Secrets | TMR | One

6:4

A/N Pre-warning you all... this chapter ain't that good but I needed to add it in
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But you'll let me have the deaths of every other boy on mine?

That question knocked the air right out of Nick's lungs. Practically winded him. Almost as though Adeline had stuffed her hand down his throat, grabbed every milligram of oxygen her fingers could reach, and yanked it all out.

He did not know what to say, or do. There was not a word, letter or syllable he could articulate that would even begin to explain how completely and utterly sorry he is for putting her through so much devastation.

So, in true Nick fashion, he ran.

Jumped up to his feet, locked up the slammer and ran. Back to the Homestead, back to the confides of his bedroom, where he could curl into his own thoughts and get lost in the battle between generosity and greed. Between showing compassion towards the girl he loves by allowing her the departure she craves so much, and longing to ignore all of her pleas by selfishly keeping her by his side.

With his backside resting on the soft blankets that lazily drape over the edge of his bed, his feet parted and firmly pressing into the floorboards, Nick sits for what feels like centuries. His elbows digging into his thighs, turning the pressure points a sickly shade of white while his forearms stretch up, his palms flat out and giving his entire face a suitable place to bury itself into.

His mind continues to balance on the tightrope between right and wrong for the remainder of the day, and well into the evening. The boy is too engrossed by his own inner turmoil that his ears fail to hear the sound of knuckles lightly rapping against the wall just outside the room. His skin does not feel the sensation of a soft breeze fluttering past him as the door is opened. His body does not even clock on to the way it slides to the side slightly when a boy plonks himself down on the bed next to him.

The boys presence remains a complete mystery to Nick until he finally speaks to him.

"How did it go with Addy?" he asks, and the leader can already tell by the sound of the voice that it is Alby. His confidant. His second-in-command. His best friend.

Releasing a heavy breath, a breath full of shame and regret, Nick shifts his hands until his palms are firmly pushing into the each side of his face, his fingertips drumming into his skull, trying to relieve the dull pain in his head. "How do you think?"

Nick can see Alby slowly nodding his head out the corner of his eye, but his eyes strain and his vision becomes unfocused when he tries to catch a glimpse of the boys expression without having to turn his head.

"Does she know about the meeting?" the second-in-command asks, and Nick can feel the bed shifting beneath him as Alby shuffles himself back until his spine connects with the wall.

"No" Nick mutters in response, flickering his view to the wooden floorboards in an attempts to relieve some of the tension from his corneas.

"Probably for the best" Alby responds, tilting his head back and allowing the top of his skull to gently tap against the wall. "We all know how much our Addy hates us missing out of stuff like that."

"Yea" the leader mumbles back, not entirely listening to the boy next to him, his brain too busy picking apart everything Adeline said to him.

I'm only a danger to them if you keep me locked up in here.

She is right. As much as it pains him to even think it, there is an entire valley of truth behind her words.

The Gladers do not deserve this. But then again, neither does she.