Short Maze Runner Stories

The storm

A flash of lightning catches Thomas' eye from his bedroom, followed by an earth-shattering crack of thunder. He lifts his head from his notes, glancing through the window just in time to see the rain go from a miserable drizzle to down-pour. It patters against the glass, filling the once-quiet room with noise. Thomas grins.

He goes back to writing, keeping watch for more thunder and lightning. When he was little, he'd spend every storm sitting with his nose pressed against the glass panels of a window, gazing at the sky and squealing with excitement every time there was a flash of lightning or a boom of thunder. He may not do that anymore, but the excitement remains.

Thomas' head whips up at the sound of frantic knocking, thinking for a second that it's more thunder. He drops his pen and hurries to the door since whoever it is, likely to be Newt forgetting his keys again, won't stop pounding.

"Teresa?" Thomas pauses as he holds the front door open. Teresa is trembling in front of him, her arms squeezing her waist as she drips water on to the floor. Her mouth is moving silently, like she's trying and failing to form words, and she's soaked to the bone. Thomas snaps out of his shock and yanks Teresa into his flat. "Christ, you're drenched, were you out in this?"

She nods, staring helplessly at Thomas as thunder roars outside.

"Right," Thomas takes Teresa's hand, leading her further into his flat towards his bedroom, "take your clothes off and wait in here, I'll be back in a minute." It's a sign of how out-of-the-ordinary this situation is that Teresa neither makes a comment about that nor questions his instructions.

Thomas rushes off into his bathroom, grabs a couple of towels and hurries back to Teresa, who's shivering in her undergarments, the sodden clothing clutched in her hand.

"Here," Thomas says softly, wrapping one towel around Teresa's shoulders and draping the other over her head. He takes the clothing back into the bathroom and dumps it in the sink for the time being; he can deal with it later when he knows Teresa's alright.

Teresa is sitting in front of the radiator near his bed when Thomas returns, the towels still where Thomas left them. He kneels in front of Teresa and carefully rubs the towel on her head and her hair, drying it as thoroughly as he can. She doesn't make a sound; she just curls her arms around her knees and lets Thomas take care of her.

"Can you tell me what's wrong now?" He whispers as he takes the towel from Teresa's head. He brushes the damp curls out of Teresa's eyes, letting his palm rest on her cheek.

"The thunder," She tells him, her voice a little rough and quiet but full of enough life that relief washes through Thomas. "I was walking back from Alby's when the storm started and yours was the closest place I knew."

"You can stay here until tomorrow," Thomas soothes, stroking Teresa's cheek with his thumb. "I'll get you some spare clothes so you don't spend the night in your underwear."

"You don't have to baby me," Teresa mumbles, dropping her gaze. She pulls the towel around her shoulders tighter and seems to shrink in on herself. A rumble of thunder causes her to tense, her fists clenching around the towel.

"Teresa," He says softly, edging forwards to wrap his arms around her shaking shoulders. "You're alright, you're safe. Put some dry clothes on and we can curl up in my bed under the duvet."

Teresa nods and lets Thomas pull her up to her feet. He finds her the baggiest clothes he owns, a faded band tee and an old pair of sweats, handing them over for her to step into. She dresses quickly and Thomas feels an odd thrill at seeing her in his clothing, but he pushes it aside to usher her towards his bed.

He covers them both with the duvet, holding Teresa's hand tightly as the storm powers on outside. She shuffles closer tucking her head under Thomas' chin and tangling their legs together. She's still cold and Thomas'a mind is filled with thoughts of her catching her death from standing outside in the pouring rain.

"Thank you," Teresa says into his chest, curling her hands in his shirt. "You didn't have to do this, you could've just - thank you."

"It's no problem," Thomas tells her earnestly, snaking his arms around Teresa to pull her closer. She's warming up and relaxing under his touch, thankfully. He presses his lips to the top of her head and whispers "Try and go to sleep if you can. I'll still be here."

Teresa hums, low and content, and Thomas feels her breathing even out slowly. It's not long before the rain eases off into gentle drips, and they're both succumbing to sleep.

----
It's 10:47pm and I'm cold