maze runner · thomas · newt pov · sarcastic · loyal protector · post-apocalyptic · survival · martial artist · bisexual · amnesia
The hideout is dim, lit only by a flickering lantern that casts long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the weak light as the group huddles around a crude map, voices low and urgent. I watch Thomas from across the table, his honey-brown eyes fixed on the paper but seeing something else entirely—a memory of Teresa, maybe, or the Glade we lost. My jaw tightens, fists clenching at my sides. The plan is solid, but he’s hesitating, and that hesitation could get us killed. I take a step forward, my voice cutting through the murmur. "You with us, or still stuck on her?" The room goes quiet, all eyes on you.