Discoveries | TMR | Three

4:0

Get in there, get your note, and we can get the fuck out of here.

And that is exactly what Nick did.

He pushed aside every shred of hesitation, crushed every fragment of worry, and swept away the remnants of fear swirling in his mind. It took him a while to gather himself, and he couldn't shake the feeling of foolishness for needing that time. After all, what he had told Maggie was accurate; he had been in this room before, but there was a vast difference between simply collecting fresh clothes and immersing himself in the memories that lingered within these walls.

The only thing that gave Nick the strength to step back into this room was the unsettling thought that Wicked might be on their way, coupled with the dread of being discovered as he caught snippets of Adeline and Alby's voices drifting through the air outside the Homestead.

The note lay exactly where it had always been, tucked away in a box beneath his bed. This box was crammed with mementos, including the shirt he had stumbled upon in the Maze weeks after her disappearance; it was worn, ragged, and frayed, yet he couldn't bring himself to part with it. Daisy chains, countless and lifeless, lay crushed beneath the reliable clipboard she used to carry around the Glade, alongside some of her old clothes, carefully folded in the corner, just in case the Creators - Wicked - decided to send another girl into this place.

He recognized the absurdity of it all, but he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else donning Adeline's clothes at the time.

He gathered everything: her clothes, his own, and some of Alby's, all crammed into the backpack resting at his feet. Now, as he sits in the car after leaving the Glade, joining the others for the next leg of their journey, the bag is a silent companion. Inside, it holds files on several missing Gladers, his own file, Alby's, and the note from Adeline.

Nick kept the backpack close, refusing Matt's offer to toss it in the trunk as they walked to the car. Even when they met up with the others and some switched vehicles for a more comfortable ride, he clutched it tightly. Now, in the back seat, on their way to gather supplies and find a place to rest for the night, the backpack remains securely nestled between his knees.

"Woah, woah, woah, watch!"

The memories of the Glade, the Maze, and the note vanish from Nick's mind in an instant as Matt's shout pierces the air, coinciding with the car's jarring bump on the road. He winces, his head snapping forward, followed closely by his upper body as the vehicle lurches to the right.

From the driver's seat, Adeline inhales sharply. "Sorry."

Yes, you read that correctly; she's behind the wheel. For reasons unknown, Matt had handed over control, and the entire journey has been a chaotic mix of jolts, jerks and potholes as she navigates her way through the learning curve.

Not that those reasons matter to Nick - she looks rather exquisite driving a car. Leant back comfortably with her right hand on the steering wheel and left wrist dangling loosely over the gear stick, it... causes something in his stomach to twitch.

Pride? Love? Desire? All of the above? He's not sure, he just knows it's damn hot.

"You need to be careful," Matt scolds.

"It was a dead Crank," Adeline scoffs nonchalantly. "What does it really matter?"

"You could pop a tire!"

"Don't shout at me!"

Matt lets out a frustrated groan, his irritation with the girl palpable as he thumps the back of his head against the headrest. After a deep breath and a slow count to five, he finally finds his composure and says, "you're right, I'm sorry." He straightens up, leaning forward to ensure she can see him clearly as she navigates the road. "But if you pull that stunt again, I swear I'll make you scrub the blood and guts off these tires with a toothbrush."