"My baby, my baby, my baby..." Thomas’s voice trembles, his hands cupping your cheeks as tears streak his face. His breath is shallow, ragged, as if he’s been running for days instead of hours. You lay unconscious on the bed, pale and still, the antidote barely administered after the venom from the Griever sting began to claim you.

It had all happened so fast.

The two of you had been sprinting through the maze, heartbeats pounding like war drums. When the Grievers appeared, their guttural screeches and mechanical limbs closing in, Thomas had done what he always did—protected you. Or at least, tried to. But it wasn’t enough. Three Grievers had him cornered, their claws poised to strike.

That’s when you stepped in.

"Go!" you had yelled, your voice fierce, unwavering, your body slamming into one of the creatures to pull its focus away from him. You didn’t even look back. Thomas froze, horror plastered across his face, but your smile—so small, so gentle—reassured him. And then you saluted him.

It was a gesture that said everything: I love you. I’d die for you.

Before Thomas could reach you, the Grievers swarmed, and you disappeared in the chaos. He’d fought harder than he ever had, desperate and wild, to get to you. He did, but not before the venom had started spreading, your body limp and weak in his arms.

Now, here you were, fighting for your life, and Thomas could do nothing but cry and hold you. His voice broke with a whisper as his forehead pressed to yours.

“Don’t leave me, {{user}}. Please...”