The Maze Runner Preferences

He Kills You

A/N: This was requested by @daryciaMendesG , so you can blame her, not me ;) Sorry, not all of them are strictly accidental, so I didn't follow your EXACT request. I just did what worked best in my view :(

DEFINITELY LISTEN TO THE SONG IF YOU WANT TO CRY D':

Gally:

It was a split second. That was all it took. You were building the next storey of the Homestead, and had been at it for most of the day. It was nearing dinner time and you were all eager to call it quits for the day. You'd been up on the structure itself for the majority of the day, but had moved to the ground to collect the tools as they were passed down to you. Gally was handing you one of the hammers when it happened.

He was reaching down to you. You'd made a joke about Frypan's dinner not being anything to look forward to and you'd both laughed. You were so happy, so carefree. You felt at home around each other.

As Gally laughed, he accidentally knocked the pile of bricks to his right. There was no time to register what had happened. Nothing you could have done to avoid being hit. It just happened too fast. Gally yelled out, but it was too late. He heard the sickening thud as the bricks made contact, colliding with you and the ground around you.

"Y/N!" he screamed, jumping down to pull them all off you. The other builders called for the Medjacks, who quickly came running.

By the time they got there, Gally had removed all the bricks and was holding your lifeless body in his arms, sobbing as he rocked back in forth.

"I've killed her!" he spluttered. "I-I've killed Y/N! It's all my fault!"

There was nothing the Medjacks could do, and the whole Glade entered a state of shock; not even Alby could find the right words to say.

They buried you that evening, and though Gally tried to resign as Keeper of the Builders, Alby wouldn't let him, insisting he needed to work harder than ever to avoid giving up altogether.

So, Gally became bitterer, angrier. He was never the same as he once was. His guilt and the pain of losing you consumed him.

He was never happy again.

Minho:

It was all his fault. He'd become paranoid. Ever since that night in the maze with Thomas, all he could picture every time he rounded a corner was a Griever, waiting there for him.

So, when he ran into you, he panicked, drawing out his knife in the process. By the time he realised it was you, the knife had already plunged into your abdomen.

"Y/N?" he croaked, reaching out to catch you before you hit the ground.

The next few minutes were a blur. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed you back to the Glade. You hadn't said a word and you were getting paler by the second.

It was a lost cause.

By the time the Medjacks got you into the Homestead, your heart was no longer beating.

Minho was beside himself. Usually the most composed member of the Glade, he unsettled everyone as he broke down crying at your bedside.

He knew you wouldn't want that though. He knew you'd want him to be strong, to fight on. He knew you'd want him to carry on.

So he did.

He ran faster and thought harder, and eventually figured out the code and the exit to the maze.

He couldn't make any more mistakes. Couldn't lose focus again. He was responsible for the loss of a vital member of the Glade and the one who was most important to him.

So he made it up to the rest of them.

He led them out, for you.

Newt:

He knew it wasn't you who decided to attack Thomas. He knew it wasn't you he'd stopped from killing Thomas.

But it was you he'd killed.

There had to have been another way, he told himself again and again, trying to shake that horrific memory from his mind. To justify it.

The sound of Thomas' screams. The sight of you, sickly and covered in greenish veins, chasing after him. The knife gripped tightly in your hand. The scene he knew was to unfold.

The thud of his spade hitting your head.

He'd just meant to stop you. To slow you down enough so the others could pull you away from Thomas. Get you the serum.

He never imagined it would have killed you.

She would've been banished anyway, he told himself. Think rationally.

Still, he couldn't avoid that overshadowing 'what if'.

What if she wasn't banished?

What if she hadn't even been stung?

What if Thomas deserved it?

And most prominently:

What if she'd lived?

He'd never gotten to say to you the one thing that had consumed him since you arrived in the box that day: he was in love with you.

He'd never had the chance, or the courage, to tell you that.

And now he never could.

Thomas:

He had to, right? He had to do it. There wasn't a choice. No other option.

It was him or you. And the real you was long gone. Past the gone.

The Flare was a terrible, soulless disease. It took no prisoners, preying on the most human part of us all: our mind.

And when it took you, Thomas was devastated. You begged for him to leave you behind, ensuring him you'd fend for yourself in the Scorch. After much convincing, many tears, and the most heart-breaking of goodbyes, he obliged, leaving you with one final kiss before he set off with the others, leaving you at Crank Palace.

So, he didn't expect to find himself face to face with you, a knife held to his throat.

A knife held by the girl he loved.

The girl he once loved.

He had no choice; he'd never expected you to escape Crank Palace. Never thought you'd find him if you did.

But here you were, face to face.

But it wasn't the real you anymore.

It wasn't the real you he'd pulled his own knife on. Wasn't the real you he'd killed.

But the real you was dead, and it hurt him as if he'd given you the Flare himself. As if he'd invented the terrible virus himself.

Sometimes, he just wished he wasn't immune.