I do not own Maze Runner or any of its characters

Carl: *gets killed when the Homestead falls*
Me: *while writing it* mmm whatcha sayyy

(I knew everyone was thinking it)
...
...
...

(don't even lie)

Lauren
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"Oh thank the Lord you're up." I sighed and put a hand on my chest.

That wasn't the response Henry was looking for because his face turned red. And I didn't think he was blushing.

I went on, acting oblivious to his obvious social cues. "Do you know how much stress you've caused me? I almost got jail time because of you. And I've lost so much hair! Also, believe me, when I say, I did not mean to hit you with that hammer. It was just, like, there."

"Shut up!" Henry yelled. The bandage around his head tightened.

"If you say so." I put on a smile that we both knew was fake and walked up the stairs. It immediately vanished when I was out of his eyesight.

"Hey! I plan on having a chat with Alby and Newt after this. They never heard my side of the story."

"Well, it's too bad that they already made up their minds." I turned back to him, despite everything inside me screaming to keep walking.

"Yeah, but I heard the only other person there died. And who knows what you would do right now?" He said with a little smirk on his face.

My hands started shaking at the reference of Carl. This guy was worse than I thought. I clenched them into fists and tried to muster up some sense of self-control. I was already on probation, and hitting Henry again didn't seem to be a good thing to do right now.

"You're grieving. And you're obviously crazy. Who knows what you could do?" I didn't like what he was implying.

He dropped his voice and walked up a couple of steps. "Who are they going to believe?" Henry kept getting closer and closer, and my hands were buzzing. It wouldn't even take me half a second to drop this stick.

"I hear that they'll believe a Keeper."

I sighed inaudibly. I didn't know how much longer I would have lasted.

Clint stood there, with food in his hands and a sour expression on his face. "No one said you could leave your room, Henry."

We locked eyes, and I just nodded to Clint's unasked question.

"Did you hear me?" I finally realized why Clint was a Keeper.

Henry said nothing but turned around regardless. He threw one last look at me as he walked down the stairs.

I took a couple of deep, steadying breaths and forced my hands to stop shaking. Having a panic attack now wouldn't do me any favors. Once I felt calmer and function as a human being, I walked back up the stairs for a third time to grab the stupid paint can.

|~^-^~|

The first problem I ran into was when the first sign crumbled in my hands. I was barely able to read the name scrawled on the decaying wood. George. I wondered how he died. Did he make an impact on anyone? Did he die in vain? My imagination ran wild.

The second problem occurred when I wasn't able to pull a sign out of the ground. I finally had to dig it out with my shovel and cracked a rotting skull in the process.

I lost all of the food I had eaten in the past 24 hours.

I ran into the third one when I opened up the paint can and saw the crumbly mess it left behind. But after using liberal amounts of water and stirring until my arms wanted to join the corpses in the ground, it was finally useable. A little runny, but it worked.

When I ran out of the water, it marked the fourth problem. But I didn't go back out into the Glade.

Once I finished the l on Carl, I flopped down on the forest floor. Inhaling deeply, I tried not to think about anything in particular. There were too many worries in my head right now, bouncing around like tennis balls. It hurt to try and pin one down. But one decided to come up anyway.

Was I going to get stung on purpose?

Before I could go down that rabbit hole, a branch snapped, and I jumped up.

"Am I allowed here, Your Majesty?" Peter but his hands up, and I saw a bottle of water in one of them.

I looked down at my own and saw a paintbrush gripped tightly in my right hand. I dropped it and folded my arms. "Her Majesty requires a sacrifice."

"Does water work?"

"It does." Peter threw the bottle to me, and I sucked it down like life itself.

"How are you doing?" He asked softly.

"It's going to get better. But I just feel responsible." I was tired of lying.

"Is that why you're hiding out here?"

"Yes and no." I laid back down, Peter joining me.

We stayed like that, just looking at the trees. I didn't think I ever wanted to come out. Here there were no stares, no boys trying to get with me, no problems. It makes a person wonder if you should get a Griever sting and get out of this place.

It made me miss the Glen.

"Peter, what do you think you would do in the real world?" I asked suddenly.

He thought about it. "I feel like I'd be building things."

"Like an architect?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

The question caught me off guard. I didn't think much about the future. My thoughts about it were mostly focused on if I was going to tempt death, which took up a lot of headspace.

"Um," I thought about what I did in the Glen. "I guess I'd be working with people. A teacher or something."

"Yeah. You're good with people when you want to be." Was his response.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying, sometimes you act a little," He hesitated.

"Finish the sentence, Peter." My voice was deathly calm.

"You don't think about your actions. When it comes to people you care for, I mean." Peter finished.

"How so?" I was confused.

"Look at what happened with Carl. You were literally about to jump into a crumbling building."

He was telling the truth, but I didn't want to hear it.

"It's not a bad thing to have, as long as you can be able to control it." He added hastily.

"Yeah." We fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"We should probably go back, right?"

"Probably." Neither of us moved.

It was peaceful, being out here. If I closed my eyes and thought, it would be like I was still in the Glen. With every passing day, the feeling to go back and leave the Glade got stronger. Even the voice wasn't as harsh as it used to be.

"Peter."

"Hm?"

"I'm homeless."

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why am I cracking up so hard

This chapter wasn't really much of anything, huh. Oh well! We got Lauren and Peter time, where Peter has at least 3 braincells and Lauren's slowly losing her one.

The best type of friendships, yah know?

Questions!

-What do you think Peter's fate is going to be in the end?

-Will Lauren actually take a Griever sting?

-Glade or Glen?

-Qs, Cs, or CC?

(GUYS AND GALS AND THE NON-BINARY PALS-WE HAVE HIT A NEW RECORD FOR AUTHOR'S NOTES)