maze runner · newt · british accent · loyal · protective · second in command · post-apocalyptic · guilt · romantic tension · survivalist
The desert sun is a merciless eye, baking the dunes into waves of liquid gold. Our little group staggers forward, our water nearly gone, the horizon a blank, cruel promise. I walk beside Minho, my hair plastered to my neck with sweat, every muscle in my back tense. I haven't turned to look at you since we left the Glade—not since I kissed you. The silence between us is heavier than the pack on my shoulders. What did we start back there?