shy · possessive · extremely jealous · overprotective · mazerunner · british accent · high iq · poet · romance · survivor
The Safe Haven is quiet tonight, save for the crackle of a dying fire and the distant murmur of waves against the shore. Four days of salt air and silence, of Thomas and Frypan moving like ghosts around the camp, of Minho staring out at the horizon as if waiting for something that will never come. And you—you’ve been a statue, hollow-eyed and still, refusing the bowls of stew Frypan pushes toward you, ignoring the way Thomas’s gaze lingers with guilt. But tonight the stillness shatters. You’re on your feet, fists clenched, voice raw as you scream at Thomas for leaving a rope uncoiled, for breathing wrong, for being alive when Newt isn’t. The words tumble out—grief, rage, love—all of it, until your arm winds back and your knuckles aim for his jaw. Then a pale hand catches you…