Once In A Blue Moon

Thirty-Four

The maps formed a string of words: float, catch, bleed, death, stiff, push.

The Gladers had formed a plan. It wasn't the most thorough or the safest -- maybe not even the most logical -- plan that could have been formed, but it was the one most people agreed on. And so it was decided that, at sundown, you would leave the Glade and enter the Glade for the first time in over a month. 

It felt like it had been forever since you had run, and the tightening feeling in your stomach made you question whether you even wanted to leave, but you knew you couldn't make it a day in the Glade alone. That's the beauty of friends -- they hold you together when everything else falls apart. And you certainly considered these Gladers your friends.

Frypan had prepared a final meal for everybody, perhaps to ease his nerves. Nobody ate the casserole on their plates unless they were doing it to relieve their stress. And everybody had a whole lot of stress.

You sat on the ground of the kitchen since all the chairs were taken by everyone else. You never realized how many Gladers there were until they were all packed into the kitchen.

You sat in Newt's arms. He absently ran his hand through your hair, untangling it painlessly. You felt empty -- like someone had sucked away your ability to feel anything at all. You longed to feel something, but there was no anticipation, no fear, no excitement. Only the bitter feeling of knowing what was to come.

A nauseous feeling had begun to brew in your stomach, threatening to rise in your throat. But it stayed put.

You watched as Alby stood up, standing out among everybody else's sitting bodies.

"It's time," he whispered. It was quiet, but everybody heard the words. They were chilling, like a declaration that it was time to die.

Some others stood up reluctantly, definitely second-guessing their commitment to the plan. You and Newt stood up together, holding hands tightly.

The Gladers gathered outside the North Door, all looking less brain-dead than they had been a second ago in the kitchen. Frypan was the last one to leave the Homestead. You watched him walk out of the doors sadly, as if he's never be happy again. 

As Minho and Alby (who you were surprised had agreed to come) walked around the group and made sure everybody had weapons, Newt turned to you.

He didn't speak at first, and you savored the moment of just looking into his eyes. He put words  to your feelings, "Y/n, I love you."

You were shocked for a second. Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you smiled slightly. His words, and the fact that you felt the same way, settled many of your nerves, but too many remained. 

"I love you too, Newt," you told him, unable to raise your voice above a whisper. 

He leaned down and kissed you softly. The nauseous feeling was wiped away, replaced by a warming heat that spread throughout your entire body. You were nearly certain that time had ceased to progress, stopping to allow the moment to become incessant. Newt pulled you closer to him, disregarding the fact that all of the Gladers were watching. You could feel their eyes burning onto the both of you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When he pulled away, you immediately wished he hadn't. Something about his absence felt incomplete, like it just wasn't right.

You were wrong about the Gladers watching -- they all seemed to occupied to notice, which you were glad about.

You spoke in a hoarse whisper, "I guess I'm kind of glad that the Creators made that mistake."

"You weren't a mistake," Newt answered. "You were a miracle. The kind that only comes around once in a blue moon."