The Maze Runner Preferences

Learning From Mistakes (A.K.A me trying to break your hearts...sorry)

Gally:  He was too late. He'd changed his mind; he'd made the right decision but he was too late. He'd come running after the group only to find your body lying on the maze floor. If only he'd decided to leave with the group. You'd tried to convince him but he was just too stubborn. If only he'd gone with you; he might have managed to defend you, to protect you. As he held your broken body in his arms, unable to leave you there alone, the Griever approached him. He didn't even notice. Didn't even care. By the time the venom was coursing through his veins, Gally was long gone. Although he'd made many mistakes that day, one remained in his mind as he lost consciousness. He knew if he ever made it back, if he was ever himself again, he would use this though. He would become a better person. He would never regret a decision again, because this one was too crippling to bear.

If only I'd told her I loved her.

Minho: It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. He'd finally done it. He'd finally opened up to someone. He'd finally dropped his dumb façade and talked to someone properly. He'd finally shared his feelings with an actual person, instead of bottling them up inside. He'd said the words: "I'm scared." He'd told you how he felt. He'd been honest.

And within hours you were dead.

All of the build-up, all of the nerves, the anticipation. All of it was for nothing. He'd placed all of his faith in you being there for him, and a shuck-faced Griever had to go and kill you. In broad daylight.

He'd never do it again, he decided. It wasn't worth it. Why bother to lean on someone just to have them swept away beneath you? Why build that false hope? That false sense of security? So, no. He wasn't going to do that again. He didn't care how people saw him now. He didn't care who was offended by his standoffish nature. He did it to protect himself, because he'd failed to protect anyone else.

Newt: He could have prevented it. He could have told you what had happened that dreadful day. He could have told you what he'd learnt from it; how he was so much better off having survived.

But you'd gone and done the same bloody thing.

Only you'd succeeded.

He knew now more than ever how the others would have felt. He knew how devastating it would have been for them. But mostly, now more than ever, he knew the feeling of regret. Of not seeing it sooner, of being too preoccupied to pay attention.

Now, he was more aware than ever. More in tune with those around him. He'd ask them how they were and look for any sign. Any sign that they were slipping, any sign of a bad day, a bad moment. Any sign whatsoever. He wouldn't lose focus. He couldn't.

He'd keep the cracks glued shut so that nobody could fall through them again.

Thomas: It was W.I.C.K.E.D's fault; he knew that. But a huge part of him blamed himself. If only he'd done it earlier. If only he'd been sent into the maze a little sooner. He had planned on it, but hesitated. And in that time, you'd died.

Maybe if he'd been sent down a month earlier, the whole plan would have shifted. You would have all escaped sooner. You wouldn't have been stuck out  in the maze that night. You wouldn't have fallen victim to the Grievers. He wouldn't have come across W.I.C.K.E.D employees shifting your covered body from the maze exit to the crematorium. Maybe you would have survived long enough to regain your memories; to realise what you meant to each other.

Maybe there was still time to make a difference.