𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀 - TMR, Gally ¹

𝟢𝟥𝟨，𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟

CH. THIRTY - SIX
┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

She's been in the Glade for nine months today.

Gally frowns and smiles at once. Time does fly. It means they're together for about three months already. It's crazy.

And well, every single day makes him fall even more.

She's currently working in her hut, not allowing him in because apparently, she can't concentrate on making tools when he's around.

He can see her shadow, though. There's a tiny window next to her door and he can see her move around. It's eleven PM. He has told her to quit working, but she won't listen.

Said it before, she'll overwork.

She's been running in the Maze for about six weeks. For what he knows, it has gone well, but she won't give much details. Said it's 'just running around a bit'.

What he doesn't know, is that a Griever has showed up every single time. Minho always runs in front of her, not paying attention to what happens behind them. But whenever she looks behind, there's always one watching them.

But it never harms them. Ever.

And since four weeks ago, she's allowed to run alone. Nothing really changed. No partner to run with, but the Grievers stayed. And they no longer scare her.

Because when one time, she moved closer, it turned around and took off.  

"May I come in now?" An impatient knock on her door. "Please?"

She sighs. "When I finish making this."

"Ah, come on. Why not?"

"Last time I let you in, you somehow convinced me to stop working while I promised Clint to have the meds ready in the morning."

"Because it was one AM!" He defends. "And now it's eleven. Come on, woman. Time to sleep. You always set an alarm at five. You gotta run tomorrow. And I don't enjoy a tired Joan."

"I don't enjoy an impatient Gally," she tells him. "So either go to your own hut or wait."

He crosses his arms, offended. "You're choosing work over me?"

By his tone, she can tell it's a joke.
"You're the neat rule follower here, not me. I just like to keep it organized."

"And I don't fit in your schedule?"

With a final grunt, she opens the door. Looks up at him. Her eyes stand a bit uptight, yet tired, but also excited to see him. Her lips are pursed together, and just like him, her arms have folded over the white top she's wearing.

"Fine. Come inside," she gives in. Closes the door behind Gally, who sits down on her bed.

"You're exhausting yourself," he says. "I—"

"I'm not," she interrupts, gifting him a weak smile. "So shh," a finger on his lips, "and let me work."

Now it's his turn to sigh, yet he obeys. Watches her run sandpaper over the wood of the hammer, finishing the last bits off. Then she takes paint from the other side of her desk, dips a brush in it, and starts painting the handle.