Jealousy // Gally x reader

Chapter Thirty-One - Stars

The stars, scattered like diamonds across the velvet darkness of the night sky, come in a dazzling array of colours and brightness. Some twinkle mischievously, while others burn with a steady, serene glow. The brightest stars appear like pinpricks of white light, their brilliance cutting harshly through the inky blackness. Others shimmer with a soft, ethereal glow.

The sting of Gally's words left a bitter taste on my tongue. Slut, he'd called me, a careless whisper that echoed in the sterile plains of the Glade like a scream. The air hung heavy with the weight of my hurt, suffocating and sharp.

Driven by hot-white rage, I'd fled to the one place that offered a semblance of peace- the edge of the dense forest, where the oppressive, sheltering trees gave way to a vast, uncaring sky. I looked up, expecting the familiar comfort of the stars- a million silent witnesses, always offering a sense of perspective.

Tonight, though, the stars were different. Their cold, indifferent twinkle seemed to mock me, a reflection of Gally's dismissal. Billions of years old, they had seen countless lives lived and lost, countless dreams flicker and die. My hurt, in the face of such cosmic power, felt insignificant.

They only served further purpose to remind me of my lack of worth- how, in the grand scheme of things, all I am is a single person. Just one, among billions. Sitting on a floating rock along with an infinite number of others, all who have their own problems.

I sigh with a feeling of deep unimportance. My stomach groans, only adding to my weary mood. With great effort, I sit upright, pushing myself off the ground and start walking over to the lengths of tables that people were seated at.

The clinking of forks and the lively chatter of the Gladers filled the rows, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling within me. My hand reaches up to my neck that was beginning to scab over, itching something fierce. Every grumble of my stomach sent a fresh wave of nausea up to my throat, a lingering effect of this morning's near-death experience.

But the worst nausea of all was the silence that fell once I was noticed, especially by the builder's table. The stench of Gally's words- a venomous accusation fuelled by jealousy- still echoed in my heart.

Across the room, he sat hunched over his plate, a solitary figure amidst the boisterous Gladers. His eyes, usually hardened with stoicism, held a flicker of... shame? Regret? It was impossible to tell.

Fry, oblivious to the tension, chirped happily as he passed me a bowl of stew. "Close call this morning, n/n. We really missed you in the kitchen today!" His cheerful voice did little to penetrate my fog of hurt. I forced a smile. "I'll make sure to be fit for tomorrow", I murmured, picking at my food with minimal enthusiasm.

Glancing around the table that I was seated at, I saw Newt patiently explaining something to Chuck. His calm presence offered a nice break from the festering feeling that gnawed away at me. Yesterday's events replayed in my mind- the desperate scramble to find the griever, Thomas' quick, stupid decision that twisted into something ugly with Gally's distrust. Tears began to well in my eyes, threatening to spill.

Newt's concerned voice startled me. "Hey, y/n, you okay?" I blink rapidly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah," I muttered, my voice thick with emotion. "Just... tired." The lie placed itself if the air, an easy one to see through. I couldn't bring myself to take another glance at Gally, couldn't bear the potential for another confrontation or the chilling indifference I expected to see in his eyes.

The rest of the meal crawled by in agonising silence. I stole glances at him, wanting to understand his behaviour, to gauge his remorse, but his face remained an unreadable mask. Had our relationship, built on unsteady ground, finally crumbled under the weight of his misplaced anger?