My state of unconsciousness did nothing to help relieve my sleep deprivation.

It was like I was sleeping, but my mind was awake, playing a terrible slideshow of the worst possible things that could happen, or have already happened. This time, I relived Chuck's death, only I was behind the trigger. I was staring at all of my friends, not being able to control the actions I was making. It's like I was trapped in a glass box, pounding on it, but my body was still on autopilot. From Chuck's terrible death, it went to Thomas and those crazy monsters that we ran away from not too long ago. I dreamt that he never made it out, and everyone was now relying on me to make all the decisions. And I had no idea what to do. All the while, I thought I was going to wake up, but my mind kept going...torturing me.

Minho was next. He was running down a long menacing hallway with a Griever chasing him. The Runner reached a dead end, and the Griever got him. I could hear his screams, but the whole time, it was like I was the monster. I was the one chasing him. Again, I was in a glass box, pounding on the walls to be let out. But nobody heard my cries for help.

The last part of the dream was where I held a knife in my hand, advancing towards Newt, who was scrunched into a little ball in the corner of a white room. Nothing was on the walls, there were no windows, no beds, no doors. Just white. He was crying, pleading for me not to hurt him. I was in my own body this time. Not as a crazy monster, or an old friend, but it was me. As much as I tried to keep myself from hurting the boy...my Newt, I did. At the first splatter of blood, my eyes finally snapped open, and I jolted up, trying my hardest not to scream.

Just like that, I was back to reality, laying on the dusty concrete floor of the abandoned parking lot.

I let out a harsh breath and wiped the accumulated sweat off of my forehead, backing myself up to lean against a broken piece of rubble. Everyone around me was asleep, silently having dreams of their own, or just drifting into a black abyss of nothingness until they woke up. I looked down at Newt, and saw that he was fully asleep, and not faking it this time. I sighed of relief when I saw that he was okay, but I couldn't get the images of me holding the knife out of my brain.

As I looked at him, my bottom lip began to tremble. I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, stuffing my face into my legs and letting the tears silently flow down my cheeks. My breathing was staggered as I pinched my eyes shut and relived everything that's happened within this week. It's all gone so fast. One minute, Thomas is coming up in the Box, and then the next, we were running away from shucking zombies. Possibly the thing that hurt me so much was how much I've changed.

Reminiscing back to my first few days at the Glade, I was nothing but an innocent girl with a strange sense of humor, living in a strange place with a whole bunch of strange guys. That's the word that came to mind a month ago. 'Strange'. Little did I know that my sense of humor would be pushed so far off the pier that I would hardly be able to laugh, let alone crack a joke to bring other's joy. Instead of telling people not to worry, they were now worrying about me, and I had no energy left to tell them not to. I've changed, and not for the better. I think the only thing that kept me going was the sandy-blonde-haired boy that slept soundly next to me, and the fact that I couldn't give up without seeing my friends get to safety. Or the Right Arm—whoever those people were.

I sniffled and lifted my head, only to see the silhouette of a person sitting up. I almost yelped and woke someone up, but then the figure turned around, and the moonlight lit up his features.

"Mae?" Thomas whispered, wiping his sleepy eyes, "What are you doing awake?"

I wiped my nose, wishing for once that there was no moon, so he wouldn't have a chance to see my reddened eyes and my pale face. But the moon lit up Newt and I, allowing Thomas to have a full view of my distress.

"Nothing." I shook my head, "Had a bad dream."

He squinted and turned towards me, "Are you crying?"

"No." I quickly answered, trying to casually wipe my eyes on my sleeves. Thomas tilted his head and pulled his knees up to his chest as well, somehow giving me a sense of comfort, "What are you doing awake?"

The boy lowered his head to look at the ground, and immediately I knew what was wrong. I sighed, shaking my head, "I dreamt about him too, you know..." Thomas slowly met my gaze, "It's not just you."

"I know," He nodded, "But...Gally was trying to shoot me. If I had just—"

"No." I stopped him, "Don't do that, okay? It's not your fault. You did everything you could, alright? So did I. Chuck...Chuck died a hero." I nodded, trying to tell myself the same words as well as Thomas. He nodded, but I don't think he believed me. As I thought of that day in my head, the sound of the gunshot rang in my ears. I wished that I could go back and change the past...maybe make it so that I actually threw myself in front of Thomas instead of the other way around.

"You know..." Thomas started, breaking me out of my thoughts, "I was gonna tell you this back in the Maze...and I don't know if right now is the right time. But..." He hesitated, "You and Newt used to be best friends. Before the Maze I mean."

I felt the corners of my mouth tilt up, looking down at the sleeping boy to my left, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded. I looked back up, wanting him to continue telling the story although I already knew that him and I were together beforehand. The only details that I knew of our previous story was that he used to comfort me when I had gone through something bad with WICKED, and we would recite the same speech that I now had memorized. We also had the same reoccurring dream, which basically confirmed the assumptions that the both of us had.

"What else?" I asked when Thomas didn't continue, "About Newt and I, I mean."

He chuckled, "Well, I wasn't with you all the time. For a while, you actually hated me. But from what I did see...a-and what I remember, you two never went anywhere without each other. It was like you were...I don't know...connected in some weird way. I don't know how that would happen, but I don't think it was because of WICKED. The poor dude would freak out whenever you were taken from him. He wouldn't stop asking me questions about where you were. Then, when you came back looking like you'd just gone through hell, the...the look on his face was just..." He trailed off, not being able to finish the thought.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "What do you mean, looking like I'd been through hell?"

Thomas glanced up at me quickly before looking back down at the floor. Suddenly, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I sighed and rubbed my forehead in distress, "They did it before the Maze too?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Did they do it back at—"

"Yeah," I nodded, confirming his thoughts and rubbing he sore spot on my neck. I wondered why—of all people—me? A new question suddenly popped into my head, "Why'd they send me into the Maze if they wanted me at WICKED so badly?"

"I dunno," Thomas shrugged, "I just remember them telling me that you were gonna be sent up there. I tried to protest, since we were just beginning to become friends and everything...but they didn't listen. I-I had to watch you be taken away, Mae."

I licked my lips and sighed at the thought of Thomas having to watch me as I probably struggled in the grasp of whoever took me away. I had so many questions that I didn't know what to do with. I didn't want to overwhelm him, and prod at his mind for information, but the thought of having to wait another day for answers just about made me want to scream. I looked back down at Newt, noticing how he now had his mouth gently closed, and his hand was now pressed flat to the ground, the other one being balled up into a fist next to his head.

"He's so good..." I found myself talking about Newt before I could think against it. I felt my eyes well up with tears again, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to let the tears fall right now, "He's too good..."

"Newt?" Thomas asked, and I nodded.

I breathed out a laugh, causing a tear to fall out, but I didn't wipe it away, "Do you believe in angels, Tommy?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't know."

"I do," I had to force the words out of my mouth, the emotions building up in the pit of my stomach so suddenly that I wanted to shake, "I know that we probably wouldn't have gone through all of this shit if they were really looking down on us all the time...but as crazy and cheesy as it sounds, I think that Newt's one."

"What makes you think that?" Thomas asked me, his voice lowering to a whisper as I let out all of my pent up feelings of the boy out to him.

I shrugged, wiping another falling tear off my cheek and looking up at the moon, that shone down on Newt's body, "He's...I don't even know how to explain it. He's perfect, at least I think so. I just..." I let out a flustered breath, trying to verbalize my thoughts, "Its like whenever I'm with him, I just want to shucking grab the sun and shove it into him so that he could have all the happiness in the world. Either that, or teleport him somewhere where none of this was happening if that guaranteed his safety." I shook my head and looked down, messing with my nail beds.

"But..." I continued when Thomas didn't answer, "If I was able to do that, I would. Without a second thought."

He sighed and looked down at the boy with me, "You really like him, don't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" I tried to joke. Thomas choked on a laugh, and I smiled, "But yes. I really like him."

I just wish he would be open, I thought. I wished I could tell him that he had nothing to worry about, and that he could fully trust me with whatever mess was going on in his head. He tried so hard to convince people that there was nothing wrong, and they believed him. But if you looked into Newts eyes as much as I did, you would see all of the pain that he stored up in there. Pain of the past...pain of the present. Sure, some of it was masked with joy and smiles that he showed in the moment...the pain didn't mean that he never smiled. But, like me, I wonder if his mind goes into the same dark abyss when he's alone. The part that makes him believe that he doesn't deserve me.

He really was an angel. One that had flaws, but all of them made him who he was. And for that, I adored everything about him. The crease he gets between his eyebrows when he thinks about something important, or someone says something weird. The little voice cracks he has when he's overwhelmed with emotion... When his cheeks turn red when he's embarrassed or angry...all of the things about himself that he thinks are lousy or childlike make me just like him even more. There were so many feelings that I had towards him, I couldn't just choose one to vocalize. Whenever I was with him, I was helpless. I would let him take anything from me and I would be okay with it. But behind his perfect eyes and all of his silly little features and characteristics, he was sad.

"I think he really likes you too."

Thomas' words brought me out of my thoughts. I sighed and felt a joyous smile creep up on my face, the first real one since I watched Chuck die. My heart leapt at the words, and I looked back down at the unconscious boy, gently moving my hand to move his bangs off his forehead.

"I just wish I could tell him everything I wanted to say without chickening out or something." I murmured, trying to wipe the dorkish smile off my face. Thomas laughed once more and nodded.

"I wish you could too. I would love to see his reaction," He joked, making me chuckle again and shake my head, "What would you say if you could?"

Blowing out air through my mouth, my smile disappeared, "So many things. Probably that he is the closest thing to happiness that I've ever had, even though he told me that too. That when I'm with him, I don't feel like the entire world's ending. There's so many things I would say, Tommy. I just don't know how to put it into words."

He nodded, understanding. I pursed my lips once again and moved myself so that I was now laying down, facing the bottom of the concrete slab we were under. I could hear Thomas shift from his fetal position too, our conversation finally coming to an end. I lifted my head just a little bit to rest against the small backpack, using it as a pillow. I stared at the moon, remembering the night where Newt and I got drunk and started talking about it. He was so close to opening up that night, but he realized what he was doing and blamed it on the alcohol, ending the conversation.

"I always thought the moon was a very beautiful woman." I recited his previous words, only faintly remembering what happened that night. I turned my head towards the boy sleeping next to me, and I shifted again, now facing him. Our heads were level, but his eyes were closed, and mine weren't. Very gently, I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb rubbing over the scar by his nose once more.

I sighed and leaned forward, placing my lips to his forehead gently, and then keeping them there for a second. Every time I've gotten this close to him, I just wanted to be closer. Like I always needed more. He was addictive...like a drug even though I didn't know what they were. He's the closest thing to one I can imagine. When I wasn't with him, I wanted to be. I wasn't clingy...I just always loved having him in the room or somewhere close. I pulled my lips back once again, and shut my eyes, forcing myself to go back to somewhat of a sleep, even if my mind was still active.

But before I had the chance to really relax, I felt an arm wrap around my back. My eyes snapped open, and I finally realized it was Newt. He yawned and pulled me closer, moving his arm under my head and wrapping his other one around my lower back. My heart burst with affection, and I scooted closer, finally melting into his embrace. I gently balled my hands into fists and grabbed the collar of his jacket, wanting to be as close as possible. I physically wanted to crawl into his heart and stay there.

When he let out another sigh from his state of unconsciousness, I knew he was still asleep and he hadn't waken up from my touch. I closed my eyes once more and parted my lips, a small smile forming on them as I no longer felt the cold air on my back or my face. We still found our way back to each other. Even if it was in our sleep.

"We're gonna be old people." I breathed the last line from our promise to each other as I fell into a deep sleep in the arms of the person I cared about the most.

🤌