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I wasn't looking at the stars.

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It's the next day, and Ben and I are on our way back from the maze, darting past the blades and into the main section. I had another vision in the maze this morning, but surprisingly, Ben knew exactly what to do. He just sat there next to me, our shoulders touching so that I had something that I could focus on that was real. Ben and I aren't close enough for him to feel comfortable talking to me while it happened, but I didn't mind. The fact that he didn't just take off was enough for me.

We're late coming back again, no thanks to me, and Ben and I are running faster and faster down the corridors. We've got a fifteen minute journey to run in ten. We pick up the speed, our legs aching, chests heaving, but we don't stop, instead powering on towards the wall. We're going to make it. We aim to reach wall ten minutes before closing time, so we're guaranteed to get back on time.

"Listen, Minho was talkin' to me, and we both agreed that you'd be a great Keeper of Map-makers," Ben say between pants and we dart through the maze, almost slipping on the stone.

"Wait, really?" I choke out.

"No, I'm just making it up — of course, ya shank," he says, slowing down slightly. I roll my eyes and grip his shirt, pulling him after me, sweat dripping down my forehead. He groans, stumbling after me.

We manage to make the journey right on time, deciding to slow down to a jog for the last five minutes. Ben needs it — he's practically dead. I feel bad for delaying us, but Ben was adamant that I shouldn't feel bad because it's the creators that are doing this to me. I don't know what rumours have been circulating the Glade at the moment, but I honestly don't know if it's the creators doing this to me, or if it's just my brain. The thing is about these visions, is that they're so obscure — but I feel like I've seen them before.

The vision I had today wasn't like the others, and I know I'll have to explain it to Alby at some point or another. The Grievers weren't in the maze. They were in tubes of florescent turquoise water and I can't help but think that it's not a vision. I feel like it's a memory.

Ben coughs, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You're the best at memorising the place, and you've only been workin' a week and you already know as much as us. You've organised the Map Room better than we ever have and, I probably shouldn't be tellin' you this, but Minho agrees that you do a better job of it than he does. He's Keeper of Runners and Map-makers, and wants to give you the second job."

It takes me a minute to process this information as I continue to jog down the length of the maze. A Keeper. Of the Map-makers. A grin finds its way into my face. I finally could get a say in the things that happen here. The thought makes me want to squeal a little bit. "That's great," I say eventually, trying to play off the fact that I'm mentally jumping up and down.

"Alright, shanks!" Minho's voice calls from the other side of the corridor. In all my excitment, I'd completely stopped paying attention to where we're going, and I realise we're in the main branch. One right turn and we're back in the Glade. Minho's silhouette runs closer to us, and Ben smirks at him.

"We were just talking about ya," Ben calls.

"I swear if you told her," Minho threatens as he nears us, his erratic breath resounding around the walls. Minho's just as tired as we are, and I can't help but wonder what held him up. Usually, he's much faster than Ben and I.

"Whoops?" Ben gasps.

"Benjamin—" Minho curses, making me let out a small laugh at the two of them. Benjamin?

"That's not my name and you know I can't keep a secret!"

"I'll know for next time," grumbles Minho.

"Thank you," I say to him.

His nose crinkles as he smiles at me. "Calm down. I haven't even ran it past Newt an' Alby, but I don't think they'd oppose at all. Besides, we need your input at Gatherings. You're opinionated and we need more of that. Most of the shanks just sit there an' say nothin'."

"I'll annoy the crap out of ya," I warn.

"I already knew that."

"Feelin' okay?" Ben asks as we enter the Glade. Just when I think he's being genuine for once, Ben carries on. Sometimes I do wonder why he doesn't just keep his mouth shut. "No more weird voodoo visions?"

"Slim it, Benny," I snap.

His eyes widen and he stops dead in his tracks, his face aghast. Minho and I both snigger at his reaction. What a drama queen. "You are not calling me Benny."

"Whoops," I say as Minho bursts out laughing next to me. "Just did."

"You're jacked in the head."

We jog pass the gardens, and my gaze is drawn like a magnet to Newt. It's involuntary. Even though I know I shouldn't care — I can't help but wish things were different. As if sensing I was looking at him, Newt's head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. His face has dirt splotches all over it, and it's all I can do to not to sprint over to him and wipe it of his cheek. Something flickers across his face — though I'm not sure what it is.

"Would you two slim it?" Minho snaps, reeling me back to reality. "Shucks sake. Give him an ice cream and make up, already. It's boring."

"We don't have ice cream," I say dryly.

❀

I'm curled up in a ball, looking out over the Glade. The rain is throwing itself down, splattering the floor, mud flying in the air and splashing back down in the soaking earth. I'm alone again. The only thing to accompany me are the fireflies, emitting a golden green glow, and even they're keeping their distance from me.

The depth of my loneliness hadn't hit me until I was staring out into the sky, what should be a peaceful sunset replaced with a solemn downpour. It was enough to make the happiest man glum. I wouldn't be lonely right now if Newt and I weren't arguing. In fact, I'm pretty sure I would be enjoying the lack of company, free to hear my own thoughts. But the thing is that I don't feel free in my thoughts. I feel trapped instead. Because all I think about is him.

How badly I messed up. How badly he did too.

How stupid we both are.

"I like the rain because sometimes it's so heavy you can't see," a voice speaks quietly behind me. My head turns to the source of the disturbance, to see Newt, rainwater dripping from his fringe. "You can forget."

"Newt—" I begin.

My breath catches as my own voice rings in my ears. Newt, I don't know a single thing about you!

"But I don't like the sound of thunder because it's too loud. My favourite flower is a buttercup because when you hold it up to your chin it makes it go yellow and it makes me smile every time. I hate when people chew loudly and when people snore even though I'm pretty sure I snore myself. I've always wanted to learn how to paint or play an instrument."

"Newt..." I whisper as he sits down next to me, pulling his knees up to his chest, his body drenched in water.

"When I'm nervous I bite my nails. Minho says it's weird and that I shouldn't do it and I agree with him, I guess," he lets himself give a small laugh. "You and Minho are the only people I feel completely safe with."

I feel like my heart is going to burst and I realise that I never really knew him until now. I never knew his favourite colour was orange, or that he loved buttercups or he wants to paint. The only thing I already knew about him was that he bit his nails when he's anxious, a nervous habit I couldn't help but pick up on.

The thought dawns on me that I don't have anything to tell him. I don't have anything to say — I've only known myself three weeks. The notion makes me bow my head, and I start to pick at the same grass absentmindedly.

"Alethea?"

"I've got nothing to tell," I whisper. "I've known myself for only a few weeks. I've got no clue what kind of person I am."

Newt reaches out and turns my head gently towards him, his touch fire on my skin. I allow myself to look at him, and I immediately wish I hadn't, because all I want to do now is to hug him. His eyes are gloomy —not sparkling as they usually do. The bags under his eyes are more prominent now, hanging under his eyes, and rain water trickles down his nose, dripping off the end of it and falling to the floor. And yet... he's perfect.

He's absolutely perfect.

"You're funny," he says, his lips quirking upwards only slightly. "And you're kind even when you aren't trying to be. You're playful and witty and you make me laugh all the time and you worry me a lot because you have a knack for trouble even though I know you can handle it."

I smile at him; if he can find all of this out, then I can surely find one thing to tell him about me. And looking into his kind eyes right now, I feel like I could tell him anything.

So I tell him everything I know. "I think my favourite colour is green."

"Why?" he asks softly.

"Because it reminds me of spring," I give a small laugh. "Mind you, I don't even remember doing anything in the spring time, but everything in nature has green on it. It's the colour of life, and if a stupid blade of grass or a tree can have a life, then so can we."

Newt doesn't break his gaze, looking at me with a look of wonder hinting behind his eyes. It's only now that I realise how close we are to each other. "Orange is mine," he murmurs. "It's happy. It reminds me of the sunrise, like when we used to walk round the Glade before wake up."

"Yeah, I bloody hated you for that," I look away from him, out where the maze walls should be. Newt was right. It was raining so hard you could barely see them.

"I know you did, that's why I continued to do it."

"Slinthead," I snap playfully.

His laughter is a melody, a peaceful tune that I wish would play forever and ever, just so I could admire it. My face breaks out into a smile. We're back to us again, laughing and talking as if we were the only ones in the Glade.

"I shouldn't have pushed it like that," he says. "It wasn't fair on you, and I didn't think about that. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I apologise, not breaking our eye contact. "I tried so hard to hide it from you and I shouldn't have done that — especially when it could be a sign from the creators."

He looks at me for a moment in disbelief, and then scoffs. "I don't care about those bastards. I care about you. I care about what they're doing to you."

His words are like a drug. I care about you.

"Do you remember when we went stargazing a few nights ago?" he says, looking down at his hands, which are trembling slightly. Is he okay? What's wrong?

"Yeah," I say, raising my eyebrow. Where is this going? "I told you the stars were beautiful."

"I told you beautiful was the right word," his breath catches as he reaches out and brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

His touch is electric. Fire. Intoxicating.

"Alethea..." he falters. "I- I wasn't looking at the stars."

My breath stops. I'm pulled in by him, his unwavering eyes glimmering in the light that the fireflies provide. I'm unaware that our faces are moving closer, closer. It's all I ever want to be. As close as I possibly can.

Then, in a slow, wonderful moment, our lips brush against each other, softer than anything I've ever known. Sweeter than anything I've ever tasted. Lighter than a feather dancing gracefully in the breeze. His hands slide up to my face, cupping my cheek and guiding me closer, his very touch burning my skin. Nothing else matters anymore.

Only him.

He smiles into the kiss as I wind my hands into his hair, twirling his curls around my fingers. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer into him, but it's not enough. I guess it would never be enough. Our lips move seamlessly together, like the piece of a jigsaw that I didn't know was gone until the very last moment.

His thumb moves back and forth slowly on my cheek, each movement sending shivers of pure joy through me, and soon I'm smiling too, and Newt laughs, our lips so close we may as well be kissing. For a moment, I'm unable to open my eyes, savouring each second his lips were on mine. His eyes are twinkling in the moonlight, tiny flecks of gold dancing in them, crinkling as he smiles gently at me, his thumb still moving softly against my cheek.

I beam up at him, my chest bursting with happiness. My heart is thrumming in my ears, and my hands slide down, resting on his chest, his heartbeat pulsing under my hands. Our eyes don't leave each other's, both conveying in one longing gaze what words could never...

You're my everything.

—

Finally! I think that was very overdue, don't you? I did warn you this was gonna be a slowburn ;)

*starts to giggle like a three year old*

I don't really know what else to say apart from things are going to get a lot more interesting from now on :)

Thank you to those amazing few who vote and comment, it really makes my day and it's incredible to see you supporting me!

~ sophie xx
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