*6 months later*

Today, you said you wanted to learn to play the guitar. To your dismay, Vince brought out the said instrument from a random room—the same one where I found this journal. It's not like you to want to learn to play something so calming, but I guess today is a day of stepping out of our comfort zones. You learn something new, and I share my feelings.

The bright sunshine makes your eyes look so alive, even on your harder days. You didn't sleep last night, claiming you had a nightmare once again. Dark circles frame your under eyes, cloudy and glum from the recent tears you cried. But they never took away your mesmeric chocolate brown orbs that seem to always shine. You are art, Mae. I hope you know that, maybe I should tell you more often. When the breeze blows your feathery hair from your face, establishing every other ounce of perfection, I find myself staring. I always stare. It's no longer in tight braids, but in delicate waves from the side braid you had last night. I hope you appreciate your hair as much as I do, you're truly so beautiful. You never have to do anything with it. But you're just perfect like that, I guess.

As I watch you pluck the strings curiously, trying to make sounds from the hollow piece of wood, I pick up more about how you concentrate. Your tongue sits in between your teeth, on the right side. It's barely poking out from between your parted lips, almost teasing everyone who laid eyes on you. Your eyes dart from your hand that fidgets with the strings, to the other one that tries to figure out what sounds reverberate from the inside.

Occasionally, you fiddle with the notches on the top, trying to understand what they do as well. Nothing can tear you from the melody you try so hard to create, not even the string of hair that fell out from behind your ear. You can multitask like no other, holding a white triangular pick in between your middle and ring finger. Your legs are crossed over one another, a polite posture that contrasts against everything you stood for. Tight black jeans cling to your thighs, perfect with the shirt you were wearing. Even your outfit looked perfect. Every part of you is beautiful, everything down to your chipped nails from the habit you picked up these past few months of chewing on them—just like me.

You look so content sitting there in the white plastic chair provided by the Right Arm, the wind gracefully blowing your unbuttoned flannel. Accompanied by a black t-shirt underneath, it suited you so well. It was no leather jacket, but somehow I like this look more.

I guess I'm just fascinated by you, Mae. From the way you look, to the way you think, the way you act. These past few months I've managed to become totally immersed in you, more than I already was. How is that even possible? Maybe it was your heart. The one you try so hard to protect, but always seems to get punched and kicked around. When you sat on the edge of our bed, hugging yourself with silent tears flowing down your cheeks, I saw your fragile heart in it's entirety.

I admitted to myself that I loved you a while ago now, and I still keep it like that to this day. I don't know how to tell you, Mae. The things you make me feel test my morals everyday. You make me so crazy, I don't even know if I'm the same person I was six months ago.

But when I look at you, frustration becoming more prominent on your face the longer you try to pluck the strings, I find myself wanting to shout it to the world. I feel content when I'm with you—I wish you knew how hard it was for me to feel like that. And here we are, sitting across from each other in the sun, waiting for Tommy to give us the signal. The trace of subtle shade is behind us, but we don't immerse ourselves in it. You said you wanted to sit in the sun. Although I've had many memories with you, this has to be one of my favorites.

Your palms were covered with the white cloth you fixed this morning. You told me that you were simply going to the bathroom, but when you came out with the white material wrapped tightly around the hands I wanted so badly to hold, I knew it was because you had hurt yourself again. What I witnessed you go through last night was so hard, Mae. I hate seeing you in pain like that. You've been different ever since your mum died, as hard as you try to claim that you're the same. Your eyes are still swollen, and your cheeks are still a bit flushed, reminders of the sleep that we both lacked. I wish I could take the pain away from you. But that's not how life works. Sometimes you have to hit the low parts to get to the—

"What are you writing?" She spoke, making me lift my head from the journal I had been writing my thoughts in.

Slowly shaking my head, I pursed my lips into a smile. "Nothing, just my thoughts."

"Ah." She nodded, picking up the guitar by the neck and taking it off her lap, setting it on the concrete beside the chair she was sitting in. "I give up. That thing's too hard to play."

I smirked, closing my journal and placing the pen I had been using as a placeholder inside, "Do you want to get something to eat? Before we have to leave tomorrow, I mean. Spend a bit of time together?"

Mae hummed through her closed lips, unfolding her legs and beginning to stand, "I could kill for an apple right about now."

"Me too." I chuckled, bringing myself to my feet and tucking my journal into my back pocket. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mae glance to the leather-covered book, furrowing her eyebrows as she interlaced her fingers with mine.

"Where did you get that?" She softly asked, placing her other hand on my bicep as we walked towards the kitchen of the small camp.

I shrugged, looking away from her and watching the waves crash against the sand to my left. "Found it in a cabinet."

She didn't respond. We both let the silence consume us as our steps fell into unison, sounding like heartbeats against the concrete. We were so perfect together, I found myself smiling at the little things we both did. Biting our nails, running our fingers through our hair when everything became too much. Staring at the water when we needed a break from the world. That's what we did last night—I stayed up with Mae until we watched the sunrise over the glistening sea. It was beautiful. The seagulls occasionally croaked from the clear blue sky above, and I tilted my head up to get a good look at the birds as they flew above us.

"I wish I was a bird." I spoke before thinking. In my peripheral vision, Mae furrowed her eyebrows once again, letting a small smirk crawl up her lips before she looked up at the sky as well.

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Then we could just fly away from everything."

It would be easier, I thought as I sighed and pursed my lips, removing my gaze from the peaceful sky. We approached the building where the kitchen was, and I stepped over the threshold, letting go of Mae's hand for only a moment as I took a few steps forward and slowly bent down to grab a pan from one of the cabinets. Mae stepped into the room with me, going to the basket of fruit someone had organized one day. It was nice to have people who cared enough to keep everything clean. It was nice here. But it wasn't home. We both knew that.

I let out a muffled grunt through my teeth as I pulled out the pan, gently shutting the door to the cabinet before standing up straight and placing it on the gas burner. I patted my pockets, looking for the box of matches I always kept on me. When I didn't feel anything, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I shoved my hands into my front and back pockets, pulling out nothing.

"Mae, do you know where my—" I looked up, seeing her holding the matches in between her pointer and middle finger, a sly smirk pulled up onto her lips. I shook my head and let out a relieved breath, walking over to her. She had hopped up onto the counter, her legs slightly swinging through the air like a child on a swing.

"You've gotten quite good at that, haven't you?" I asked her as I walked in between her legs, placing my hands flat on the counter on either side of her body.

She smirked. "You're really easy to steal from, I hope you know that."

"How come?"

"Cause you never pay any attention." She giggled, causing me to break out into a smile. "About a week ago you asked where your socks went..."

My eyebrows furrowed, remembering what she was talking about. "That was you?"

Nodding, she pursed her lips. I shook my head once again, looking to the side for a moment before meeting her playful eyes again. I wondered how she could still manage to keep herself afloat after the night she had. She always finds ways to amaze me. Even if it is stealing my matches.

Very slowly, I removed my right hand from the counter beside her and took the matches from her fingers, never breaking eye contact. I remember the first time where I felt the butterflies... Thomas had just come up in the Box. And just about every moment since then had been a whirlwind, not just in the things that's happened, but the things I've felt as well. Sometimes I felt content, and the next minute it would be shattered by something we would never see coming. But through it all she's been next to me, and I felt the need to thank her for that. Maybe I will when we all get to the Safe Haven.

We just stared at each other for a moment. I could do this all day if we weren't waiting for Tommy and Vince's signal. The mission awaited, some were unable to sit still, and some were making sure everything was ready. Mae and I took the time to be by ourselves. Something we've learned helps. We calm each other down in moments where we think there could be another end to the world, or where we have nightmares about the past. We didn't know what was going to happen in the future, so we just held onto every precious moment like it was the last one.

She moved her hand up to my bangs, moving them from my eyes like she always did. It was a simple gesture that melted my heart in every way possible. She melts my heart.

"You need a haircut..." Her voice was no more than a whisper, if I had been standing a foot away, I wouldn't have been able to hear it. I grinned, closing my eyes for a moment and opening them back up to see her doing the same. The wheels in her mind were spinning, and at moments like these I wished that I could read her mind.

"What're you thinkin' about?" I straight up asked her. Our communication has gotten a bit better these past few months...she's somewhat learned how to come out of her shell, and so have I. We both have our bad days, mostly filled with the stress of finding our friend. She notices the things about myself that I don't even know. Only then do I tell her what I'm feeling. But—I have to admit—it does take a lot. One day we both sat on the bed for three hours until I finally opened up.

She hasn't asked about my leg. I know she wonders about it, but she's never asked. I'm grateful for that. A story like that needs time. I haven't asked her about her hands either. She'll tell me when she's ready.

"Nothing..." She murmured with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. I tilted my head to the side, looking up at her through my eyelashes. She groaned before moving her legs and suddenly hopping down, causing me to take a startled step back. "What are we making? Not beans...I'm sick of beans."

"Mae." I said her name, but she didn't stop rambling. Furrowing my eyebrows in confusion, I leaned against the sink, folding my arms over my chest. Maybe we still have some bumps to go over...

"Maybe we should have some of that yellow stuff Vince made the other day, what's it called? Mac and Cheese? That shit was really good and—"

"Mae, stop." The words came out louder than I wanted them to. She immediately stopped and turned around, looking at me with tears in her eyes. Like I said, she hadn't been the same since her mum died. I took a few steps forward, bringing my hand up to gently caress her cheek. "What's goin' on?"

She swallowed and wiped the tears from her eyes before they even fell. "I miss my mom, Newt." She blew air from between her lips, looking away. "And I shouldn't really be crying about it, because I literally had one conversation with her, and I knew she existed for about four hours. But, here I am."

I sighed, hating that she had to go through this. This girl had been through so much, and never got a break. I mean...we all had been through the bloody ringer, but she saw her mom die right in front of her.

"You feelings are valid, Mae. Never think differently." She turned her head as I spoke the words and continued. "You once told me that it was okay not to be okay. And ever since then I haven't seen you follow your own advice. You try so hard to be strong for the rest of us, but you're tired, Mae. I know that."

She didn't cry, but her eyes were shining with tears. Her jaw clenched in attempt to keep them all in, but I could tell they were pounding on her cracked wall of pride.

"You may have only had one conversation with your mum, and that's okay. She was still your mother...your own flesh and blood. I mean," I scoffed, shaking my head at my own thoughts, practically reliving the moment. "You bloody saw her die in front of you. If you didn't feel sad, you would be mechanical. You had a panic attack last night, for god's sake. It's okay to not feel okay, love." My words came out forcefully, yet soft.

She sighed once again. "I just don't get it. Why am I still alive?"

My chest dropped at her words, and I furrowed my eyebrows and tilted my head, not understanding where she was going with this.

"What?" I asked softly, starting to become worried.

At my expression, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "I mean after everything that's happened to me... I've seen so many people die right in front of me. I've almost died more times than I can count on one hand...I don't get it, Newt."

Gently placing my hands on each of her shoulders, I turned her body so she was now facing me. "Maybe you're meant to be alive. To do something no one else can do."

Her big doe eyes looked up at me, and I sighed once again, wanting to wrap her in bubble wrap and stick her in my heart. When she looked at me like this, all I could think about was how much I loved her. Everything about her, the good, the bad, the ugly... I wish she knew that. She needs to know it.

Taking a sharp breath in, I traced my fingers down her arms, barely even touching her. My heart was beating faster than it ever had before, but she needed to know. "Maisy, this...this might not be the right time to tell you this but..." I looked to the side as she furrowed her eyebrows, no longer with hurt but with concern. "But over the past few months I've—"

"Guys." A graveled voice popped his head in through the door of the kitchen, causing both of our heads to turn towards the entrance, seeing Vince standing on the threshold. His eyes caught on me for a few moments, and I removed my arms from Mae's, knowing that Vince is incredibly overprotective of the girl now that Mary's gone. He practically made it his job to take care of her, even though she could do it all by herself.

He jerked his thumb towards the camp outside the door. "Time to go. We're having a meeting now. C'mon."

Almost jogging away, he started towards the room where we had planned this whole endeavor, determined and anxious to get this bloody show on the road. We've dedicated six months of our lives to this plan that was going to happen today. We had no room for failure.

When I felt my anxiety start to pick up, I looked back at Mae, seeing her take a step back and pull her dark hair into a tight ponytail on the top of her head. Despite the terrible possibilities roaming through my head right now, I watched her with awe.

"What?" She asked, dropping her hands to her side when her hair was tied up.

I felt my cheeks becoming warm, and I looked down to the floor. "Nothing, love. Let's go."

I held my hand out for her to take, and she did, leading our way to the room where it was all going to go down. This was it. If we found Minho today, everything was going to be over, and we were going to get to the Safe Haven. One of us was going to have to convince Tommy to leave the Ava Paige situation behind—the only thing that really mattered was getting Minho. Although I wanted to take down WICKED with every fiber of my being, we needed to be safe more than anything right now. But, if Thomas was going to go down the road of not stopping until that was done, I was going to be behind him until the end.

I let Mae move in front of me as we entered the room, Brenda and Thomas already talking amongst themselves. Jorge stood in the corner with Vince, and Fry was busy talking to Harriet in another corner. Wherever I looked, someone was speaking. Mae took a step forward, her steps echoing throughout the room. Two random kids were looking around as though they were nervous, fiddling with their fingers. Those must be the two guys who are going to help me, I thought. Great.

Suddenly the murmurs stopped as everyone watched us enter the room for some unknown reason. I looked around, making sure that my face stayed void of expression as we strutted to the table where the maps laid. Once Mae approached everyone else, she separated her hands, leaning forward against the surface as I stood less than a foot behind her, arms crossed over my chest.

She shrugged, looking at Thomas. "Are we gonna start?"

He shook himself out of his trance, and I had to fight the urge to smile at the power she held.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh..." He cleared his throat, looking at Brenda for a second before motioning Vince and Jorge to come over. The two men pushed themselves from their relaxed positions against the wall, walking towards us with straight faces. Tommy blew a sharp breath through his mouth before he started to speak again.

"So the train's gonna come through here at 1:45." He pointed to a circle drawn on the map, and I remembered discussing this with him about a month ago. "Vince, Mae, and I are gonna come up from behind and detach the cart. That'll only give you guys a few minutes to do your job. Got it?"

I nodded, looking at the two other boys who were going to be helping me. Thomas started to speak again. "Newt...you and the other guys are gonna ride with Brenda and Jorge, and they're gonna drop you off here." He pointed to another circled place, and I followed his finger with my eyes. "You'll hide behind the rocks until we give you the signal to come out. Right?"

"Right."