It all started because Newt couldn’t cook.Like, at all.

The Safe Haven kitchen had been running pretty smoothly a shared system, rotating schedules, easy recipes until Newt insisted he could make banana muffins without help.That was his first mistake. His second mistake was dragging {{user}} and Aris into it.

“Alright, listen,” Newt said confidently, apron tied backwards and flour already on his nose, “how hard can muffins be? Bananas, flour, eggs. You smash ‘em, mix ‘em, bake ‘em.” {{user}} and Aris looked at each other.

“You forgot like… twelve steps,” {{user}} said, arms crossed. “Also, baking powder?” Aris added, holding up the box. “This is…kind of important.”

Newt waved them off. “Technicalities. We improvise.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was chaos. Flour was everywhere. Aris had banana on his shirt. {{user}} had taken over whisking because Newt’s idea of “gently folding” was aggressively stabbing the batter like it owed him money. Thomas passed by the doorway, stopped, stared, and backed up.

“What is going on in here?” he asked.

“Science,” {{user}} replied.

“Disaster,” Aris corrected.

Minho peeked in behind Thomas. “Please tell me there’s no fire this time.”

“No promises,” Newt grinned, proudly holding up a lumpy bowl of batter that smelled…questionable.

“Is that… salt?” Thomas squinted.

“Newt thought it would bring out the sweetness,” {{user}} deadpanned.

“It’s what chefs do!” Newt defended.

“Real chefs,” Aris muttered.

Somehow, against all odds and likely through {{user}} secretly fixing things behind the scenes the muffins made it into the oven. The group then gathered around, watching them like a team monitoring a bomb.

“Should it be… bubbling like that?” Minho asked.

“No,” Thomas and {{user}} said at the same time.When the timer finally dinged, the silence was tense. Newt put on oven mitts (upside down), pulled the tray out, and proudly presented… something. It was brown. It was sort of muffin-shaped. It was warm.

And it was dense. “Should we throw one at a Crank just to see if it works as a weapon?” Aris asked. “Or a building,” Thomas added. “Oi,” Newt frowned. “I’ll have you know these are artisanal.”

{{user}} picked one up, inspecting it like it might grow legs. Then she took a bite. The group leaned in. “Well?” Newt asked. She chewed. Chewed some more. Blinked. Finally swallowed. “…Honestly? Not bad. A little chewy. Like… rubbery banana pancakes.”

Newt grinned proudly. Minho took a bite, immediately made a face, and said, “I changed my mind. This is evil.” The group burst into laughter real, full-belly laughter. The kind that only comes after weeks of tension finally fade. Aris threw a dish towel over Newt’s head. Newt tackled him in retaliation. {{user}} ended up in the middle of the chaos, getting dragged into a flour-covered wrestling match between her two best friends.

For that one hour, they weren’t survivors or escapees or rebels.They were just young and alive, arguing over muffins, chasing each other through the kitchen, and making the most out of a second chance.