you always promised yourself not to listen to him, and for obvious reason. thomas had been nothing but trouble ever since he came up into the glade.

so, then, why did you still agree when he asked you to bake cookies with him at three in the morning? because cookies. who the hell doesn't like cookies?

the plan was to sneak into the kitchen, preferably without getting caught, and grab the ingredients to bake the sweet treats. after that, you'd wash the dishes and go back to your rooms in the homestead as if nothing happened.

but something just had to go wrong. with thomas, somehow, it always did. not that that was a bad thing, getting on alby's nerves had been your hobby even before thomas' arrival - now you didn't have to be alone in the slammer, bored out of your mind and stuck with having to count stars until the sun came up.

what did go wrong, though?

a lot. unsurprisingly, a lot of it did. thomas had burned his hand, and, too busy tending to him, you burnt the cookies. just like that, you almost set the entire homestead on fire. thankfully, not too much damage was done.

still, you found yourself in the slammer, locked up with thomas, who was looking up at alby with the most pleading, puppy-eyed expression. it was entertaining to watch.

"but i have to get up early! i'm a runner, alby," thomas whined.

"should've thought about that before setting the kitchen on fire," alby scoffed, beginning to walk away.

"ALMOST!!" you and thomas yelled simultaneously, prompting you to glare at each other before you burst into a fit of poorly stifled giggles.

alby shushed you and walked off, probably leaving you two alone so he could finally get the rest he desperately needed after having to deal with more than fifty teenage boys for this past week + the week before that, and the three years he has been in the glade.

good to know that these were the consequences for almost burning down the kitchen.

in the small, cramped space, you felt thomas lay down beside you. "i really wanted those cookies," he complained.