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Chapter Text

The first thing he could remember was the dark. It was dark, cold, quiet. So very quiet. It was confined, lonely and he hated it, he hated it so much and it was so terrible. And then, red surrounded the room. It flashed, giving only moments of view of his surroundings. The boy was not yet too panicked, he felt rather okay. Until the noises started. It was loud, metal grinding against metal, gears moving. It made him jump, he hated the loud noises, he was afraid. It had then occured to him he did not remember anything. He did not know why he was here in this dark space with the red lights and the loud noises. He could not remember his name or where he came from. It made him panic, it was a dream, he was not truly here, he'd like to think.

And then the room jolted. It flung him across the room, into something hard, into the corner of something, a box perhaps. It hurt, he exhaled harshly, his arm flying to his side as a result. He was sure that was going to bruise. The room began to move, where? Upwards, it felt like. He was very scared, the boy wanted to go home. Home. He wondered what or where that was.

The boy was not sure how long he was sat there, legs tucked to his chest, making himself as small as possible. His back was pressed against the thing he had fallen into, he'd assumed it was a box by now. It was almost possible to fall asleep, if he weren't so confused and scared of course.

After a long period of time, the room came to a sudden stop. It had jolted him again, throwing him into the box once more and then forward onto the cold floor. He winced and sat up. The grinding noise were back momentarily and then, a loud beeping. Light began seeping through the crack in the ceiling as it opened up. It soon became too harsh of a light to look at. The boy could hear voices, excited chatter, sniggering or the occasional shuffling of feet. He looked up, using his hand to shield his eyes. The ceiling was now fully open, the noises got louder. More laughing, more noises. The room, or confined space, shook as someone from the above jumped into it. They said something to him, he could not comprehend it. His ears felt like they were stuffed full of cotton balls, everything was fuzzy, it was too much, overwhelming. He needed a break, he wanted everyone to leave him alone.

The stranger pulled him up and out of the box, he stumbled to not fall over. Eyes. There were so many eyes on him. Too many voices. Everyone was looking at him, laughing at him. He turned, twisted, the surroundings were confined, too. There were walls. It confined him. He was always confined. The grass or people did not help this situation, he was truly trapped. His heart hammered against his chest, his throat closed in. He could not live like this. Too much, he wanted quiet.

A weight landed on his shoulder, causing him to flinch and spin around, backing away so fast he almost fell over. They were talking to him too, the cotton buds got thicker and thicker. He wanted to run away, but he was frozen in place. The boy suddenly felt very sick, very faint. Darkness creeped in at the corner of his vision, and suddenly he could not keep it together anymore. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and everything went dark.

Dark. It was finally dark again. It was quiet, no voices or eyes to torment him. The boy was unsure about the dark. It was scary if you were to never leave the darkness, but to some it can be peaceful. He did not want the dark to fully consume him, but the world was too dark and too evil. He did not know what to think of humans, they stare and they judge and they laugh. Not that he can remember.

It was quiet, the darkness was heavy. His body felt like it was being dragged down by lead. The boy swore be could hear a voice. It was soft and gentle, it was calling to him. He wanted to so desperately reach out for it. But it was no use. It almost stung. The same tone, notes. An image sprung to mind, it was of a girl. He could not see the top of her head, it was too blurred out and contorted. Her smile was gentle, and her lips were friendly as they formed the word, the name she had been calling over and over to him.

Leon. That was his name.

Chapter Text

He awoke to talking. The ground beneath him was rather soft, comfortable. Leon noted he was most likely in a bed. The boy continued to stare at the ceiling, silently listening in.

"Do you have any idea at all as to when he'll wake up?"
"I'd say in a few hours or so, he hit his head pretty hard."
"Alright, we'll check in-" someone was moving around, yet abruptly stopped. There was more movement and whispering.

Leon sighed, pushed himself up into a sitting position, and adjusted to the room around him. He felt slightly light headed and noted there was a slightly weight around his head, most likely a bandage, they'd said he'd hit his head. Leon looked around the room, it was small, and yet infront of his bed were three boys. One was rather tall, 5'10 perhaps, with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. The second was a boy around the height of 6'0, muscular and he seemed authorative. The third boy was not very interesting.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." The boy with blonde hair joked, a small smile making its way across his face.

"Rise and shine greenbean, welcome to the glade. Once you're up on your feet, come downstairs. Newt here will give you the tour. Be quick." And with that, the taller boy had left the room, the blonde boy, Newt, following behind him. Leon noticed he had a limp.

The third boy, who he now assumed was a doctor, checked him over before sending him on his way. Apparently, he'd only been out a few hours, so it was around lunch. Still light. Leon slowly made his way down the stairs, he was wearing a black cotton shirt and some grey trousers with some, worn down trainers. He made his way through the bottom floor and towards the door, pushing it open. The light that flooded through stung his eyes, he flung his arm out, shielding his face.

Leon stepped out into the light, closing the door behind him. His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw Newt watching him, leaning against the side of the building. He pushed himself up and signalled for Leon to follow him.

"You'll get your name back in a day or two. It's the one thing they let us keep." Newt told him. His voice was smooth, laced with an accent that made his heart twinge.

Leon wanted to respond, but it felt as if the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to. Whether it was trauma, an injury to his vocal cords or he simply disliked speaking, he couldn't tell. The boy saw Newt give him a look when he didn't respond, yet he continued speaking. He led him around the confined space.

"Once a month, the box sends up fresh supplies and a new Greenie. This month, that's you. Congratulations. This here is called the glade. We sleep here, we grow our own food, we build our own shelter. Whatever we need, the box supplies."

Leon wanted to ask, so desperately, about who had sent him here, why he was sent here. Until the boy from earlier came up to them.

"Hey, are you all right, Alby?" Newt questioned him.

"Green Bean, how's the tour going? Newt here, when I'm not around, he's in charge." Alby informed Leon, who was really confused as to why he'd decided to come up to him just to say that.

"Well, it's a good thing you're always around then." Newt remarked, a smile appearing on his face. "That was some fall you managed earlier. Thought you'd gone and died on us."

Leon did not miss the playful tone in his voice.

"Newt, do me a favor. Get his sleeping arrangements sorted for me." Alby asked

"All right."

"Thanks." Alby nodded as Newt limped off somewhere. He turned back to the boy. "Look, I'm sorry to rush this. You woke up a little late, and there's a lot to do. We got something special planned tonight. Yeah. You'll see. I hope you're not afraid of heights." Alby gave him a small smirk at the end of his mini speech and signalled for him to follow.

"Let's go. Come on."

He led him up a treehouse, it was high, good to fully view the surroundings. He liked it.

"This is all we got. We've worked hard for it. If you respect this place...you and I will get along just fine." Alby turned towards him and Leon gave him a small nod.

"We only have three rules." Alby held up three fingers. "First, do your part. No time for any freeloaders. Second, never harm another Glader. None of this works
unless we have trust. Most importantly...never go beyond those walls. Do you understand me, Greenie?"

Leon hadn't really noticed the holes in the walls, and he had no intention of finding out what was behind the walls, so he just nodded once more.

The afternoon was quiet. He spent most of it alone, sat by a tree picking at the grass. He had a lot to think about and he didn't need to be distracted. By the time dinner came around, a friendly man by the name of Frypan had served him soup, and he sat alone at an end table, away from others and playing with his food. Of course, Newt had offered for him to sit with the others, but he'd gave him a silent stare, shook his head and walked off. Leon supposed he was acting rather rude, but he really couldn't bring himself to speak to them.

And then, in the evening, there was a bonfire.

"Light him up!" Alby commanded as around five boys holding what he guessed you could call torches, threw them onto a pile of sticks and wood, which caught fire, resulting in a blazing pile of sticks. It was warm. The flame flickered and grew as if it were alive. The urge to touch it was overpowering.

Newt tapped Leon on the shoulder, leading him off to the side to sit by a log.

"Hell of a first day, Greenie." He let out a slight chuckle, but Leon could not manage anything in response, which quickly killed the mood.

"You got a name?" Newt asked, his voice had some sort of final desperation in it, but when Leon did not respond, he sighed dejectedly. "Can't you talk?"

And with that they sat in silence. The boy picked at his nails before letting out a harsh exhale. His mind wandered back to the woman in his dreams, her lips forming his name. He knew how to speak, of course he did, so why didn't he?

"Leon." He spoke. His voice was scratchy from not talking and died off at the end, but it caught the blonde haired boys attention. He looked over, giving him a rather surprised look.

"What'd you say?" He asked again. Leon was sure he heard.

"Leon." He repeated himself, frowning. Newt's face lit up and a grin spread across his face.

"I suppose you can talk. A pleasure to meet you, Leon." His voice was friendly, and as he held out his hand, Leon supposed that maybe the Glade wasn't so bad after all.

Chapter Text

As leon lay in his hammock that first night, his mind wandered back to a conversation he'd had during the bonfire.

"The maze is a dangerous place. We're trapped here, for the moment. But...you see those guys? There, by the fire?" Newt pointed and Leon followed, letting out a hum of agreement. And then it hit him that no one had previously told him it was a maze surrounding them. He wanted to ask, but kept quiet. His heart felt heavy. A maze.

"Those are the runners. That guy in the middle there, that's Minho. He's the Keeper of the Runners. Every morning, when those doors open, they run the maze...mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out." Newt saw the look on his face and replied with, "They've been looking for about a year and a half now."

Leon frowned, that's a long time. Almost two years now. Newt gave him a small look and continued.

"Listen. Hear that?" He waited, and heard. The grinding of stone against stone, shifting and changing. The boy nodded.

"It's the maze, changing. It changes every night." And with that, Leon's heart sank. He was certain now, it was impossible to make it out. He was glad that Newt was being honest, though.

"Listen, the truth is...the runners are the only ones who really know what's out there.They are the strongest
and the fastest of us all. And it's a good thing, too...because if they don't make it back before those doors close...then they are stuck out there for the night. And no one has ever survived a night in the maze." Newt's voice was laced with a sort of sadness, fear maybe. Leon decided then and there he was never ever going to be a runner. And yet, his curiosity pushed him. Clearing his throat, he asked.

"What happens to them?" Newt always seemed so shocked whenever the boy spoke, whether it was because he thought he'd never get a word out of him, of if it was the accent that surrounded his voice, not British, yet close.

"Well, we call them Grievers. Of course, no one's ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they're out there."

He shifted in his hammock as he came back to reality. Mazes and monsters, how great. The boy drifted back into another conversation.

"There, we got the builders. They're very good with their hands...but not a lot going on upstairs." Newt sniggered at this, and Leon managed a smile. "And then we got Winston...he's the Keeper of the Slicers. And we got two med-jacks, Clint and Jeff." Leon rememebered Clint as the one who patched him up earlier. "They spend most of their time bandaging up the slicers. The trackhoes, who do all the gardening-"

He faded back into reality. His side had bruised from the box earlier that morning, and it was giving him some trouble. He thought back to the bonfire. If he had to choose though, telling everyone his name was the best part. The cheers and shouts of acceptance were warming. This, he supposed, was something he could call home. Leon drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face that night.

And then jolted awake at the moment of someone shaking his arm. His heart leapt so far up his throat he thought he was about to throw up.

"Shh. Follow me." Alby shushed him before walking off. Dazed from sleep, Leon sluggishly followed after him.

"It's peaceful, isn't it? You're one of us now, Leon. You need to know what that means." And with that he handed him a knife. Infront of him was a wall of names, many crossed off. With a frown, he pressed the knife to the wall and began carving.

-

Leon decided he was never ever going to eat anything pig related ever again. His first job was with the Slicers and he had to leave midway through he was that repulsed. At lunch he completly refused to eat anything with meat, at which Newt laughed at him for, telling him many had the same reactions.

If he were to be honest, the urge to punch him did arise. Leon felt as if he were cruel to send him off to the Slicers to become traumatized. He smiled, although he may forever remember Newt telling him "Your first jobs with the Slicers." His side had bothered him a lot through it, but he just trudged on.

He liked the glade so far, but his heart ached. He wasn't sure why, whether it was because he wanted to leave, or if it was because the strange feeling of emptiness and that he was forgetting something wouldn't leave him alone.

In the evening, he had at by that same tree he had on his first day, instead, he was with Newt this time. The company was nice, it was rather quiet too. However, there had been something on his mind all day.

Leon turned to Newt and signalled to himself. It didn't work though. The boy tried again, pointing to his hair, then his eyes, and then acting confused. He did not like speaking, so he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

Recognition dawned on Newt's face and his lips curved upwards slightly. "Oh, you wanna know what you look like?" Leon nodded, absently picking at the grass. "Well, you have dark brown hair, that's curly. It's nice. Your eyes are also dark brown and you're tanned but you knew that already. I'd say you are around 5'9." A small smile graced Leon's lips and he muttered a small thank you.

They talked for a while longer, their friendship growing by the second. At dinner, he'd sat with Newt, Alby and and a few of his friends. Then, he'd listened to Minho, nodding along and giving small smiles. With some time, he believed he'd talk to him.

By night, a headache had made its way to him. It was more like a migraine, if he were to be specific. Leon was in immense pain, so much so he couldn't open his eyes or sleep. So he just sat there in the dark, attempting to sleep. He was going to be tired for his next job, he knew that. He'd showered and changed clothes and also had taken off the bandage wrapped around his head, if it had bruised, it was hidden by his hair.

As his mind went blank, and he slipped into sleep, flashes of an old life came to mind, one that may have been his but was no longer. The aching in his chest intensified, and if he were more awake, he may have cried.
--

His second job was with the med-jacks. Newt had woken him up this morning and immediately told him.
"Rise and shine- You look like shit, did you get any sleep?" To which Leon responded with hitting him on the arm and grumbling, sluggishly walking off to get breakfast.

He had also absent mindedly thanked Frypan, who had served him a bacon sandwich and some eggs. The line behind him gave him odd stares as he walked past. Leon ate slowly, consumed by his thoughts. He occasionally nodded along to whatever was being said to or about him, but did not pay any further attention. And then when he got about halfway through his bacon sandwich did he realise his mistake. Yesterday's job came to mind and he dropped the sandwich onto the plate mid movement.

A Glader whom he could not remember the name of eyed his plate and Newt laughed along with Alby and a few others. "We were waiting for you to notice." He notified Leon, who just gave him a slight glare.

"Are you going to eat any of that or can I have it?" They asked him, to which he just nodded and shoved it over to him.

The boy rubbed at his eyes as he got up from his seat and followed Clint to his job for the day. Leon stretched and immediately shrunk back down, letting out a hiss of pain and holding his side. Clint turned around at the noise, giving him a questioning look, to which he ignored.

Leon rather liked being a med-jack. It was quiet except from the more serious injuries like when one of the Slicers had cut their hand open. Newt was right, they do that a lot. He was good at sewing and bandaging people up. But he didn't really like the blood. It was tiring too.

He was always in his thoughts, so he was rather calm and collected when he did things like sewing. He had steady hands and was gentle but it wasn't that. It wasn't that one thing he could do for the rest of his life.

When it came round for lunch, he had a sandwich and an apple with some water. Leon got a lot of information from others simply by listening. He liked listening to them too, it was distracting and something to do while eating.

He went back to his job, did whatever med jack's do, disinfecting, sewing, bandaging. It was tiring and by the end of the day he felt rather stressed. He then hoped that this wouldn't be his forever job.

Dinner was quiet. The day was relatively repetitive, there wasn't much to say that was any different. He did not have a headache although.

His dreams that night consisted of a boy who stared at him like he mattered more than anyone in the entire world.

Chapter Text

His fourth day he'd be working with the Track hoes. Leon knew a lot about plants, it was engrained deep into his brain, and his heart raced with excitement at the thought of even doing gardening. He ate breakfast fast, spending the rest of the time impatient.

"You seem excited." Newt had informed him, at which he just nodded.

Zart, the keeper of the Track-hoes, introduced him and got him started. He hadn't had to explain much surprisingly, Leon rememebered more from his life before then he thought he did. Planting, fertilizing, digging up plants or pulling weeds, he enjoyed every moment. The sun bore down on him and made him tired and warm, but he was in his own little world.

Newt came to see him at one point and helped out, which he appreciated. Gardening was something he really enjoyed, he wasnt sure why. Although there was this itch in the back of his brain, it was like there was something he had to do, something he needed to remember but couldn't.

Wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, Leon sighed. Surprisingly, there was a lot to do in the mornings. Lunch had come round quickly although. He'd had to wash his hands and face of course, but he ate lunch rather quickly too. Not that he wanted to go back to gardening that bad, but because he was genuinely that hungry. Being a Track Hoe was almost like a comfort to him, therapeutic even. It provided a sense of warmth he couldn't explain.

He got back to work after lunch. He was digging trenches about eight inches deep and three feet apart to plant potatoes. It was hard. Leon wasn't unfit or anything, he had muscles and was quite in shape but the sun wasn't helping much. Once all the trenches were dug, he had to then go around plating seed potatoes every 12 inches or so. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, probably smeering dirt all over it, but he didn't mind.

Zart called him over, placed a basket in his arms and told him to pick tomatoes. So, doing just that, Leon went off to pick tomatoes. Some were lower then others, so he had to squat to pick them, but it was fun. He then noticed his hands were quite large, he could fit an average sized tomato in his palm and still manage to close his fingers all the way over it. He was starting to notice these little things. Small moles or scars.

The bruise on Leon's side still hurt, but it was now fading into splotches of greens and blacks. It ran from the middle of the side of his stomach down about four centimetres down his side. He wasn't exactly sure how big it was, maybe the size of an apple.

"Working hard, Leo?" A voice asked from behind him. Coming out of his thoughts, Leon got up from his crouched position on the floor and turned around to Newt. He fought back a smile at the new nickname given to him.

"Yeah." He replied, turning back around to pick more tomatoes.

"Good that." and then "There's dirt all over your forehead." Newt's voice cracked with the attempt at hiding laughter, Leon just smiled to himself.

The blonde haired boy began helping him, picking tomatoes and then bringing them over and placing them in the basket. His limp was very noticeable and if took a lot for the curly haired boy to not ask about it. He had only known him for four days. They were not close enough. It was none of his business.

After they'd finished, he thanked Newt and went off towards Zart to hand him the basket. Zart thanked him, said he was finished and told him to go take a shower, so he did.

Leon was very happy to have showered and to be wearing fresh clothes. He liked gardening but he did not like to smell of sweat. Dinner time came around, and he felt better. This place was becoming more homely to him.

"You should have seen him. Leo looks at dirt like he wants to marry it." Newt joked, the others laughed, and it even got a small chuckle out of him. And then the migraine struck.

His vision blurred and went white. Leon was barely aware that he'd dropped his spoon in the middle of eating. The same woman, the one that had been calling his name. He could see all of her this time, except her face. It's always her face that's blurred. He can never make out facial features.

She was wearing a sun hat, straw, and a yellow sun dress. Her hair was dark brown and curled down past her shoulders, beautiful. In her hands, she grasped a brown plant pot, empty.

"Leo?" A voice snapped him back into reality, and he looked up towards Newt. He had realised he'd zoned out, and was getting a few concerned stares. Leon wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at his bowl for.

"Sorry. Guess I'm just tired." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't the truth, Newt knew it wasn't the truth and the boy knew he knew. But he took it and changed the conversation.

After dinner, Alby and Newt had stopped him. They lead him into homestead.

"What was that about earlier?" Newt had asked him.

"I told you, I was tired." He shot back, Leon realised then that was probably the most he's spoken in four days.

"You need to be honest with us, if you can remember anything at all about who sent us here, or start remembering things, you need to tell us." Alby.

"I get migraines a lot, nothing more." And that was that.

Layer on, Leon sat with Newt by their tree. He was tired and frustrated. He wasn't sure if he had some extreme pent up anger or what, but when he got even slightly irritated he wanted to hit someone.

It was dark but he could still make out Newt's facial features. He was very attractive, seventeen maybe eighteen years of age. He was ethereal to the boy.

"Hey, how old do I look?" Leon asked him. This was something Newt hadn't told him.

"I'd say around seventeen, why?" The sandy haired teen replied, at which the brown haired boy just sighed.

He'd gotten used to the doors closing by now. He still hated the loud grinding but he could pretend it didn't exist.

As he got into his hammock that night, sleep immediately overtook him. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes. Leon did not dream that night.

Morning came too quickly. His whole body ached all over. Everything seemed to be more heightened then usual. It all seemed too loud, his side hurt more than it should, his head pounded. Leon couldn't even bring himself to eat breakfast. He just drank lots of water, praying to some god that it would get rid of his headache. And just to top it off.

"You're with the builders today." Newt informed him, and Leon let out of the most annoyed, disgusted noise he could manage and almost passed out right then and there. He'd seen Gally, the keeper of the builders, around and he seemed like a right asshole. Not to mention he could not be around loud banging and sawing all day, and his whole body ached.

The sandy haired boy simply gave Leon a look of amusement and watched as he walked sluggishly towards the builders.

The curly haired boy was not listening at all. He kept drifting in and out of his thoughts and accidentally kept zoning the potato nosed keeper out. And when he was instructed to hammer something together he accidentally announced, "I'm actually going to fucking kill myself." He got a lot of stares for that one.

Leon was probably ten minutes into his job and he really wanted to accidentally cut his hand off or something to get out of the job.

"What are you doing? Hurry up." Gally sneered at him. The brunette had to dig his nails into his palms so hard they actually broke skin. Being a builder was incredibly boring and he literally couldn't take it anymore. There was probably about two more hours until lunch and it felt like the world become become purposely slower to him. Leon was one thousand percent going to sulk about this later.

---

The bowl was slammed so hard onto the table it almost broke. Newt startled beside him and gave him a concerned look. The brunettes hands were covered in little bandaids from his failed attempts at building. He slid into his seat and glared holes at his food.

"How was the builders?" Newt asked the boy, all in good faith of course, and that was all it took.

"I'm going to feed myself to the maze I can't take it anymore." This was half a joke.

"Don't do that." He told the brunette. There was humour in his voice, but also concern, and something else. Leon did not mean to trigger him.

"Yes, yes. Anything for you." He joked, waving a dismissive hand at him before laying his head on the table. Leon did not talk like this with anyone else, except maybe Minho.

And before he knew it, he was back doing building. His next job was sawing something, so taking the opportunity, he accidentally "missed" and glided the saw over the side of his hand. He did not like the feeling of his slicing his skin and grazing his bone. He hissed in pain. What Leon had accidentally done was cut too hard. And now his hand was bleeding everywhere.

Dropping the saw, he clasped his hand, to no success. He just stared open mouthed at what he'd done, in shock. And then people started noticing.

"Holy shit! We need a med-jack!" Or something like that.

He found it kind of fascinating how he could literally die from what he'd done, from infection or whatever. Leon felt himself being guided off somewhere, but he was in his own world. He actually kind of felt light headed. Up stairs, into rooms, told to sat down.

One of the med-jacks was stopping the bleeding on his hand. And then they were doing something with it, he really wasn't paying attention at this point. His hand stung, antiseptic perhaps. And then he felt a bandage being slowly wrapped around the wound, firmly. After for knows how long, he was all patched up.

Leon looked up to see it was Jeff this time. He was given a lecture on paying attention and how he could have seriously damaged the nerves in his hand. He knew this.

"You can rest up for a bit if you feel light headed. I'll wake you for dinner." Jeff told him before walking out.

He was greatful. Leon hadn't felt the greatest today, so he slipped off his shoes, lay down ontop of the covers, on his side, curled up and simply fell asleep. It was comfortable. His body relaxed and he simply let go of his worries and stress, even for a little bit.

It was shortly interrupted by Jeff shaking him awake. He mumbled a thank you and sat up, slipping on his shoes. The brunette stopped by his hammock to change his shirt before heading off to get food since he'd gotten blood all over it. Slipping the new one over his head, he noticed his bruise was now shades of greens, dotting against his tanned skin. He tenderly traced it before pulling his shirt down all the way.

Leon observed his bandaged left hand before wrapping his arms around himself. He was almost embarrassed to go get food, to face everyone after he almost bled out. Trudging towards the table, he slid into his seat and rested his face on the table, ignoring the stares.

"Bloody hell, I thought you'd died, glad to see you're alive." Newt remarked, at which he just grunted.

"You look like klunk." Minho told him, laughing, as he sat down. He also didn't get Glader slang.

"Shove off." Leon snapped at him.

He was tired, his hand hurt, everything ached and yet, his friends still managed to make him smile, even a tiny amount.

Chapter Text

The boy plagued his dreams. Leon can never see people's faces in his dreams, but he can feel emotions, and his heart was aching. The brunette wasn't sure if this mystery boy was from before the maze or not, but whoever he was, he was seriously hurting him.

Every part of Leon wanted to reach out to him, to hug him. But then there was also pain. Longing. Like the feeling of seeing an old friend. He missed him. No matter how much he tried to move in his dreams, he was stuck in place, watching as the boy who meant the world to him left, his heart sinking permanently.

And then he'd wake. Sometimes he'd be crying, others not. By now, he'd become almost numb to this sort of dream. He was on a break from work. He would not be able to try out cooking for most likely another month, so the keepers and Alby agreed that Leon had shown exceptional skill and knowledge as a trackhoe, so that was now his assigned job. Or well, would be.

He jacked up his hand pretty bad, so he had to wait a little to do more hard work. He could still do small things, like picking fruits or vegetables. It was now his second week in the glade, his hand had started healing. There wasn't much he could do.

Occasionally, Newt and Leon skipped work to talk, laying down in the grass, that sort of stuff. Of course, when Alby noticed, he'd scold them both and send them back off. But not too severely considering one was injured and the other was second in command.

His bruise had gone a dark green by now and was even fading in some parts. It only really hurt to touch it. Leon had started getting over his phobia of anything pig related and life was rather peaceful.

He still didn't really talk to people, if anything he was getting worse. The dreams really bothered him, they made him feel alone and unwanted. It completely destroyed his feelings for a few hours. Newt had started to notice this yet couldn't get anything out of the brunette.

Week three eventually came. The bruise on Leon's side had almost completely disappeared by now. His hand was healing up nicely and he should be back to work in a couple of weeks at the least. His dreams did not improve.

His new one, was worse. Leon could feel the mystery boy's warmth, his arms wrapped around him. It was only until he let go, turned around and walked down that very same corridor did he realise how alone he truly was and felt.

If he were being honest, the glade was depressing. You could see it in everyone's eyes if you looked, it was lonely, it was sad. There was no hope of leaving. What was the point in even going on? The boy that plagued Leon's dreams was a parasite, he made him feel so warm and then left him alone.

His mental health was crumbling around him, he could see it breaking away. And it all started because of the boy. The boy that looked at him like he was the entire world, so much so that even with a blurred face he could feel it, had left him to rot.

It was another one of those days. Newt and Leon were sat by their tree once more. It had become concerning to him, when the brunette suddenly retracted back into his shell of loneliness.

"Bloody hell mate, you're worrying me. Please, just talk to me." And it was with that pleading tone, the wall he had used to separate himself from everyone had crumbled around him, all due to one boy.

"There's this person, they haunt my dreams a lot. I must have cared a shuck ton about them, because they walk the same corridor, and I feel so alone. And sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. There's no guarantee we'll ever get out." Leon ranted on. Unbeknownst to him, the blonde haired boy beside him had felt exactly the same at one point.

The feeling of hopelessness claws at you and drags you down so far it feels as if you can never leave.

"That person of yours obviously isn't much of a buggin' friend if they'd leave you like that. I wouldn't worry about it, Leo. And I can understand the feeling of never making it out. It seems impossible. But you have me, and that slinthead Minho, so I suppose we'll be okay." And just like that, he felt infinite times better.

-----

The first time Leon had seen a beetle blade was on his second day at the Glade. He was talking with Newt and he had heard it clicking behind him and almost had a heart attack. Part of him wanted to destroy them, they made him super uncomfortable. Leon didn't like the fact that the people who put them there could just watch them like lab rats, and since the beetle blades weren't particularly big, it was easy to miss them. They were invasions of privacy.

Whoever had designed the maze was incredibly smart. The boy wasn't sure if it was some psychological test or whatever but it sure felt like it. If you weren't careful, you'd play right into the hands of the maze. The feeling of never getting out, it would surround you, attach itself to you, cold and cruel and unforgiving. It would drag you down until eventually you couldn't take it anymore.

The maze was complex, leon thought very highly of the runners. It must be tiring and repetitive running that same maze every day, and then there's the Grievers. Obviously he's never seen one but he's heard a lot about them. Leon did not want to die.

He wandered silently to himself how many more years it would take for them to get out of this nightmare, if they ever did.