teenage wasteland ;; the maze runner

1.8

her dreams were full of memories that night, laying in a set of arms that she never imagined finding comfort in. her dreams were full of screams.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

they'd been sitting, her and her medjacks, exchanging jokes, pokes, prods, all in good fun. the day had been a nice one, warm but not too sticky, although it was looking like there would be a storm overnight, much to newt's delight.

    the day had been slow, calm, nothing dramatic minus a few scrapes, cuts, a burn or two, and of course sammy running in after he caught a cold and convinced himself that he would cough out his lungs.

    "no, samster," flo reassured him for the twelfth time. "it's just a cold from jumping in the pond last week. i told you to shower and dry off, but did you listen?" sammy only shook her head, and she'd given him a knowing look. soon after, she sent him away with cold medicine in hand, but that was enough for sammy to feel better.

    that'd been hours ago, since they were now just sitting and waiting to clean up while the sun began to set outside. soon, they all knew, the runners would be back, and it would be time to eat. it wasn't going to be a great meal, they all knew, because it was only a week or so away from the next greenie, along with supplies, so they were on their last stash. still, everybody could appreciate some food in their own right.

    but, it was almost as florence knew deep in her bones that it was far too calm of a day, and that morning she'd forced herself to push such feelings away in order to just sit back and enjoy. that came back to bite her when, in just a few minutes, they went from laughing, joking, teasing to pure dread.

    the door burst open, and florence's heart dropped at the scene before her. minho on one side, alby on another, and in between them was a sickening sight. nick, bloodied from head to toe, barely conscious as he groaned in pain. newt was right behind them, despite his limp.

    florence couldn't remember if she'd said anything, if she'd asked any questions, but she did know there was something deep within herself, some instinct and muscle memory that kicked in like a second nature, and she began to fly high on adrenaline.

    the table was cleared in just a few seconds, minho and alby lifting him and placing the poor boy on, despite the ways he wiggled and writhed to escape their grasp. there wasn't a sting, not that she could see, but there was a sickening amount of blood that stained him.

    hands pressed in desperation, flo ordering alby and minho to apply pressure on the sites that seemed to have the most amount of blood, although it was getting more confusing by the second. soon, everything started to look the same.

    clint and jeff rattled through the shelves, the cabinets, looking for gauze or anything that could help, any medicine, any sutures, but they couldn't. they had no supplied. by god, they had no shanking supplies.

    florence remembered grabbing something from newt, his shirt or some sort of cloth, and handing it to one of the boys. something needed to soak up the blood, afterall, that much she knew.

    her hands clawed uselessly at the body, grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting up the shirt to try and find the source of the bleeding. the liquid sopped onto nick's clothes made it even harder to cut, but once she did, once she pulled it all the way off and revealed his torso...

    she fought back the bile that climbed her throat, the vomit that nearly launched out of her body, and she froze.

    there's this moment, when you're saving someone's life, or at least trying to, that it all clicks. there are times, florence knew, when that click is positive, when she would realize that it'll be okay after all, but there are other times when this sense of pure, human, hopeless sense of dread overcomes you, and you know... you just know there's nothing else to do.

    it was a moment like that, a moment of despair, that minho and alby loosened their pressure, where clint and jeff paused and covered their mouths, where newt had to turn away to control himself. it was a moment like that where florence merely stared, stared deep into the eyes of nick.

    they were a warm brown, soft, comforting, the same ones that welcomed her on her first day. her gaze traveled, recognizing the hands that held her's on multiple occasions in a moment of love — a sort of love that nobody in the glade knew, or understood for that matter, because it wasn't physical love or attraction, it wasn't lust, it wasn't desire, it was just... human.

nick was her best friend, her first love, possibly her only love, and she'd failed him.

    florence stood frozen, staring at the boy she'd adored, at the boy who laid dying in front of her, and she couldn't think. she couldn't process, she couldn't understand why. why him, why her, why them?

    and then, he spoke.

    "florence," his voice was rough, broken, tired. "flo." it was a cry, a cry for help, a cry of desperation and heartbreak. "florence!"

    her feet started moving before her brain did. "i'm here," she whispered, "nick, i'm right here." her hand reached for his, despite the blood that coated both of them, and she brought his fingers up to her lips. "i'm right here."

    "florence," a sob wracked his shoulders. "god, florence, i'm scared." he wheezed, desperately clawing for air, for oxygen, for life. "i'm so scared."

    "sh," she hushed quietly, a hand petting his forehead. she clenched her eyes shut, tears trailing down her sheek, and her voice began to shake. "sh, nick. it's okay, i'm here."

    "florence, please!" his voice, his desperation, broke florence's heart. a thousand pieces lay inside of herself, cutting her organs, her veins, her soul. "help me!"

    "nick, you're okay. you're safe, nick, i'm right here." she shuttered, the sobs of two best friends, two soulmates harmonizing in a tune called death.

    and then, she knew. she knew as he opened his eyes one last time, their gazes meeting, and he whispered, "i'm so scared."

    she merely smiled, despite it all, and said, "don't be scared, nick, you're safe. you'll always be safe." then, as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, long and precious, her other hand slowly felt as his pulse faded into nothing.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

    florence woke with a start, jumping away from the memory of a haunting night, and back to the reality that currently haunted her. an arm was holding her close, practically stationing her to his chest, and within a moment her foggy brain realized... it was antony.

    her movement must've woken him up, because just mere seconds later, antony's eyes fluttered open, leaving two teenagers staring at each other with flushed faces and nervous eyes that took in the details of the other before them.

    her dimples, her reddened cheeks, her freckles, her hair that, despite the mud fight from the night before, still made her look cute.

    his lips, his tired eyes, his small grin, his morning voice — wait, did he say something?

    "what was that?" flo let out, voice pitched higher than she meant.

    his smile grew just a bit more, and he repeated, "good morning."

    she jumped to attention at that, laughing awkwardly as she gathered herself and stood up from the bed — his bed — and ran her fingers through her hair. "yes," she agreed with a nod. "morning it is."

    a second, maybe two, maybe even three, although it surely felt like an eternity, and florence nodded again. "okay, so," she mused, lifting her hand and using her thumb to point behind her at the door, the sounds of the boys outside echoing throughout the glade. "sounds like... y'know."

    "oh, yeah," antony agreed with an awkward nod. "yeah, it does sound like that." he kept nodding an uncomfortable amount.

    "okay, so, i'm just gonna..." she took a step back. "y'know."

    "yeah, yeah," he agreed, coughing while his eyes trailed around uselessly. "i'll also," he pointed to the same door, "go. meet you."

    "okay," she hummed.

    "okay," he agreed.

    "okay."