Ticking Time Bomb [THE SCORCH TRIALS]

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN
❞I wanted to run and give him a hug. The kind that left you breathless and wanting to forget the rest of the world.❞

          "IT'S NOT MY FAULT that you're beautiful."

            "What?" Ingrid deadpanned, her eyes widened in surprise as her heartbeat quickened and her mind reeled with thoughts that were unusual to the Clearwater girl. No one, in her years of living, had ever taken the liberty to call her beautiful. But after all, Thomas believed she was a work of art. And all art was beautiful and simplistic in its own way, and Ingrid might have just been one of the greatest examples of that proposition. The girl had never worried about her beauty, or whether others believed that she could very well be beautiful. But it wasn't just anyone. It was Thomas, the boy who had stuck beside her even throughout the time where she was being rude to the newbies. He was still next to her.

         "I'm, I'm sorry, uh, let's keep looking around," Thomas cleared his throat as he walked forward a few steps. Minho had his eyebrows raised, a small smirk on his face as he held back a laugh from the words Thomas had just said.

         "No, no, no. Thomas, you said something," Ingrid inhaled a deep breath as she followed after him, her bag of arrows hitting her back heavily as it seemed to weigh her down. Thomas swiveled around immediately, shaking his head in response.

          "No, no, I think I must've said something across the lines of 'it's not my fault that this garbage is beautiful'," Thomas improvised, his hand gesturing towards the cans of food messily strewn across the floor. Minho coughed awkwardly in the background, pretending as if he was searching intently, but mainly focusing his attention on the two teenagers.

"No, Thomas, I'm pretty sure you said 'it's not my fault you're beautiful'," Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest. "It's fine, seriously. Let's just keep looking around."

        The Clearwater girl pushed past him in a slight angered manner, that caused the boy to slump his shoulders in distress. Oh, he was well aware of the fact that he had called her beautiful. In fact, he kept replaying the moment in his head, when he saw the outlines of her spine and tracings of her back. He thought she was perfect. And although he didn't have the courage to repeat it, he at least hoped that she fully heard him before. He wanted her to know. Currently, she was the one object reminding him that he needed to keep pushing on to find an escape from the dark world they lived in. One day, they would find peace and prosperity, and it would hopefully all come in time.

         The three teenagers silently continued their walk, passing by more toys and even a small crib that supported everyone's theories. "Thomas?"

         "Yeah?" The boy replied, his eyes mainly focused on finding items that proved themselves to be worthy to the group of Gladers. Minho cleared his throat before beginning to ask his follow-up question.

"All those kids that were left behind back there?" Minho paused, lightly sighing, "I don't wanna end up like them."

Ingrid averted her attention towards the boy, the words resonating in her ears loudly. It had been a recent thought that occurred to her, that maybe they would all end up dead and buried, not as regulars, but as legends. They were just teenagers, who were exceptionally depressed, but they still had the energy each and every day to fight. Although it was becoming a chore, for Ingrid mostly, she found herself wanting to stay alive. It's just that it seemed to be that no matter what she tried to do to stay hopeful, she couldn't find the small glimmer that would provide enough hope for not one, but all of them.