His Teddy-Bear 🥾Minho TMR💨 (Pre Thomas)

Running Confidence

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The next morning's sun cast long shadows over the Glade as Delilah strode through the thickening crowds, her jaw set with determination. Roughly typing her wavy hair into a ponytail whilst moving. Sleep had been a fleeting thing last night, her mind racing with every possible argument, every reason why Alby should give her a chance as a Runner. She'd replayed her conversation with that slinthead Minho again and again, each word hardening her resolve. Today, she would prove them wrong.

She found Alby near the Gardens, discussing supplies with the caring second-in-command Newt, his head bent close to listen as Newt murmured about ration counts and crop rotations. Delilah paused, waiting for a break in the conversation. When Newt finally walked away, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward.

"Alby," she called out, her voice steady and loud enough to catch his attention.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it faded into something cautious. "Delilah," he greeted, his tone neutral. "Something I can help you with?"

"Yes," she said, glancing quickly around to make sure the others weren't within earshot. "I want to be a Runner."

Alby's expression hardened, and he let out a quiet sigh. "We talked about this already," he said, a slight edge to his voice. "Running the Maze isn't something you just ask to do. It's not a game, Delilah. It's a matter of life and death."

"I know it's dangerous," Delilah replied, standing her ground. "But I'm not here to hide behind walls. I'm here to help." Her voice faltered slightly from the worry she will make a fool out of herself, her eyes drifting to the soft flowers dribbled along the gardens.

"Being a Runner takes more than just wanting to help," Alby retorted. "It takes speed, endurance, and a level head on top of your shank body. You've barely been here long enough to know the difference between the different jobs, let alone what it's like to survive out there."

"Then let me train," she said, her voice firm. "Let me train with the others. I'll prove I can keep up."

Alby stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. She could feel him weighing her words, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear. "You do realize that if you don't keep up, the Maze will kill you?" he asked finally, his tone dead serious. "The walls close every night, Delilah. You get stuck out there, you're as good as dead unless you somehow befriend the Grievers."

"I know," she said, swallowing hard. She didn't let her gaze waver, despite the unease twisting in her stomach. "But if I don't try, I'll never know. And you need all the help you can get. Isn't that what matters?"

A silence fell between them. Alby studied her, his expression unreadable, and Delilah forced herself to stay calm under the weight of his scrutiny. She could feel her pulse racing, each heartbeat a reminder of just how badly she wanted this-needed this. She was tired of being seen as weak, tired of feeling like she had to prove herself every day just to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, Alby sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine," he said, a reluctant acceptance in his voice. "You can join training for a day. Just one day. Minho will take a day off to take you out to the first few sections and show you the basics." His eyes hardened. "But if he says you're not cut out for it, that's it shank. No arguments. Understood?"

Delilah nodded, her heart pounding with excitement and fear. "Understood," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Good," Alby said, already turning back to his work. "Talk to Minho after breakfast. He'll set you up."

The excitement simmered in her chest as she walked away, her fists clenched to hide the way her hands trembled. She'd done it. She'd convinced Alby to give her a shot. Maybe just this mere opportunity will change how some of the boys look down on her.