The Maze Runner | stiles and lydia au

First night

That night a huge bonfire was going to be lit. A party to be remembered. Dusk quickly fell leaving them with cool air that allowed them to be out in the night without being cold. Everyone took part in preparation for what was to come. Someone called Fraypan was cooking a feast. Or well not a feast just a diner party.
By the time the torches were lit the stars were up playing in the sky along with the moon. They contrasted perfectly and the night looked as if it would go on forever.
Flames sparked up, illuminating everything in their path. Each holder threw them like spears onto the heap of sticks and roared as it burst into flames. The tongues of fire danced on the logs just before they broke them. Drums sounded everywhere. The mood which had been previously down was uplifted and they all knew this night was one which could not bring sorrow to anyone.
They grabbed a plate of filling food, and the greenbie found himself sitting behind a log next to Newt. He'd been there less than 24 hours but he knew that Newt was a good guy and they would be fast friends. They sat and talked. Newt wasn't patronising, he was understanding.
'Hell of a first day greenie,' he just nodded knowing it was probably going to calm down and life would go on. A few moments passed until Newt decided to talk,
'Here try this. Put some hair on your chest.' He lifted up a jar with a yellowish liquid. It looked like cider or beer but he took it courteously. With one gulp his felt his throat burn. It burrowed its way down his throat leaving fire and ice in its wake. He spluttered and spat it out by the after taste remained. Newt chuckled whilst greenie continued to splutter. 'What is that?' He managed to get out.
'Huh. I don't even know it's Gally's recipe. It's a trade secret,'
He looked over to Gally who was fighting with some other boy who was a lot smaller than him. 'Yeh well he's still an asshole,'
'He saved your life today... the maze is a dangerous place,' he brought the jar up and took a swig as if it had no effect on him. The log they were leaning on were facing out towards to sinister maze which observed everything. He went back to the thoughts, to the questions. 'We're trapped here aren't we?' The question which made him shiver. The haunting idea of never escaping, never going home.
Newts expression changed. His eyes darkened and his was no longer the laughing boy teasing the newbie. 'For now...' he was in a trance thinking deeply about their situation in this world. His daze was short lived as he snapped out and turned to face the greenie. 'But! See those guys?' He pointed to a group of boys.
'There by the fire,' Four or five boys. He automatically recognised two. The two who had passed him after coming out of the maze. They were well built with toned skin.
'Those are the runners. That guy in the middle there that's Minho. He's the keeper of the runners.' Minho was one of the two. He sat eating on a log happy in his solitude. His face stern and muscles.
'Every morning when those doors open they go in there and run the maze, mapping it, memorising it, trying to find a way out!'
'How long have the been looking?' They turned to look at each other in the eyes.
'Three years,' he said simply. Three years was a long time. It gave him a feeling he can't remember feeling at all since he arrived. False hope. They walked around smiling and laughing but the true issue was still there. Three years of nothing.
'And they haven't found anything?' The concern was clear in his voice. Newt just smiled as if it was nothing. 'It's not so easily done.' Faint noises sounded around them. It was like the rumbling of thunder but no clouds were draped above them.
'Listen,' the noises came out louder each time. 'Yeh? It's the maze... changing. Changes every night,' his voice never faulted. It was neutral. Not angry or scared, not anything.
'How is that even possible?'
'You can ask the people who put us in here if you ever meet the bastards.' He joked but they both knew it was a general question. He didn't know what was going on and that feeling was killing him piece by piece slowly driving him into insanity.
'The runners are the only ones who really know what's out there. They're the strongest and fastest of us all and good thing too because if the don't make it back before those doors close then there stuck out there for the night and no one has ever survived a night in the maze!' This last sentence rang through his brain. Every word scaring him more than the last, making him go pale. They both looked at each other, their faces solemn.
'What happens to them?'
'We call them grievers,' the name fitted. It was a sinister name for a sinister sound. Screeches came from the maze. The were unlike any noise he had heard. It was a nightmare noise and the feeling it sent through you was unexplainable. They were the sound of certain death.
'Never mind that. Your supposed to be the guest of honour,' and with that they stood and walked over to the guys. As they walked, Newt explained each person and what they did to help ensure the survival of the group.
'How do you become a runner,' Newt stared at him. His eyes questioning if it was a joke or not.
'No one wants to become a runner. Haven't you heard what I just said? Your elected,' he looked as if he was going to ramble on that was until greenie felt someone push against him. He turned and there was Gally. He looked smug until he noticed him. His eye brows rose in challenge. 'How about a go greenie? Wanna see what your made of?' People started chanting greenie over and over again. He stole a quick glance to Newt. Inside he knew it was a bad idea but his loathing for took control. He wanted to fight this pompous jerk.
'Right... rules are simple greenie. First to get out of the circle loses! Try to last longer than five seconds,'
He prepared himself. He was ready to win. He ran towards Gally but was pushed into the crowed. He attempted again but instead he was pushed to the floor. 'Come on what is it with the damn floor?' He thought.
'Come on greenie. Not done yet,' he said as started to dance on his feet. Moving foot to foot. Hopping side to side. A foolish and vain act. He got up brushing the Orange sand off him.
'Stop calling me greenie!' he replied, walking forwards ready to beat the crap out of his opposition.
'What do you want me to call you? Shank?,' with this the forever growing huddle chuckled. That was enough to make him go for another try and this time he grabbed onto the others clothes. They pulled and pushed until greenie was on the floor again with a roll. He didn't waste anytime get up. 'You know what? I think I'll settle with shank,' Gally teased.
It was as if his life it was his life's mission to be a prick so he hurled himself forward, hugging his torso as he pushed but Gally's upper strength was no match. He pushed him across the sand but he dodged the arms and pushed Gally to the ground. People were shocked by instead of silence they got a loud 'oh'. Like a burn with a feeling of amazing satisfaction.
He stood above Gally for a split second. 'Not bad for a greenie huh?' But as he said his last word he was swept off his feet and came crashing down. His head rocked against the ground with a thud. It was gonna hurt in the morning. When he started to raise his head he felt something in his mind snap.
The lock had been opened and his most prized possession had come to him.
Relief fulfilled him and all thoughts about beating Gally were gone.
'Stiles,' he mumbled it once and for the first time in the twelve hours he felt everything clear. Everyone was silent. He couldn't even feel the pain of the fight. He felt the sand between his fingertips as he picked himself up. 'Hey!' He cried whilst completely standing. 'I remember my name... its Stiles!' The crowed jeered him name.
The party lasted the night but it was still dark when Stiles made his was to his hammock. He couldn't sleep. The air was thick and set upon him like a blanket. Sleep tackled its way to him and soon his was under.
Lights flickering. People speaking so low it was impossible to hear. A white coat. An old women in a white coat was talking. 'Wicked is good,' she kept repeating it. He was there sitting behind a screen and he looked over. Strawberry blonde hair and glowing green eyes. The scene flickered to Gally and Newt's pictures. 'Stiles what is it?' A sweat voice sounded. He knew it was her. She was beautiful and the feeling he felt when he heard her was unexplainable. He knew he had connection. Then something brought him out and back to real life. Real life. A life without her.