Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Twenty Three

Lyra's mind was a whirlwind of fragmented images and disjointed sounds, the haunting remnants of her Changing experience. The darkness was oppressive, smothering her senses as she struggled to find her bearings. Gradually, her vision adjusted, and she found herself in a stark, white-walled corridor, the sterile environment of a facility. The words "WICKED" were emblazoned across the walls, it made her feel unsettled.

In the distance, she saw people in white science suits, their voices a low, incomprehensible murmur. Heart pounding, Lyra crept past them, her movements silent and deliberate. She moved down another hall, her feet barely touching the ground as she ran. The memory was so vivid, it was as if she were reliving it.

She reached a door that was slightly ajar, the faint glow of light spilling into the corridor. Peering inside, she saw Thomas sitting on his bed, his face a mix of concentration and calm. Pushing the door open a bit more, she slipped inside and quickly shut it behind her. She sprinted to his bed and plopped down beside him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Thomas looked up, greeting her with a goofy smirk, the one that always managed to lighten her mood. "You look like you've just run a marathon," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I may as well have, with the way I was running," she replied, trying to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the excitement of seeing him.

Thomas checked his watch, the seconds ticking away in silence. After a few minutes, he glanced at her and said, "Let's go."

Nodding, Lyra followed him. They moved cautiously at first, then broke into a run, darting from corridor to corridor. The sterile, white walls seemed endless, each turn a mirror image of the last. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the empty halls, a constant reminder of the urgency of their mission.

Suddenly, they heard a noise. Thomas grabbed Lyra's hand, pulling her into a tight corner. Their bodies pressed close together, and Lyra could feel his heartbeat against her own. The closeness made her nervous, and she stifled a laugh, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

Thomas covered her mouth with his hand, his touch gentle but firm. "Shh," he whispered, his eyes scanning the corridor for any signs of movement. They waited, the footsteps growing louder, until the person was right near them. Lyra's eyes widened, but she saw the calm and collected look on Thomas's face and tried to relax.

The person passed by, the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance. Thomas leaned forward, peering down the hall to make sure the coast was clear. Then, he grabbed Lyra's hand again and pulled her out of their hiding spot. She giggled slightly, covering her mouth with her free hand to stifle the sound.

They ran for what felt like an eternity, their breath coming in short gasps as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Finally, they stopped near a door and rushed inside, locking it behind them. An old ladder led upwards, and they climbed, emerging onto the roof just in time to see the sunrise.

The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkness. Lyra hadn't seen a sunrise in so long; it was a comforting sight. She turned to Thomas, the warm light reflecting off his face, highlighting his features. In that moment, he looked serene, almost otherworldly.

Thomas took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

Lyra nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it really is."

Thomas smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made her heart skip a beat. "I used to watch the sunrise every morning back home," he said softly. "It always gave me hope, you know? Like no matter how dark things got, there was always a new day coming."