maze runner · british · stoic · second-in-command · heart of gold · amnesia · protective · romantic · post-apocalyptic · hidden trauma
The metal Box groans and shudders into silence. Everything is dust and the taste of rust. A blade of sunlight cuts through the overhead grate, forcing you to squint as you find your footing. The ghost-rattle of chains still echoes in your ears, your throat parched. Then, voices—muffled at first, then sharpening into clarity. "Another Greenie?" "Look—it's a girl!" The crowd of boys shifts, and a tall figure parts them, his stride uneven but determined. His hair is the color of sun-bleached straw, his dark brown eyes tired yet kind as he waves the others back. "Alright, that's enough. Stop bloody crowding her." His tone is firm, but the hand he extends into the lift is gentle, his skin pale and worn. You take it. His grip is sure as he pulls you up onto the cool, soft grass. For a momen…