forgotten│the maze runner

p r o l o g u e

A boy and a girl sat next to each other in two metal chairs. The room they were in was fairly small with no windows, dimly lit by an overhead light. Sliding doors were on the opposite sides of them.

The girl's eyes were downcast, and her arms were crossed, resting against her chest. Tears threatened to escape, but she swore to herself, promising she wouldn't. She had been strong her entire life; she wasn't going to let her guard down just because of a boy.

She raised her head slightly to meet the boy's eyes staring into her own. He didn't say anything; he just looked into her eyes with an inexplicable sadness. She couldn't find any words either, which was a first between them.

She swallowed hard and looked away. Why did they have to do this? She wanted to trust that this was the best way, but it hurt too much to make any sense. They both knew this day would eventually come, but they never brought it up.

The boy leaned back in his chair. "How kind of them to give us ten minutes of their precious time." He spat the words out bitterly, knowing fully well that every word was being recorded. The girl didn't answer. "I hate this," he began coldly, in a voice that almost scared her. "I hate all of this." She held her breath. A single tear spilled down his cheek. "I hate what they're doing to us." His voice broke at the last word.

Without thinking, she leaned in and wiped the tear from his cheek. He abruptly stopped her hand, holding it there. They lingered like that for a few silent moments.

"This hurts so much," he muttered in a clenched voice. "I can't take this pain anymore; I'm sick and tired of it." He looked so vulnerable and broken; it tore at her heart. "This hurts more than anything else."

Before she even realized it, tears began streaming down her own face.

Her walls had indeed broken down.

All because of him.

He looked up in surprise. This was the second time he had ever seen her cry. He pulled her into his arms, feeling a strong protectiveness towards her.

"You won't even remember me," she began to sob harder.

"Yes, I will."

She was mad now. "Shut up. No, you won't." Angry tears trickled down her face. "I hate it when you say those things—"

He grabbed both of her hands. "Look at me." She struggled against him. "Look at me," he repeated.

Reluctantly, she looked into his eyes. The tears would not stop falling down her face.

"I swear—" His voice broke again. Another tear spilled down his cheek, "Somehow, I'll find a way to fall in love with you all over again."

"Promise?" She whispered. It sounded so ridiculous, how vulnerable she was, but she wanted to hold on to something, anything at all.

He kissed her gently on the lips. "I promise," he responded, his voice broken and soft. He loved her so much. She was his everything. He couldn't bear the thought of forgetting her. He had always been good at forgetting, but not now.

He didn't want to forget her. As much as he hated the WICKED propaganda, he loved her. He didn't feel like a man anymore. All those empty promises he made to her, hopeless attempts to run away—he had failed her. Yet he had hoped, just maybe in some kind of plot twist they would be in an entirely different situation.

He had never imagined it would come to an end so soon.