Discoveries | TMR | Three

3:8

Nick couldn't remember a time when he had ever run with such speed or desperation.

His heart raced violently in his chest, pounding so fiercely it seemed ready to burst free from his ribcage at any moment. It was like a jackhammer striking concrete, reverberating in his throat, perfectly synchronized with the frantic rhythm of his mind against his skull. His muscles screamed from the exertion; sweat poured from every pore, and his feet throbbed with each jarring impact against the unpredictable terrain of ivy, leaves, and cracked concrete in the Maze.

He had lost track of how many thorny branches and tangled vines he had crashed into during his frantic escape. It wasn't until he collided with one so forcefully that it sent him spinning, causing him to stumble and crash onto the ground, that he realized a particular branch had ripped through the fabric of his shirt and into the skin beneath.

The fall knocked the wind out of him, leaving him teetering on the edge of coughing and retching, but fueled by adrenaline, his bleary eyes quickly regained focus.

After what felt like an endless chase through the twisting corridors of the labyrinth, Nick finally reached the Glade. The sensation of soft grass beneath his feet was a luxury he thought he might never feel again, and had it not been for the girl he was searching for, he would have savoured that moment to its fullest.

But time is a luxury he does not have.

He dashes to the heart of the Glade, twirling in frantic circles as he searches for her, oblivious to the fact that the structures they once erected still stand tall, and that not a single boy remains from the group that vanished when they departed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of steam seeping through the cracks of the restroom huts, and without a moment's hesitation, he bolts toward it. He bursts into the bathroom, his mind racing with uncertainty, but he certainly doesn't anticipate her emerging from the shower cubicle clad only in a revealing towel.

In that instant, a wave of déjà vu washes over him; there she is, wrapped in that scanty towel, smiling at him, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within him. While the panic begins to fade from his thoughts, the anger simmers beneath the surface as he silently rages at her recklessness, at the way she so naively placed herself in danger all for the sake of...

Having a shower?

"Did you, uh, did you have a shower?" His anger melts away, giving way to a look of bewilderment as he stares at her, his chest still rising and falling rapidly from the sprint through the Maze, his skin clammy and slick with sweat.

"Absolutely, I did," she replies with a casual air, lifting her hands to wring out the last drops of water from her hair. "It. Felt. Amazing."

He feels an overwhelming urge to yell at her, to unleash a torrent of frustration over her reckless choices and sternly insist that she needs to stop deliberately placing herself in these predicaments. "Wait, but- wh-." Yet, all that escapes his lips are jumbled phrases, and honestly, the sight of her barely dressed form is far from his mind. "How did-."

''There was power in the office,'' she informs him, releasing her hair and casually gesturing toward that part of the Maze. ''The toilets in there had running water. I had a hunch that this place would be the same.''

Nick is at a loss for words. ''...Right.''

Adeline gestures for him to approach, retreating until her back meets the slightly ajar shower door.

Without a moment's hesitation, Nick heeds her call, halting right in front of her. His left hand is casually tucked into his pocket while his right grips the top edge of the cubicle. His gaze is locked on the shower as she pivots her upper body, reaching to activate the water. A subtle shift crosses his face when she flips the switch, and he observes her hand as it curves upward to catch the falling droplets. She lets the water flow for just a brief moment before shutting it off and glancing up at him, a gesture that completely escapes his notice.