Disclaimer:

Can we just take a step back, stare at this, and appreciate the fact that this book is now almost forty chapters long? Insane. ALSO be prepared to maybe tear up a little. But from joy. I promise.

-✼-

It had been half a day. A full twelve hours. Seven hundred and twenty minutes. Forty-three thousand, two hundred seconds. And Minho and Thomas still hadn't returned from the Maze.

Maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe the events of the past week had instilled some sort of constant fear inside of me that another one of us would die. What would I do if Minho and Thomas got hurt out there? How would I handle it? My heart started to quicken its pace as I thought of the possibilities. Were they okay?

My hands slid down my cheeks as I paced back and forth in the Homestead. Builders were crowding around everywhere, trying to fix the massive hole in the front of the building that the Griever had created. Everyone was instructed to use the back door if they needed to enter. I probably shouldn't even have been there, but no one really had it in them to ask me to leave.

It was early in the morning. The sky was the same dull grey, the air crisp and the grass fresh with dew. In about an hour, I'd be starting my first shift in the Gardens.

"Has anyone seen Theo?" I asked to the hoard of working Builders bumbling around me. The commotion seemed to quiet a bit as I spoke for the first time in the almost fifty minutes since I had arrived.

Jackson ran a hand through his damp, dirty-blond hair and turned to look at me. "Haven't seen him lately. Why?"

I shook my head, puzzled a bit at his response. Why hadn't Jackson seen Theo? They were fellow Builders— surely they would have crossed paths at some point. Especially since Theo had told me he was pretty high up.

Before I could answer, another boy that I didn't know the name of stopped near me. "You know, Jackson's right. I haven't seen him in a few days."

I felt the urge to throw up as a wave of nausea crashed into me. My feet carried me out the back door and across the Glade, tearing through the grass like my life depended on it. It was mostly devoid of people since it was so early in the morning. Breaths came out in short pants as I raced to where I knew I could find help.

"Chuck!" I shouted at the top of my lungs when the stout boy came into view. His curls were messier than usual, signaling that he had just woken up. He turned to me. I noticed he had a sleepy look in his eyes that disappeared once he saw the alarm on my face.

"What?" he asked, seemingly more alert. I stopped in front of him, breathing slightly heavily.

"Where did Theo go? And don't you dare lie to me," I warned as Chuck opened his mouth to speak after my question. His jaw shut and he looked like he was contemplating something. "Chuck, please."

The boys sighed and directed his despondent gaze to the ground beside me. "He told me not to tell you; said you'd get too worried. The permission came from Alby, then from the Med-jacks. He got two check ups before he was allowed to go. I never saw that kind of determination in anyone ever."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, forcing myself to be patient. "Chuck, what are you talking about?"

His beady eyes locked on mine. "Theo volunteered to be a Runner."

My head swam. Theo? No. Impossible. I remembered his words from when I was first elected.

"I tried out to be a Runner, yanno. Obviously I didn't make it. Almost did, but I tripped and injured my hip pretty badly."

It had never been the same since.

How on earth did he manage to get permission from Alby and the Med-jacks? And why did he have to volunteer to be a Runner anyway?

As if he had sensed my question, Chuck added, "The Runners are quitting one by one. They have to have temporary shifts between people. Theo was the first to sign up."

I felt a pang in my heart, the worried feeling inside of me multiplying by a tenfold. Minho was with Thomas. But who was accompanying Theo? Did they know about his disability?

"Oh, God," I whispered, putting a hand to my forehead. Chuck went out of focus and all I could think about was how nothing could possibly get worse. I was fighting with Newt. Theo was a Runner now. I wasn't. Minho was angry with me. Thomas spent more time with Teresa than he did with his own twin. The Doors would never shut. Someone would have to die every night. Alby no longer cared. The words we uncovered from the Maps meant nothing.

The world could end and I'd be happy. No more excessive worries. No more anger clenching my heart like two rocks squeezing it together. Nothing to make me bleed. Nothing to make me cry. I would cease to exist.

I hadn't realized I had sunk to my knees until Chuck was shaking me, begging for me to respond. My unfocused eyes were trained on the wet grass that was slowly soaking my tattered jeans. He was kneeling in front of me, grasping onto my shoulders and jostling me back and forth. "Dylan? Dylan, c'mon!"

"I'm okay," I whispered, finally able to speak the words. My gaze moved to his frightened eyes and I gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you." He nodded and helped me stand. I brushed off my jeans and turned toward the rows of crops waiting to grow or be planted. I sighed. "I should really get to work."

Chuck grinned a little. "Okay. Have a good day!"

I waved to him as I started back across the Glade. "You too!"

I gathered my hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic. My hands dropped back to my sides as I came closer to the Gardens. Only a few boys were out by then, bent over the neat rows of soil. Some were harvesting; others were digging.

A pair of garden gloves flew at my face. I barely caught them, flinching in surprise. Zart smiled at me from yards away, squinting even though it wasn't sunny. "Day one. You ready?"

I nodded, pulling the thin, worn gloves over my fingers. The fabric was scratchy and felt like something could easily prick me, but I wasn't about to complain. I had been lucky to even get the job. "What's today's work?"

Zart waved me over with one glove-clad hand. I jogged to him and he leaned close to my ear, having to bend down a bit due to my lack of height. "Honestly, there isn't much. The lack of sun is killing off the plants. Soon we'll have no food except what Frypan can conjure up."

My breath became shallow. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

Zart sighed and looked around before speaking again in a hushed tone. "People are already freaked out enough. No food means we die. People don't want to think about death."

I took a step back and gave him a sorrowful look. "So is there really no reason for me to be here?"

Zart shrugged his broad shoulders. "Not really. You can stay, but we're running out of supplies and we can't pretend to be busy forever. Soon I'll have to start making cuts. Eventually it'll be just me."

I pulled the gloves off finger by finger, feeling hollow now that I knew the truth. Food was low. No sun. No protection. We wouldn't last very long.

"Thank you, Zart," I said with a small smile as I handed him back the gloves. "At least you gave me a chance."

He pulled his lips into a thin line and nodded. I turned on my heel and walked back to the Homestead. This is what I wanted— freedom. But now that I knew the real reason behind it and its consequences, it felt more like a prison than ever.

-/-

I stormed down the hallway, my feet hammering into the wood flooring. My body was hot with red anger. It consumed my heart and sent it up in flames that scorched my insides and licked at my vocal cords, so that the only words that could come out were harsh and cruel.

Newt grabbed onto my wrist and forced me to stop. "I was just trying to protect you!"

My jaw clenched and I spun around, my eyes narrowed into slits. "By ignoring me?"

He shook his head desperately. The tousled blond hair on top of his head was more unkempt than ever from him running his fingers through it in frustration. Stress lines littered his face and there were slight bags lining his eyes. In short, Newt looked horrible.

"Listen to me," he begged. "I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to distance myself since I was in a bad mood. That's all!"

"You could have just told me that!" I exclaimed, feeling more hurt now than angry. It felt like a hand was reaching into my body, taking my heart, and squeezing it. "Then I would have understood!"

"Dyl—"

"Don't call me that," I hissed, my voice dropped low. Newt's lips pressed together and he shifted his weight. I took a few ragged breaths and tried to calm myself down. "Do you know how it felt? I stayed in that room, staring at the door and waiting for you to come in. To convince me that everything was going to be alright, even if I knew it wasn't. I laid there alone. The only thing that could calm me down was falling asleep in your bed. It resurfaced me, letting me know I wasn't drowning and that the walls weren't caving in like I had previously thought.

"I thought the worst. My mind reeled. What had I done to upset you? To make you avoid me? What had I done to make Minho mad? To make Thomas distance himself?" My voice cracked and my eyes filled with tears. A thick weight made the words stick in the lump in my throat.

Newt looked to be at a loss for words. He stood there, lips slightly parted, saddened eyes searching mine. They looked slightly glassy.

I swallowed before continuing. "I know I must sound desperate. But you know what? I kinda am. I crave affection. To be hugged, held, cuddled, to be told by that special someone that they were there for me. And I'm sorry for lashing out. I'm sorry for being a burden."

"No." The word came out slowly. Newt shook his head, his voice quiet and raw with emotion. "No, Dylan, you aren't a burden. You never could be."

"Could've fooled me."

He fidgeted, acknowledging the unsteady waters he was treading and the intensity of my sharpened gaze. "You don't need to apologize. I'm the one who should be doing that. I've been busy and stressed, but I didn't think to check on you, even after Clint said you'd had another panic attack. I told myself I would do it later and then it slipped my mind. It wasn't fair to you. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until now. I'm so sorry."

My heart squeezed as his words sunk in. They soothed the fire raging within me, dousing the flames until all that was left was a sense of calmness. I was still upset, but I could handle this like a grown-up. The vulnerable expression on his face revealed that everything he was saying was the absolute truth. And the truth was what I'd been looking for all along.

I took a slow step forward and slipped my hands into his. It was only then that I noticed he was shaking a bit. I moved so his eyes were locked onto mine, brown meeting brown.

"It's okay," I told him. "I mean... I guess it wasn't fair for me to be so angry, either. You're in charge of everything and it's falling apart. Honestly, I don't know how you're still standing." Both of us managed to crack small grins at that. I squeezed his hands. "Hey. We're good, alright?"

Newt nodded. Then he slipped his palm from mine to cup my cheek with a gentle touch, his eyes searching mine. Our close proximity allowed me to notice fine details of his face that I'd never noticed before. He had the faintest of freckles dotted across his nose, and his eyes held different shades of amber and brown in the light. His touch was so tender that it made my heart flutter.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I felt at home for the first time in days, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck, my eyelids closing. I rose up on my toes and bit to try and match his height. His body relaxed even more once I responded, all the stress and sadness from the past few days evaporating into the air.

When we pulled away, I whispered. "We're okay."

Newt looked relieved. He laced his fingers through mine and led me downstairs. "C'mon; let's go see if they came back yet."

Newt pretended to busy himself once he discovered that the Runners had not, in fact, returned yet. I idled by his side. What was I going to do now that I had no job? Just follow him like his own shadow?

It had been a day. A full twenty-four hours. One thousand, four hundred and forty-four minutes. Eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds. And finally, they returned.

A thirteen-year-old named Robert ran up to us and announced, breathless, that Minho and Thomas had come back to the Glade. Immediately, Newt dropped what he was doing and took off toward the East Door. I felt a slight stab in my chest that he had just taken off.

About halfway there, Newt turned around to see if I was following. When he saw I wasn't, he slowed to a stop. I could see his look of confusion even from where I was standing. His face seemed to be asking a question: You coming?

I shook my head. Call me childish, but I wasn't ready to face Minho. He had wounded me with his harsh words, and maybe I had hurt him, too. We both needed some time apart to cool down. Somehow I knew that a full day in the Maze wasn't enough time.

I stared from a distance as Newt headed toward the exhausted outlines of Minho and Thomas. They instantly started a conversation, Minho seemingly very upset about something. After a few minutes, I even saw him spit in the ivy.

Disgusted, I turned away. What I saw when my eyes locked onto the West Door made my heart nearly stop beating. My body went still. And then my heartbeat into overdrive.

He was alive. Obviously beyond fatigued, but alive. I watched as his figure bent over so his hands rested on his knees, chest heaving.

In an instant I took off running. Across the grass I went, flying past people and pushing myself to reach him. The wind rushed past my messy hair and blew it back out of my face, the entire world a blur except for him.

He barely had time to react before I launched myself into his strong arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. He was completely drenched in sweat. The skin that wasn't covered in clothing was slick and slippery. His shirt was damp. I didn't care; I was just relieved that he was okay.

His arms went around my middle, squeezing back. I felt elated— like everything that had gone wrong was slowly piecing itself back together.

"You're such an idiot," I whispered into his shoulder, trying not to breathe in too deeply. I was happy to see him, of course, but the stench of sweat and dirt was strong from all the exercising and strain he'd done.

Theo laughed softly, then took a deep breath. He was still having trouble catching it. "Thanks for your concern. I'm all right."

After a few seconds, I took a step back and aired myself out, crinkling my nose as a joke. "You smell."

Theo glared and then rolled his tired eyes. His face was shiny with layers of sweat, chocolate curls soaked. "Wonder why. It's not like I spent a full day running in a Maze or anything."

And then, like a switch had flicked, he staggered and started to fall to the ground. My reflexes caused me to reach out and try to grab him. I was a second too late. Theo managed to use the ivy on the wall to catch himself, his entire face contorted in pain.

"Theo!" I exclaimed, helping him to his feet. My heart seemed to leap into my throat.

"I'm fine," he assured with gritted teeth, eyelids squeezed shut. "Don't worry about me."

My eyes traveled to where he was clutching his side, forehead leaned against the wall. "Your hip."

"Dylan, I'm fine," he repeated more gruffly, opening his eyes and trying to take a step forward. As he did so, he collapsed to the ground hard. I was just barely able to bend down and grip onto his forearms as he cried out loudly.

"You're not okay," I muttered, carefully setting him on the grass.

"Yes," he whispered, "I am. I just need to" — another groan of misery — "sit down. Mierda, it hurts."

It hurt me to see him in so much agony. Theo's entire being emitted pain, from the way his muscles tensed to how his tanned face was twisted. His jaw was clenched, fists tightened and knuckles turning white. I could almost see the outline of bone through the taut skin.

"Help!" I shouted as loudly as I could. "Someone get a Med-jack!"

Theo grunted. "Agh, shut up. I don't need help."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Why didn't he want help when he oh-so-clearly needed it? "Yes, you do. Theo, look at you." I paused as he panted unevenly, pained eyes meeting mine. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Nunca muestres debilidad a aquellos que tienen conocimiento de tu punto más débil," he said quietly. "Never show weakness to those who have knowledge of your weakest point."

I chuckled softly, a mix between a sigh and a laugh. "Theo, you don't have to hide your flaws from me. We all have them. I won't think you're weak for having an injury— in fact, I think it makes you stronger. You feel pain every day, and yet you continue doing whatever needs to be done. And when you need help, you shouldn't be afraid to ask for it. Nobody will shame you."

He managed a small, shaky smile. "You're my best friend."

And that was when I started to cry.

gif is dylan's nervous habit

________

note: IT HAS BEEN A FULL TWENTY FOUR HOURS SINCE NEWT TOLD DYLAN HE STILL CARED. IT HASNT JUST BEEN A FEW HOURS. AND YES, DYLAN IS STILL FEELING SOME ANGST TOWARD HIM BUT SHE HASNT REALIZED IT YET BECAUSE SHES JUST SO FRICKEN HAPPY AND THAT MAKES ME HAPPY OKAY

i like to call this chapter "the return of everything good" cuz c'mon we got newlyn repaired (mostly), and theo finally showed his face so there you have it

q's:

-will theo be okay?

-what's your favorite minlyn (minho & dylan) moment?

-how much would you pay to hug ki hong lee?

with love,
-kristyn