly he scoffs back, “you wanna find out slinthead? c’mon keep pushing me, dude.”

thinking about!gally who now knows he likes you, does everything in his power to avoid you - whats he supposed to do with these feelings now? why does he keep acting out?

he doesn’t remember any trace of knowledge that taught him how he’s supposed to go about, whatever this even is!

while this existential crisis occurs in his brain, his demeanour does not show any signs of panic. His body seems to just run itself - his expression serious, and his body just a teensy bit more tense when he’s around you, whilst his consciousness suffers inside.

-🎀-

gally who isn’t the type to easily admit his emotions - finally admits that he likes you when his body takes full control and crashes his lips into yours.

this wasn’t how his little declaration of love was supposed to go - but all thoughts of worry slip away when you feel your body melt into his.

gally honestly was never going to get his way by expressing his feelings through his words so maybe his actions might show much he likes you?

but the funny thing is the fact you always knew - you had always liked him - from the moment you met him - but there was no way in this world you’d ever admit that. so imagine how relieved you felt when he finally made the first move.

at the end of the day though, you were as stubborn as he was, maybe thats what makes you so crazy for each-other?

3rd POV

It all went down quickly, better said - it all went down the moment the Gladers finished the first trials. Since then, no time to relax have they managed to get. After escaping WCKD Facilities, they followed Teresa blindly, unknown to them... she'd betray them. Minho, as well as Newt and Thomas, stuck to Y/n's side to ensure they we're all safe when together. Brenda, Jorge, and the rest of the people who are alive were there with them, watching out for any types of threats.

All chaos started when Teresa went to talk with Thomas. All Y/n heard was Teresa apologizing before WCKD helicopters infiltrated their hiding spot. Screams of children, teenagers, rung through the now-disrupted silence. WCKDs guards pointed guns and even shot some of the innocent people as they yelled for everyone to calm down. Minho grabbed Y/n's hand, not letting her go away from him. All the past times, she was forced to leave him, replaying in both their heads. She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears, as well as a glimpse of fear, knowing what was coming. They will either take them all back to the building or kill them. He squeezed her hand, his gaze never leaving her face; watching her every reaction as her eyes were focused on watching all the chaos go off.

"Minho, Y/n, take cover quickly!"

They both looked back as Newt and Thomas were calling for them. Y/n was the first one, tugging Minho with her as she ran to the small shelter, better sai - a big box. They all gathered and watched the guards, and then Thomas pulled out a gun out of nowhere, getting a look of surprise from Y/n as Minho chuckled at her reaction. He shot a few times, to distract the guards, who were unbreakable apparently.

The guards managed to gather everyone, pushing Thomas, Newt, Minho, and Y/n more roughly than the others, to which Y/n tugged herself away from even harder. Even tho Y/n thought it was a long time it took for them to get all gathered. In reality, it was less than 5 minutes. Everyone gasped as Mary got shot out of the blue. Minho looked at Y/n, his hand holding hers, watching as she trembled from the cold and the fear she might have to go through the same fate as Mary. Thomas used the moment to attack again, throwing a smaller grenade and yelling for everyone to run. Everyone scattered around, guards yelling and shooting, people screaming. She let out a scream of pain as she got shot with their taser guns, groaning and falling over a box.

"Y/n!"

She heard Minho yell, but she couldn't move.

"Minho we can't save her, the guards will shoot us all!"

She heard Newts comforting voice as she was grabbed by two guards and dragged away.

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

1st POV(y/ns hallucination)

I was in the Glade. How did I get here?

I watched kids run past me into the Map Room, running after them, but they only seemed to run away. I burst through the door, gasping as I was suddenly in a tunnel of some sort. I tensed up, my breath hitching as I heard clicking behind me, the sound too familiar with me. I turned back, watching the doors open, a Griever stepping out and moving closer to me. I turned my back to it, darting to run as fast as I can, despite not knowing the way. I panted as I ran, narrowly avoiding bumping into the walls, letting out a scream as the griever was closer to me. I stopped in my tracks as I got to a dead end, going to run but not being able to, groaning as I got launched into the air, my body unnaturally sticking to the ceiling. I stopped breathing as the Griever got to the dead end, watching it underneath me, letting out a scream as it appeared right in front me, going to kill me.

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

3rd POV(inside the lab)

"How is she?" Ava Paige asked as she looked at Y/n yelling and screaming in pain as she had various tubes and needles stuck to her. "Not as effective as she was in the Maze, but it can do," the doctor said, not noticing Y/n stopped, staring blankly at the floor as a tear slid down her face. "Continue," Ava Paige said and left.

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

1st POV(Interrogation room of a sort)

I was barely listening to Teresa talk, too busy thinking of ways to kill her to respond. I got an idea as she stood up to leave, quietly calling out for her.

"Teresa"

I called her, it was a whisper. She stopped to look at me, stepping closer to me as I slowly gazed up with my eyes, which were hooded from all the torture and tiredness. As she was close enough, I again decided to speak, this time, my voice filled with hate.

"You're a TRAITOR!"

I yelled, standing up and grabbing her neck, pushing her against the table, and hitting her head again as she let out a startled yell. The guards outside heard the commotion, barging in and grabbing me as I yelled at Teresa, who was shaken and still hasn't spoken.

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

3rd POV

Minho, Newt, and Thomas managed to sneak into the WCKD headquarters with Gallys help. He got the reserve guards's suits and masks, as well as weapons. They made sure to firstly ensure other kids were safe, letting them out of their rooms, sharing concerned looks as Y/n wasn't here. They forced Teresa to help them look, Janson joining them in the elevator as the three boys shared looks. After the elevator stopped, Teresa got out, the boys following her, Mimho nudging Jansons shoulder on purpose.

"Someone moved her to the medical wing. Thomas, that's on the other side of the building."

Teresa said as she was looking at the data.

"Then lead the way"

Minho said as a command. And she did, leading them to the medical wing when all hell rose. Alarms blasted, sirens filling their ears and guards chasing them at every corner. Teresa managed to sneak away, but Minho, Newt, and Thomas yelled Y/ns name. Y/n blinked as she heard familiar voices, getting out of the sedative she was under, hearing the guard alarm the doctor. She tightened her hand on the knife she managed to find, suddenly stabbing a nurse, attacking the guard, and knocking him down. The doctor grabbed her, trying to inject her with the sedative, but Y/n pushed his arms away, injecting him with it. She darted to leave, avoiding the guards as they tried to shoot her. She ran into a guard, throwing him against a glass wall, panting as she saw her three friends. Minho stopped in his track, taking in how tired she looked. He quickly made his way to her, wrapping his arms around her, making her struggle to breathe as she relaxed into him.

"Is this real?"

She whispered, smiling a bit. Minho nodded, kissing her firmly and pulling away to let Newt and Thomas hug her. The guards shot at them, and Thomas guided them into a room, locking it as they entered. They froze as the guards started to cut the door with a saw, Thomas made his way to the windows, looking down at the pool.

"I have an idea, it's crazy tho"

Thomas said, and Y/n, Minho, and Newt just gaped at him like he was crazy. They broke the window a minute later, looking down and taking a few steps back. Thomas looked back as the door burst open, before darting to the window, the rest of the group following him as they all yelled his name while they fell.

"THOMAS!"

Their yells ran out in the silence as they fell into the water, swimming to the surface and gasping.

"That...was...crazy"

Y/n panted, and Minho helped her get out of the pool, his hands on her waist as he looked down at her to make sure she wasn't hurt. She blushed nervously, a small smile on her lips. He kissed her again, this time slower, ignoring the groans from Newt and Thomas in the background. Minho did what he promised to himself, and that was save his girl.

It was Sunday, meaning you both had the entire day off from work and when these days came around, you always took full advantage of them. During the week, you were both constantly busy; Minho off in the maze from dawn until the sun began to set behind the walls, and you in the medhut all day treating the rest of the gladers who showed up with injuries.

All work came to a halt on Sundays, the day being treated as if it were a holiday by everyone in the Glade. Almost everyone would spend their 24 hours of peace lying in and simply chilling the shuck out, our one day of bliss if you will.

As you ran your fingers gently through your boyfriend's hair, lying together in silence, you felt his head shift against you as he tilted it back to look up at you.

You smiled softly at him. You could stay here forever. "Hey," you cooed.

He returned the smile, looking up at you like you were the sun, the moon, and the stars combined, "Hey back."

A few strands of his dark hair fell in front of his eyes, his head tipping further back so he could get a better look at you. You carefully brushed the hair away from his eyes, "Your hair's getting long, isn't it."

"Yeah, and it's been bothering me for the past two shucking weeks," he mumbled lowly in displeasure, "it's started to get in the way when I'm running, not very ideal, can't even see where I'm going anymore."

You chuckled at your boyfriend's exaggerated words before an idea popped into your head, "Hey, why don't you let me cut it for you?" continuing to stroke his hair gently.

"Mmmm…I don't know if I trust you enough with scissors around my hair," he joked, "don't know if you've noticed, but I take great pride in these gorgeous locks."

It's true. He spends at least 30 minutes of his mornings just styling his hair; making sure it looks just right.

"Oh come on," rolling your eyes at the boy lying on your chest, "I cut my own hair all the time, I'm basically an expert at this point."

His head dropped back down to its previous position, stroking his fingertips up and down your arm, thinking the idea through, before lifting it back up to your gaze once more, "Fine. But if you mess up, we are so over."

You smiled brightly at him, before moving from your position to climb out of the blankets, rolling over him to plant your feet on the floor of the hut. He groaned as you pulled on his arm, forcing him out of his previously comfy spot in the bed.

Still gripping his arm, he plodded closely behind you as you led him into the small bathroom in your hut - One of the perks of being the only girl in the glade; having your own hut. Which also means having your own bathroom.

"Okayyy," once in the bathroom, you placed your hands on his shoulders, "Sit please." The wide grin plastered on your face was making him much too nervous for his liking, yet still, he obliged, taking a seat on the toilet that sat in the corner of the cramped space.

Turning your back towards him, you searched for the pair of scissors that you regularly used to cut your hair. After a few seconds of fiddling in the drawer between the sink, you turned back to face him, snapping the shears open and closed in front of him.

"Yeah…that smile on your face is not concerning at all," he stated, sarcasm clear in his voice. The comment only caused you to smile even wider, "Would you relax, it's gonna be fine, I know what I'm doing you shank."

As you stepped closer to him, scissors in hand, his body leaned away from you, clearly indicating apprehension. "Minho, if you don't want me to cut your hair just say so, please. I wouldn't even be upset," you drew a cross over your heart, "swear."

He quickly reassured you, "No, no, that's not it…I just-you can understand my concerns though, right?"

Your eyes softened, giving him a tender smile, "Of course I can, but I assure you, once again, I know what I'm doing, okay?" He sighed sharply, before simply nodding his head in response.

You were now standing between his legs, gently running your fingers through his dark hair once again. "Okay, I'm starting, you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with already."

Positioning your free hand on the back of his head, to give you stability, you began snipping the hair on the top of his head. The first 'snip' of the scissors caused him to wince slightly in anticipation of the next cut.

Black strands of hair began slowly falling to your feet as you continued snipping off small sections of Minho's overgrown hair. Your fingers combed through his hair, directing it in an upward direction before stopping, where you'd cut off about an inch.

By the time you had finished working on the top of his head, you moved and used your free hand to angle his head down so you could begin working on the back.

Starting from the nape of his neck working up, you snipped away at the course hair. Minho's forehead was now resting on your stomach as you very carefully made sure not to nick his scalp with the sharp tool in your hand, "Mmm, feels s'nice," he grumbled into your midsection.

It was very clear that your previously reluctant boyfriend was now enjoying the lengthy process of getting his hair trimmed by you. A smug smile replaced your, once stoic, expression, "Mmm, I know sweetie, just relax m'kay."

His hands slid up from their prior position by his side, leisurely making their way up your bare legs to sit just below the hem of your shorts under your ass, his fingertips tenderly drawing circles on your smooth skin.

You finished up the back of his head, cutting it nice and short; just the way you know he likes it to be. You tilted his head to the right, then to the left, tapering off the sides. Finally, you lifted his head up, your finger softly positioned under his chin as you gave the completed haircut a final look-over.

As you studied your work for any needed improvements, you could feel your boyfriend's gaze burning into your face. "The shuck are you staring at you, dong?" you quipped as your fingers raked his hair, making sure it was even.

His eyes not straying away from you, "The beautiful girl standing in front of me," not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

You couldn't have hidden the bright beam that crept its way onto your face even if you tried your hardest.

"Okay whatever," rolling your eyes playfully, "I'm done, so would you go to the mirror and look at it, please."

The warmth on the back of your legs abruptly disappeared as Minho made his way over to the sink to take a look at his, now much shorter, hair in the mirror. He examined it carefully, turning his head in all different directions - very obviously trying to mess with you.

A few more head turns later and you were getting very impatient, awaiting a response from the puckish boy standing before you, tapping your foot hurriedly against the floor, your arms crossed over your chest.

Finally, he turned to face you with his lips pursed and squinted yes, as if he were about to tell you that he didn't like it. Your heart dropped in your chest with the thought, until he, at last, said something, "I love it."

Relief coursed through your body, your head falling back, accompanied by a long sigh.

Minho snaked his arms around your waist, peppering kisses along your throat before moving to your face, causing you to shake your head around in a poor attempt to get him to stop, giggles escaping from your lips, "Stop it, shuckface."

Your palm slipped between his lips and your face, pressing against his lips to push his head back, "Do you really like it, or are you just scared of hurting my feelings? Cause I'm a big girl y'know, I can handle the truth," your eyes squinted as you searched his for answers while your arms remained by your side, refusing to hug him back until he answered.

He laughed in response, "Of course I like it, I'd tell you if I didn't, honest," withdrawing one of his hands from your waist to draw a cross over his heart, just like you had done earlier.

A big smile replaced your once blank expression, finally lifting your arms to squeeze him back, dropping your head onto his shoulder in satisfaction. You still held the scissors in your right hand, so you had to make sure not to accidentally scratch him with them.

"I hope you know that you'll be cutting my hair for me every month from now on," your boyfriend stated, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Exactly the reason why I've never offered to cut your hair before," mumbling into his shoulder.

The two of you swayed from side to side in each other's arms, enjoying the rare quiet of the glade. Sundays will truly always be your favourite day of the week.

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 onto my side, legs brushing against my sheets, I smile at the FaceTime call on my phone, but it's bittersweet. On the other end of the video call sits my boyfriend, the soft smile on his face mirroring my own. From where he sits, I can see the San Francisco skyline out his hotel window, highlighted by the rising sun.

“I miss you,” I mumble, studying the lines and contours of his face and wondering if they've changed since the last time I saw him in person. If I've missed any change; any detail while we've been separated. If anything has changed or tipped the balance since we've been apart. 

I'm not insecure in my relationship with Gally, but be long distance for enough time and everyone gets in their head about it. Catches themselves wondering; doubting.

“I miss you more every time we have to part,” I add, watching the bitter take over the sweet in my boyfriend's eyes for a few seconds before he replies.

“I know, baby, I know.” His gaze wanders into the space between the atoms, his mind leaping forward into the future as he assures both me and himself, “Once my contract with WCKD Enterprises is up, I'll be able to move back to Denver. We'll be back in the same city.”

My smile is tired, only half there, and Gally knows it. It's been months since I've held him in my arms. This long distance routine is wearing us both out. We're both running out of steam—not for each other; not for our relationship, but for the complexity that being long distance has brought to our relationship. Conflicting schedules, spotty internet, the deprivation of physical contact with the person we crave it from the most…it's all beginning to pile up, and we both know it.

In an attempt to change the subject, I ask, “When is your flight back to Chicago again?” I already know, but I'm not sure what else to say, and besides, it's always good to check.

“Your birthday,” comes the cheeky reply, my eyes rolling of their own accord as I secretly admire the handsome grin on my boyfriend's face. But all too soon, his grin fades.

“I'm sorry I can't be there for your birthday,” he says gently. I wave him off, assuring him that I'll be just fine.

“Bren, Tes, and Sony are planning something. Won't tell me what, though.” I sigh before admitting, “It won't be the same without you. But your work's important.” Gally smiles gratefully, but there's cracks in the smile, and my stomach sinks. Guilt over my last comment settles in my digestive tract. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, no, don't apologize,’’ Gally says quickly. “You're allowed to be sad that I can't be there.” His amiable grin morphs into a scowl, “Tried to get Janson to give me the time off, I really did. But that rat wouldn't do it.” I give Gally what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“It's okay, babe.” We fall into silence, not necessarily comfortable, but not bad either, before Gally interjects,

“It'll be nice to be in my own apartment, though. I'm getting sick of all these Californian hotels. I'll be glad to be home, smog and noisy L-trains galore.” I chuckle, knowing that Gally loves Chicago because of its quirks, not in spite of them.

Still, Denver has always been home to me. But Gally and I've decided to cross that bridge when we get to it. We've got enough to think about as it is.

I'm trying to come up with another conversation topic, since I don't have work until later today, but unfortunately, Gally isn't so lucky. It’s the perks of working from home as a crisis hotline counselor, I guess. The hours aren’t as demanding, since the work itself is.

“Shoot, I have to go,” he hisses. “I'm sorry, princess. I'll call you tonight?” I nod, forcing myself to look forward to tonight's call, rather than be sad that this one is ending. “Alright, good that,” Gally grins. “I love you, babe!”

“I love you, Gal,” I smile and wave goodbye. The half-baked grin melts right off my face once he's hung up. Gosh, I miss him so much. 

There's only so much comfort a video call can give.

Teresa calls me soon after Gally hangs up, blabbering on and on about a date she'd had with some guy named Ben, but I can't focus on her stories like I normally would. Usually, I'm all in to hear my friend's tales, but my mind is still fixated on the miles separating Gally and I. Something in me wonders how much longer we'll be able to go without holding each other. How much longer we can stand to be separated.

When we first started dating, I could have gone months, as long as we were still interacting. But as my love for Gally increased, the length of time I could stand to be without him decreased. 

I'm fully, unashamedly in love with Gally now, and part of me wonders what I would do to be living in the same place as him. To be in his arms for good. The easy answer—the most raw answer—is anything. I'd do anything for him.

“(Y/N)?” Teresa's voice brings me out of my thoughts, her suspicious tone confirming that she's noticed my lack of focus today. “You weren't listening, were you?” To an outsider, her tone might sound harsh; reproachful, even, but I know her too well. She's not mad. Just annoyed she'll have to repeat her story if she wants me to hear it.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble, and it's sincere. I am sorry that I lost focus. But I don't apologize for pining after my faraway boyfriend. There's no reason to, for one, and two, I won't ever apologize for thinking of him. For missing him. 

Teresa is grinning at my distracted tone, I can tell. Even through the phone, I can tell. “You're good. Dreaming about your bae, aren't you?” 

I don't hesitate to admit, “Yes. I miss him more than I thought was even possible.” I hear Teresa's hum from the other end of the phone.

“You need to see him,” she declares. I scoff.

“Believe me, I know, and we're trying to figure out when he can next visit, but we're both just so busy.” Teresa clucks her tongue, the sound distorting oddly through the phone speaker. I imagine it running across the telephone poles, through the wires, twisting and bending and knotting out of shape as it flies all the way to me.

“I didn't mean like that, (Y/N). You need to go see him.” I chuckle, I wish I could.

“He's busy, Tes. Besides, he isn't even in Chicago right now,” I reason. This doesn't deter her.

“Well, when will he next be in Chicago?”

“His flight's on my birthday.” 

“That's perfect!” Teresa squeals. 

“How is that perfect?” I huff.

“You can fly out and spend your birthday with him! Surprise him!” 

I actually laugh at this. “Um, no, I can't. I don't have the kind of money to just throw down for plane tickets. Besides, weren't you, Brenda, and Sonya planning something?” 

“Well, yeah, but we could always change plans if we needed to,” Teresa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. On any other day, I would entertain this kind of silly daydreaming, but today, I already felt lonely enough.

“Sorry, Tes. Those spontaneous decisions are not my cup of tea,” I sigh, and I think she can tell I'm shutting the conversation down. She lets it go, and I thank her silently, forcing the ache in my heart left by Gally's absence to venture to the back of my mind. If I waste the day away, it'll be evening again, and then he'll call, just like he said. 

And so despite the fact that I know wasting the days away is bad for me, I do it anyway. Just today, I tell myself. Just today.

Of course, I know I'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and all the hours in between my calls with Gally. It's ridiculous, how they all say having space helps one think clearer, when having space just distracts me by making me miss him that much more.

When he's gone, I'm reminded that much more that he's all I need.

_______________________________

𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 p.m. by the time Gally calls, his eyes lighting up when he sees me despite the exhausted, burnt out look on his face. I'm equally as ecstatic as he is to revel in the gaze of my lover, both of us simply brushing every inch of each other's faces with our eyes, memorizing each other for the millionth time. It won't be the last time, either. I could never get tired of scanning my gaze across his skin, memorizing every inch of his beautiful face. 

In our current situation, it's the closest I can get to kissing every inch of his beautiful face.

Gally is the first to break the silence, and I'm okay with it. He's the one who's had a long day. He knows what he needs to talk or not talk about. I just love hearing his voice. 

“How was your day, baby?” he asks, a tired sort of happiness seeping into his voice. Like I'm giving him some kind of rest just by smiling at him.

“It was good. Uneventful.” I shrug, knowing that I'd barely moved from the chair I occupied now. “The real question is, how was your day, my love?” 

Gally grins at the pet name. He always does. It's the same reaction that I have whenever he uses terms of endearment on me. It's our own personal love language of sorts. How many different ways can I call you mine?

“My day was okay,” Gally says quietly, sighing when he sees the look on my face. The one that tells him to lay it on me; rant if it'll make him sleep better tonight. “Well, it was…mediocre,” he amends, running a hand through his short hair. “Tim was being an ass. As always.” I nod sympathetically, understanding the deep hatred he harbors for his coworker.

Why Gally doesn't like Tim, I'm not exactly sure, but I know it has something to do with taking credit for a project that Gally did all the work on. It resulted in a harsh lecture from their boss for Gally, who was presumed to have slacked off, and a promotion for Tim. 

Anyone who knows Gally knows that he would never slack off. He takes duty and work seriously; more seriously than anyone else I've met, in fact. I know my boy. He wouldn't hurt his company's productivity, even if his boss is an asshole like Janson.

“I'm sorry Tim was giving you trouble, baby,” I croon, watching the aches and tension of the day seeping out of his stiff shoulders at the sound of my voice. His smile weaves its way back onto his face. It's a soft, vulnerable smile, the one that makes me want to take him in my arms and just hold him like the precious treasure he is.

“I wish I could hug you,” Gally groans, rubbing his chin with his fingers before trying to regain his composure. “Sorry…I don't mean to bring everything up again. I just…I just miss you.” My comforting smile wobbles, knowing that those same thoughts are eating away at me inside, but I bring the happy thoughts back to the surface and my grin rights itself.

“Soon, love, soon,” I murmur, knowing I can't truly promise anything with how busy our lives have become. But soon doesn't have a time slot or expiration date. I can promise soon and define it later. All I know is that it brings a smile to my boy's face, and that's what I need right now. 

We spend the rest of the night talking, lifted by the promise of Soon, love, soon, knowing that it could very well mean a long, long time. 

_______________________________

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 in my bedroom window, blinding me when my eyes flicker open. But once I blink away the black spots in my vision, I see that the sunlight isn't the only reason I was pulled from the comforting arms of sleep. 

Brenda, Teresa, and Sonya are standing at my bedside, my sheets in a bunched up ball in Sonya's hands. I groan, trying to roll away, but Bren, ever the fearless one, grabs my shoulder and pulls me back to face them.

“Get up, (Y/N). No spending the day moping,” she orders. I heave out an exaggerated sigh, making my body intentionally limp as Brenda and Teresa each grab one of my arms, pulling me upright until I have to support my own weight. 

“Sometimes I really regret giving you guys my apartment passcode,” I comment, leading Sonya to pinch my arm. I yelp, rubbing the red mark as I get manhandled out of my pajamas and into a new outfit by my best friends. “What—what are you crazies doing?” I splutter, quickly taking the pair of jeans from Teresa's hands before she can try to shove them on my legs, opting to put them on myself. 

“We aren't letting you mope around until Gally visits. Who knows how long that would be? It's not healthy,” Sonya explains, linking an arm through mine as the three girls drag me to the bathroom. Brenda shoves my toothpaste-loaded toothbrush into my hand as Tes starts pulling my hair brush through my hair.

“Ow,” I complain around a mouthful of toothpaste suds, pulling away from Teresa's assault on my tender scalp momentarily to spit. She and Sonya make quick work of my slightly frizzy hair, tag teaming it to create a fun yet elegant braid. 

“Beautiful,” Sonya sighs, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Brenda, on the other hand, seems to have some kind of mental checklist, full of all the tasks she must see me complete.

“Breakfast is next,” she commands, and I find myself being pulled into my kitchen, watching helplessly as my friends dive into making us a scrumptious, sugary feast.

I have to admit, the fluffy blueberry pancakes filling my stomach certainly make venturing out into the world much easier than I expected. I only feel the need to text Gally three times before leaving my apartment with my friends, rather than the usual five to ten. Whether these texts are to let him know I'm fine or to make sure he's fine, I've never been able to figure out. Maybe they're both. Either way, it's a good thing Brenda shoved my meds into my hand before breakfast. 

When I'm here alone, I don't take them. Sometimes I skip them on purpose, sometimes I just forget. But either way, I don't take my anxiety meds unless Brenda is there to shove them down my throat. Thinking about it, I'm grateful she's here to force me to take them today. With all of these mixed up feelings about being separated from Gally for so long, having more control over my anxiety will be good.

A day shopping with my best friends is a good distraction from the painful loneliness I've been feeling without Gally. It's not exactly a cure, but it's close. My friends know this; know their own limitations, and so they do the best they can.

And I'm so grateful that they've put in the time. Put in the effort. All for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper to them as we sit in our favorite coffee shop, sipping oat milk lattes. 

“Of course,” Brenda immediately responds.

“We love you,” Sonya adds.

“We know we aren't your boy,” Teresa chimes in, “but we're your best friends, and that means we stick by you. No matter what.” She leans over to rub my arm. “When you're down, I'm down. We wanted to help pick you back up.”

The smile on my face is genuine for the first time in a long time, knowing that my friends love me enough to support me despite having the knowledge that they can't give me everything I need. They give what they can, and accept me when it doesn't fix everything.

I haven't always had friends this good, and I look up at the sky, thanking the heavens that I've been blessed with such good friends now.

_______________________________

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 before my birthday, I can’t get Teresa’s half-joking, hare-brained idea out of my head. Realistically, I know that the likelihood that I could find a flight on my birthday to Chicago that isn’t full (or way too expensive) is slim. Realistically, I know that I don’t have the money for plane tickets right now. Realistically, I know that flying halfway across the country on a whim to see my boyfriend is ridiculous. 

But when Gally sends me his flight information, knowing I like to watch his progress and get confirmation when he lands safely, I find myself checking flights from Denver to Chicago, telling myself it’s just out of curiosity. Because what if there is a flight to Denver from Chicago on my birthday? What if there is a possibility that I could see Gally on my birthday? What if there is a chance that I could have this gift; the only one I truly want?

If there’s even a chance to see Gally on my birthday, I want to know. 

Gally’s flight information is pulled up on my phone, which is next to me on my desk as I scroll through flights on my laptop. My right thumbnail is between my teeth, bitten down to the quick and then some. It seems that flying is a popular travel option right now, as flights are filled even into places like Dawson County, Montana. Every flight I find from Denver to Chicago is either full or too expensive for someone just out of college, like me. The cheapest is $374, and I know rationally that blowing through that much money would be devastating for my finances. 

I swear under my breath, angry at myself for even getting my hopes up. It was a stupid idea to check the flights, and I find myself wishing I could go back in time to stop myself from looking. The disappointment grows even larger knowing that there would be a way to get to him if I wasn’t a broke post-college student making minimum wage in the Mile-High City. Then the disappointment and anger melt away, leaving me with a heart wrenching sadness that feels so empty and yet so all-consuming that I can’t help but break down into tears.

I don’t want to let myself cry about a silly daydream that was unlikely to happen anyway, but I’d let myself entertain the thought of seeing Gally soon; of holding him close and kissing him until we couldn’t breathe, and now everything else seemed pale in comparison. It wasn’t that my life had no purpose outside of him—I’d made it very clear when we started dating that the two of us needed to make sure we had lives outside of our relationship, too. But Gally had become a part of me; my favorite part of me, in fact. I was perfectly happy with the life I had, but Gally made it even sweeter. And knowing that sweetness was mine but was inaccessible made the absence of it even more palpable. Even more unbearable.

Crumpled into a heap on my floor with tears slowly leaking from my eyes is how Teresa finds me when she opens my door fifteen minutes later. “Hey, girl—” she calls before seeing me, rushing to my side with a worried, “Oh, my gosh, what’s wrong, (Y/N)?” I just shake my head, the waterworks turning back up to full blast.

“I miss him so much,” I sob as she gathers me in her arms, unable to care that I sound pathetic. 

“Oh, I know, darling, I know,” Teresa coos, rocking back and forth with my shaking body, whispering comforting words into my ears just like she always does when I get so worked up. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, hand flying up to wipe the snot from my nose, but of course, the minute it’s gone, more replaces it. I’m past the point of an easy calm-down, instead finding myself close to the edge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, Teresa isn’t a stranger to my emotional meltdowns, and she isn’t afraid of them, either. Instead, she’s the kind of friend who will take my hand and guide me through it.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” she asks cautiously, to which I shake my head in embarrassment. Tears are still pooling in the corners of my eyes as I manage to get out,

“I’m sorry.” 

Teresa just shushes me calmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s in the past now. I just wanted to know.” I nod shakily, the soothing pressure of her hand rubbing my arm helping me steady my breaths slightly. “What set you off?” she queries, squeezing me a bit tighter when the tears speed up again.

“I—I decided to check the flights for my birthday,” I answer, sniffling as my best friend strokes my hair lovingly. “It was stupid, because it just made me upset. They’re all too expensive, and I knew they would be, and it just made me miss him so much more.” Admitting it out loud makes me feel even dumber, the guilt creeping into my stomach. “I did this to myself,” I mumble. Subconsciously, my nails find their way to my arms, digging into the delicate skin and leaving pink crescents behind. Teresa pulls my hands away from my arms quickly.

“Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. I would’ve done the same, (Y/N).” I know she’s trying to comfort me, but I just squeeze my eyes shut.

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t have caused you to end up on the floor like a pathetic child.”

“(Y/N)! Stop!” Teresa scolds me. “Stop with the negative self-talk.” I try to protest, but she fixes me with that no-nonsense look that can get anyone to agree to anything, and I find myself nodding meekly. “None of this is your fault. You’re in a difficult situation, being separated from your boyfriend, and your heart isn’t sure how to handle it. That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to handle it perfectly yet.” I sigh, leaning into my best friend’s shoulder, feeling slightly calmer now. She always knows the right words to say when I’m in too deep to think straight. 

Teresa coaxes me into the kitchen to drink hot chocolate once my breathing has steadied somewhat. She’s looking at me with an odd look that I can’t quite place, as if she’s…proud of me?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask warily over the top of my steaming mug. My best friend grins, staring at me for a couple more seconds before replying,

“You’re just, like, the strongest person I know.” My face turns what I assume is beet red at the compliment, not expecting such high praise from the woman who just held me in her arms as I sobbed like a baby. But then again, Teresa is special. She doesn’t judge based on outward appearances or impressions. She can see right into the heart of people, as if she can sense their goodness; their potential, and then she nudges them down that path. Helping them choose the sunshine. The good side. The light.

Knowing her compliment is slightly overwhelming, Teresa shrugs and changes the subject so fast I think I get whiplash. “You should call Gally,” she suggests. “Tell him that you were missing him and ask him for some love.” I cringe, turning away from her.

“I don’t want to make him feel bad that he isn’t here. I think I’ve already done that too much this week.” 

Teresa scoffs, “That’s nonsense. He’ll be happy that you reached out to him after your meltdown. He’ll be touched that you wanted to let him know how you’re doing. He’ll feel honored that you’re willing to be vulnerable with him.” I know deep down that she’s right; that the only thing he’d do is make me feel better. Never after calling Gally do I feel worse. I know I’m just scared to hurt him, but he always assures me that I don’t need to harbor that fear. I don’t need to hold onto that anxious voice in my head that whispers, You don’t deserve him.

I can even imagine him next to me if I try hard enough, murmuring, “You’re perfect, baby,” when I grow insecure. Whispering, “I’m so lucky to have you” in my ear when I doubt myself.

“Okay,” I agree, letting Teresa take my phone and FaceTime him. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the work day, Gally picks up on the first ring, a concerned look decorating his handsome face.

“Teresa? Wha—” 

“She’s fine!” Teresa rushes to assure him, motioning for me to join her on the couch. I pop my head into the frame, wincing as I see how swollen and puffy my face is. Gally’s forehead immediately creases upon seeing me, obviously still worried when he sees the tear stains on my cheeks.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asks. Teresa silently asks if I want to take the phone, but I shake my head. My hands are still slightly shaky, and holding the phone is an added stressor. Teresa understands and angles the phone towards me.

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry,” I whisper, my boyfriend’s shoulders relaxing only slightly. “I just had a bit of a meltdown. Teresa found me and helped me calm down.” Gally’s eyebrows soften, his mouth tilting down in a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“I just miss you,” I mumble sheepishly after a second’s pause. It seems kind of silly once I admit it out loud, and I start to duck my face away when Gally gets my attention.

“Hey, (Y/N), (Y/N),” he says, waiting until I’ve turned back to him before continuing, “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. I miss you, too, okay? I miss you so much. You don’t need to feel ashamed for struggling.” He waits for me to respond, and I nod slightly. Truth be told, just hearing his voice has made me feel better; stronger. There’s something about his comforting, strong tone that soothes me. Just his voice can make me truly believe in myself. I swear, this man could make me believe anything as long as he says it aloud. 

“Thank you for picking up,” I smile, finding my mood lightening as a grin finds its way back onto his face. “Seeing you helped.” Gally blushes slightly, rubbing a hand along his chin.

“I’m glad I could help, baby.” Offscreen, someone gruffly commands him to get back to work, and he mutters an apology before turning back to the screen. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. But call me if you need anything, okay?” I nod, trailing my eyes over his freckles one more time as he thanks Teresa for taking care of me and then hangs up.

“It helped?” she asks, as if double-checking to make sure I truly am feeling better.

“Yeah,” I grin sheepishly. “You know what you’re talking about.” With a roll of my eyes, I joke, “You should be a counselor for a living. At this rate, you’re better than me at my own job!” Teresa just laughs.

“Well, now that you’ve cracked a joke, I know you’re feeling better.” She pulls me into a hug, and I gladly return it, silently wondering how I got blessed with such an amazing best friend.

“Hey, I’m here for you,” she reminds me one more time as she leaves, her meticulous check-ins a promise for the next few days.

“I know,” I assure her. “I promise I’ll call if I need to.”

“Good,” she says, smiling as she waves. “I love you, babes!” 

“I love you, too, Tes!” Feeling a bit lighter, I wave back as I close my front door.

_______________________________

“𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡’𝗧—I can’t take this,” I stutter the next day, wide-eyed at the wad of cash Teresa is currently shoving into my hands. Brenda and Sonya are flanking her on either side with looks that imply they’re attempting to telepathically convince me to take the money. 

“Don’t be sorry!” Brenda sighs. “Just take the money! It’s our birthday present for you!” I look back and forth between my three best friends, realizing that there is no way they’re letting me reject the money. But it feels so weird having this many fifties weighing heavily in my grasp. 

“Yes, you can,” Teresa sighs exasperatedly. “Like I already told you, it’s the money we were going to spend on your celebration pooled together. But we all know you’d rather spend your birthday with Gally, and we want you to be able to, so we’re giving you the money for that plane ticket you couldn’t afford. It would be a waste to throw you a party you don’t want to be at. Helping you see your boyfriend is a much better use of that money. We all agreed.” Brenda and Sonya both nod, Teresa shoving the cash even further into my palms. I take it shakily, counting silently as I gape at them.

“But—but this is nine hundred bucks! I can’t—I can’t take this, I’m sorry!” 

“Please take it,” Sonya says softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We want you to be able to go see Gally. We want you to enjoy this birthday. You’ll be giving a gift to us by making this impulsive choice to do what makes you happy.” My resistance gets melted away by her words, knowing that this was their tactic all along. Get (Y/N) all toughened up to the ‘just take it’ ruse and then let Sonya slip under her defenses when she least expects it. But I’m not annoyed by it. Instead, I let Teresa close my fist over the cash.

Immediately, the three start cheering, but before I can even blink, they’ve moved on from celebrating and are pushing me towards my laptop where, just as I’m sure Teresa suspected, the flights from Denver to Chicago are still pulled up. Teresa obviously asked Gally to share his flight information with her, because she seems to have it memorized as she scans the flights. 

“Alright, here’s the best one,” she announces after a few minutes of looking. “United, nonstop, leaving at 9:30 a.m. MT and arriving at 12:56 p.m. CT. It’s in the same terminal as Gally’s flight, and he lands at 2:23 p.m. CT, so that gives you a little over an hour to get to his gate and wait for him. Sounds good?” I nod wordlessly, still slightly in shock over the way my best friends have handled this so nonchalantly, as if their friend flying across the country on a day’s notice is just a normal part of their lives. 

Sonya pulls me towards my room as Brenda takes the stack of cash back from me, mumbling that Teresa insisted they have it for show but was just planning on Venmoing the cash to me. I laugh at our friend’s antics before following an impatient Sonya, who grabs my suitcase from my closet and starts making a list of what I should pack.

“We’re not buying you a return flight,” she explains, “because we didn’t know how long you’d want to stay, and we figured you didn’t know either. Just bring your work stuff and you can work from Gally’s apartment, and use the rest of the money to buy a return ticket when you decide to come back.” I shake my head in awe at the schemes of my friends, who have obviously thought of every single anxiety I could have because of this plan and have set out to refute them. 

With Sonya helping me pack, a task that would usually take me at least three hours, two cups of coffee, and a panic attack is done in under one hour, no coffee or panic attacks in sight. While I wouldn’t have minded the coffee, the no panic attack part is nice, and I decide I can live without those two cups of coffee if it means my peace of mind is intact. 

And the next morning when Teresa drops me off at the airport, my medicine taken and an ample breakfast eaten, the nervous butterflies in my stomach don’t feel scary. In fact, they feel almost…exciting. And I feel crazy for doing this; for flying halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend so I can kiss him on my birthday, but I also feel so alive.

And today, the idea of living doesn’t seem as scary anymore.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗦 𝗜 wait at my gate and sip my Starbucks latte, I answer the countless birthday texts I have already received, smiling at the overflow of love from people I talk to everyday and people I barely even know. It’s funny, knowing that there are people out there who remember my birthday but don’t talk to me otherwise. Some might feel disheartened at the idea, but I just giggle quietly to myself, wondering if I’m going crazy for feeling so lighthearted. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, I think to myself. The adrenaline from doing something so stupid and yet so exciting. Shrugging to myself, I take another large gulp of coffee, finally getting to the text from Gally. I saved it for last, knowing it would be the best one. And sure enough, as I read the message, I feel happy tears pricking my eyes. As always, he’s sweet; sappy, even, but his message also holds the serious intensity that he always has around him. It’s like an aura, telling those around him that he does everything fully and completely, never giving only half of his effort. That intensity is probably why I love reading texts from him over and over. Even if it’s a simple good morning, his texts always seem to scream I love you from between the lines.

I text Gally back, thanking him for the love he’s sent zipping along telephone lines, across the country and all the way to me. I suck the last dregs of liquid from my Starbucks cup, finally accepting that the beverage is gone as the gate attendant calls for Boarding Group 1. I find myself bouncing from foot to foot, realizing once again that I’m really doing this. I can’t bring myself to sit down as I wait for my group to be called, instead standing by the gate’s charging station, fidgeting like I’m about to run the 100 meter dash. By the time I’m boarding, I’m breathing heavily like I just sprinted up Pikes Peak. Whether from nerves or excitement, I can’t really tell, but it’s enough that the flight attendant touches my arm as she checks the cabin. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I look up in surprise before giving her a quick grin. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous.” 

She smiles empathetically. “Is it your first time flying?”

“No. I’m flying out to surprise my boyfriend, and I guess I’m just hoping it all works out like I planned,” I explain. 

At this, I receive an even bigger grin from the flight attendant, who thinks that is just—“the most adorable thing ever!” I nod along, unsure whether I’m actually smiling or just masking my anxiety. Either one is a plausible explanation, and I’m pumped so full of adrenaline that all of my emotions currently feel interchangeable. 

I spend the entirety of take-off nervously fiddling with the little screen in front of me, trying to distract myself. Once we’re at a constant altitude, the flight attendants offer drinks, and I ask for a ginger ale, my go-to drink on airplanes. It calms me down, the comforting security of it helping me stay rational. Unfortunately, the ginger ale combined with my anxious thoughts cause my bladder to reach its limit quite quickly. 

I hate the little bathrooms on airplanes. So loud, so claustrophobic, so turbulent. It’s like trying to pee while in the middle of an earthquake. But my bladder isn’t playing games today, and the last thing I want to do is ignore it and then pee myself. The intrusive thoughts fight to take over as I rush through the motions, washing my hands as quickly as possible, but I stave them off and make it back to my seat in one piece.

The remaining hour until landing is the longest hour of my life.

When we finally touch down and taxi to our gate, all of the tension that has built up inside me feels ready to explode, but I hold it in, knowing that I can let it all out once I see Gally. It’s barely even occurred to me that I’m a year older now—that it’s my birthday—because all I can think about is getting to hold my boy. 

I almost trip getting off the plane, too busy checking his flight’s progress and landing gate. His flight is still an hour and thirty minutes out, giving me more than enough time to go to the bathroom, get some food, and wait for him. I pull my suitcase behind me, so glad I decided to take everything in my carry-on, as I’m now realizing that baggage claim is outside the secure area of the airport. I break free from the flow of traffic heading in that direction, redirecting towards the bathroom.

One bathroom trip, makeup refresher, and food court scavenger hunt later, I’m standing against a column at Gally’s gate, drinking my second Starbucks latte of the day. Normally, I wouldn’t let myself indulge like this, but it’s my birthday, so I feel justified. I even treat myself to a slice of sweet bread, too. I’m too anxious to eat a full lunch. Besides, I’m sure Gally will be happy to get lunch on our way back to his apartment. He’s always willing to eat, no matter the time of day.

I’m trying my best not to look suspicious. There’s a flight leaving from this gate after Gally’s flight arrives, so I blend in, but my leg is bouncing nervously and my hands are shaking slightly. I’m a naturally energetic person, but the fidgeting increases exponentially when I’m either excited or nervous. Right now, I’m both.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice me or think I’m behaving weirdly. I’m simply overthinking, like I often do. At least it passes the time. I only have thirty minutes left to wait.

I run back to Starbucks and buy another latte. It’s gone within ten minutes, my anxious energy prompting me to gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst. Then I’m running to the bathroom again, bladder shouting angrily at me for the caffeine abuse I’ve been subjecting it to. It’s unpleasant, but it kills more time. 

Ten minutes to go. I’m staring at my phone, Gally’s flight details pulled up, reloading the page over and over in hopes that magically, they’ll teleport and be here instantly. With anyone else, I wouldn’t be this obsessive; impatient, but it’s Gally. I could obsess over Gally for days on end with all the love overflowing from my heart. So I pass three minutes refreshing the page persistently, watching the minutes countdown.

I let out a quiet, barely there gasp when my phone screen tells me he’s landed. I can barely contain my excitement, nervous energy causing me to wiggle my hips like a rhythmically challenged dancer. His plane is on the ground, taxiing over, right to where I’m waiting. He’s going to walk through that gate, and I’m going to see his beautiful face, and I’m going to run and jump into my boyfriend’s arms.

All of a sudden, doubt crashes into me like a fucking tidal wave. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if this is weird, and he’s going to be all awkward about it? What if this was one huge fuck-up? I can feel myself starting to spiral, starting to lose touch with the confidence I’ve been channeling all day. The panic has started to grow, and it surges through my veins, reaching to the tip-top of the cliff that is followed by a plunge off the deep end. Thankfully, though, with only a few minutes to spare before my boyfriend gets off his plane, a little girl in a princess dress bumps into me, hard, causing my knees to buckle and my head to snap out of the spiral it’s in. 

I catch myself against the trusty column I’m leaning against, looking down to find a young girl, maybe six, wearing an Elena of Avalor dress-up costume with a stuffed animal that looks like some kind of leopard with bird wings. 

“Amity!” her mother scolds her, ordering her to apologize for bumping into me. Amity looks up at me with big, brown doe eyes and a huge, genuine grin.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” she chirps. I smile back, making eye contact with her mom, before crouching down to her level and holding out a hand to shake.

“I forgive you. I’m (Y/N). Want to know something?” Amity shakes my hand, grinning widely, before looking at her mom as if to make sure it’s okay to talk to me. Her mom gives a gentle nod, a kindness in her eyes as they meet mine. “Well, Amity, you actually helped me just now. I was feeling super duper nervous and it was making me get shaky and worried. But then you bumped into me, and I saw your smile, and it made me feel a lot better!” 

I can tell Amity’s mother is touched, and I make sure to assure her that I’m doing better. That Amity’s little scuffle with my legs was truly helpful. And then Amity and her mom are on their way, Amity’s tight hug and whisper of “You look like a princess” giving me the last boost of confidence I need.

Right as I finish waving goodbye to the adorable little girl, I hear the sounds of passengers starting to come down the jetway. I suck in a sharp breath, making sure my small suitcase and jacket are safe by the column before stepping closer to the junction between gate and jetway, watching passengers closely as they start to trickle into the airport. 

It’s no surprise that I can pick Gally out of the crowd immediately after he walks out of the jetway, his head easily peeking over every other passenger. He doesn’t see me at first, focused on trying not to trample the small toddler whose family is trying desperately to get him to behave as they walk in front of my boyfriend.

I wait until he’s right there, just the toddler’s family in front of him, to call his name. “Gally!” His head snaps up, eyes scanning the surrounding area before settling on me, his jaw going slack, falling open in surprise as the toddler’s family quickly moves out of the way. 

It’s like we’re living in slow motion, the way I watch Gally’s backpack slide out of his hand and hit the floor with a thump, his look of shock morphing into a state of joyous disbelief, as if he’s not sure he’s truly seeing me. He looks frozen in this state, unable to move towards me, but I don’t care. I’m already running up to him, happy tears gathering in my eyes as I jump into Gally’s arms, my head burying itself in his neck before I lean up to kiss him with all the pent-up love, tension, and nerves that have been coursing through my body all day.

His lips are warm just like they always are, soft and full and inviting as we kiss passionately; shamelessly, right in front of everyone waiting to board their flight. I can’t bring myself to care, anxiety nowhere to be found now that I’m here. In his arms. Held tightly, kept safe, flooded with warmth, just like I’m supposed to be. 

He pulls away first, still in shock as he scans my face, as if expecting to find some imperfection that reveals me as a doppelganger. “Baby—” he chokes out, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. “Baby, you’re here.” He lets out a giddy, confused laugh, cupping my cheek with his hand as he wipes the remnant saltwater away with his thumb. 

“You’re—you’re here. In Chicago,” he repeats, putting my feet back on the floor so I can stand there with my arms around his neck, his other hand coming up to cup my other cheek. “You’re—it’s your birthday!” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s another reason he’s confused I’m here, or if it’s just an observation. Well, probably both, so I just giggle.

“Yes, Gally, it’s my birthday.” 

“But—did you—when did you get here?” he asked, bewildered, a lovestruck, excited smile lighting up his whole face. I run my hands through his hair, admiring his gentleness as he cradles my face in his palms.

“An hour and a half ago, I think. I’m not sure the exact timing,” I shrug. He gasps.

“You flew on your birthday?” I give him an odd look. 

“Yes…why? Is that illegal or something?” Gally chuckles through the joy-filled tears still drifting down his face every once in a while.

“No, baby. I just thought—most people wouldn’t be willing to fly or even be at an airport on their birthdays. Don’t you have cool stuff to do? Fun people to see?” I shake my head, pulling him as close as I can, our lips hovering inches apart. 

“You’re the only person I wanted to see. This is my birthday present.”

Gally’s eyes water even more as he presses his forehead to mine, running his hands through my hair. “Baby, I—” He pulls away to wipe a tear from his eye and then leans back down, pressing a gentle peck to my forehead, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you even more, Gally,” I whisper back, staring into his teary eyes with my watery own. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not possible.”

“It is, too,” I giggle, still whispering as I press a kiss to his lips, “and I’m the birthday girl, so you have to let me win the arguments today.” 

“Oh, that’s how that works,” Gally laughed, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose I can let you win this one, since you did fly all the way to Chicago on your birthday.”

“Oh, but that was selfish,” I smiled. “I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. It was purely selfish.” Gally just hugged me tighter, pressing kisses to the top of my hair as he admitted quietly,

“Well, I needed to see you, too. I needed to have you in my arms.” I relax into the warmth of my boyfriend’s chest, the material of his hoodie tickling my nose. I endure it because it smells like him, and that makes it the most calming aroma in the world. 

“Being in your arms is all I need. You are all I need,” I whisper. 

I kiss him again, a loving, sweet kiss, reveling in the presence and taste of my boyfriend, a sense of peace and safety wrapping its warm arms around me. 

Nothing else matters in this moment. Not my job, or my life in Denver, or my birthday. All that matters is that I am here, in my boyfriend’s arms. In Gally’s arms.

Right where I’m supposed to be.

The way her smile stayed stiff as she stared at you, gave the impression that there wasn’t much a choice. So, you stood from the medical furniture and followed her steps, her hand still tightly wrapped around your forearm. But you could barely take five steps forward when a voice rang out from behind.

“Where are you taking her?” It was rushed, like the man was worried. Thomas, whom now stood from the medical bed he had been examined on, took a few steps forward. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t bother to turn to the boy, and instead, used the doctor’s distraction to search her eyes for any clue of her hidden intentions. But as she sent Thomas the same bogus smile she gave you earlier, her iris’ remained blank: like she already had her life drained out of her.

Her smile moved the wrinkles beneath her dark eye bags. “Just doing more examinations, Thomas,” venom dripped from her tone and her voice was slightly creepier than before. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.”

Then, she tugged at your arm again, and lead you down hallways and turns before she stopped at a steel door. On the metal, was a ripped note that read ‘Subject A27’. You were curious as to what that meant. But before you could ask, the doctor had released her arm from you and pushed you inside; leaving you in the dark, alone.

You were nearly knocked over your feet, but quickly regained your balance when you held your arms out. The room was black, you couldn’t see anything. This wasn’t an examination. If anything, it felt like you were being watched. So, fearfully, you kept your eyes and mouth closed. At least, if anything was going to pop out and scare you in the dark, you wouldn’t be able to see them.

A sound of a squeaking mic screeched against your eardrums, and then a cough. Then, under your closed eyelids, a peak of light threatened to spill your eyes open. But you kept them closed, afraid of what may have stood ahead.

“Open your eyes, darling,” a voice spoke. It was ruffled and loud, like it had come from a speaker. So curiously, you peeled your eyelids open.

First in your view, was the large mirror that sat on the wall across from you; beside it, was a locked door. Although the reflection of yourself was clear, it was obvious that it was a two-way mirror. If it hadn’t clicked to you, the voice that spoke through the speaker probably would’ve laughed at you; it was obvious that they were watching you from the other side.

“Perfect, now sit down,” the voice spoke again. It’s accent was something of English – perhaps Irish. But you weren’t too sure, your memory was fooling you.

But it was the voice that brought you to realisation of the singular steel table and chair ahead of you. You decided to follow the command as you felt your legs shake beneath you. So carefully, you scanned the room again, and sat onto the cold metal.

You crossed your arms in front of you, and the voice spoke again. But this time, not a command – more like a scientific tag. “Maze A, Subject A27: Unnamed.”

It made your ears perk and your hair stand. You were Subject A27. So they had been watching you – this was another test. You had to run and tell Thomas, but your body couldn’t move.

A flip of a page echoed through the speakers and then another sigh. Whoever this was, they seemed to be disappointed with everything that went on with their life. You could imagine a dishevelled man in a white coat, slouched over a table in the other room.

“Oxytocin levels: extremely high,” the tone in his voice made it seem like he had been reading disappointing information. “Dopamine levels: extremely high,” he sighed again, “even erasing your memory didn’t affect these levels.”

They didn’t let you question anything before they spoke again. “Do you know what this means?” The question was dumb, of course you didn’t know what it meant. You shook your head.

“We examined your brain patterns before you entered the Maze. They were so absurd that we thought to create the Swipe, in hopes that your erasure of memories would affect your levels of euphoria, and prove our methods for the cure more effective. It appears that isn’t the case.”

He went on to explain what he believed was the cause of the spikes in your hormones: Thomas. He had noticed that your levels in oxytocin and dopamine would only spike whenever you interacted with the boy.

“So what if I like Thomas? How does that affect your experiments, and what makes you think that I wouldn’t tell the guys about what you do after this?”

“Because Swipe trial 2,” he went to speak, but before he could fulfil your curiosities on the subject, the door behind you swung wide open.

“We gotta go! We gotta go!” Thomas yelled as he grabbed your arm.

He pulled you out of the room, and gestured to Minho, whom held a long, thick wooden plank in hand, ready to block the door behind you. Quickly, the black haired man placed the plank in the wedges of the steel door knob, before running down the hallway, the rest of Maze A on his trail.

They all held panicked expressions on their faces as they ran passed you, their arms swung by their side with every step. They were running from something but you weren’t so sure what. So in fear, you began to trail behind them when a hand held you back.

You turned to face the owner; Thomas. His lips were parted and eyebrows slightly furrowed. A cute and familiar expression of his.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t we running?” You asked him. You briefly looked at his hand that still held arm and he took it as a sign to let go.

“We overheard,” he told you, “if WCKD is as bad as he made it seem, we need to get out of here as soon as we can,” he explained. His hands shook by his side and he licked his lips; he was nervous.

“So we should get going, right?” You asked him, nodding at your own question. Time was ticking as the both of you conversed and you were worried the guards might catch up.

“Yeah, but wait,” he stuttered. He took a long blink, then some fast ones. He momentarily looked behind himself before turning back to you. His lips parted then closed. He was hesitant on saying something, and you were determined to get it out of him.

“Thomas, we don’t have long so whatever you need to say, spit it out.”

Then, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. What he said made you want to laugh. “Do you like me?” The way he barely squeaked it out was so out of character of him and it made you want to pinch his cheeks.

But the blush that slowly rose onto your skin swallowed you, and you froze in spot. If it wasn’t for your stiff joints, you would’ve given him a bold kiss from the way he looked at you now. You internally thanked the universe that you didn’t; that would’ve been embarrassing.

At least your mouth moved, except you wished it didn’t. “Yeah…” you answered his question, but it came out as a stutter and you almost punched yourself from embarrassment.

“That’s good…” the hallway was silent for a moment. He hadn’t said it back. Perhaps he didn’t feel the same way. The thought of that made your heart ache.

“Maybe we should go,” you suggested, pointing down the lane behind you, and Thomas nodded. Maybe running would distract you.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re probably right.”

So with an indecent smile, you turned and began to follow Minho’s trail, Thomas closely followed behind. Your arms swung in perfect form as you followed the muddy shoe prints on the floors.

But behind you, Thomas’ hands shook by his side as he ran. He hadn’t told you how he felt yet, and he wanted to do it in the boldest way possible. He wanted to kiss you, like you did him, but he was hesitant. What if he was a bad kisser?

Yet, he let his arms control him and he pulled you back. The movement was rushed and you had to hold onto his chest to stop yourself from falling over. It only took you seconds to realise how close you were. You were leaned into him, your chest against his and his face hovering over yours. His breath softly fanned against your lips.

It was as if his character had switched in an instant. “Hey,” he chuckled charmingly. His smile made you weak in the knees – Thomas never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You could only fawn and slowly nod before he pulled you in and pressed his lips against yours. Firmly yet delicately, he meld his lips with yours passionately. In a short kiss, it felt like he took his time exploring yours as he dipped his nose to meet your cheek with every smack of your lips.

When you’d pulled away, you almost wanted to go at it again but a voice yelled from behind you. “Stop bloody kissing and let’s get out of here!”

NEWT

gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, 257 words

Bonfire nights were fun but always ended in some form of chaos. More often than not, it would be the aftermath of you consuming too many mugs of Gally's special drink and tonight was no different than expected.

Inside the small hut you and Newt slept in, laid you on the bed who was babbling nonsense. Occasionally, he would catch a "love" or "a-lot" but nothing he could make sense of as he was prepping not only himself, but you for bed. Once he was done, he sat beside you on the bed and helped you into a comfortable position, all while you were still saying something he couldn't seem to make out.

"Love I can't understand what you're saying." He said as he ran his fingers through your hair. "How 'bout you whisper it to me."

Propping yourself up so that you could whisper into his ear, you managed to whisper "I love you so much." before losing your balance and falling onto his lap.

Too drunk to notice the blush on his cheeks, your nonsense babbling had turned into compliments and words of affection directed towards Newt, him. He had never been one to rush into things, wanting to take things slow and steady so confessing your love for each-other had been off the table for a while but perhaps you were ready all along.

Finally growing some courage to do something, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a "I love you too" as you continued your serenade to him.

GALLY

gender neutral reader, 125 words

His large calloused hand against your smaller one was a humorous sight to Gally.

Working as a builder, it was no surprise that his hands wouldn’t be the smoothest and softest to hold but you didn't mind that. In fact, nothing seemed to ever stop you. If the two of you were next to each other and his hands were free, it’s be no surprise when you would reach out to hold it.

So as he sat there, watching as you compared your hand with his, Gally couldn't help but smile before linking his fingers with yours. Bringing your hand towards his lips where he placed a kiss on it, Gally watched as a smile grew on your face.

God he loved you so much.

MINHO

gender neutral reader, 237 words

Minho's life, despite being stuck in the Glade for years, has always felt fast-paced. Every day in the maze felt like a day closer to finally escaping and he was always so tense after his runs, wondering if he ran a bit more, ran a bit faster, would he have finally helped his friends escape. Being Keeper of the Runner added more to his stress and desire to find an escape but luckily for him, he had you there for him; someone he didn't feel the need to rush anything around. He never felt the rush to say "I love you" or to kiss you or to even ask you to be his- though he did eventually ask you.

Resting his head on your shoulder as you mindlessly played with his fingers while you spoke to Newt.

Minho sighed contently as he listened to the two of you speak about something he couldn't be bothered asking about. Unlike the times where he's working, he didn't feel like he was running out of time. When he was around you, it felt like he had all the time there was in the world. He knew he'd never lose you, he'd fight through hell and back a million times if he had to just to keep you safe, and even if you were all stuck in the maze, he would be fine with it as long as he had you.

THOMAS

gender neutral reader, 204 words

Thomas, despite barely being in the Glade a month ago, had felt like he'd already experienced everything it had to offer (and he did, technically). From the maze to every square feet of the Glade, he was confident he could remember it like the back of his hand but you, you were something that never failed to surprise him.

Even though he swore he knew every inch of the Glade, you managed to show him there was more to it than he may have once thought. Deadheads for example, while usually avoided by other Gladers due to it being a graveyard surrounded by tall trees, you found a small area of soft grass on the opposite side of where the makeshift graves stood. Here, there was a small clearing where the stars (or at least you all assumed there stars) could be seen.

Laying on a blanket, leaning your back against his chest, the two of you would take turns pointing at funny shapes the stars created. And while Thomas desperately wanted to get out of the maze and escape, he wouldn't entirely hate it if there was really no way out. As long as he had you, he'd be fine with whatever happens.