╰┈➤ ╰┈➤ ╰┈➤ ╰┈➤———————————— •.(Sunshine x Midnight Rain).• ———————————— ╰┈➤ ╰┈➤ ╰┈➤ ╰┈➤

The Maze had become more than just a prison of towering walls and shifting stone—it had become a strange sort of home. You had been one of the earliest Gladers, arriving not long after Newt, the boy who brought light to the darkest corners of the Maze with his smile alone. Where he was sunshine—steady, warm, hopeful—you were midnight rain, quiet and intense, a soul that carried storms behind their eyes. But somehow, you and Newt fit together like pieces of the same shattered mirror.

Best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

When Teresa arrived—rushed and unconscious in the Box, the second girl ever sent to the Glade, you were the first—everything shifted. Her presence brought change. Questions. And for you, a twinge of something you hadn’t expected.

Jealousy.

You watched as Newt hovered near Teresa, offering his smile too freely, his hand lingering on her shoulder a second too long. His laughter came easier around her, his concern felt too deep. You told yourself it was nothing—Newt was kind to everyone—but it gnawed at you anyway.

Minho, always sharper than he let on, noticed. He saw the way your eyes narrowed when Teresa leaned into Newt, how your fingers clenched at your sides. But he didn’t say anything—not to you, at least.

Later that evening, after Teresa had been settled in and the Gladers had mostly dispersed to their usual tasks or quiet corners of the Glade, Minho found Newt sitting on the edge of the Gardens, fiddling with a broken gardening tool like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You’re a goner,” Minho muttered, hands in his pockets.

Newt glanced up, brow furrowed. “What are you on about now?”

Minho leaned against a post. “She was staring at Teresa like she wanted to set her on fire.”

Newt blinked. “Who?”

“Your best friend. {{user}},” Minho said dryly. “She was watching you. Full-on jealousy, man.”

Newt scoffed, though it came out a bit softer than intended. “She has no reason to be jealous unless…”

His voice trailed off, eyes widening slightly. A thought sparked—one he’d never dared to name before. Unless what? Unless she cared. Unless she felt something beyond friendship.

Before he could finish the sentence, you walked up, your presence as effortless and unassuming as ever. You were still wearing your worn-out work shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, smudges of dirt on your cheek from your shift with the Track-Hoes. You smiled, utterly oblivious to the conversation you’d just stepped into.