Hey hey! I wonder u can do Thomas x reader? :3 If not its fine! Maybe about them being their spouse and a bit suggestive in it. Cause why not! Go crazy with it! And take care of yourself!!
-cloudy!
You'd been living in this remote town for years now, making friends and acquaintance with the locals. There weren't many families nor restaurants within the town walls. You'd have to drive a few miles to find a proper grocery store, even so, it was cozy. You enjoyed the daily commute and often bought from the local Fisherman, though his catches were a bit sweet...
You frequented the nearby gardens to nuture the town's vegetables and fruits, easy pickings for the residents so long as they knew what they were doing. One of the residents even held a few animals in their possession to buy for meat, although expensive, it was local.
Recently, a new resident had moved in on the edge of town. Somewhat mysterious, barely talked or went outside. They had a fairly large house meant for large hangouts, yet they never had anyone over. Supposedly, he and Andreas Rivera had been talking and met at the club in the city.
Since then, you've been seeing the resident all over town, who you've now learnt is named Thomas. Thomas is walks through the town daily, waving and greeting everybody with the joy of an angel. He even helped build the park for the little kids to play at with Jr, Andreas' son, complained.
You were one of the only people he hadn't spoken to. It seemed every time you saw him, he'd make an excuse and run the other direction, face pink. You begun to wonder if you were somehow scaring him.. You didn't think you were scary!
Even so, he seemed nice enough, willing to babysit even if he didn't like children, fed the stray cats, and met with Andreas' family for dinner many times. You wanted to at least be polite, properly introduce yourself, and all that!
Thomas came to his door on shaky feet. He was... messier than you'd seen him. Dark rings under his eyes and a fracturing smile, like his cheeks hurt from the act. His voice was hoarse and he held onto the door hinge tight.
"H.. hello?" He gave you a crooked smile. "What are you doing- doing here?"
You pushed your woven basket into his arms. It contained homemade bread and fresh watermelon from the garden. His shaky hands fumbled with the handle, examining it with wide eyes.
"I'm //////, so lovely to meet you." Looking back, you may have been a bit passive aggressive. You caught sight of him swallowing nervously, nearly dropping the basket and catching it in a flinch. He let out a breath.
"Oh.. oh! Yes, I.. heard about you!" He pulled a grin quickly, a few of his front teeth missing and general dental care looking poor. Goodness, was he even alive? "I'm Thomas!" he extended a hand to shake.
"I know." You were crass, but still took his hand. He was cold. Skinny.
A few days...
You've been seeing Thomas personally more often since then. He stutters and has a small lisp due to his missing teeth, but he's interesting. You often catch him staring at you without your knowledge.
He wasn't the worst, but he was certainly.. a character. You learnt from Andreas that he had a difficult past, a fact you could guess from the haunted look in his eyes. He was skinny too, as though he only ate when being watched. Against your best interest, you were worried for him.
"Hello?" Thomas answered the door curiously, staring at you with that familiar tormented look.
You promptly ignored him, pushing your hand against his chest and pushing him aside, an action he let you do all too easily.
The inside of his house was quiet, clearly not a family man. His living room was a mess, not cleaning up after Jr came over. The pantry was gathering spiderwebs in the kitchen, the fridge acting more of a decorative piece than anything. The only thing edible there was the basket of food you brought him left on the table. A few bites had been taken out of the fruits, but they were left to rot afterwards.
You gave him a pointed look, to which he tiddled his fingers nervously.
"..why are you in my house?"
"Why did you let me in?"
He didn't respond. Smart.
"What was the last thing you ate..?" You questioned, exasperated.
He nervously pointed at a mushy tomato which looked to be left alone for a few days. Slowly, you looked between him and the vegetable.
"How are you alive?"
He shrugged, the look in his eyes saying he wished he wasn't.
You sighed. His problems were much deeper than skipped meals, but the least you could do for him was make sure he was eating.
You gestured towards the table (of course he sat down immediately), and dug through the basket for anything salvagable to make a meal. At least a salad would do him good. He should at least have some seasonings, right?
Spoiler: he didn't.
After a bit of of fighting with his kitchen, you managed to make a semi-edible meal. Edible for him, by the looks of it, but definitely not your best work. He seemed pleased, nonetheless, eating it with that look in his eyes like it was some of the best food he'd eaten in a while. The plate was squeaky clean when he handed it back to you for seconds, a bit of tomato paste left on the corner of his lips.
"Hold on, you have something on your face."
You gently rubbed your thumb over his lips, not commenting on the way his cheeks obviously blushed or how his eyes widened stupidly. He was older than you.. he should be clean for God's sake!
You were only feeding him for the good of your morals, after all. Ignore how you paid a bit more attention to which fruits were growing in the garden, or how you spent time with him after he ate to learn about what he liked. It's here you learned he used to be a gardener himself.
You invited him to hangout by the farm tomorrow, to which he nervously nodded.
...
"/////!"
Behind you, you heard a familiar voice call for you. Looking over, you saw Thomas wearing a brown, patched up overalls, the hat atop his head now adorned with a dried rose. He was freshened up nicely, though his clothes had clearly been locked in a closet before you.
"Thomas," you greeted with a nod. "You clean up nicely."
He gave you a cheeky smile, face flushing slightly as he fiddled with the strap.
"Thank you.. You look very pretty."
You laughed but nodded graciously. Passing on his comment, you gestured to his overalls.
"You've gardened?"
"I worked on a farm when I was younger. I know a thing or two, you could say."
"Then I won't have to teach you much, will I?"
A look passes on his face, as if contemplating the thought of you helping him and showing him how to garden. He waves his hand.
"Well, there may be a few things I don't know.."
You gave him a look, not buying his half baked excuse. You won't admit it now, but you wouldn't mind being able to guide his hands around a rose bush. He'd blush and refuse proper eye contact, twitching pathetically when you knelt down next to him.
Getting to lock your bodies next to eachother, imagining how he flushed wandering around his room to look half-acceptable for you. You knew for a fact he was indebted to you in some way. He loved you, even if he hadn't said it yet.
You wanted him to say it.
You wanted to tear it from his throat while he begs you to look at him. You wanted him to be filthy, but only for you, for your eyes alone.
How he'd look running his hands over his body to clean, to scrub at and pretend his horrible past didn't effect him, that the scars coating his body weren't there.
You wanted to hold him afterwards, tell him you loved him, tell him that you would never leave him and always be someone he could depend on.
Fuck. You loved him.
A few weeks..
It was the middle of the night, stars watching over the town and wind hushing everyone to sleep. By now, you should be asleep too, though you found yourself trapped.
You were staring at the ceiling, holding on tight to your rose detailed pillow- the decorative kind that was uncomfortable to sleep on, that you only bought for appearances.
You didn't need anyone to know what you really were.
You felt disgusting, falling for someone like him. Someone already so battered and destroyed, someone you could hurt without even realizing it, and he'd probably let you. No matter what, you can't let him get close. You can't let him see what's underneath.
Ring-ring!
The doorbell? But who would be awake at this hour?
You reluctantly set the pillow back on the couch, reorganizing any glasses or picture frames to make it look lived-in but not messy.
You answered the door, expecting to see someone like Andreas or even Blizz, but no.
It was Thomas.
He was dressed in a freshly ironed shirt, the not fully black kind but not entirely royal blue. His slacks were held up by a brown belt, the leather secured by a gold hook. In his arms was a large bouquet of red roses, a few wilted, some smushed or missing petals, but still well grown.
Had he.. grown these himself?
He fumbled with the pocket in his shirt, taking out a wrinkled piece of paper, the edges frayed and old. He looked up to you and glanced at the paper periodically before he started.
"Since I saw you.. I've been nervous to talk to you. You carry yourself with a grace I can't imagine in myself. You treated me like a person, or at least, someone who should treat himself as such. You were patient with me, guided me, and held me during times I wish you didn't see. I'm sorry I can't be as good to you as you are to me, but I hope I can start now."
He looked up from his shoes, making eye contact with those sad, pathetic eyes of his.
Summary: you and Thomas were the closest people in the glade ever since he arrived, but it all started to change when Teresa arrived.
Word count: 1.6k
“How come we never even dated, but I think find myself thinking of you lately?”
You had been in the glade for a while, you hadn’t been one of the first to arrive, but you most definitely were not a greenie. Even though you were a girl you laid down rules, meaning you set your boundaries and the boys knew not to try anything with you after you punched one who had the audacity to try.
Since you were a girl it was especially harder for you to get close with any boys in the glade, they just didnt do things the way you did, which is what made you struggle to get along with most of them. That was until Thomas came along.
When Thomas arrived you were the one who showed him around, you were the one who chose not to call him greenie while he still struggled to remember his name, you were the one who was there for him. It was almost odd how quickly you guys became attached at the hip.
Since you worked in the kitchen, you would always prepare extra food for when he got back from running, you did all the little things for him, just as he did for you. He always collected flowers around the glade that you pointed out were pretty even if you only mentioned it once.
Everyone in the glade believed you guys were dating, and no boys dared make a move on you, especially now. Of course you guys weren’t dating, only best friends, but you knew you would be lying if you said you didnt have feelings for him.
You never wanted to ruin your guys friendship by admitting some silly feelings to him, choosing to keep them to yourself. But in the end, your friendship was still ruined, though not because of you admitting to your feeling, not even because you at all. It was because of Teresa.
The day she arrived in the box you were stunned to see another girl, excited even. That was until she spoke one single word before passing back out.
“Thomas.” she uttered.
Thomas? Your Thomas? I mean what could she possibly have with him that caused her to remember his name when no one else could remember anything while coming up in that box? Those were your exact thoughts for the next few days.
It was easy for those thoughts to flow through your head as you no longer had Thomas’s voice ranting on and on to prevent them. Now he had Teresa. She was pretty, you couldn’t lie, and that was what made you particularly nervous.
You tried your best not to be jealous of them, until he slowly started disregarding you. Extra food you saved for him after his runs? Uneaten. Talking to him when you finished your work? He was busy with Teresa. It was all disappearing and you weren’t the only one to notice it…
“Hey, you alright?” You heard a voice say behind you in a gentle tone.
“God Newt, you scared me!” You said whipping your head around.
“Well you’re over here sulking by the woods, at the dark of night.” He argued.
“I just… wanted some alone time I guess.” You whispered.
“It’s about Thomas isn’t it? We’ve all noticed.”
“I mean yeah, I just don’t understand how he could ditch our friendship so easily when Teresa appeared, I mean who even asked for her to be here? I think we survived just fine without her.” You said enunciating your words with exaggerated hand motions.
“To be honest, I dont understand either y/n. I mean even I didn’t expect this from him, I thought you guys were together, no?”
“Um no, no we weren’t.” You said staring down at your feet, wishing you were in the position to be saying yes.
“Really? The whole glade thought you were!” He exclaimed.
“No, no of course not, just friends I guess.” You said with strong disappointment laced in your words.
“Can I be honest with you y/n.. I’ve always had a slight thing for you, but then Thomas came along and I didnt want to interfere with your guys relationship.” He confessed.
For a moment you guys stood in silence as you processed his words, the words you had hoped to hear from Thomas, instead coming from Newt. Just as you were about to speak, he leaned in. You weren’t sure what went over you in the moment, but you leaned in too.
The kiss didnt get very far before you realized who you were kissing.. Newt, not Thomas. You loved Newt of course, but not like that, not the way you liked Tommy. And with that, just as quickly as you leaned in, you pulled away.
“Im so sorry Newt, I dont know what came over me, but I still have feelings for Thomas.” You said before taking off quickly, back to your hut.
What you didnt know was that Thomas had seen you guys kiss. After going to your hut, finding no trace of you while he had been hoping to apologize about how he had treating you recently, he decided to take a walk around the glade in search of you. That was when he had witnessed your kiss, standing just out of earshot.
Without wasting a second, he turned around and walked quickly away from the two of you. He couldn’t stand to see it. One of his best friends kissing his other best friend. Newt knew Thomas liked you, how could he do this!?
Days passed since your kiss with Newt, tension with Thomas stronger than ever, and distance only building further. You had talked things through with Newt, apologizing for your reaction and chose to remain friends, hoping to find a way to remain friends with Thomas too.
You couldn’t even find a chance to talk to him, it was like every time you attempted to talk to him he found a way around it. Until you caught him walking just beyond the animal pens.
“Thomas wait up!” You called as you upped your walking pace to a jogging pace.
You couldn’t tell if he had purposefully started speed walking when he heard your voice, but it had been too late to react after you had reached him.
“Whats going on Thomas?” You said, looking him in the eyes as you pulled his arm, forcing him to stop walking.
“Nothings going on, you can leave me alone now.” He said almost as a demand.
“First of all you don’t get to tell me what to do, and second, there has to be something going on, you have acted so weird around me recently.” You began raising your voice.
“It’s nothing! God, can’t I have some alone time for once?” He said getting agitated.
“No, Thomas, I am sick and tired of being treated like this, I have liked you for so long and you know what? I actually thought you did too, until Teresa came along and you completely ditched me!” Your voice continuing to raise.
“You seemed happy enough with Newt! I thought you didnt like me!” He yelled.
“Of course I liked you Thomas! And there was never anything between me and Newt, we’re just friends!” You yelled back, confused how he even began to believe that.
“You actually liked me?” He spoke aloud as he began processing it.
“Of course I did Thomas! And as much as I hate to say it, even after everything between you and Teresa I still like you!” You yelled.
“There was never anything between me and Teresa! I never liked her y/n! Hell, I’ve always liked you!”
“Then why? Why did you ditch me? You left me behind, you treated me like shit, you left me to rot as if I meant nothing to you!” Your voice cracked as you spoke, getting more emotional as droplets of rain began coming down.
“It’s hard to explain, okay?” He said, voice lowering.
“Tell me then. If you want me to believe even a word you say, then tell me.” You spoke sternly, looking him in the eyes.
“She remembers stuff from before the glade, we worked together I guess. We were just trying to figure out hints on how to get the hell out of here and just as I went to go talk to you and explain myself after I realized how distanced we had become, I saw you and Newt. I saw you guys kiss by the woods, and I thought he was what you wanted, so I tried to lay off of you.” He confessed, not a drop of dishonesty in his words.
“I never wanted Newt though! He confessed his feelings for me and we kissed but I told him I didnt feel that way for him after I pulled away! I told him that I liked you… not him.”
Upon hearing those words, without any further thoughts, he kissed you, rain dripping down both your foreheads from your hair, making your kiss wet and sloppy, but meaningful nonetheless. He pulled you closer by the waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck twisting your fingers through his hair as your tongues fought for dominance.
As you guys began running out of breath, he gently pulled away, staring down at you with an adoring look in his eyes, as if he had never seen something so beautiful in his lifetime.
“I’ve always liked you too y/n.”
You smiled brightly as the words slipped from his lips, pulling him into another kiss, knowing now that Teresa was never the one he wanted.
Thomas is the type to love showing public display of affection. Want to kiss him in front of his friends ? Why not.
Thomas is the type to love cuddling, especially when it’s cold. Why not have your own personal heat blanket when it’s freezing?
Thomas is the type to race others to impress you. He loves it when you clap for him, eyebrows raised and a slight smirk tugging at your lips. It makes him melt all inside, loving to see you try and hide the fact you’re slightly surprised.
Thomas is the type to act all tough others, but let out a slight soft side when with you.
Med-jack ver:
Thomas is the type to insist on wanting to have you get him checked when hurt. “Sorry Jeff, I need the professional.”
Thomas is the type to love when you take care of him when hurt. Loving to see you clean his wounds for some very odd reason.
Runner ver:
Thomas is the type to want to always be paired up with you. “Cmon, just for this time.”
Thomas is the type to match your running pace when paired together. Even if he’s slightly slower or faster, he still manages to keep up.
Cook ver:
Thomas is the type to always love and see what you helped make. Showering you in compliments about your cooking.
Hey Kayleigh for your new #summer2026 event, you please write a fic with the prompt “I thought you hated dancing.” With Thomas from maze runner? Thank you!
Hey! Thank you for your request and for taking part in my event!
It has been written and posted, you will find it here:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Reader
Summer Event
Summer Event Masterlist
----------------
The music was far too loud. At least, that was what Thomas kept insisting.
You stayed close to the edge of the group, feeling tense as you watched the Gladers laugh and stumble through the rough celebration. You were not one of the original Gladers, but you had become part of their world after arriving in the Box three months earlier. Most saw you as just another runner, though you knew you were still something of an outsider compared to Thomas and the others. Frypan had somehow managed to scrounge up a feast of grilled beetle-blade legs and mashed tomatoes, with Newt passing out slivers of stale but precious chocolate to anyone who won a dance-off.
It was the first night after a successful run; everyone was out by the fire, celebrating making it through another week with no casualties. Winston had built a wonky lantern tower from spare machine parts, sending mismatched beams over the clearing, while someone else had put together a basic speaker system from old wires and metal plates. The music was loud, too loud, probably, and you watched as Gally challenged Chuck to a worm-eating contest, much to everyone’s disgusted amusement. All of it, the weird food, the shouting, the cobbled-together decorations, felt so perfectly Glade, and for a second, you were swept up in the feeling of being right where you belonged. The pounding music made your chest flutter, not just because it was noisy, but because it meant you were here, surrounded by friends and laughter, alive after another hard week. The sound pressed in on you, thrilling and overwhelming at once, and somehow the loud music made your heart skip a beat.
Thomas sat on a wooden crate nearby, arms crossed tightly, jaw set, and eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for a way out. "You could at least try to look like you're having fun," you teased. "I am having fun." You raised an eyebrow. "Thomas, you look like you're preparing for battle." He frowned. "Maybe I am." A laugh escaped you.
The music shifted to something slower, and several people paired off in the centre of the clearing. Even your friend Minho, usually the life of the group, looked vaguely embarrassed as he got dragged into it.
You nudged Thomas with your shoulder. "Want to dance?"
"No." His answer was instant, cutting off your question.
"Thought so."
Thomas loosened up a bit, thinking you were done talking. Then you stepped forward and offered him your hand. His eyes dropped to it.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
“You know I don't dance." He looked away, jaw tightening again. Dancing always felt too public, like everyone was watching for him to mess up. As music drifted around him, Thomas remembered the old shuck banter in the Maze, the way the Gladers used to tease each other after every close escape, and how every movement or mistake out there carried weight. He remembered running through the shifting walls with nothing but the pounding of his heart and Minho's shouts for company, carrying responsibility that felt heavier than any bad dance in a gym. There had even been that night after their first escape from the Grievers, when the group tried to teach Newt a silly campfire jig to keep spirits high, everyone shouting out moves with wild laughter. Thomas had hung back then, too, pretending to check maps, but secretly wishing he could join in without messing it up. That was always the hardest part: letting down the guard he built in the Maze, even now, surrounded by friends.
Even now, the thought of being out in front of everyone made his skin prickle. But he caught the way you looked at him, steady and patient, not mocking or insisting, just waiting. It was different from before, the kind of quiet encouragement that made failing seem less scary. Here, under lantern light and surrounded by makeshift decorations, the old nerves felt both closer and somehow further away, tangled with memories of safety and fear. Maybe, for once, this was a moment he could let himself try.
"That's not what I asked."
A few seconds passed. Thomas sighed and stood, surprising you. "Fine."
Your eyes widened. "Wait. Really?"
"Don't make me regret this."
You took his hand before he could change his mind.
The centre of the group had cleared out; most people were swaying slowly under lanterns hanging from the trees. Thomas followed you, clearly not eager. His hand hovered for a moment before resting, a little shaky, at your waist. You couldn't help but grin, feeling your cheeks grow warm.
"Oh, my God."
"What?"
"I thought you hated dancing."
Thomas groaned. "I do."
"Then why are you here?"
He looked at you, searching your face for something, his eyes suddenly open and honest. For a brief moment, memories tangled between you: the night by the garden, when you both tried to cook over an open flame and nearly burned your hands, laughing so hard you forgot where you were. You remembered the time Thomas dared you to climb the old watchtower at midnight, the two of you whispering jokes and holding your breath whenever the boards creaked.
There was the time you both got caught sneaking late-night tomatoes from Frypan's stores, scrambling away from the kitchen still grinning. Sometimes, you knew, the others noticed these moments. Frypan would roll his eyes, but always save you an extra bite. Minho would catch your gaze after some shared mischief and shake his head, warning you to be sneakier, but with a knowing smirk that said he liked being in on the secret. Even Newt, who saw everything, would sometimes chime in with a dry comment just loud enough for only you two to hear, making both of you hide your grins. As the memories washed over you, you felt your chest tighten with a kind of aching happiness, the warmth of those moments threading through the nervousness and excitement of now. It made everything around you glow a little brighter, and your heart felt full and fragile all at once. All of it flickered between you, unspoken, and you wondered if he was thinking about it too.
For a moment, all the noise around you seemed distant. The laughter. The crackling fire. None of it mattered. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Because you asked."
A sudden flutter made your heart skip. "That's incredibly cheesy."
"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "Don't tell anyone." You laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. "No promises." Thomas rolled his eyes, but his arm tightened around you. "You know," he said quietly, "if anyone asks, you're forcing me to do this."
"Of course."
"And I'm miserable."
"Clearly."
Another song began. Neither of you moved away. Thomas hated dancing. But as he swayed with you under the lanterns, smiling when he thought you couldn't see, you started to think that wasn't completely true. In this small, borrowed moment, you realised Thomas was letting go of fears he rarely voiced and trusting you to see him as he was. There was something new in the way his fingers settled at your waist: a choice, a step forward, the sort of tiny bravery that fans would always remember about him. You felt it in yourself, too, that something had changed between you, quietly and profoundly. Maybe it was just one dance, but under the warmth of the lanterns and the music, it felt like a promise you both carried into whatever would come next. Later, you would look back on this night and realise it was a beginning, the sort of shift that made the future feel uncertain but wide open.
For the first time, you wondered what it might mean to be more than just friends, and if this was the night things quietly started to change. You found yourself wishing for another moment like this, a hope you tucked away beneath your ribs as the laughter faded into the night. Whatever tomorrow brought, you couldn't shake the sense that something important had started between you and Thomas, and that soon, both of you would have to face where it led.
You've been in the Glade longer, and take on the role of teaching Thomas how everything works. While ignoring the others Thomas only listens to you. Trusting your voice above everyone else’s.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Summary: You've been in the Glade longer, and take on the role of teaching Thomas how everything works. While ignoring the others Thomas only listens to you. Trusting your voice above everyone else’s.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Author's note: First Thomas story ;)
Thomas doesn’t listen to anyone.
Not Alby, even when his voice carries authority like it’s carved into the stone walls of the Glade.
Not Newt, even when he tries to explain things calmly, like Thomas might break if spoken to too sharply.
Not Minho, who mostly laughs and tells him he’ll figure it out the hard way.
Thomas listens to you.
You notice it the first morning after he arrives.
He’s standing near the Gardens, arms crossed, staring at the Runners like he’s already decided he’s one of them. You’ve been in the Glade for over a year, long enough to recognize that look immediately. The I don’t belong here but I’m not backing down look.
You walk up beside him and hand him a cup of water.
“Rule one,” you say casually, “don’t stare at Minho like that. He’ll make you run laps just to prove a point.”
Thomas blinks, then takes the water. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
Minho glances over, catches Thomas staring, and smirks like he absolutely would’ve done it.
Thomas looks back at you. “…Okay.”
Newt raises an eyebrow from a few feet away.
Later, you’re showing Thomas around the Glade properly, not the rushed, half-explained version everyone else gives. You point out the Slammers, the Med-jacks, the Builders. You explain what happens when the Doors close and why no one jokes about the Maze.
“Rule two,” you say, stopping near the edge of the stone walls. “You don’t go near this place unless you’re told. And even then, you don’t cross the line.”
Thomas steps closer anyway.
You grab his wrist without thinking. Not rough, just firm.
“I’m serious,” you say, quieter now. “People don’t come back.”
Something in your voice makes him stop. He looks at your hand on his wrist, then up at your face.
“…Alright,” he says. “I won’t.”
Alby, watching from a distance, mutters, “Unbelievable.”
Newt had tried explaining the rules three times already. Thomas ignored every word until you said the exact same thing.
Somehow, your voice cut through the noise of the Glade easier than anyone else’s.
By the third day, it’s obvious.
If Alby tells Thomas to rest, he shrugs it off.
If Newt warns him not to push too hard, Thomas argues.
But when you tell him to slow down? He does.
When you say, “Don’t volunteer for things yet,” he hesitates.
When you say, “Trust me on this,” he does.
You’re sitting with him one evening, watching the sun dip low and paint the stone walls gold. The Glade feels almost peaceful, almost normal.
“Why do you listen to me?” you ask suddenly.
Thomas frowns, like he hasn’t thought about it before. “You explain things,” he says. “Not like I’m stupid. Just… like I need to know.”
You smile a little. “That’s because you do.”
He looks at you for a second longer than necessary. “And you don’t look at me like I don’t belong here.”
You don’t answer, because the truth is, you’ve already decided he does.
And later that night, when shouting suddenly breaks across the Glade and runners scramble toward the Maze entrance, Thomas doesn’t move first or ask questions.
