𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 - TMR, Gally

018 - Hot

A/N: Also, what are we thinking of Valerie so far? I hope she doesn't come over annoying because she talks a lot :)

TW: A shirtless Minho (in case you faint)

~

The days started to get warmer in the Glade, even though we were all convinced there were no seasons. Gally told me over and over again the sun always shined and it was never extremely cold, except for the nights, sometimes.

"So it never snowed?" I wondered for the millionth time.

"Nope."

"It would be fun, though." I placed my pen on the ground. We were sitting on the floor in my hut, trying to write poems. Or rather, I was trying to teach Gally how to write it.

It was getting dark outside. Twilight fell a few minutes ago and my stomach was full with soup, the dinner Fry had made.

"I would push Carl's head into the snow." He muttered.

I laughed at that, loud and without shame. "I'll join you gladly. How's it going with the writing?"

He stared down at his blank paper. "I don't know what to write."

"Think of a subject you want it to be about. Happy or sad?"

"I don't know." He frowned even deeper. "Roses are red, violets are blue-."

"No." Giggling, I shook my head. "But you could say... roses aren't always red, violets aren't always blue... the society we live in, never seems to speak the truth. Smiles-."

"No. That's too sad. Write a happy one sometime." He leaned against the wall. For a few seconds he stared at nothing, but then his eyes started to twinkle. "I've got an idea."

"What is it?"
But he didn't reply and started writing like crazy, hiding his paper from mine.

I sighed, deciding I would just wait as I wrote my own thing. It wouldn't really be a rhyme poem, but something close to it.

As I wrote, my hair fell forward, almost onto my paper. My mind was spinning, working hard to create something nice.

She never needed to be saved,
But she thought it would be nice—

My pen nearly dropped out of my hands.

Gally tucked a strand of my red hair behind my ear, watching me carefully.

I would've sworn my heart skipped a beat. Almost gasping, I looked at him, trying hard not to raise a suspicious eyebrow.

He read my mind. "It, uh, your hair was covering my paper so I couldn't see what I was... writing."

"Right." I smiled at him and turned back to my paper.

"But I'm done with mine. Wanna hear?" His nervousness turned into a grin now.

"Yep."

"There lay the boy named Zart. On soft green grass, a man of heart. He'd go about his day walking with class. Oh, the little boy named Zart, a Glader and a Friend. The boy took a big shart. That's why he's known as, Zart The Fart."

I stared at him for a few seconds, the poem getting through my mind before I burst out of laughing. "It's..." Gasp. "Something..."

"It's very good, admit it." He had a crooked smile stuck on his face.

I, for some reason, laughed until my sides hurt. "It's very funny, that's what it is."

He pulled a face. "Poems can be funny. Now lemme read yours."