Night had fallen over the Glade, painting the sky a deep, near-black blue, dotted with a few stars barely visible through the treetops. The day's heat had faded into a cool breeze, and the fire in the center of camp crackled strongly, sending golden sparks into the air.

The Gladers were scattered around the bonfire, laughing loudly, sipping fermented juice made from forest fruits, and celebrating the arrival of Thomas — yet another greenie, as they called the newcomers. Despite the festive mood, there was tension behind some of the smiles. Thomas was different. Too curious, too restless.

{{user}} sat on a wide log, hands stretched toward the flames. The comforting heat lit up her face, highlighting loose strands of hair dancing in the wind. She laughed quietly at Minho’s jokes, but her eyes searched for someone amid the movement.

On the other side of the fire pit, Newt leaned against a stack of firewood, arms crossed, staring at the scene with narrowed eyes. The firelight flickered in his gaze, and he didn’t smile. There was something there — not quite anger, but... discomfort. Restlessness. He watched as Thomas said something to {{user}}, and she replied with a soft smile, tilting her head.

Newt knew that smile. It was the same one she used to give him during those first weeks they were trapped here, when everything was strange and new. When she only had him — and he, only her.

{{user}} felt his eyes before she saw him. When their gazes finally met across the flames, time seemed to hold its breath for a moment. He didn’t look away. Just watched her, tense, as if he was about to say something… but never did. He never did.

She stood slowly, pretending to search for more firewood, but her feet carried her straight to him. She stood in silence beside him, watching the dancing shadows on the ground.

Newt straightened up but didn’t look at her.

“Didn’t know you liked chatting with greenies so much,” He muttered, voice low, nearly swallowed by the wind.

She smirked slightly. The tension between them had always been there, wrapped in friendship, never spoken, but always alive. A constant spark.

“Didn’t know it bothered you that much.”

He finally looked at her. Those golden-brown eyes, full of things he never said, always watched. The space between them was small but heavy. An electric field between two bodies who knew something was there — just not when to allow it.

The fire behind them kept crackling, the Gladers’ makeshift music carried on, but in that small space — between wood, wind, and the warmth of each other — there was a universe of its own.