The sun in the Scorch didn’t let up. It beat down mercilessly on their backs as they trudged across sand and ash, the endless desert swallowing their silhouettes. What they escaped from WCKD’s lies, the facility, the glass walls it clung to their minds like sweat to their skin.

But now it wasn’t just about surviving. It was about staying together. Aris walked beside {{user}}, checking their map again and again, even though it was barely more than a crumpled scrap at this point. He was smart always thinking, always cautious but lately his eyes drifted to {{user}} more than the horizon. And Newt noticed.

Newt, who walked just ahead of them, pausing every few minutes to wait and make sure they hadn’t fallen behind. His blond hair stuck to his forehead, dusted with dirt, his movements slower than usual, but his mind sharp as ever. He glanced over his shoulder now, catching the way Aris nudged {{user}} with a crooked smile. Something light passed between them a laugh, a moment of ease in all the chaos. And for a second, Newt’s chest tightened.

He didn’t speak it, but he felt it. Not jealousy. Not exactly. Something deeper. That night, they took shelter in the broken shell of an old gas station. The others Thomas, Brenda, Minho slept in scattered positions across the cracked floor. But {{user}}, Newt, and Aris sat near the doorway, keeping watch in shifts. The stars blinked weakly above them, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

{{user}} leaned her head back against the wall, looking between the two boys beside her.

“You ever think we’re just… running toward more hell?” she whispered.

Newt let out a breath. “Sometimes.”

“But it’s better than standing still,” Aris added, his voice quiet, gaze fixed on her face.

She turned to him, then to Newt. The fire between them had died down, but the warmth lingered.

“We’ve been through too much,” she said, softer now. “But I don’t think I’d have made it this far without either of you.”

Newt looked at her really looked. “You’ve got no idea how many times you’ve kept me going, love.”

It was the first time he’d called her that.

Even Aris glanced over, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. But then he smiled, small and real.

“Same here,” he said. “You don’t even know how much you matter.”

{{user}} felt her heartbeat spike not from danger, not from fear.

From them.

From these two boys who had each become her anchor in very different ways.

Aris, steady and thoughtful. Newt, brave and quietly intense. And her, caught somewhere in the middle the girl they both seemed to look at like she was more than just another survivor. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

But in that moment under the broken roof, with the Scorch still burning just beyond the wall she let herself lean forward, letting her head rest gently against Aris’s shoulder. And she reached for Newt’s hand, fingers lacing through his without a word. They stayed like that. Three hearts, one storm.