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aswaki · 10 months ago

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mile high club privilege [smt x reader]

seok matthew x reader | 1.8k word count | explicit (minors dni)

“a flight attendant gets fucked at the airplane's bathroom”

contains: fem!reader, stewardess/flight attendant!reader, dom!matthew, unprotected sex, (airplane) bathroom sex, breath play (gagging), backshots, sir kink, slight strength kink, first meeting sex/strangers theme, mention of blow job & cunnilingus, pet names ("baby", "good girl")

“did you mean it when you said ‘anything’?”

you turned around to see it was the man from the business class. he was attractive. he smiled at you charmingly that you clearly missed the mischievous glint his eyes held.

“yes, sir. it is my job to ensure your flight is as relaxing and pleasurable as possible.” you told him with a slight nod of your head.

he hummed in acknowledgement. while the stranger was hot, you had a job to do. you continued walking down the aisle to head to your station. as you went, you made sure the passengers were okay by checking in and giving professional greetings.

footsteps behind you could be heard. was he following you? you inhaled to keep your irritation at bay before facing him again. you were taught how to deal with vexing travelers.

“sir, i suggest you head back to your seat. you can’t stro-”

“ah, i actually need to go to the toilet. can you lead the way there, please?” he cut you off. he said that while slightly leaning forward towards you. his voice was oh so innocent that it made you none the wiser. you were completely missing what his intention was with you.

“apologies,” you started.

‘bathroom, of course, where else would he go? stress was probably clouding your judgement,’ you concluded in your mind.

this was your third international flight consecutively so exhaustion must be catching up to you. you just hoped you wouldn’t get a complaint for appearing rude but the stranger seemed nice.

“sure, sir. i’d be happy to assist you. follow me,” you continued, hiding your embarrassment well.

his soft brown eyes locked into yours before drifting down. he was appreciating how your uniform fit you like a glove. no curve left hidden in your two piece ensemble. you even had a little scarf tied around your neck. cute.

and he followed you like you suggested. you lead the way while his gaze was trained on your ass.

once reaching your destination, you opened your mouth to bid farewell. before you could, he pulled you inside the toilet with him. though not by much, international planes had larger toilets so you were both able to fit inside. not comfortably, but you could make do.

he backed you to the bathroom wall.

“anything, right?” he reminded you before smirking. without any precedent, he crashed his lips onto yours.

this stranger kissed like he was devouring you. he had the intensity of a man in hunger. when you gasped in disbelief, it made it easier for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

disbelief be damned, though; you melted into him, needing no prompting to follow his lead. he wasn’t the only one who was hungry. your tongue glided along his, not fighting for dominance but dancing with him. this was going to give you some relief.

everything he said up to this point occurred to you that he was flirting. you were so out of it. you weren’t even sure when your hands found its way to be tangled in his hair or when his hand found its way to be underneath your panties, fingers finding your wet cunt and also putting pressure on your throbbing clit. your eyes instinctively fluttered shut as he played with your clit. the ecstasy that hit you made your toes curl in your shoes. he knew how to work you to your arousal.

“so, how does one get a membership at the mile high club?” he asked, breaking off your kiss. a string of saliva connected your mouths. his free hand went to tug the scarf around your neck. this little action had you feeling crazy. you wished he would pull it tighter to choke you.

“it’s simple, sir.” you said, suddenly bolder. your eyes heavy lidded. the confidence in your voice made him raise his brows in surprise. he dared himself not to groan out loud. instead, he rubbed on your clit a little bit rougher which made you hold on to his shoulders. his muscles tensed under your touch. you relished that feeling.

calling him sir almost had him cumming.

digging your finger in his shoulders, you shakily stood on your tiptoes to whisper seductively in his ear, “just get me to orgasm.”

taking that as a challenge, he twisted your bodies so he could push you to the counter. he bent you over there without warning. your stomach pressed onto the edge of the sink.

“s- sir,” you weren’t stingy with the moans you let out. he watched your beautiful face contort intently through the mirror above the sink countertop.

“shh, baby. not so loud.” he cooed while running his hands from your clothed ass to your thighs. he then put your scarf to good use. he unraveled it before stuffing it in your mouth.

“we don’t want to be caught.” he explained as he tied the ends of the scarf behind your head.

“yes, sir,” you mumbled through the makeshift gag. as he tightened the scarf, you thought about the consequences you would get if you were caught fucking with a passenger. you were so lost in your arousal that these thoughts flew out your mind as soon as it entered, however.

you cannot stop this. you were trained to serve. your body moved on its own having a different master to listen to.

the sound of a belt unbuckling could be heard. a deep pool of excitement brewed inside of you as you listened to the stranger pull his pants and boxers down his legs. his fingers hastily unzipped your skirt, making it fall. your panties and stockings soon followed the clothes bundling on the ground.

you extended your legs open for him so he can have easier access to you. still, he smacked your ass and spread your ass cheeks a bit wider. there was a sting that stayed on your ass from his slap which made whimpers bubble out of you.

he rubbed his erection against you. you could feel he was big. you wondered if you could handle him. he coated his cock with your arousal before lining himself up to your entrance. the buttons on your uniform blouse dug painfully itself to your stomach.

“be my good girl and take it, yeah?” his voice became low. how he said those words made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

you moaned as he entered you. his girth stretching you out. he didn’t waste a second to thrust in you harshly. you both knew you had occupied the bathroom long enough. someone was bound to come looking for either of you.

tears gathered in your eyes as he pounded in you, chasing your pleasures as fast as possible. it didn't help you were gagged at the mouth. you tried gasping for air, feeling a little light-headed as he gave it his all. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every hard thrust he did.

he lifted your head by grabbing your hair, “look at you being a mess, baby. you like being used?”

maybe you did like being used. in the deepest part of you, it was almost like you knew your body found pleasure in letting go and submitting. your enjoyment in being gagged was a testament to it.

in the mirror, you could see how your usually sleek hair was now untidy. your eyes were watery but the mascara was still intact. thank god for waterproof make up. though, your red lipstick was smudged. it was even on the face of this handsome stranger.

you checked him out as he thrusts in you, losing almost control over himself. he had a strong defined nose and jawline. his biceps strained against the sleeve of his shirt. his one hand holding your head steady so you could face the mirror.

his jawline clenched as he slammed his cock to you like a wild animal. you engulfed every little bit of him around your damp cunt walls. the breaths coming from the two of you, ragged and heavy. the clapping from behind were louder than your pants for air.

“holy shit,” he groaned through gritted teeth when you clenched around him. he can feel you were about to cum (and so was he). his cock pulsed while the familiar feeling of an oncoming climax built inside him.

“let’s cum together, baby.”

as if his words gave you permission to, you climaxed along with him. your sounds were being muffled by the scarf in your mouth. he wished he could hear your pretty moans.

his cock was being squeezed by your muscles as if you were milking him. the feeling of his warmth flooded your inner walls triggered more of your orgasm. your fluids mixed with one another. the both of you defiling the cramped space.

this was by far the most exciting thing that happened to you while on the job. it awoke your spirit. this was a different type of exhaustion that washed over you. it was a sinful kind that you found delectable. your body shook but his arm came to clutch around your torso to pull you up against his chest. his strength saving you both.

you writhed in his grip as you both rode out your orgasms. his arm took great pleasure in holding you. he held you as close to himself as possible.

when you went limp, he undid the scarf in your mouth. it joined to the pile by your feet.

you took a large breath, inhaling as much as you could after being gagged. your voice sounded hoarse from unuse as you told him, “it’s my pleasure to welcome you to the mile high club, sir.”

“i hope you enjoyed your flight at in bloom airlines, gentlemen!” you told a group of nine men as they approached near the door. your perfectly lined red lips gave them a grin. customer service was your specialty.

they all replied to you various forms of thanks for the flight's smooth travel and your service. you locked eyes with the one who you got more acquainted than the rest. the one you snuck off to the toilet too many times for the span of your flight.

you entertained yourselves with your bodies. an exclusive amenity just for him. a mile high club privilege. anything he wanted— backshots, blow jobs, cunnilingus —you did all that but you didn't even get his name. he was just ‘sir’.

another kind of smile suddenly threatened to break out of your face; one that held a secret behind it.

he sent you a wink, “best i ever had.”

a/n: inspired by zb1 traveling to hong kong for kcon!!! i hope you enjoyed reading this. i didn't get much fics as i wanted to last week so i hope i can post more for this one but i think i might get busier. not sure, though! i do enjoy being here— writing and interacting. thank you for sticking by and reading through!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

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illubean · 1 year ago

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I saw ur celebrity Iso x bakery girl post and im in LOVE

May I req an art student!Iso x reader where Iso is roommates with another guy (either Phoenix, Gekko, or Yoru) and that dude has friends over with reader being one of them and tries to go find the bathroom but instead stumbles upon Iso's art room where he's painting away and doesnt notice reader? :3

And maybe reader leaves their number without him noticing until the guests all leave🤭💜

If You Need a Muse

Characters: Li Zhao "Iso" Yu Type: Fluff, Oneshot, Gn!reader

this request has sparked something within me... how do we feel about CeramicArtist!Iso smirk emoji also I changed the req just a tad bit >.<

Warnings: none

It wasn't often that your dear friend Jamie invited you over to his home. Your little group often spent time at Sunwoo's (who prefers to be called Jett) house or showed up at Ryo's uninvited. He was always too lazy to host or feared disturbing his roommate, but today he wanted for you all to play a console game he just bought.

You sat on the floor in front of Jett, who was on the couch battling against Ryo. You watched the game on the screen as you awaited your turn, as Jamie came from the kitchen with more snacks. Jett was currently losing, yelling and leaning into Ryo in hopes of throwing his game. You laughed before looking at your brown haired friend who sat on the floor next to you.

"We're not bothering your roommate are we?"

"Nah, I don't think he's home right now."

After about another hour of playing the game and eating junk food, you needed to use the bathroom. Setting your controller down you looked over to Jamie, asking for directions to the bathroom.

"It's down the hall, first door to the right."

You nodded, getting up and going on your way to find the toilet. You stopped in front of a closed door, pushing it open to reveal NOT a bathroom. You look around, taking in the room. It was well lit, the walls decorated with paintings in various sizes. In the center of the room was an easel, and a man standing in front of it who's gaze seemed to have shifted from the piece in front of him to you. He was wearing comfortable clothes protected by an apron, a paintbrush in one hand and palette in the other.

"Oh uh- Sorry. You must be Jamie's roommate, I was just looking for the bathroom."

He offers you a small smile before returning to his work.

"No worries, it's one door over."

From where you stood you couldn't really tell what he had been painting, but what you could tell was that the man himself was a piece of art. He had beautiful purple eyes and sharp features that you could almost believe he were a marble statue come to life. After taking him and the room in for a little longer you spoke up once again.

"Your art is very beautiful."

He looks up and smiles at you again before responding.

"Thanks. I'm working on pieces for my portfolio, though I don't think anything I paint could compare to your beauty."

You were left speechless as you felt the tip of your ears burn.

"O-oh. Thank you. I'll be- uh- going now..." You stuttered out, before turning and going back to your original task.

Find and use the bathroom.

After doing your business, you returned back downstairs to find that your friends switched to watching a movie.

"Geez, you took forever in there!" Jett complains.

"Did you take a shit or something?" Ryo asks, scrunching his face up at you.

The other two laugh at his statement before you give a response.

"I don't see how any of that is your business," you huffed. Instead of rejoining your companions in the living room, you make your way into the kitchen. There was a magnetic basket stuck to the side of the fridge with pens, some memo pads and sticky notes in them. You grabbed one of the sticky notes and a pen and begin to write your note. You look around for a place to set it as your eyes land on a coffee machine.

Bingo

The machine must belong to your friend's mysterious and attractive roommate, as you knew your friend didn't really enjoy coffee all that much.

You stuck the note on the bottom of a mug sitting underneath the machine before setting it back in place and finally returning to the living room.

{timeskip}

The next morning, Li made his way towards the kitchen for his daily cup of coffee. He would be headed off to class soon and needed a bit of caffeine to start the day. Jamie had already been up, also about to leave for class. After brewing his coffee and picking up his mug, ne noticed a yellow corner of a sticky note peeking out from the bottom.

Peeling the note off, confused, he brought it up to eye level to read.

"If you ever need a muse (or wanna go out :D) call me~ XXX-XXX-XXXX (Jamie's Bathroom Friend)"

A light blush dusted his face at the note. This had to have been left by his roommates attractive friend yesterday. He was so distracted buy the number written in front of him that he didn't notice Jamie peeking over his shoulder.

"That's why they took so long in the bathroom! Hah, looks like one of my best mates likes you."

The man gave his flat mate a firm pat on the back before going about his day. The light blush on Li's face darkened in embarassment at the realization Jamie had seen what was written. Drinking his coffee, he sat down and put the note in his pocket.

He would have to put the number in his phone later.

#iso x you #valorant iso #iso valorant #iso x reader #valorant #valorant x you #valorant x reader #valorant hcs #valorant headcanons #valorant oneshot #valorant fanfiction #valorant fanfic

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nctangelz · 7 months ago

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sick birthday girl 💌🧸🎂🤍✨

— synopsis: sooyoung has a little too much fun at her 21st birthday party — and jaemin comes to tuck her in bed and nurse her back to health.

— warnings: mentions of throwing up, food poisoning, slight mention of drinking, kissing, small amount of angst

outfit: #1, #2

THE NIGHT WAS YOUNG at sooyoung’s birthday party — with every one of sooyoung’s closest friends and nct in attendance, but the only person missing was the birthday girl herself. sooyoung didn’t want to be missing out on her birthday party, but the mixture of strawberry cake and vodka did not settle well, and she was getting violently sick in the vibrating bathroom. sooyoung couldn’t help but cry as she sat on the cold bathroom floor, she was missing her own party! she wanted to be out there, singing and dancing with all of her friends - but her body was not forgiving her for her naive mistake.

she had been busy all morning preparing for her party, making sure everything was perfect and how she imagined, she only had one decent meal before people started arriving. her sweet tooth caved, and she had way too many pieces of her cake along with too many shots with her friends. sooyoung wished she just would have went for the wings table instead of the sweets.

soon enough, she heard a knock of the door, the person not even giving her a chance to respond before it was opened, revealing a confused jaemin.

“sooyoungie, what’s wrong?” jaemin asked, rushing to the girls side, pulling her hair back just as she was leaning over to get sick again. “oh, sooyoungie. how much have you had to drink?”

sooyoung whined as harming rubbed her back, crying once again once the episode was over. “i hate this.” sooyoung said, flushing the toilet and slumping against the wall.

“i know honey, i know.” jaemin whispered. “what happened?” jaemin asked, frowning when sooyoung continued to cry.

“i barely ate anything today, so i binged on the cake. and i lost count on how much i had to drink tonight, so that’s probably not a good sign either.” sooyoung sighed, looking over at jaemin sadly. “you don’t have to be in this stinky room with me, i’ll be okay. go have fun.” sooyoung said, swallowing down another sob.

“i’m not leaving you, soo, you’re the birthday girl. you’re the whole reason i’m here, so why would i leave you?” jaemin said, pulling the girl into a hug, shushing her as she began to cry again. sooyoung couldn’t help but feel her heart swoon as jaemin spoke to her so sweetly, only to feel it break seconds later. jaemin always knew the way to make her feel special, to make her feel so loved - but she knows she can’t allow herself to feel deeply about him. it could ruin everything, and she couldn’t afford that.

“do you feel like you are going to get sick again?” jaemin asked, pulling back when sooyoung whispered no, bringing the girl to her feet. “let me see what i can find to clean you up.” jaemin said, leading her to sit down on the toilet. the boy found a washcloth and mouthwash, so he filled the cap with a decent amount of mouthwash, and dampened the cloth with warm water.

after sooyoung rinsed her mouth, jaemin gently washed her face for her. he might have looked at her lips too long - maybe he swiped her mouth with his thumb without reason, letting it feel the softness of her puffy lips too long for it to be considered an accidental touch - but sooyoung couldn’t tell. she was in too much of a daze to make sense of things. jaemin looked up into her eyes, taking a deep breath when he saw her beautiful, big brown orbs. he cleared his throat and stood up, quickly putting everything away.

jaemin closed his eyes and collected himself - he couldn’t seem to push down the tingling sensation in his stomach - and when he looked over at sooyoung sitting with her legs crossed, her hair messed up and her makeup smudged, he could barely ignore his thumping heart.

“do you want to go back to the party, or go sleep?”jaemin asked softly, cooing when sooyoung only burst into tears again. “oh sweetie, don’t cry. please don’t cry. i know you feel bad - but everyone will understand.” jaemin reassured, brushing the hair out of the girls face.

“why are you being so nice to me?” sooyoung asked, sniffling and looking up at jaemin. “you didn’t have to stay with me, you know. you could’ve left me. but you stayed, even though you knew i could have thrown up on you any second.”

jaemin was taken aback by her question, quickly swallowing and answering, “because we are friends, and i care for you. friends don’t leave eachother when they are down.” jaemin said, sighing when sooyoung frowned at him. he could feel the atmosphere turn tense quickly, awkwardly swallowing the lump in his throat.

truth to be told - he hasn’t been the nicest to sooyoung recently. he’d been avoiding her - turning around when she’s in the living room, making up excuses when she asks to hang out, taking a longer time to respond to her texts. he knows it’s not fair to sooyoung, but it’s the only way he can keep himself from exploding and expressing his affection for sooyoung. ever since his managers warning - he’s been extra cautious around sooyoung, desperately trying to let go of his feelings for the girl.

it wasnt fair - but surely sooyoung would understand if he told her. but he couldn’t tell her - so he had to deal with the guilty conscience of knowing he was hurting his best friend.

sooyoung forced a smile, deciding to drop the elephant in the room - for now, at least. she could save the confrontation when she was sober.

“i want to go to sleep. i intended to spend the night anyways, so i already have an overnight bag in your room.” sooyoung shared, smiling when jaemin nodded.

“do you want me to stop the party?” jaemin asked, furrowing his eyebrows when sooyoung shook her head. “you’re going to be able to sleep through all this racket?”

“i can fall asleep anywhere, let them have their fun. just not renjun’s room, please. i’m pretty sure i saw him go in there with one of my old school friends.”

jaemin closed his eyes and laughed, shaking his head at renjun’s antics. “you can sleep in my room. i promise not to hook up with your friends.” jaemin joked, smiling when sooyoung laughed, helping her up. jaemin helped to girl walk up the stairs, holding his breath as she stumbled around.

he watched as sooyoung went to sit in the middle of his bed, struggling to pull the pink ribbons out of her curly hair. jaemin smiled at the girl, sitting behind her and uniting them, gently brushing out her hair for her. a sweet moment like this reminded jaemin on just how much he missed this girl, his dream girl.

“i could fall asleep right here,” sooyoung sighed, giggling when jaemin scratched her back, “you aren’t helping me!”

sooyoung slowly crawled out of the bed and grabbed her bag, smirking at jaemin and going to the bathroom to change.

this girl will be the death of jaemin.

jaemin quickly got nervous as he waiting for sooyoung to come back - would she want him to stay and sleep next to her? he doesn’t think his heart could stand seeing her sprawled out against his bed, her hair fanned against his pillow, and her soft, plump lips resting open. he wouldn’t be able to stand listening to her breaths, feel her chest move up and down next to him.

sooyoung didn’t help his struggle when she came out of the bathroom, wearing pajamas that fit her just right, showing just enough skin for jaemin to feel a sweat arising. he quickly looked away and stood up out of his bed, sitting on his beanbag in the corner of his room.

“you know, in the seven years i’ve known you, we never have had a sleepover just by ourselves.” sooyoung said, snuggling under jaemin’s warm covers.

“and you’ve had sleepovers with the rest of the members?” jaemin questioned, raising an eyebrow at the girl. he knew her and monique slept over time to time - but never knew about her sleeping in any of the boys rooms.

“just dream. and monique.” sooyoung said shrugging the question away. jaemin couldn’t help but feel jealous, but he quickly set it aside. it wasn’t his place to feel jealous over sooyoung.

“come lay with me, jae! i’m so lonely over here.” sooyoung pleaded, giving jaemin her best puppy eyes. “this bed has plenty of room for the both of us!”

jaemin knew he shouldn’t. if he got in bed with her, he would never be able to let her go. he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without her on his side again. he would never want to sleep alone ever again.

while he knew all of these things - he still stood up, and layed down right next to her, turning his head to look at her. everything about her was so beautiful in jaemin’s eyes, he loved how her nose was slightly crooked, how her left side of her mouth came up higher than her right when she smiled…all of her imperfections she would complain about, he loved.

sooyoung couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the man next to her, the man she had allowed to fill a special place in her heart for years, a man she spent countless of nights dreaming about, a man who she loved - her little secret she couldn’t share with anyone. she could feel her heart race as she took in all of his features, allowing herself to move even closer to him, until their noses were touching.

he smelled so sweet, his breath smelling of strawberries and wine. she wished she could have a taste, and before she could get the chance, jaemin hurriedly pulled away and bounced out of the bed.

“you’re drunk, sooyoung. we shouldn’t do this.” jaemin stated, bringing a hand down across his face, as if to wipe away sooyoung’s scent. “you don’t know what you are doing.”

sooyoung could feel a sharp pain go through her heart at her words - even if she was in a drunken haze - she did know what she was doing. “this isn’t a drunken impulse, i want this. i want you, and i’m tired of pretending like i don’t.” sooyoung whispered, slowly sitting up in the bed, hurriedly pulling her night shirt down.

“soo, you aren’t in the right state of mind. you won’t remember any of this tomorrow, you’re intentions aren’t real.” jaemin said, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, not sooyoung.

“but what i feel for you is real. this is real, and i can’t help but feel like it’s real for you too.” sooyoung said, pointedly staring at jaemin, sighing when he only turned away from her burning gaze. sooyoung knew that this could have been a mistake. why did she allow herself to burst out like this? she knew that if something went wrong, it was over. it was completely over for her, there was no turning back around. she would never be able to truly let go of jaemin without leaving.

jaemin stared at the floorboards for awhile, until he finally gained the nerve to say something. “we can talk about this in the morning, when you’ve sobered up.” jaemin said flatly, knowing by the frustrated whine coming from the girl that he’d said the wrong thing.

“but you won’t talk to me tomorrow. you’ll just keep on ignoring me. when are you going to stop avoiding me? what did i do to make you so incapable of dealing with me?” sooyoung cried, not holding her tears back any longer. jaemin couldn’t handle it, knowing that he was the only one to blame for her tears. so, without any hesitation, jaemin jumped to her side, cradling her in his arms, gently caressing the back of her head until she calmed down.

“you didn’t do anything, sooyoungie. i’m not upset with you, or mad at you. i know shouldn’t have been avoiding you - but i felt like i didn’t have any other choice.” jaemin whispered, sniffling to keep his emotions at bay. he had to hold it together - at least until he could make sooyoung feel better.

“you could have talked to me, you could have said anything to me! and we could have figured it out together.” sooyoung choked out, pushing jaemin away when he tried to hug her again. “tell me what’s going on, right now.” sooyoung demanded, the look in her watery eyes so fierce that it immediately made jaemin cave, spilling his guts out on what has happened the past week, the past couple years.

he told her about how fell in love with her, when she and him were just kids, running home from the school in the rain. he thought she was the most prettiest girl he had seen - and even though she barely spoke to him, she still had the kindness in her heart to use the last dollar she had to buy him a snack. he couldn’t stop noticing everything she did after that. he watched as she helped the other trainees, how she politely listened to everyone’s opinions, how she opened doors and gave every single person such a kind smile.

and then he told her about the warning.

how the manager told him this love was bad news, that it was too dangerous, could be too obvious. people were already talking enough about sooyoung being in a group full of boys - could he possibly imagine what would happen when their speculations of her dating a member finally come true?

“i never want to put you in that position, where you have to choose between me or the career that you have put your entire soul into. and i knew that to keep you happy, i had to stop loving you. and i can’t get over you by feeling the weight of my love everyday when i see you. so i ignored you. and i know you were confused and hurt, and i never wanted that to happen. i’m so sorry, sooyoung. for being so foolish.” jaemin finished, reaching out to hold the girls hand. “i’m not foolish for loving you - because you are so deserving of being loved, but i’m foolish because i hurt you. i hurt someone who is so precious to me.” jaemin whispered, finally letting his tears run down his cheeks. he never expected this to turn out this painful.

“jaemin, please don’t hide anything from me anymore.” sooyoung whispered, squeezing onto the boys hand tightly. “i know you didn’t want to ruin things, or make things awkward and confusing. but i’d much rather have a complicated relationship instead of nothing at all.” sooyoung said, smiling softly when jaemin nodded, resting her head on jaemin’s shoulder.

“you know, i’ve loved you for a long time, too. i just never though you would notice me like that.” sooyoung chuckled softly, wiping jaemin’s tears away softly. “i know this love is messy - but it’s not wrong. why should we let what people say about us prevent us from loving each other?” sooyoung asked, sighing and staring at jaemin. he was so pretty, everything about him was so precious to her, she loved his heart, his soul, his small favors and his kind words and voice, she hated that everyone would think that their love was a crime.

how could such pure and innocent love be wrong?

“it’s not only us that this relationship would affect. it would mess with everyone, our groups reputation…success…we might not be able to release any music until the situation is cleared up.” jaemin pointed out, raising to sit on the bed with her. “you mean the world to me, sooyoung, but this is risky.”

“but to me you’re worth the risk, jaem. i don’t care-” sooyoung started, only to be interrupted by jaemin shaking his head at her.

“don’t say you don’t care if you loose your job, soo. because you would care - this career is everything to you, to both of us. this is the dream that we fought for, so even if you think you would be okay with loosing it all for me, when it actually happens, what are you going to do? what is going to keep you going?” jaemin said, his voice breaking at the end. “and i’m not saying that i don’t want to fight for us, but this is the reality, sooyoung. this is messy, we are crossing the lines between our job and love, and the way this business runs…they aren’t supposed to overlap.”

sooyoung frowned, she knew jaemin was right. if she didn’t have music, she might as well have nothing at all. there wasn’t a day that she didn’t think about music, whether that be listening to others music or creating her own, there wasn’t a day that she didn’t think about dancing. she was always thinking about her art, her work in some sort of way. she wasn’t ready to let it go anytime soon, but she couldn’t handle having jaemin so close to her, yet so far away any longer.

“can we just try, jaem? try and make it work?” sooyoung asked, almost melting in jaemin’s hand when he brushed away her hot tears on her cheeks. “i don’t want to let you go.”

jaemin closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and when he opened them, he knew he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. without a second thought, he carefully leaned in closer to sooyoung, bringing a soft hand to rest on her waist, the other gently tilting her chin towards him. when he kissed her, he knew that there was no going back. he held her with such tender love, sooyoung felt like her heart was going to burst at the seams for the boy. there was no rush between them, they took their time, letting all of their emotions connect and rush through eachother.

“we can make this work.” jaemin whispered against sooyoung’s lips, leaning down to leave one final kiss before swooping her up in his arms, rolling them onto the bed. “i love you,” jaemin whispered, smiling when sooyoung just giggled and hid her face in his neck. “god, it feels so good to say that.”

“it feels so good to have my jaemin back,” sooyoung said, bringing her head up to look at the boy, her boy, leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. “i thought i was going to loose you forever.”

“i’m not going anywhere now, angel.” jaemin said, smiling when sooyoung nodded, relaxing her body against his own. “i’ll love you, forever and always”.

forever and always, and that was the truth. when you fall in love with someone like sooyoung - there’s no letting go. there’s no saying goodbye, because sooyoung was a girl that everyone remembered. that everyone adored, and jaemin couldn’t be more happier when he knew that sooyoung was going to let him love her like he always wanted to. let him treat her right, let him really know her.

let him be hers.

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mazegays · 1 month ago

Text

16 (no, 15) toothbrushes

A late birthday gift for @pathsofoak . I really hope you like it, despite how toothbrush-focused it became <3

Thomas doesn’t know what they expect to learn from him. It’s not like he’s doing anything–he doesn’t even have a treadmill this time.

If they’re using this room to invoke something in him, it’s not going to work. Thomas doesn’t remember what his childhood bedroom looked like, but it couldn’t have been like this. Grey walls bleed into grey tile floors, which creep up to the lighter grey of the metal bed frame. The sheets underneath the grey duvet are white, laundered every week. Thomas has spent days trying to get the corners of his bed made perfectly, but there’s always something off.

He looks at the desk when he needs a pop of color. It’s solid wood–no hidden drawers, false bottoms, or clues there–and the dark brown swirls aren’t giving up their secrets. He doesn’t have the chair anymore, not that he misses it. It had been grey, too, and less comfortable than his bed.

His door… in his head, a child’s door would have posters or drawings on it. His door used to slide open, that’s how it had worked when they’d put him in here, but on the last day he was allowed out they’d replaced it with a hinged door and a visible lock and a spot for food.

The lights go out automatically–or maybe controlled by someone else just to mess with him–before he can find the bathroom again, but he just runs his fingers over the wall until he finds it again.

The door to the bathroom is the original grey, blending in with the wall if you don’t know where to find the seams. The continuous plain grey tile is barely even helpful. The sink and toilet and too-neat towels are white, and the pre-programmed shower is tiled with grey hexagons instead of grey squares.

He’s not even allowed to make eye contact with himself in the bathroom mirror, because there isn’t one.

His toothbrush, which must be changed out when he’s asleep, is a dark blue right now. But he’s had light blue and green and yellow and purple.

You’re supposed to replace a toothbrush every three months. It’s one of those things Thomas knows he must have been taught, though he can’t remember who taught him. Four toothbrush changes… if they’re not just messing with him, then he’s been here for a year, and locked in for a little under half that.

The bathroom door opens easily, it never locks like the other one used to.

Why would they switch a locking door to another type of locking door? If they could keep him here anyway, why waste the resources and labor on it?

They must really want him to know that he’s locked in. That he can’t go anywhere.

It’s worse than last time, somehow.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

He’d thought the white walls would drive him crazy. But at least he’d had the treadmill. He’d been able to run.

This time, he’s talking to himself, describing the wooden desk and the food he gets out loud. He’d had to get used to his voice again, after not hearing for a while. Maybe he can avoid that this time. They’re going to let him out eventually.

He’s getting fed. He knows he’s being watched. He doesn’t even use the fully-charged tablet he has. One of the corners is chipped, and the screen is cracked on that side. The day after they locked him in, he’d checked it to make sure there wasn’t a code or puzzle or something he had to solve to get out. There’s not much left on it, if there was anything in the first place. They probably just gave him a random tablet to try and keep him busy.

Maybe they want to see if he’ll try taking it apart and making himself a way out. But the components of a tablet won’t pick the lock, and that’s assuming he could take it apart successfully.

Thomas isn’t sure why he hasn’t just smashed it on the floor yet, or thrown it at the wall. It’s not like he uses it.

He’s not sure what they’re going to do if he does. Maybe just replace it with a new one, the way they do his toothbrushes. Or would they leave the broken pieces scattered on the ground to see what he does with them?

Would they step in if the glass from the screen cut his hands open? Or would they leave him until he was passed out or asleep, to ensure that he didn’t get any interaction?

Thomas isn’t curious enough to find out the answer to that one yet.

He puts the tablet on the desk and goes to bed.

He doesn’t have anything else to do, anyway.

Thomas’s toothbrush has changed again. Pink, this time.

He hopes that they’re changing it at random, trying to throw him off. It can’t have been three months already. He would have noticed that much time passing.

His wooden desk, his only color, has been taken, too. It’s been replaced with a metal nightstand for the tablet to sit on. He’d stopped counting the swirls in the wood a while ago, but it had been something different to look at. What are they going to take next? His bed? Is he going to wake up and find the bathroom sealed off, a grey bucket in its place?

He stares at the tablet again. Turns it on, today. There’s no date, no time–not that he’d trust them to be accurate if there was. He’s too familiar with WCKD’s games for that.

Thomas can’t remember the last time he changed his clothes, but they’re all the same anyway: A black shirt and pants. Maybe he just grabs the same ones after he showers and puts them back on, over and over and over again.

Some days, he gets out of bed just long enough to eat and shower. He can only pace the room so many times, and walking in circles only makes him spiral further into his head.

He’s been coming up with names for his food, lately. He doesn’t usually say them out loud–he doesn’t want them to know what he’s doing. But he tells himself what every item on the tray is, and rates it out of ten. Sometimes if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s eating in the Glade–the food tastes too fresh for him to pretend it’s from the Scorch.

He misses Chuck. Chuck would ask him a million questions, if he were here. He would ask why he wouldn't try to find or make a way out, why he hasn’t bothered with the door.

He'd tell Chuck that WCKD wouldn't change out the door if they meant for him to try and get out.

He's meant to be stuck here.

Chuck wouldn’t get that–not that Thomas would really want him to. Teresa would, he thinks. She might be here now, watching him through the cameras. He doesn’t know what she wants from him anymore.

He doesn’t know what WCKD wants from him anymore.

When his toothbrush changes to brown, he thinks about Minho’s eyes, and then maybe his arms, too. He hopes the Right Arm is treating everyone well, at least better than WCKD did. Hopes that they all got somewhere safe.

Thomas stopped hoping that he’d see them again somewhere around the yellow toothbrush.

Maybe they’re all dead. Maybe they think he’s dead. Maybe they're searching for him. Probably they gave up already–not that Thomas can blame them for that.

Light blue again, to start the cycle over. Thomas inspects this toothbrush thoroughly, trying to memorize the swirls and patterns on the grip. He even takes a picture with the tablet.

He should have thought of this sooner. It could be just like the Maze, a hidden code that will reveal itself as he looks at the rest of the toothbrushes.

He's wasted so much time. He could have solved this sooner.

It doesn’t look like this toothbrush comes apart to pick a lock or hide a key or anything, but one of the others could. There’s got to be something to it.

When Thomas finishes his inspection, he puts the toothbrush back carefully. He doesn’t want to mess it up and risk missing a clue.

He counts the blueberries on his food tray when it comes; 54. He doesn’t count anything else, but he’s still giving each item a name. He’s trying to be original, but Thomas doesn’t know that many names–he doesn’t know that many people–and he doesn’t want to use the names of his dead friends because if he started calling his food ‘Chuck’ he’d probably stop eating it.

He doesn’t know why ‘Stephen’ keeps popping into his head as an option, but he steers clear of that one, too. It doesn’t feel right to use it.

Thomas studies the door again, trying to see if there’s something he’s missed. A spot for a toothbrush to click in, something like that. But there’s nothing, just a regular door with an old-fashioned lock that he can’t get through.

The pictures he took of the toothbrush stay on the tablet instead of being deleted in the middle of the night or even just remotely. He wonders who’s watching him. Wonders what they think of him.

Wonders if it’s Teresa. If this is something she’s involved in, again. He thinks–knows–they grew up together. Maybe she’s in her own room, set up like this, now. Maybe it only works if it’s happening to both of them.

Mostly, when he’s not trying to figure out the secrets of the toothbrush or scratch a mark into the walls or his bedframe (impossible), he thinks about Chuck, or Newt, or Alby. Any of the Gladers, really. But especially the dead ones. Even Gally. Thomas isn’t sure anymore if he dreamed up the whole thing about him still being alive.

He doesn’t know why he would dream up Newt begging to be killed, either, but that feels more real. Thomas can’t explain why.

Would they have thought up a way out by now? Tried something he hasn’t thought of?

Green. It’s got a slightly different pattern to it, and Thomas is sure now that he can’t have been here for…

He can’t have been here for two years. WCKD had been, at least externally, on the brink of collapse. That’s why he’d come back, he was going to help the Right Arm take down WCKD and get the Immunes somewhere safe.

He hopes his friends are safe. That, even if they’d been looking for him, they’d given up in favor of protecting themselves.

The lights flicker a little when they dim, which is new. Thomas should stay awake and see if they do it again, but he thinks they might add something to help him go to sleep when they want him to, because he’s never been able to count how long it takes for the lights to come back on.

It could be a full day, for all he knows. Or only a couple of hours. At least the bathroom lights don’t ever fully go off, not while he’s in it.

The green toothbrush is much harder to inspect in the dim lighting, but he’s still able to get a couple of pictures with the tablet before he can’t fight off the urge to sleep any longer.

Thomas wakes up to the smell of hot food, which he hasn’t had in so long. They usually don’t serve him anything warm, but it must be a special day, or maybe someone was feeling especially sorry for him. It’s toast with jam, scrambled eggs, and a waffle with chocolate chips and syrup. Thomas doesn’t take his time with the eggs, because they’re gross when they’re cold, but he savors the toast.

He cuts the waffle up into 25 pieces, not at all equally sized, and chews each one until it’s mush in his mouth. The chocolate chips he lets sit on his tongue until they melt all the way. He doesn’t know when he’s going to have chocolate again.

Thomas has barely slid the empty tray back through the door when another one comes through.

The food has never had a set schedule, but it doesn't usually come this close together… the waffle had still been warm, when he’d finished.

Thomas doesn't know what they would do if he tried to hoard food. They'd catch him immediately, but it’s not like he can eat this right now, even though it’s just a couple of apples.

He puts them in the drawer of the nightstand and slides the tray back.

Nothing else happens.

Maybe it’s some sort of code or clue, but it’s not one Thomas understands. Maybe it's just a mistake and he’s overthinking it.

It's not like they don't give him snacks sometimes. He'll just hold onto it until he’s hungry.

When Thomas wakes up, he checks his drawer for the apples. They're still there, and they're still giving him full meals, so he leaves them alone . He doesn’t get any more apples, and he doesn’t get hot food anymore. He misses Frypan’s cooking. Even if it was a bit suspicious at times.

Nothing else goes missing from his room, and the lights don’t flicker again, at least not in his room. Maybe the flicker was on purpose, to let him know they were turning the lights off, since he was still in the bathroom. He’s never been in the bathroom when they turned the lights off before.

Thomas decides that tomorrow, he’s not going to get out of bed at all–not even for food.

Maybe to go to the bathroom, if he really has to.

He wants to see what they’re going to do if they think he’s given up.

Maybe they’ll try to send Teresa in, if she’s here. Maybe she’ll tell him something. Give him some human contact for the first time in… he doesn’t know how long.

Thomas is up before his food arrives, and he doesn’t move when he hears the slot open. He hears it open again, later, and still doesn’t move. Normally, if he still has a tray, they won’t send a new one in.

When it opens a third time, he glances over at it as best he can while he’s laying down. He doesn’t want to move too much. Sitting up would be taking too much interest.

The first two trays look like his normal bland food with water–Thomas can’t tell if it’s cereal, oatmeal, or porridge–and a little side with either fruit or vegetables.

The third is just two apples.

Again. What are they trying to tell him? Thomas still doesn’t get up, even though he really wants to investigate.

When his lights come on again, he puts the apples with the other two in his nightstand. The other two trays are gone, but not moving for a day isn’t enough to warrant a visit, apparently.

They’re probably still tracking his brain waves. They’d know if something was wrong, at least with his brain activity. It’s not like they can see his thoughts.

They can make him and Teresa telepathic, though, so maybe he shouldn’t rule ‘seeing thoughts’ out of the list of things WCKD can do.

A hunger strike won't get him out of here–they'll probably force-feed him or knock him out and give him a feeding tube. He's not getting out until he solves their puzzle or they let him out.

Hopefully he's on the right track now.

When his toothbrush is changed out for a yellow one, Thomas studies it the way he'd studied the first two. There’s no easily apparent pattern, not that he’d expected it to be revealed so early in the cycle. He takes pictures of it to compare later. The texture is the same as the other two, which probably doesn't mean anything.

He keeps his normal routine outside of inspecting his toothbrushes. Nothing has gone missing for a while, though he also hasn't gotten a replacement desk yet. He wonders if they're ever going to put something in that empty spot or if it had just been a reminder that they can take anything they want from him, and he'll be unaware of it until they turn the lights back on to wake him up.

As he eats his bland beige food for the day, he tries to recall what the waffle tasted like on his tongue. How long had it taken for the chocolate chips to melt? The egg, too–he never thought he’d miss eating an egg. And the jam would probably go well with breakfast today, but he doesn't have any.

It feels like it’s been a month since he had food that tasted like anything. No, a year.

Whoever had been serving him that day must have felt bad for him, but they were probably fired or at least aren't allowed to feed him anymore.

Actually, Thomas isn't sure how employment at WCKD works. How many people working here know what’s going on?

The guards have to, they'd been chasing them down and everything. The scientists would, too. And everyone in charge does. What's the hiring process? Or has WCKD just been kidnapping all of their employees the same way they kidnapped all of their subjects?

Thomas is going to give himself a headache if he keeps thinking about it.

He tries to tell Teresa that he wants to talk to her, but it doesn't seem like it works.

He doesn’t know if she's even here. Or Ava, or Ratman. If they're not using the toothbrushes to mess with him, then it's been years. Ava and Ratman, unless they found their cure, might have succumbed to the Flare by now.

Teresa wouldn’t have, but Thomas can’t remember the full list of Immune Gladers, so he doesn’t let himself think about it. It’s difficult, because he doesn’t even have counting tiles to distract him.

He tries to remember what color toothbrush he got after yellow, last time. Was it the purple or the dark blue? Or maybe it was the pink.

He should have been paying better attention last time, and then he’d know already. Maybe he would even know the way out by now.

The next toothbrush is purple, and Thomas can only despair over how little information it gives him. There’s nothing helpful. He should only have three more colors after this one, he should know something by now!

He tries reaching out to Teresa again, but she’d been better at their telepathy than him. For a long time, probably. If what he remembers from the Changing is correct. If she gets it, she doesn’t respond.

He’d take ‘Captain Gally’ as a conversation partner right now, even though he’s pretty sure they’d end up fighting. They’re better than they were in the Glade, but if they were trapped together again it probably wouldn’t take long for them to come to blows.

He stares at the door wistfully. There’s no way they’d let him get so thin he could fit through the food slot. He wouldn’t be able to get his head and shoulders through, anyway. He just wants to leave.

“Can I leave now?”

He doesn’t expect a response, but he probably wouldn’t have heard it if one came. Has his voice always sounded like that? Or is it just echoing back at him?

He’d thought he’d been doing a good job, talking to himself and counting his food and everything. But it hasn’t been enough to save his voice from getting rough. He clears his throat a few times, but doesn’t speak until he has food to count again.

When he’s thinking about his food, he’s not thinking about his voice.

The dark blue toothbrush doesn’t have any clues, either. Thomas throws it against the wall and screams until his voice gives out.

He stays awake as long as they let him, trying to catch the person changing out his toothbrush and towels and he never does.

He thinks about throwing the apples in his nightstand, too. It would probably be more satisfying than a toothbrush. But he doesn’t trust WCKD enough to give up any food, in case he needs it.

Thomas tries to hide the pink toothbrush, not that he has many places to hide anything. Maybe he needs to keep all of them and put them together so that he can find a pattern that way, because he’s not finding one in the pictures.

A brown toothbrush is on the sink the next day, and Thomas can’t find the pink brush anywhere.

He remembers when he first got to the Glade, wondering how they hadn’t given up yet. It’s so much easier to reach out with trembling fingers and grasp at hope when it’s the only thing he has. (Physically, he’s grasping at his arms with untrimmed nails.)

No routine to keep him busy, keep him moving. Nothing else to think about.

What good does this data do WCKD? Thomas has never been able to decide, and they’ll probably never tell him.

He’s tired. He wants to leave, but there’s nothing he can use here to get out and his only idea has completely fallen apart.

Thomas lets the food trays pile up for a few days before he goes back to eating. Long enough that the smell starts to make him gag without even getting out of bed.

It’s the only form of control he has.

Thomas compares the new light blue toothbrush to the pictures he has of the last one, and the pattern is different.

Okay, so maybe it’s the colors that go together, and not the patterns. That still means he’s missed one of the patterns already, but maybe he can figure it out anyway. Thomas will get out of here or die trying.

He’s stopped trying to reach out to Teresa, though he’s been catching himself talking out loud as if she were here with him. Sometimes he has conversations with Chuck. Sometimes it’s Newt or Minho, or even Brenda.

Thomas wishes that surprised him more, but he’s been alone for so long that he doesn’t know what his other options would be. It’s not like he hadn’t already been talking to his food, anyway. This is just another form of that.

He gets a couple more apples, and puts them in his nightstand with the others. The oldest ones haven’t gone mushy or molded yet, though Thomas hasn’t bitten into them to see what’s inside. They don’t even give him flimsy knives to cut his food with, so he can’t check unless he wants to eat one.

Maybe they’re genetically engineered to be shelf-stable for a long time. Thomas doesn’t know if that’s something WCKD would have a hand in, but maybe they did. Or maybe it’s not a recent change.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’ll leave them there until he has to eat them or until they go bad.

He wakes up and the lights are off. Does WCKD have power outages? Surely they must have generators.

He doesn’t manage to stay awake long enough to get out of bed. Thomas does have some interesting dreams, though. One is about a stampede of elephants, which he’s pretty sure are extinct, and he doesn’t think that they stampede anyway. But what does he know?

The other is about dodo birds, which have been extinct for centuries. They’d been saying his name. Thomas doesn’t know that much about them–extinct birds weren’t on WCKD’s priority list, apparently–but he doesn’t think that they were able to speak.

Thomas takes as long of a shower as he can when he wakes up for real, thinking over what little he can remember about his dreams. The water shuts off automatically around what feels like twenty minutes, though Thomas knows he’ll never be sure. Especially not now, with his sense of time as warped as it is. It doesn’t turn back on, and he doesn’t expect it to. Maybe tomorrow.

While he’s trying to figure out how long he was in the shower for, the dreams slip to the back of his mind, details fading away and leaving only a sense of strangeness.

He doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night again.

When the green toothbrush appears, Thomas doesn’t use it for a few days. He hardly does anything other than stare at the pictures and try to put together a pattern. There’s a drawing app on the tablet, and he traces over the pattern lines to try and isolate something that he might not be able to see while it’s on a rounded surface.

He doesn’t find anything, but the door opens anyway.

Thomas doesn’t look even when there are hands on his arms, trying to take the tablet and toothbrush away. He grips them tightly, ready to scratch and bite if he needs to. He needs these.

“Greenie, come on, you’re scaring me here.” Thomas knows this voice. Hadn’t he just wished he could speak to Gally? Maybe not quite that, but something like it.

He’s probably hallucinating now.

“I have to get out. I have to figure out the pattern so I can open the door, Gally, just leave me alone so I can finish it!”

“Thomas, the door was unlocked.”

“No, it wasn’t. It can’t be that simple.”

“I walked right in.”

“They changed the door. They put a new lock on. It can’t be that easy, there has to be something I have to solve. I always have to solve something, I have to figure it out before I can leave.”

“No, we can just leave. I don’t know if it’s been that way the whole time, but we can leave. I’m making you leave.” Gally sounds like he’s trying to convince someone, and that makes Thomas more sure that he’s making the whole thing up. Gally’s not here. No one is here, because it’s always going to be him by himself in the end. That’s how WCKD made him start, and that’s how they’re going to make him end. Alone.

“I tried the door.” He must have. He must have, right? He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t not try the door. It’s the simplest solution, the first thing to do.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t, because he’d convinced himself that it was going to be harder than that. That it had to be harder than that.

He still doesn’t let go of the tablet or the toothbrush; Gally’s given up on getting them out of his grasp.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even try. It can’t be this easy. It’s not supposed to be this easy.”

“Thomas, come on, I’ve got to get you outta here. You’re bleeding.”

“You never call me Thomas. You’re not real.”

“Slim it, shuckface, we’re leaving. I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that klunk head of yours, but I’ll carry you if I have to.” That’s what Gally sounds like. Maybe it is Gally, then.

Gally doesn’t make Thomas leave anything behind, and he even agrees to carry the apples instead of Thomas.

He keeps up the steady stream of talking he’s been doing recently, not really aware that he’s speaking every thought that comes to mind.

“–haven’t had anyone to talk to in so long, I think it’s been like three years. Maybe longer. Because of the toothbrushes.” Thomas doesn’t pause for anyone else to speak, and he hardly notices that Minho’s there until he’s forced to look him in the eye.

“Gal, what did they do to him?”

“Just put him in a room alone, I think. He thinks the toothbrushes are his way out. The door wasn’t even locked. He’s been talking to himself like this the whole time.”

“Hermanos, we can figure this all out when we’re safe. Move it.” Jorge? He doesn’t look much older. Neither does Gally or Minho, they all look about the same. Maybe they got haircuts or something, but that’s it.

“How long has it been?” It’s the first thing he’s aware of saying since Gally first got to his room.

“About six months.”

“That’s wrong. You’re supposed to change toothbrushes every three months, and I’ve had five colors twice and two colors three times.” That’s right, he knows it is. “One of them got taken early, but it should have been at least five years.”

“No, Thomas.”

The only reason Thomas doesn’t drop the tablet and the toothbrush is because Minho’s grabbing at him.

He doesn’t know where they’re going, he doesn’t know who else is there, and it doesn’t matter because Thomas doesn’t know how he got things so wrong.

It was supposed to be a test.

It was supposed to be difficult.

Thomas shouldn’t have gotten things this wrong. He’s supposed to be smart. He’s supposed to solve puzzles and fix things.

Gally and Minho don’t make him put a door on their cabin until it starts to snow, and the only lock it has is a simple latch to keep it from swinging open in the wind.

This doesn’t stop Thomas from spending hours staring at it if he’s left on his own, but they’re working on that.

Usually he’s just not left alone. Especially when he starts talking to Teresa or Chuck.

By the time it’s warm enough for the blanket door to suffice, he can handle a few hours alone in the cabin without talking to the door, so they leave it up.

The scars on his arms have faded a little more by then, too. They’re never going to go away–infection had set into the oldest of the wounds by the time Gally found him and he’s lucky it hadn’t spread upward–but when everyone knows what happened, no one asks any questions.

Thomas doesn’t remember making them, doesn’t remember digging his nails in again and again. He doesn’t think he wants to. Maybe he did it in his sleep. Maybe he was awake and just didn’t notice. He’s never going to know.

He doesn’t remember a lot of what happened right after they left, either. He knows he thought Gally wasn’t real. Actually leaving? Nothing. It’s normal, apparently, but it unnerves him more than he’ll ever admit. That he doesn’t remember what he said and did that makes Minho and Gally and Jorge watch him so closely.

He doesn’t want to ask them, not yet. Maybe he will, someday. When he’s wrapped his head around his five years of isolation only being six months, when he’s figured out how to stop talking to ghosts whenever he’s alone.

Maybe then. Maybe they’ll tell him before that, slip it into their stories of what they did while he was in that room.

Thomas doesn’t care, as long as they don’t make him go back.

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