Maze runner one shot requests

Fading memories---Thomas imagine

You hold your breath as the doctor looks over the results. Your boyfriend, Thomas, had come with you to the flare testing center, and was squeezing your hand under the table. Thomas had already been tested, and was immune. The doctor cleared his throat and turned to you, looking up from the small screen.

"Well, we have your results."

You squeezed Thomas's hand so hard you were worried you might break his hand. He gave a gentle squeeze back.

"We're ready."

You took a deep breath. Thomas anchored you as your heart threatened to explode out of your chest. The doctor spoke.

"Your results were. . . not so good. You are not immune to the flare."

Your breath caught in your throat. The world seemed to be growing smaller and smaller, the doctor and desk tunneling away. Your eyes were wide and empty as you looked down at the floor. You spoke in almost a whisper.

"I-I'm not immune. . ."

Thomas stood up from the seat.

"No! No, that has to be a mistake! (Y/N) has to be immune! She has to!"

The doctor just shook his head and shuffled some papers, like he did this everyday. Maybe he did.

Like, yeah I just ruined someone's life, but it's fine.

You choked out a bitter laugh, but in your throat it turned to a sob. You just stared into space letting your tears fall.

All the things you and Thomas had wanted to do, gone.

Thomas sat back down, rubbing your back

"No, no (Y/N), it's okay. We-We can go live somewhere hidden, secluded!"

You just shook your head.

"Thomas, n-no. You should just l-leave me. I'll only g-get sick and g-go crazy."

Thomas shook his head right back, and said in a sharp and forceful voice.

"No, (Y/N)! I'm not leaving you."

You weren't crying anymore. Now the reality had sunk in,

You weren't immune.

The man spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there.

"You know, there is a different way."

Thomas looked up.

"What? Tell us!"

The man set his papers down.

"There is an organization, WICKED. World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. They can use you."

You glance up from the floor, unsure what the man meant.

Your mind was clouded with the one phrase.

You weren't immune.

You weren't immune.

You weren't immune.

"W-What do you mean, use me?"

The man went back to shuffling his papers, like you were the least of his worries.

"They need people, subjects. They need to perform tests, run experiments, to find a cure."

What he was saying. . .it scares you.

Subjects.

Tests.