Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HE DIDNT SLEEP THAT NIGHT, or the previous night. or even the one previous to that. there were dark circles collecting underneath the expanse of his eyes.
there's a crude-hidden selfishness that comes with deep-rooted sadness. and if he didn't know any better, he would quit what he was currently doing, to be free, to be normal.
something happened. exactly 20 minutes ago, but he was just too tired and numb to recognize the significance the event had on the entirety of the glade.
he wasn't listening when commotion picked up near the entrance of the maze. he wasn't paying attention when they dragged his—limp, pale body.
he surely wasn't paying attention, to all the signs that portrayed itself at point-blank direction.
because virtually, his body was there. his mind however, was not.
he met Alby's demands when things went awry, he made dinner for all the gladers, and he always had this far-away, glazed over look. he didn't feel present in this time or the next.
eventually, he snapped out of it, when he finally came to terms with the fact that he was gone. and shortly after that, he realized he shouldn't be dwelling over that anymore, because it didn't matter. (even if it hurt too much to admit.) so he perked up, began smiling again, and finally, took notice to things around him.
surely he couldn't miss the fact that Newt was no longer a runner. surely couldn't miss the thin-lipped smiles sent his way. he should've been paying attention, he really should've.
he wasn't, until Minho approached him in the kitchens one afternoon.
he creeped in, like he was stalking his next meal. alert, stiff, and always watching.
"Atlas." he stated simply. he turned his head towards the other male.
"hello...?"
"i need to talk to you."
so up he went, trailing behind Minho like a lost puppy, towards the dense forest in front of them.
they weaves their way through bushes and vines, and eventually came across a wooden hut.
Inside, was tons of little wood chips ordered neatly in an intricate pattern. suddenly, he realized it was a replica of the maze.
"Nick wanted me to tell you something." He said, pulling out a handwritten note. Eyes flicking from Atlas's eyes to the paper, he cleared his throat.
Minho, in case of my untimely death, i'd like you to read this to Atlas, regarding if i never get the chance—
For the 3 years i've been here, i had never trusted anyone more than I do you. Despite the fact that i've met many different people. you were different, you were always different.
in your eyes, i've seen a gleaming, hungry look whenever you turned towards the direction of the open maze doors. and i'd never thought you would be right for the job, but, i was proven wrong.
i entrust to you, the job of running the maze. mapping exits, recording the patterns. it's a hard job, and i want you to be included. i see something in your eyes i've never seen in any other guy here, and that stood out to me.
and if you could run it by the new leader by the time this reaches you, i want it to be supplied immediately.
—best regards, Nick.
Minho looked up from the paper he was reading.
"I ran this by Alby, yknow? I know we haven't talked much—but I know how much Nick liked you, so, he and I agreed to let you do a trial period to see how you keep up in the maze." He says all in one go, and Atlas looked up at him. He didn't know why Nick had thought this would be a good idea—but strangely he felt like he couldn't decline this offer, so he just stiffly nodded. Minho looked up him, nodded back, and then walked out.
