I do not own The Maze Runner or any of its characters

Peter: How do you know what's good for me?!
Lauren: That's my opINION

Lauren
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(hey, 👋🏼 um. hi. grab some tissues. also you might want to ask future you how you're doing :/)

It only made sense that Chuck was there when Thomas woke up from the Changing. The poor guy had been worried sick, possibly more than Newt. He hardly ever left his side and looked devastated every time we moved Thomas into the Slammer for the night.

I was patching up the Homestead for the 4th? Time? It was hard to keep track. The guys and I had finally given up trying to make it look pretty and just used whatever supplies we had lying around to make it not look like a hole again.

Jonathan came in, telling us that Peter and I head the Gathering Thomas had requested.

"The guy's awake?" I asked.

"They want me?" Peter also asked at the same time.

Jonathan shrugged. "Yes, and Newt asked for you to come along, specifically."

I just grinned for what seemed like the first time in a long time.

"C'mon, Peter. You get to sit with the big kids." I threw my arm around him, and we all walked to the Gathering.

With two Keepers gone, Zart and Gally, the room felt empty. I noticed Peter hesitating before sitting in Gally's seat, and I switched with Minho again to be there for him. And also to make sure that if he had any questions, he could easily ask.

Alby looked a whole lot better sitting in his seat next to Newt, and honestly, I was happy that he was back in his rightful place in charge of these Gatherings. Newt's great, but Alby was a lot better at keeping people in line.

"All right, Greenie. Forget about all the beat-around-the-bush klunk. Start talking." Alby started us off.

I was interested in what Thomas had to say. While it might seem incredible that I got memories, it also really sucked why I couldn't choose what I could remember. I got random glimpses of my past, and none of them helped with a way to get out here. I didn't remember anything interesting. And it infuriated me to no end. So yes, I was very invested in Thomas's story, unlike others, like Winston, who wanted to be anywhere but there.

Thomas tried to tell his story but got confused and quickly started over.

"Every single one of us was taken when we were really young."

It was hard to keep another smile off my face. My theory was correct. I turned to my left to say something to Gally but was greeted with a very anxious Peter. The poor guy looked about as queasy as Thomas, and his right leg moved at the speed of light. I wanted to ask him about it but changed my mind. The Greenie kept talking.

"I don't remember anything about my family or what happened to them. But after we were taken, we spent the next few years learning in special schools, living somewhat normal lives until they were finally able to finance and build the Maze. All our names are just stupid nicknames they made up—like Alby for Albert Einstein, Newt for Issac Newton, and me—Thomas. As in Edison."

That didn't shock me as much as it did the others. I'd already known we didn't have our real names. But I didn't realize we were named after historical people.

What famous person was named 'Lauren?'

And for some reason, Alby didn't take hearing that our names weren't our own as well as he did the first time.

"Our names . . . these ain't even our real names?"

Newt and I shared a confused look. I told him before, what was up with now? Did he just not believe me?

"As far as I can tell, we'll probably never know what our names are."

"Lauren knows hers." Newt pointed out.

Thomas looked confused. "Really?"

"Yeah, Zara Quinn Starell. You have an explanation for it?"

He shook his head.

Frypan injected into the conversation. "What are you saying? That we're freaking orphans raised by scientists?"

"That's one way to put it." Peter whispered. I was glad he finally talked; I thought he might have gone into an anxiety-induced coma.

"Yes. Supposedly we're really smart and they're studying every move we make, analyzing us. Seeing who'd give up and who wouldn't. Seeing who'd survive it all. No wonder we have so many beetle blade spies running around this place. Plus, some of us have had things . . . altered in our brains." He trailed off, looking embarrassed.

I looked down at the ground, remembering Crackface.

"I believe this klunk about as much as I believe Frypan's food is good for you." Winston finally grumbled loud enough for us to hear.

"Why would I make this up?" Thomas snapped. "Better yet, what do you think is the explanation? That we live on an alien planet?"

Finally, I wondered when he'd raise his voice.

Alby cut off their spat. "Just keep talking. But I don't get why none of us remembered this stuff. I've been through the Changing, but everything I saw was . . ." He trailed off as if he revealed something terrible. "I didn't learn nothin'."

"Join the club, all I remembered was the other Maze and learning how to spot a lie." I huffed, glad someone else felt the same.

"The other,-the other Maze?" The Greenie stuttered.

"Yeah, one with girls instead of boys. Let's just keep going, please? We only have time to unpack one Changing."

"I, alright. I think I know why I remembered more than the other people who went through the Changing." He looked at Newt. "Should I keep going or not?"

"Talk." Newt gave his consent.

Thomas started on this long speech, explaining that the Creators wanted only the best of us and were trying to weed out the weak links. We supposedly had above-average intelligence, and the fact that we hadn't stopped looking for a solution in the Maze made us all the more special. The whole thing honestly made my blood boil, and when he told the group that there wasn't a solution just added to mine, and other Keeper's confusion.

"Whatever the reason for all of this, it makes me sick! All of this—the Grievers, the walls moving, the Cliff—"

Peter leaned in. "The Cliff?"

"It's this patio of sorts in the Maze. It's surrounded by this drop to absolutely nowhere, and would most likely kill you if you fell off. We called it Death Canyon in my Maze." I informed him.

"Really cheerful."

Peter and I missed whatever conclusion of Thomas's outburst and were brought back when Frypan kicked his chair, which I found odd because I didn't see him stand up.

"Well, you better start talking about this magical escape, then!"

"He will. Shut up and listen." Newt said quietly from his chair.

Minho finally came into the conversation. "Something tells me I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear."

"Probably not."

"Thanks for comforting us, Thomas. Really helpful." I sighed.

"I'd rather someone tell it to me straight than try to sugarcoat it," Winston said, still uninterested in the whole conversation.

"The Creators want the best of us for whatever it is they have planned. But we have to earn it. The code." He elaborated.

A couple of Keepers shared confused looks. I was just shocked he revealed the code so early in the conversation.

"The code? What about it?" Frypan leaned forward, looking hopeful.

I was confused for a second, wondering why Frypan knew about the code. Then I realized we had stolen his wax paper to get it.

"It was hidden in the wall movements of the Maze for a reason. I should know—I was there when the Creators did it."

The room was shocked into silence. Thomas looked utterly terrified, and it was evident even if I couldn't read faces. The poor guy was sweating buckets. I felt terrible; this room was really stuffy.

"Explain, because Lauren's told us something I think relates with this." Newt stopped the silence from going on too long.

"Well, first there's something I have to share. About me and Teresa. There's a reason Gally accused me of so much stuff, and why everyone who's gone through the Changing recognizes me."

"We know you were separated by WICKED in the very beginning. And that you guys are special and all that jazz." I told him.

His eyebrows furrowed. "You do?"

"Yeah, I remembered it in my Changing. I think I know more about you guys than most who get Stung."

"I still need to tell you guys some more. And clear up some things. Teresa and I are . . . different. We were part of the Maze Trials from the very beginning—but against our will, I swear it."

"Thomas," Minho said slowly, "What're you talking about?"

"And why does he keep trying to defend himself? We're not gonna kill him, that was Gally's thing." Peter muttered. I ignored it.

"Teresa and I were used by the Creators. If you had your full memories back, you'd probably want to kill us. But I had to tell you this myself to show you we could be trusted now. So you'll believe me when I tell you the only way we can get out of here."

He scanned us, and I noticed the inner turmoil he was going through, the information he wanted to withhold but couldn't. After a deep breath, he finally decided.

"Teresa and I helped design the Maze. We helped create the whole thing."

Wow, the guy had shocked us into silence twice now. I thought about starting a betting pool, seeing how many more times he'd do it.

"What's that supposed to mean? You're a bloody sixteen-year-old. How could you have created the Maze?" Newt asked.

"We were . . . smart. And I think it might be a part of the Variables."

There was that word again. Variables. I made a mental note to ask him about it later because Thomas seemed to know its meaning.

"But more importantly, Teresa and I have a . . . gift that made us very valuable as they designed and built this place."

Was I going to figure out what he was talking about in the forest?

"Speak! Spit it out!" Newt yelled, fed up with his pauses. A couple of Keepers echoed it.

"We're telepathic! We can talk to each other in our freaking heads!" His face flushed.

"Whomp, there it is," I muttered.

Peter coughed, looking extremely uncomfortable. Newt stared at Thomas blankly.

"But listen to me. They forced us to help. I don't know how or why but they did. Maybe it was to see if we could gain your trust despite having been a part of them. Maybe we were meant all along to be the ones to reveal how to escape. Whatever the reason, with your Maps we figured out the code and we need to use it now."

He looked around, meeting each of our eyes. Most Keepers just stayed in quiet awe or confusion, and a couple, like Frypan and Clint, shook their heads in wonder. Winston just looked indifferent. I noticed Minho had a smile on his face, and I tried to put a reassuring one on mine.

"It's true, and I'm sorry. But I can tell you this—I'm in the same boat with you now. Teresa and I were sent here just like anyone else, and we can die just as easily. But the Creators have seen enough—it's time for the final test. I guess I needed the Changing to add the final pieces to the puzzle. Anyway, I wanted you to know the truth, to know there's a chance we can do this."

Peter nudged me. "For as awkward and confused as he is, he gives a pretty decent speech."

"Yeah."

Newt had been silently shaking his head, and he looked up at the rest of us. "The Creators—those shanks did this to us, not Tommy and Teresa. The Creators. And they'll be sorry."

"Whatever." Minho stretched, looking bored with Newt's confession of sorts. "Who gives a klunk about all that—just get on with the escape already."

Our guest of honor looked close to crying. He relaxed a little and started on the end of his speech. "There's a computer station in a place we've never looked before. The code will open a door for us to get out of the Maze. It also shuts down the Grievers so they can't follow us—if we can survive long enough to get to that point."

"I take it back," Peter mumbled.

"A place we never looked before? What do you think we've been doing for two years?" Alby questioned.

"Having sleepovers with Grievers, for starters." I giggled. He shot me a dirty look, although having no idea what I said.

"Trust me, you've never been to this spot," Thomas said.

"Well, where is it?" Minho stood up, which I found odd.

"It's almost suicide. The Grievers will come after us whenever we try to do it. All of them. The final test."

He was stalling. Whatever he was going to say next was not going to be taken well.

"So where is it?" Newt asked. He leaned forward in his chair, making sure he got everything.

"Over the Cliff. We have to go through the Griever Hole."

Alby stood up, effectively knocking over his chair before anyone else could react. Peter visibly flinched. He took two quick steps towards Thomas but stopped before he went any further.

"Now you're being a shuck idiot. Or a traitor. How can we trust a word you say if you helped design this place, put us here! We can't handle one Griever on our own ground, much less fight a whole horde of them in their little hole. What are you really up to?"

"What am I up to?" Gone was Thomas's nervousness; the feeling was replaced with anger. "Nothing! Why would I make this all up?"

"For all we know you were sent here to get us all killed. Why should we trust you?" Alby's hands turned into fists.

I was brought back to over a week ago, with the last Gathering we had. Alby looked a lot like Gally, and I knew Frypan saw it too. We shared a look, one that held a lot of thoughts.

"Alby, do you have a short-term memory problem? I risked my life to save you out in the Maze—you'd be dead if it wasn't for me!" Thomas looked confused and angry with Alby's terrible theories. I echoed it.

"Maybe that was a trick to gain our trust. If you're in league with the shucks who sent us here, you wouldn't have had to worry about the Grievers hurting you—maybe it was all an act."

"That literally makes no sense." I muttered.

"Alby," Minho said, exasperated. "That's about the dumbest theory I've ever heard. He just got freaking torn apart three nights ago. You think it's all part of an act?"

Our leader nodded. "Maybe."

Thomas sighed deeply. "I did it, on the chance that I could get my memories back, help all of us get out of here. Do I need to show you the cuts and bruises all over my body?"

I gave a quiet giggle and caught Clint's eye as he was laughing a little too. It was nice to see the Greenie stand up to Alby.

This time, Alby didn't have an answer to Thomas. His face full of rage, he turned to the rest of us. "We can't go back! I've seen what our old lives were like—we can't go back!"

I grabbed Peter's hand as a reflex. My quiet giggle seemed so out of place. This was too much like our last Gathering; Alby looked too much like Gally. The terror I felt then started knocking at my emotional door, asking—demanding to be let in. I tried so hard to squish the memory down, but it came back up.

The only thing that saved me was when Alby broke down and started crying.

Everyone and I mean everyone, looked shocked. No one said anything, just watched our strong, fearless, unbreaking leader cry. All the anger, terror, any emotion I felt turned into pity. And guilt.

Why did everyone have such terrible memories of the Changing? And why didn't I?

Newt asked what was going on with him.

"I did it." His sentence ended with a gut-wrenching sob. "I did it."

"Did what?"

Was he talking about the Maps? Or sending the Grievers here? Was he the cause of Gally's kidnappin—death?

"I burned the Maps. I did it. I slammed my head on the table so you'd think it was someone else. I lied, burned it all." For some odd reason, he looked at me with his last "I did it!"

Did he feel guilty for me taking care of him for the past few days? If so, why? It was my duty; I'd do it even if I knew he did it himself. I was so confused, and the other Keepers echoed my feelings.

Minho finally cut it off. "Well, it's a good thing we saved those Maps." His tone was almost mean. "Thanks for the tip you gave us after the Changing—to protect them."

"Alby, explain this," Newt said softly, using the same tone when he talks to some of the younger Gladers.

"I'm telling you. We can't go back to where we came from. I've seen it, remembered awful, awful things. Burned land, a disease—something called the Flare. It was horrible—way worse than we have it here." He was pleading with us, thick tears rolling down his face. I'd never seen anyone like this so sad, so . . . defeated.

"If we stay here, we'll all die! It's worse than that?" Minho, yet again, was done with Alby.

The room was silent, as Alby took a long time before answering. I noticed Thomas deep in thought, presumably thinking about what our leader said about 'the Flare.' Whenever I thought about it, all I came back to was the singular memory about my dad. But why?

He finally answered Minho. "Yes. It's worse. Better to die than go home."

Minho laughed and settled back in his chair. "Man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you. I'm with Thomas, one hundred percent. If we're going to die, let's freakin' do it fighting."

Thomas looked even more relaxed with Minho's pledge. "Inside the Maze or out of it, we still live in the world you remembered."

Peter looked confused, thought about it, realized that what Thomas said was true, and then looked a little scared like he agreed with Alby. My anxiety sky-rocketed.

Alby stood again and looked utterly done. "Do what you want. Doesn't matter. We'll die no matter what."

After a sigh, he walked to the door and left.

Newt shook his head. "He's never been the same since being Stung—must've been one bugger of a memory. What in the world is the Flare?" He directed the question to the two sane people that've gone through the Changing.

I kept the memory of my dad to myself and shrugged my shoulders.

"Beats me, my memories are limited. And you know all of them."

"I don't care, anything's better than dying here. We can deal with the Creators once we're out. But for now, we gotta do what they planned. Go through the Griever Hole and escape. If some of us die, so be it." Minho was dead-set on leaving here.

Frypan snorted. "You shanks are driving me nuts. Can't get out of the Maze, and this idea of hanging with the Grievers at their bachelor pad sounds as stupid as anything I've ever heard in my life. Might as well slit our wrists."

Newt looked down at the floor with that, shook his head, while the other Keepers argued. After a couple of seconds, he got everyone quiet again.

"I'm going through the Hole or I'll die trying to get there. Looks like Minho will, too. And I'm sure Teresa's in." Thomas spoke, while some Keepers rolled their eyes with the mention of Teresa. "If we can fight off the Grievers long enough for someone to punch in the code and shut them down, then we can go through the door they come through. We'll have passed the tests. Then we can face the Creators themselves."

"Are you sure that they won't have yet another test for us there?" I asked. "It really doesn't seem out of character for them, they put us through all of this." I gestured vaguely towards the walls of the Maze.

Thomas thought for a second. "No . . . I don't think so. The Grievers are meant to be the final test. If that's not supposed to weed out the weakest people here, I'm not sure what is."

I nodded, still not entirely sure.

Newt had a grin that didn't look happy at all. "And you think we can fight off Grievers? Even if we don't die, we'll probably all get Stung. Every last one of them might be waiting for us when we get to the Cliff—the beetle blades are out there constantly. The Creators'll know when we make our run for it."

"I don't think they'll sting us," Thomas disagreed. "The Changing was a Variable meant for us while we lived here. But that part will be over. Plus, we have one thing going for us."

"Yeah? Can't wait to hear it." Newt rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't do us any good if we all die—this thing is meant to be hard, not impossible. I think we finally know for sure that the Grievers are programmed to only kill one of us each day. So somebody can sacrifice himself to save the others while we run to the Hole. I think this might be how it's supposed to happen."

Oh dear, he didn't mean himself, did he? Thomas had the tell-tale look he'd worn before he got himself Stung.

Winston let out a loud laugh. "Excuse me? So your suggestion is that we throw some poor kid to the wolves so the rest of us can escape? This is your brilliant suggestion?"

"Yes, Winston, I'm glad you're so good at paying attention." Winston threw Thomas a glare. "And it seems obvious who the poor kid should be."

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

"Me." Thomas folded his arms as the room erupted into chaos.

(F/A: this marks my third and last time i will interrupt your reading with an author's note. i truly am sorry you all had to read that, as you could have just as easily looked at the book, but i just couldn't skip over it. i attempted at the top, but it didn't work out. once again, i'm sorry, and get some tissues for the rest of this chapter.)

It seems that we only had two reactions to whatever Thomas said. We either A) Started arguing, or B) Were too stunned to say anything.

"Thomas, that's an idiotic idea and you know it!" I yelled as he left—was dragged out of the room by Newt. The Keepers still were arguing, drowning out whatever Newt was talking to Thomas about by the door.

Peter had miraculously stayed quiet for the majority of the Gathering. I wanted to say something to him but wasn't sure what to say. "Are you excited to go on a suicide mission?" "Grievers, huh?"

None of them seemed appropriate.

I finally settled on "How're you feeling?" He looked a little better than the Gathering's beginning but still wasn't completely looking the best.

He just looked at me.

The realization hit me like a truck. "No-"

"Lauren, I-" Newt cut him off by coming back in.

"He's a bloody idiot sometimes, I swear." He plopped back down in his seat and rubbed his face.

"Glad you see it too," Winston said.

"He might be an idiot, but his plan's solid. We need to leave, and I don't care if I get torn apart by those shucking things and die trying." Minho was dead-set with Thomas.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I agree," Frypan commented, and some other Keepers echoed it, but it wasn't enough.

"But you guys are all missing the main problem. The Grievers. How can we possibly fight them all?" Peter finally inserted himself in the conversation.

"I agree, Thomas's idea of just throwing someone at them makes no sense, there would be too many," Winston added.

"Oh, so you're an expert on Grievers now, Winston?" Minho scoffed.

"I'm just saying!" He defended.

Minho rolled his eyes.

"We have to at least try," Newt said. "And I have some ideas."

|~^_^~|

After a lot of persuading by Newt, he finally got all of the Keepers to agree to leave. Except for Peter. He didn't say anything else the entire time. We filed out of the Homestead, a somber mood hanging over our heads and a task to get all the other Gladers to follow us out into the Maze tonight.

As soon as Peter and I stepped out the door, I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the Homestead.

(F/A: i lied. this is the last time. but here:

now playing:

Sick of Losing Soulmates
dodie

0:01 ❍─────── 4:27
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

i was listening to this sad playlist and this came on and i was like "this works so well for lauren." bc i like to think that there are different types of soulmates. have fun ✌)

"Please tell me you're going with us tonight," I asked, not believing what he said in the Gathering. Maybe it was a sick joke.

He just looked at me.

"Peter, please. You have to come with us, you'll die in here."

"Like I won't die in the Maze?"

I couldn't say anything. I was too focused on not crying so soon into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to take that risk, I'd rather stay here and try my chances."

"But—"

"Lauren, I really don't want to fight you. I've made my decision, please respect it." His stare was one I'd hadn't seen before. There wasn't anything warm inside it. "Don't try to talk me out of it."

For a second, yet another person reminded me of Gally during his last days.

"But what if it's a stupid decision?" I said softly.

He didn't even bat an eye as he changed his tone to angry. "Do you not hear anything I'm saying?!"

I almost flinched. The tears turned into ones of anger to match Peter's emotions. "Yeah, I am! But you're not hearing anything I'm saying! I'm trying to tell you that you have a better chance with us!"

"Oh, like you're all able to battle Grievers? I may not be a Runner and have a lot of information on the things, but I know a bunch of kids don't have much of a chance to kill them!"

"At least we're going to try and not stay here and twiddle our thumbs!"

"You're taking them to their deaths!" He gestured to all of the Keepers trying to talk to their people to agree to Thomas's plan. For a second, I wondered who was talking to the Builders. "Do you think your conscience can handle it? I saw the way you reacted to Carl's death, and don't even get me started on Gally!"

I stopped trying to hold back my tears; he needed to know how deep his words hurt. Maybe it would wake him up and see the reality of the situation.

"Your reaction proves my point." He started walking away, and I saw his own eyes glistening.

"Peter! You can't leave!" I called, not done with the conversation.

I couldn't stand watching his retreating body. Something flipped.

"I can't lose you too!" I yelled, finally saying what I truly was feeling. He stopped and looked at me. "I can't lose you, just like I've lost everything else. I lost my old home, my parents, my memory, and I'm not even sure that my old friends are even alive. I've lost Gally," I gave a sniffle, wiping my eyes. "And I'm about to lose you too. I am sick of losing everyone close to me. I can't take it anymore, so I'm putting my foot down saying 'no more,' and I will drag you kicking and screaming into the Maze if I have to."

"But that's not your decision to make." He came back to me.

"What if I make it anyway?"

"You want to know my actual reason for not going?" Peter asked, wiping his tears.

I tried to nod but found I couldn't.

"I'm afraid, that I can't make a single step inside the Maze." He took a deep breath. "And you'll be too worried about me, because I freeze up. And you'll make a mistake, and the Grievers will get you. I don't think I could handle that. I'm not as strong as you."

My mouth opened to say something, but he continued.

"It sounds stupid, because you've survived two Grievers already, but I can't get over it. And trust me, I've tried. I won't be going with you tonight."

"Peter, please." My voice cracked on the last please.

"Lauren." He grabbed my hands. "Please."

I hated this. I hated every second he stood in front of me, and I hated the feeling of being helpless because I knew deep down that I couldn't get him to come with me and leave this place. Fear does awful things to people, while others can only watch.

I could only pray that he would change his mind in the next hours before we left.

|~^_^~|

"The Next Hours." Oh, how to describe it.

If I could use three words, I'd say, "chaotic, sad, chaotic."

Peter disappeared, which left me to convince the Builders to leave with us. I took a minute in the bathroom to make myself look somewhat presentable and then headed to the Builder's Hut, where I saw them gathering while Jonathan talked to all of them. I noticed his Bricknicks were nowhere to be found.

"Look, we have to leave. I truly believe we'll all have a better chance of surviving if we go into the Maze with a large group of people. All of my Bricknicks are going, and I'm hoping I can count on you guys." Jonathan was moving his hands wildly.

"Where's Peter?" One asked; I recognized Henry's voice.

"Or Lauren?" Alec piped up.

"Peter's not coming." I entered the Hut.

A couple of whats and whys whispered.

"Wait, really?" Jonathan asked quietly.

I held my hand up. The Builders obeyed. "Peter's not coming, he'd rather try his chances in here, no matter," My voice stopped. I cleared it and blinked quickly. "No matter what I tried to tell him. He wouldn't listen to reason. Thomas's plan is a good one."

I leaned in towards Jonathan. "Did you tell them about Greenie's plan?"

"You came in at the end of it."

"Great. Jonathan has a point. One unlucky guy'll die if we stay, and one'll die if we go. It'll be crazy not to take those odds. We can all make it through, I wholeheartedly think so."

"But how can you guys know that Thomas's plan'll work?" Dan, another Builder I hadn't talked to a lot, asked.

Jonathan took this one. "We just have to believe. Lauren and I are going to go help get ready to leave. You guys can come if you want. We're not going to force you. We can only give you so many answers before you have to make a decision. If you have any more real questions, come find us."

I nodded and went out the door. Jonathan stopped me.

"Is it true?"

"If I say no, do you think the universe will change his mind magically?"

"Lauren, I'm sorry."

"It's not alright, but I can manage. For now, at least."

He gave me a sad look.

"Don't even make that face. I can handle this, it's not the first time I've lost a best friend."

Jonathan nodded and left.

"And it won't be the last, either," I muttered to myself, feeling more alone than ever.

I thought about the time Gally and I were fighting. God, it felt so long ago.

Even if Gally and I were fighting, I'd still always have Peter.

Wishing that it would always be accurate, I went to help with the preparations for leaving.

|~^_^~|

I'll spare the details of our last supper at the Glade.

It was depressing.

Peter came back from wherever he went to eat, yet I still sat at our table alone. I found myself looking at him a lot, sitting amongst others who were staying but not saying anything. What was there to say?

"Please don't be an idiot, come with us?"

"You're making a mistake, I know better than you?"

"Believe in the Greenie, he knows what he's doing?"

I couldn't decide.

A couple of quiet conversations were happening at the tables, but no one spoke louder than a whisper. The mood of the Glade matched the ceiling.

Grey, dreary, and not bright.

Once everyone was somewhat done, Newt and Alby started gathering the people who were leaving. After one last look at Peter, I stood up and grabbed my backpack, slinging my bow and arrows on my shoulder.

Inside of it held:
Two changes of clothes, the box that came up with my music player, with my music player, and the note that came up with it inside, my hairbrush, and my journal.

We all shuffled towards the Doors, but someone took my arm and pulled me off to the side.

"Lauren." It was Peter.

My heart started beating hard. He changed his mind. He finally saw the truth of what I was saying and made a better decision.

I looked at him and realized that it wasn't the case.

"Here." He handed me a battered journal. "It's Gally's. I wrote some things in there, adding on to what he already had."

I opened my mouth but closed it quickly. He wasn't done.

"Please forgive me. But also know you couldn't have done anything more." Peter's eyes showed that he had a lot more to say but couldn't get them into words.

He pulled me in close. I dropped my backpack and journal and returned it, savoring our last moments.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

It wasn't romantic; it wasn't complicated; it was perfect. The three words summed up exactly what we both wanted to say but couldn't quite get it out.

Once we pulled apart, I wiped my eyes and packed Gally's journal up, and looked over at the Doors, then back at my best friend.

Peter nodded and stepped back, letting me go for the last time.

Shouldering my backpack, I started running towards the crowd, just getting there in time for the end of whatever Newt was saying.

"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked.

"Go ahead," Newt gestured to the crowd.

Minho nodded, thought for a moment, and then faced us. "Be careful." He paused. "Don't die."

"Great. We're all bloody inspired." Newt muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
🎶IT FEELS SO RIGHT TO BE HERE WITH YOUUUU OHHHH🎶
I had to get that out of my system.

but uh. yea.
in the words on Minho, "this was one butt-load of sunshine."
you all know my feelings about the beginning part, and i'm too sad to talk the last one. and don't worry, you'll know Peter's writings soon enough.

-did you expect the ily's?

-how many of you are shocked peter's staying?

-how many of you are crying in the club rn?

anyways imma go sob in a corner, please don't bother me.