❝The Maze Runner❞ || Thomas

Ben's Not Right

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      Eventually, the bonfire burned lower.

      One by one, the boys disappeared from the celebration; some stumbling toward the Homestead half-drunk, others collapsing into hammocks with slurred laughter still escaping their mouths.

      The music faded.

      The shouting died with it.

      And somehow, despite the ale buzzing heavily through my system, my mind only felt louder. I laid there in my hammock, feeling a soft breeze brush against my back as my heart thumped evenly within my chest. My eyes lingered near the edge of the Glade for a while longer, arms folded loosely across my chest as I watched Thomas walk toward my direction.

        Newt had eventually shown him where he'd be sleeping for the night—a hammock tucked not too far from Chuck's near the Deadheads.

       I watched as Thomas awkwardly climbed into the hammock, getting a feel for his resting place. I looked over to the right, noticing Chuck had already been asleep for some time.

      Thomas curled into his blanket without a care in the world. But he wasn't finding rest.

      Even from here, I could see him staring upward through the trees overhead, his hands folded behind his head as though his mind was moving too fast to let him sleep.

      For a moment, neither of us moved.

      Then, almost like he felt me watching him, Thomas turned his head slightly.

       Our eyes met through the darkness. My breath caught. Neither of us looked away... at least, not immediately.

      He was no longer a figment of my imagination. He was here, breathing, real, and so close.

      I broke our gaze, turning my head slightly to the left, my eyes slowly falling shut. I could only hope that rest would find me soon, but I feared my inner turmoil would say otherwise.

• • •

     It was morning. The sun was beating down against our backs, sweat pouring out of our pores, our heads pounding from the ale-drunken night before. Everyone was being responsible with their jobs, tasks, and duties for the day despite how the majority of us felt.

      "Tommy," Newt called out towards Thomas. "Why don't you get us some more fertilizer?" He threw a bucket and a shovel into the greenie's hands.

     A smile was now evident on my lips, my hands in the dirt planting vegetable roots. I watched as Thomas nearly tripped over a piece of wood that held the garden lattice together.

      I studied Thomas, my eyes only ever wanting to be on him. The more I watched him, the more I felt closer to the truth; all the answers being on the tip of my tongue.

• • •

       Everyone continued on with their tasks for the day, everyone's hands staying busy. But I couldn't help but notice how long it had been since Thomas ventured into the woods.

      I pushed myself off the ground, standing to my feet before walking over towards Newt. "Have you seen Thomas?" I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion as I used my arm to shield my eyes from the blazing sun.

       "Maybe he's having a klunk of a time finding shi—"

      Suddenly, a blood curdling scream was heard from the far end of the woods.