Thomas.

You knew he'd been the newest Greenie who'd come up in the box-- save for the first, who still wasn't awake, and... well, you.

Now, you saw him sitting outside the kitchen, propped up against a large tree, while Chuck was divvying up sandwiches and apples between the two of them. They were talking and laughing, and you caught sight of Thomas shooting his friend annoyed looks, but they were playful and full of amusement.

Newt talked about him a lot... how he'd disobeyed the Glade's number one rule, and gone out into the Maze at night to save Minho and Alby, ending up fighting off a Griever and living to tell about it. How he'd wanted to become a Runner only a few days after arriving, and eventually got Minho to train him.

Now, more determined than ever, you pushed yourself abruptly to your feet, scaring the crap out of the boy who'd been talking to you. You had been so lost in thought, you'd been completely tuning out what he had been saying, and now, he just stared at you, wide-eyed.

"Hold that thought," you said hurriedly, not waiting for him to answer before you took off down the hill, your eyes trained on the two boys.

They didn't notice you at first, but when Chuck looked up and saw you walking directly towards them, he nudged Thomas with his elbow.

"Thomas?" you asked, stopping right in front of him. Thomas looked up at you, obviously surprised. His friend whispered something in his ear, flashed him a thumbs-up, and scuttled away -- which you were grateful for, more wanting to talk with Thomas alone than anything.

"Y-yeah, that's me. You're (Y/N), right?"

You didn't answer, just walked even closer and slid down the tree next to him so you were sitting flat on the ground, so close your shoulders were brushing. Now you were here, you had no idea where to begin.

"You--"

"Why--"

You both stopped, realizing you'd both spoken at the same time. Thomas cracked a smile "You go first," he said, and you nodded your thanks.

"You've gone... into the Maze, right?"

Any warmth that had sparked behind the boy's eyes immediately died, and he responded with a solemn twitch of his head, like he was trying to nod, but couldn't bring himself to. You took that as an invitation to continue. "You've gone out into it, and spent a night there -- something no one's ever done before."

"I only did what I thought anyone else here would do in that kind of situation," Thomas told you earnestly. You could sense the sincerity in his words.

"But, now you're a Runner, and you're allowed to go in every day?"

"That's right. What are you getting at?" You took a deep breath.

"I need to become a Runner." Thomas started at you incredulously, like you'd just admitted to kissing a Griever, or something.

"You're... not planning to go out into the Maze at night to achieve that... are you?"

"Of course not, shuck-face," you snapped, horrified that he had the impression you might do something like that. "I'm not an idiot. I just need in -- but somehow in a way that won't get me more time in the Slammer. Two times in one month and Alby will throw me in for a year." You were only half joking.

"Why are you asking me?" Thomas didn't at all seem eager to help you. He raised his eyebrows skeptically, then reached up to run a hand through his hair.

"Because I know you're a smart kid, Thomas," you said, flashing him a million dollar smile. "And, because I know all about your little chats with that girl in the coma."

Thomas remained emotionless, but you saw something flash behind his eyes. His lips twitched, and he turned a hardened stare on you.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, and your heart sank. You'd been desperately hoping he wasn't going to make this hard. But, you wouldn't let this chance slip away. You had to get out there.

You leaned forward, placing your left hand on his chest to steady yourself, and your right hand on his lower back so your mouth as right by his ear. You felt his heartbeat speed up, and his face flush -- knew he was struggling to remain calm.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Tom," you whispered, your lips brushing his cheek as you spoke. Only after Thomas had pulled back to stare wide-eyed at you, did you know you'd stricken a nerve.

"How--" You held a hand up to silence him.

"Before you ask how I could possibly know about all this -- let me explain. I don't -- it's just one of the many useless things floating around in my brain that make absolutely no sense whatsoever."

That had shut him up.

You let your hand fall onto your knee. "Good, now, what time do you and Minho usually get ready to leave by?"

"I-I don't know, five?" Thomas was struggling to speak.

"And is Alby ever awake yet?"

"Hardly."

This was it.

"I need you and Minho to take me into the Maze tomorrow," you said, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. Thomas hesitated, lowering his gaze to the ground. "Thomas," you said softly, setting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I know it doesn't make sense to you -- but I need to know. I need answers, and I came to you because... I know you understand how that feels."

He gave you one last longing look, begging you with his eyes to change your mind; but you'd decided a long time ago that you would do this, and you weren't going to let him sway you in the slightest.

"Fine," he sighed, twisting around to pick up the sandwich that Chuck had given him before you'd scared him off. "But Alby's most definitely gonna catch you. Where do you plan to say you've been all day, the bathroom?" He snorted, and you glared at him, reaching down and snatching the sandwich out of his hands as he was raising it to his mouth.

"I'll get Chuck to tell him I'm really sick and can't work." You imitated an overdramatic cough into your hand. "I think I'm already coming down with something." Thomas rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with the conversation. "Thanks for the lunch!" you called over your shoulder as you stalked away, taking an extra large bite out of the bread and ham before waving it above your head for Thomas to see. To your satisfaction, you left him sitting in stunned silence.

It didn't take long to convince Chuck to cover for you -- just the promise of your desserts every night for the next month, before he'd skipped happily to dinner, knowing he would be getting two pieces of cake that night, and you'd get nothing.

Newt had sat himself down next to you as you sipped at your stew; you almost couldn't handle the guilt building up inside you. It felt like a monster, clawing and biting in the pit of your stomach -- growing bigger and bigger with every passing second.

He'd started up a conversation about how you were supposed to train with Gally and the builders tomorrow, and you'd nodded along, all the while the guilt continued to eat away at your insides.

You knew he genuinely enjoyed your company. He enjoyed talking with you, and you with him -- he wanted to be your friend, and how do you repay him? -- by blatantly lying to him. It stung, like a slap in the face. He was smiling and laughing. Creases formed at the corners of his eyes, and his mouth was turned up in a wide grin -- you knew it was rare to see Newt like this, which just made everything start to hurt all over again.

"You're not really going to enjoy the bloody shank's company-" he was saying, "but Gally's work is efficient. I'm sure he'll give you a good taste of what it's like to be a builder."

You still had hardly touched your soup, instead filling your spoon with broth, and watching it dribble over the edge as you slowly tipped it to one side. It splashed back into the bowl and sent little droplets of red spattering onto the table's surface.

Newt obviously knew about your interest in becoming a Runner, but you supposed he chose to ignore it -- maybe wishing that you'd rather be a builder after one day of training.

"I want to be a Runner, Newt," you blurted before you could stop yourself. You looked up, and saw the older boy was staring at you sadly; any trace of laughter that had bubbled behind his eyes before had vanished completely.

"I know," he said quietly. "I just want you to trust me on this one, Greenie. The Maze is bloody hell, that's all there is to it."

"How do you know so much about it anyway?" you asked, returning to playing with your soup, refusing to meet his eyes again. You hated seeing him look at you like that.

"Does it really matter?" he said, after a long pause. "I'm just trying to protect you, (Y/N). The last thing I want is to see any of my friends getting hurt."

"You used to be a Runner, huh?" The words almost seemed like they were forced out of you, bursting out your throat, without the memory of forming them. They felt unfamiliar on your tongue. But... they also surprised you. Did he use to be a Runner? Why wasn't he one anymore?

"Yeah, I was. Worst bloody months of my life." You felt a pang of sorrow, and you instantly regretted pushing the subject any further.

"I'm sorry Newt... I didn't mean..." you trailed off, not knowing how to finish. He seemed to understand and flashed you another one of his rare smiles.

"It's okay. I understand how curious all you buggin' Greenies can be. I was once one myself ya know." You cracked a little smile. It was hard to imagine Newt as the bumbling newbie, having no idea who he was, or where he'd woken up. He seemed so comfortable here... Like he'd lived in the Glade all his life, though you knew that couldn't be true. You -- and everyone else here -- had had a life before waking up in the Box. You had parents, maybe a brother or sister, and lived in a house. A normal house, with no giant Maze blocking every exit, and no Grievers coming after you at night.

"You ever wonder what your life was like... Ya know, before you woke up here?" Newt drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully.

"Haven't we all?"

He chuckled halfheartedly. "Course I have... but then I think: if it had been so bloody great, why would we have chosen this life over that?"

"What if we didn't have a choice? Maybe..." you hesitated, the words lodging in your throat. "Maybe... we were kidnapped or something. Or orphaned?"

"Well," Newt sighed, getting to his feet. "There's not much point in guessing the worst is there? There's also a chance that we'll get out of there, and our families will be waiting at the end to welcome us with open arms. That's what keeps me going. It's what helps me sleep at night."

Newt held out a hand to you to help you up. "I should be getting to bed," he said, his tone softening.

"Yeah, me too." You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. Newt tensed up for a minute, his hands hovering over you back, like he was unsure of what to do; you smiled and reached back to grab them, guiding them gently to your waist.

"You've never been hugged before?" you asked, amusement tinging your words, though, you supposed -- considering the circumstances -- it might not be so unbelievable. You felt his chest rise and fall quickly as he let out a small laugh. You expected him to pull away and bid you goodnight, but he just stood there, resting his chin on your head. Only after a loud whistle sounded, did you jump apart, looking around wildly.

"Time for bed lovebirds!" You caught sight of Minho snickering with another boy as they made their across the field, towards the homestead.

"G-goodnight Newt," you stuttered, bowing your head to hide your burning face. He nodded and left without another word. You walked back to your bed, feeling lighter than you'd ever been, and couldn't help but wonder if Newt felt the same.

You just hoped that he'd forgive you for what you were about to do.