Jealousy // Gally x reader

Chapter Thirty-Two - Advice

With the first rays of dawn painting the horizon in hues of rose and gold, consciousness stirred within me, gently coaxing me from the slumber that had held me captive throughout the night. Unfortunately, when I finally gather the willpower to open my eyes, I realise that it's early, so early that the runners haven't even entered the maze yet.

I can feel a muscular arm draped pleasantly across my stomach's bare skin; my top having ridden upwards during the night. I already know who it belongs to, but I feel the need to twist and face them anyway. To my delight, my sleeping, peaceful boyfriend lay opposite me, chest expanding with each quiet breath.

The dim sunlight cast grotesque shadows that danced across the rough-hewn walls of the hut behind him. I stared at him, in a way that probably would've been considered rude or creepy if he wasn't asleep and admired every aspect of his features. He was tucked on his side, knees bent and one arm up by his face.

His brows were creased ever so slightly, an effect that lingers even as he sleeps. The harsh lines of his face, usually etched with worry and determination, were softened in sleep, a vulnerability that I longed to be constant. The last few days had been a tapestry of strained silences and stolen glances. The memory of his apology, heartfelt as it was, still resonated with me, a fragile olive branch extended over the chasm of hurt. Sleep, it seemed, had finally granted him a temporary relief from the weight of his actions.

My admiration for him was complex to say the least, woven from shared hardship and grudging respect. His strength, both physical and emotional, was undeniable. He's dutiful to every order that he's given and would do anything to protect the things he loves, especially the other Gladers, even when teetering on the brink of chaos.

But this morning, it was the tranquillity etched onto his resting face that captivated me. It was a necessary reminder that beneath that hard exterior, the gruff demeanour, lay a boy burdened by responsibility and jealousy.

A gentle breeze ruffled the canvas covering the small window, sending a sliver of gold across Gally's face. It illuminated the faintest of scars near his temple , a silent chronicle of his past battles. Those scars, much like the ones engraved into my stomach and ankle, were disgusting testaments of the struggle for survival in this unforgiving world.

We need to get out of here.

I remember the day we spent frolicking at the lake, wedged deep in the heart of the deadheads. The way Gally made it certain that this was our home, as though all hope inside him was diminished, and if any was left, he wouldn't allow it to surface. The familiar question returns: if we found a way out, would he come? With no information to make a judgement, all I can do is believe that he would.

I clench my jaw, desperately trying not to wake him as I remove his arm from my body, and place it beside his other. I always love spending the night in his room, along with the comfortable bed and getting to sleep beside him, it means I get direct access to a mirror in the mornings.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection, looking the same as usual once I detangle my hair from my feather, correct my jewellery and open my eyes to be completely awake. My gaze drops to my outfit, the one that hasn't changed since the day I got here. You'd think the creators would've given us plenty of options instead of different pairs of the same thing.

I slip out of the homestead, headed straight for the pit that held my friend. It was his first day as a runner, and since he's had little-to-no training from Minho, I thought I'd give him a few heads up.

Crouching down by the thatched roof, I rattle it slightly, stirring Thomas from his curled ball in the warmer corner of the hole. "Thomas... Thomas! Wake up!" I say, my volume growing as he doesn't open his eyes. I groan and pick up a small stone beside me, throwing it inside. I hear a small yelp as it hits him, and he finally uncurls himself.