Sometimes, in the depths of the night, I find myself waking up. Most of the time, it's for no apparent reason. Other times, it's from a dream, from the events of the day that continued to whirl in my mind with no intention to stop.

Sometimes it's just to hear the beating heart of the girl who laid next to me, her head on my chest, our legs tangled with each other. Sometimes, as tired as I am, or as I was, I couldn't get her off my mind. Everything she did. Certain words she spoke, the way she made me feel. It kept me awake into the early hours of the morning, because I found myself wanting to stay that way for as long as possible. To feel that feeling for as long as I could.

She was always there. Next to me, on my mind, a feeling. Whenever I wasn't next to her, or with her, I was thinking of her. Thinking how my decisions would benefit her. The steps that it would take to get us to the Safe Haven, and to have a dog named Lucy while we grew old together. I've been on that staircase since the moment I had that strange dream, while I held her as she looked in the mirror at herself.

It seemed never ending. Like I would be climbing the stairs to that goal higher and higher everyday, until something happened to either one of us. Then, that staircase would just stop, and I would climb down, or either keep climbing. Up, and up. Without her.

As the days went by, the promise we had made to each other early in the days while I was getting to know her—it grew. I cared for her with everything I had, always. I loved her with every ounce of love one person could have for another, and more. The promise we made to each other evolved into something beyond both of our understandings, almost like a vow.

Although the thought of her sometimes woke me up, or prevented me from closing my eyes and forgetting everything for some time, I never objected it. It's happened to me more often than I would like to admit.

But never, in my two and a half years of living that I can remember, have I once woken up to a pain so great I forgot where I was, and what was happening around me.

I shot up in bed, clutching the sides of my head as I opened my mouth to scream. The pain was sharp, right behind my eyes, as I rocked forward and curled myself into a ball.

"Newt?"

No. Go back to sleep. I thought, trying to keep the screams and cries of pain that wanted to leap from my chest, quiet.

The pain continued as though it were trying to saw my brain in half. Going to the back of my head, then the front—I prayed that it would just go away as quickly as it had come. Leave me alone to go back to sleep.

"Newt, what's wrong?"

I ignored her as she touched my shoulders, trying to get me to stay still. I waved my arms around, the touch sending another pain wave through my head. I rubbed at my temples as Mae adjusted herself so that she was now sitting on her knees on the mattress, the sheets tangled around her legs.

A cry of agony managed to escape from my lips, another one following right after it. I pinched my eyes shut, feeling the throbbing as I saw all different sorts of colors behind my eyelids. My stomach turned, and my body began to tingle as the pain continued.

"Newt." Mae's voice echoed through my mind, calm despite how scared I knew she was. I suddenly felt a small pair of hands over mine on the side of my head, brushing away the wispy bangs that had fallen over my forehead. I removed my own hands from my head, needing her somewhere.

"Ow, ow, ow." I cried, a tear falling from my closed eye. "It hurts. It hurts."

I kicked my legs out in front of me, using my hands to grab the sheets as I pushed myself an inch into the air, then back down.

"Hey, hey." She moved over me, straddling my legs as she continued to hold my head, and I cried. "It's okay..."

Mae repeated the words like a chant as I clenched my fists in the sheets, trying to rid the pain. She placed her lips to my forehead, having no clue what was going on, just knowing that I was hurting.

The pain lasted about a minute longer, stopping as quickly as it came. It descended into a dull ache, then disappeared completely. My chest heaved up and down as Mae whispered the same words to me, her lips brushing against my forehead as she calmed me down. My stomach lurched, contracted then released, a feeling that was never good.

I suddenly pushed her off me just in time so that I didn't vomit all over her as I did myself. The pain had come on so suddenly, at such a great amount that my body didn't know what was happening. I couldn't control my actions as I threw up, then closed my eyes.

"Newt?" She murmured my name cautiously, wondering if I had anything left in me to heave. My elbows leaned on my knees, and I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed. Another cry left my lips, but not one of pain.

She let out a breath, climbing out of the mattress that laid on the dirty wooden floor, only to kneel down at my side. She grabbed one of my wrists gently, moving it away from my face as tears fell.

"C'mon, let's clean you up." She whispered, her voice sending a wave of comfort over me. "Can you stand?"

I nodded, turning to face her as I sniffled. She grabbed both of my hands, helping me stand onto my weak legs.

"Alright. Let's come over here." She led me to a door on the opposite side of the room as I wiped my eyes. "We picked a good room. Even has a bathroom."

Mae opened the door and flicked on the light to the room, letting go of my hands and leaving me in the doorway as she moved to the toilet, placing the lid down and looking back at me. I had my hands intertwined in front of my body, feeling like a child asking their mother to take care of them after they had gotten sick. Impulsively, I took a step toward the sink, turning on the tap and bending down so I could rinse the disgusting taste in my mouth out with cold water. Once I was done, I turned the water off and looked back up at her, slowly wiping the corners of my mouth.

She made her way back over to me, grabbing my wrist and leading me to sit. I obeyed, plopping myself down on the toilet as she kneeled in front of me.

"Arms up." She murmured, grabbing the hem of my grey, long sleeved shirt. I placed my hand on top of hers, the tears starting to well up in my eyes as she tried to help me. Her eyes met mine in a sea of confusion. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

I sniffled as I looked at the space in between us. I looked at the vomit on my shirt—I couldn't stay in this. I was going to have to tell her.

But I wanted to deny it. "I can't take my shirt off."

She paused. "Newt, I've seen you without a shirt on before. It's okay."

I shook my head just as she started to pull the hem up again. "No, Mae. It's...it's not that."

"What is it then?" Her voice was full of worry as I cried silently, not wanting to face the fact that I had a virus they didn't have a cure for. I was going crazy.

"Hey." She whispered as she shifted, grabbing my cheek. I reached my hand up to grab it too, feeling hers under mine as she tried everything she could to understand. "What's goin' on?"

At her soft words, her soft voice, I began to cry more. But I had to do it. I had to tell her. No matter how painful it is. No matter how much it'll hurt her. I had to.

"I have it."

Her eyebrows furrowed at my weak words. She shook her head, not following. "Have what?"

I opened my mouth to speak again, but a sob replaced my words. I held the sides of my head with my hands, looking up at the ceiling of this old bathroom that we were sitting in. Her hand fell from the side of my face, moving to my knees as she caressed her thumb over my pants. She was patient. Giving me the time I needed to gather my bearings and confess my secret.

A few moments of me just crying passed, and I lowered my head just in time to see her eyes glass over with her own tears.

I looked at you, trying so hard to comfort me, not knowing what to do as I broke my own heart. I didn't want to tell you, Mae. But you deserved the world. And with the world, comes truth. You deserved that too. And as I cried, and you watched me, I knew that our little world was crashing down.

I inhaled a shaky breath and crossed my arms over the hem of my shirt, ready to show her. My bottom lip quivered as I brought the dirty cloth carefully over my head, making sure that none of the throw up touched my skin. As my torso was exposed, the shirt still covering my arms, I let the sobs shake my body. It was the most I think I've ever cried.

"In through your nose." She whispered, looking into my eyes. "Out through your mouth."

I obeyed, spurts of air filling up my lings as I inhaled through my nose, then exhaled through my mouth. My chest physically hurt as I pinched my eyes shut and took the shirt fully off my body, sliding it down my arms.

I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't see her reaction.

But I heard.

I heard the sharp inhale she took. I heard the sniffles that started to increase. I heard the shuffling of feet. I heard the struggled breath she took.

"W-When...How long?" She asked me, her voice to the right as I opened one eye. Mae was no longer in front of me, but by the sink, her head in her hands as she stood in front of the mirror.

"Today. I think." I whispered, looking at the black and blue veins that spread over my forearm.

She didn't respond, and I didn't look at her. The bathroom was filled with a heavy silence as we both grieved. But as I looked at my wound—the Flare—acceptance washed over me. The tears started to subside, and I blinked slowly as the world went in slow motion.

We were no longer wrapped in bubble wrap, Mae. Ever since the Maze, the world has been popping those little air bubbles that kept us secure—safe. And now the final bubble had been popped.

It might've been the virus eating at my brain, but I wasn't scared of the death that was to happen to me because of this. If I did become a crank, I wanted to die. I didn't want to live becoming a man-eating psychopath with no idea what I'm doing half the time. The death didn't scare me. The affect of it did. And...I accepted that.

"Mae." I spoke, my voice suddenly steady as I lifted my head.

She wiped her nose, rocking back and forth on her heels as she kept her face in her hands. No response came from her.

I stood up from the toilet, using the counter as leverage as I moved behind her. "Maisy. Listen to me."

She shook her head as I placed a gentle hand on her waist. "It's okay."

Finally, she removed her hands from her face, looking at me in the cracked mirror as I stood behind her, shirtless and vulnerable. Her eyes held so many emotions behind them, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes watered, but no tears fell. Her brows were furrowed, the crease between them prominent as she glared at me.

"Okay?" She whispered as though the word was poison on her tongue. "It's okay?"

I nodded, placing my other hand on the opposite hip. I stared at her through the broken mirror, watching as her cheeks became a darker shade of pink, trying to keep her sobs to a minimum as I spoke. "I'm not scared of it. Dying."

"Why are you saying this to me?" She asked, her eyes still on mine through the mirror.

"I don't know." I replied with honesty, shaking my head as I drew small circles on her hip bones that poked through the oversized shirt she wore. As we got ready for bed, the girl had taken off her pants, just like she did whenever she slept.

Mae sighed, covering her face with her hands once again.

"I can't lose you, Newt." Her voice vibrated through the air, making me look up at her to see her eyes already on mine. She turned around, and my body pressed against hers as she spoke. "I've lost just about everyone I've cared about, and I don't really care about that many people."

"I know." I whispered, rubbing my hands down her bare arms.

She swallowed as tears accumulated in my eyes once again. "I can't lose you. I-I don't...I don't know what I'll do. I mean, I lo—"

I suddenly stopped moving my hands as she paused, her breathing starting to increase. A single tear fell out of her eye as she stared at my chest, and my heart stopped.

"What?" I asked her, wondering what she was going to say.

Mae shook her head, pursing her lips as she inhaled a sharp breath. She gently pushed me away from her and moved to sit down on the toilet, tugging at the roots of her hair. I watched, not knowing what came over her as she started to sob.

And just like that, we switched positions. I kneeled in front of her, placing both hands on either side of her head as she cried. I shushed her quietly, wiping the tears, one after another as they fell. My heart broke again in my chest as I watched her cry over me, something I never thought she would be doing. She's done it before, but none of those times really sunk in like this one. Maybe it was the knowledge that I was slowly slipping into the abyss of madness, or maybe it was the fact that I loved her with every part of my soul that made this experience so much harder.

"It's okay." I whispered again, pressing my forehead to hers as I inched my torso between her legs. Her cries were nothing but the occasional sniffle now, but tears still flowed out of her eyes.

Her arms suddenly wrapped around my back, and she hugged me like I always hugged her. I embraced her the same, and we stayed like that for a long time. Relishing in the feeling of just being together before time ran out. Before I went insane.

With you holding me, and me holding you, I felt like I could conquer the world.

"There's..." She spoke, pulling away slowly. "There's something I need to tell you. You might already know, b-but I just need to say it out loud."

Nodding, I focused all of my attention on her as we shared this moment. She got off the toilet, sliding to the wall and fiddling with her fingers. I did the same, sitting next to her, suddenly being reminded of the night where we both kissed for the first time.

"Do...Do you remember when we had to banish Ben?" She asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah. Wasn't a particularly good day. But he deserved it for hurting you."

She hummed through her closed lips, scooting closer to me. "That's not what I thought. I thought it was my fault. And...And it freaked me out knowing that I couldn't control what was going to happen to him in there. That I didn't know."

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering where she was going with this as she continued. "And I sort of have this problem where I get really like...worked up when I can't control something, or I don't know what's going to happen." She lowered her head. "Or when I'm scared."

"Something is very wrong with me, Newt. And I don't know why I do it, or what the hell comes over me in certain situations. But whenever there's a sudden life or death situation, or we're running from something, I always take a moment and just think about what would happen if I just...give up." My heart dropped, and she looked at the floor in front of us, like her mind wasn't even here. But then she blinked, and she sighed. "So, I do the only thing that makes me feel like I'm in control. Or that takes my mind off of the fear...or the pain."

She turned to me, her hands closed in gentle fists as she looked into my eyes, then back down, slowly opening them up for me to see.

Little crescent moon cuts dotted her palms, the redness outlining where her nails had penetrated her skin. The wounds looked new, and they looked like they hurt. I sighed and turned to face her, my leg locking for a moment, then relaxing. I grabbed both of her hands gently in mine, and I closed her fists.

She was too good for the world. The fact that she had showed me her pain, told me about it, was something that I've been waiting to hear for a long time. I wasn't going to ever push her to tell me—I knew that she would when she was comfortable. But the fact that she stepped past that milestone right here, with me, in the middle of the night was something that made my heart ache. Even if I already knew, it felt like it was the first time I've ever heard of this, much less seen it.

Now was a time for sharing with each other. I would feel bloody awful if she had trusted me enough to tell me that she hurt herself, or what was going on in her mind without me reciprocating that. I had to tell her the story of what made me the person I was today. A British boy with a limp, who was foolishly in love with the girl sitting next to him.

"Did I ever tell you about how I broke my leg?"

Her face changed from vulnerable, to worried. I guess tonight was a night where we both confessed to each other.

"Newt, you don't—"

"I do." I interrupted her, keeping her hands in mine as I spoke. "And I want to tell you. You deserve to know."

She stayed silent, allowing me to continue with my triggering story. Only two people know what happened that day. One of them is alive. Everyone else just thinks that I hurt it because a bloody Griever got me. But I was smarter than that. Faster than those things. Nobody knew the truth. And if anyone deserved to know it, it's Mae.

"It was back in the Maze, before you ever came. I had just come up in the Box, just like all the other guys." I paused, practically picturing the time in my mind like it was yesterday. "Didn't know where I was...Didn't know who I was. Obviously."

She listened, and I rubbed my thumb against her knuckles, now holding them as a security blanket.

"Even though my memories were gone, I could still feel...that something was missing. You know?" I glanced up at her before looking back at her hands. "I felt empty."

"I dunno. Just popped into my head one day. You hadn't shown up yet. It was about a year ago and I couldn't sleep one night so I just went out and looked at the moon. 'T was very relaxing actually."

"Why couldn't you sleep?" She asked me, and I sighed, remembering the time, and how I felt.

"Emptiness."

I shook my head as I recalled the day that we both got drunk, and I almost opened up.

"I just...I couldn't handle that." I stared at the floor now. "I couldn't take it."

"So...one day, I finally made up my mind. It was my day off of running, but I didn't care. I went out into the Maze. Found the tallest wall I could, I climbed up there and..." I stopped, remembering what it was like to finally feel as though I was free. "And I jumped."

"Of course, I got completely tangled up in all the ivy." I breathed a laugh, trying to defuse the tension. "Snapped my leg in three different places, like a proper shank."

I finally looked at her, and her eyes met mine, a small, forced smirk pulled on her face. "I landed hard on the floor."

"And I thought that was it."