𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⌯ Newt [The Maze Runner]

[0.25] lesson learned

         𝑹𝒖𝒆'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 punctuates the air, a contagious melody that weaves through the crackling of the fire. 

She leans back, her face tilted towards the star-studded sky, unable to contain the sheer joy that Frypan's previous remark has unleashed. The boy sits as the evident source of her amusement, his grin as bright as the flames that illuminate his features. 

"You're joking!" she exclaims between breaths of laughter, her eyes shining with mirth as she nudges Frypan, who raises both hands in surrender, his good-natured grin widening. 

"Ain't ever joked about that. I swear," he insists, the sincerity in his voice juxtaposed against the backdrop of laughter and the warmth of the bonfire.

The orange glow reflects in Rue's eyes as she wipes away tears of amusement. The night, illuminated by the play of firelight, becomes a canvas for shared joy and genuine connection. The concerns of the maze, the elusive patterns of the grievers, and the unknown that awaits beyond the walls momentarily fade away.

It's tradition, by now. To host a bonfire every month when the Greenies arrive. And tonight, the guest of honor is Chuck, who's sitting perfectly right next to Rue on the log. 

As Frypan continues to spin his tale, their laughter interweaves with the narrative, a vibrant thread connecting the Gladers around the fire. Chuck's eyes, sparkling with mischief, dart between Frypan and Rue.

Frypan, still wearing his infectious grin, adds animated gestures to his narrative. Rue watches him with a mix of amusement and fondness, her laughter tapering into a soft chuckle. Her eyes, now glancing towards Chuck, carry a subtle motherly warmth—a deep understanding and reassurance. 

In the brief pause between his tales, Rue's gaze turns skyward. The night sky above is a vast, deep expanse, painted in varying shades of dark blue and black. The stars punctuate the darkness with their pinprick brilliance, forming constellations that seem to stretch endlessly. 

The moon, a pale orb, casts a muted glow, highlighting the edges of passing clouds. It's a quiet, serene backdrop against which the Gladers' stories unfold, and Rue's gaze lingers on this expansive dome, absorbing the tranquil beauty of the night.

As Frypan continues, and Chuck becomes engrossed in the narrative, the girl's attention gracefully shifts to the other faces around the bonfire. And then, they finally land on Newt, who's in the midst of a conversation with Minho and Jeff. 

His usually calm features are alight with intensity, a bright smile wrinkling his face. Minho, leaning against a log with a casual demeanor, absorbs the conversation with his characteristic dry wit, while Jeff continues just as much to their lively conversation.  

Rue watches this dynamic play out with a small smile, recognizing the interconnected threads of trust and understanding that bind them in the shared struggle.

In the crescendo of laughter and storytelling, nostalgia flickers in her eyes, a silent tribute to the Gladers who are no longer present. Still, her content smile doesn't falter. From now on, she'll survive because of them. She'll find the way out -- because that's what they spent every second of their days striving for. 

She'll do it for them. 

Something enters her field of vision, fetching her focus away from the sky. A jug. Following the path of the arm that extends toward her, she gradually raises her gaze, finding the inventor himself.

Gally stands above her, a rare but genuine smile on his lips. He nudges the jug slightly, encouraging her to take it. "Seems like you could use some."