teenage wasteland ;; the maze runner

2.18

    she and antony had fallen into a fit of comfortable silence, both staring outwards towards the brutal terrain. exhausted faces surrounded them wherever they looked, nobody daring to make conversation as they tried to regain any energy they could.

    florence still stroked sammy's head without thought, the movement hypnotic as her thoughts wandered. she could clearly tell her lack of sleep was getting to her, her mindful adventures getting gradually weirder.

    antony's eyes, she could feel them, often flickered between staring at three different things. the far off distance, much like the rest of the group, sammy's sleeping figure, and the side of flo's face. at first, she'd been uncomfortable, curious as to why he was so apparent about his looks, but then she realized he wasn't. she was just oddly receptive to anything antony did.

    probably those years of watching him in annoyance, she thought to herself, a small smirk quirking up when she felt his stare move to watch her hand play with sammy's hair. but, even that thought felt like a lie, somehow.

    she didn't want to think about it anymore. it made her head hurt. and her chest, for some reason.

    but, much to her liking — well, sort of... not really, actually — an interruption came soon after. although, it wasn't one of those fun interruptions, nothing like minho accidentally falling on his face, or sammy waking up, or fry announcing that he found a snack in his bag. no, this one was, if anything, a tragedy that had been waiting to happen.

    florence couldn't say she was too surprised when winston's eyes fluttered open and the first thing he did was reach for and fire a gun that someone had idiotically placed within arms distance of the sick boy.

    everything froze when she first heard the protests of fry, minho, and newt, and her eyes immediately found the scene with a heavy heart. frypan was quickest, arm bravely outreached to redirect the barrel of the gun with barely a second to spare.

    the sound of the shot was what truly rattled everyone.

    antony was on his feet, stumbling over, while florence was still trying to regain her brain. it was so sudden, and yet she was nowhere near shocked at the course of action. even while her heart beat in her throat, her mind knew that, logically, this was an end they couldn't avoid.

    "huh?" sammy's tired murmur broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked at the boy. he pushed himself up into a seated position, the backs of his hands rubbing at sleep-filled eyes. even just a fifteen minute nap was enough to color him confused.

    florence gaped for a moment, trying to find her voice. her hands moved uselessly, gestures making no clear message, and then she finally croaked out, "sit over here." she pointed to the wall where antony had just been tucked. "stay, sammy. don't move."

    she didn't give either of them another moment to rethink her directions, and she got herself up, bounding over to where the rest of the group tried to interfere with winston's half-thought out choices.

    when she got there, thomas and teresa were also just meeting with the group. fry had the gun in his hands now, his voice strained in a mixture of confusion and hurt as he explained to thomas what'd happened. "he just woke up and grabbed the gun!"

    florence looked to the sick boy, her heart hurting at the sight. he was on his hands and knees, looking down at the sand, as he panted for air. thomas dropped beside him, hand on his back, and while florence wanted to pull him back to keep him safe, she knew that was a bad idea. winston was still winston, he wasn't full crank yet, and he needed a bit of humanity.

    winston recoiled as soon as thomas reached him, head nodding forward as he puked out what seemed to be a quarter pint of black blood. he coughed, trying to rid himself from the suffocatingly thick liquid, and florence's hand covered her mouth as tears rose to pool in her eyes.

    he gasped, trying to find air, trying to not choke, and he dropped backwards, laying on the ground.

    the sight of the weak boy, of her friend, was one that was indescribable. it was like florence knew what the next step was, like she knew there was no saving him, like she knew there was no hope, but she refused to allow such a thought into her brain. he panted, trying to keep the air flow going, and it was clear he was in pain. but, even that was too hard for florence to process.

    she knew she wasn't the only one.

    then, winston lifted his head, just barely. the action was weak and shaky, and he clearly struggled more than any of them could imagine, but that didn't stop him. instead, he also lifted his hands and grabbed his shirt to tug upwards. "it's growing," was all he said.

    then, he showed them the wound.

    heads looked away around florence, stomachs churned, hearts dropped, but it was moments like those that florence became her truest self. she became the daughter of two doctors, the niece of another, she became florence the medjack.

    she became braver than she ever was.

    and, so, she took a step forward. then, she took another one. and then, she crouched beside the dying boy and placed a soft hand on the side of his face.

    winston's eyes flickered to her's, dark and bordered by deep circles. his lips were chapped and purple, every stem cell clearly fighting to survive this virus. nobody worked as hard as the human body did, nobody worked as hard as a man trying to escape death.

    "hi, winston," she whispered, and she smiled.

    he didn't bother with her greeting, he didn't bother to cry or complain. instead, he looked right at the girl he'd known since he could remember, and he began to plead. "i'm not gonna make it," he croaked. "please," he breathed, arm outstretched towards the gun. "please," he didn't dare look away from florence, "don't leet me turn into one of those things."

    and so, she smiled at him, soft and warmly. she dropped her hand from his cheek, and he relaxed. somehow, without words, he knew she would listen. even as tears welled up in her eyes, she managed to reach for the gun that newt offered.

    "you're incredible, winston," she whispered. "life or death, we cannot thank you enough." she placed the gun in his hand, resting both on his chest. "thank you."

    he only returned her bittersweet smile. "no, thank you." a tear dropped from flo's eye, but she didn't bother to wipe it. "now, get outta here."

    "goodbye, winston."

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    the walk was silent, mourning the life of a boy that deserved to see their victory. winston was everything, but now, thanks to janson, thanks to those cranks, thanks to the end of the world, he was nothing.

    florence didn't dare let herself break down crying, though. he deserved respect, he deserved his story to be deserved, he deserved to remembered in the best light possible. winston did not deserve her pity, self or otherwise.

    even when the bullet rang out, the most they all did was pause, let their hearts break a little bit more, before they kept on moving. like they always did.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

cool cool cool... so glad that's happened... not at all sad... but anyway, fr, this chapter is short but the next one is coming soon (i actually swear on it, like it's prewritten and merely awaiting editing but it's coming) so don't fret

anyway, thank u all for reading, i hope you enjoyed! please please please leave a comment or vote behind bc why not <33