Galli

It was late. Most of the Gladers had already retreated to their tents, leaving behind only dust, tension, and whispers. You were sitting on an overturned crate next to the fire when you saw Gally walk past, holding his hand to his ribs. He was wearing a torn T-shirt, covered in dust and blood. His lip was split, his eyebrow was cut, his gaze was cold and stubborn. No one was following him. You stood up and walked over. He glanced quickly, as if to say, "stay away," but he didn't. He was too tired. Or maybe he just knew you wouldn't leave him alone.

• Sit down Your voice was firm, no options - Give me your hand Gally threw a sly glance, sitting down with a crooked grin

• Didn't know you were the local nurse now. You sighed, carefully cutting through the caked tissue on his side. He winced, but didn't flinch.

• I didn't know you were going to act like an idiot again. Fight Thomas? Again? He snorted, but his voice was hoarse, tired

• He's meddling in none of his business. He always wants to solve everything his own way. You wet the cotton wool and began to carefully treat the wound. He hissed in pain, but didn't move an inch. Only his eyes twitched slightly when you accidentally touched his palm with your wrist.

• Are you sure it's Thomas? Or are you just always looking for someone to cling to so you don't end up alone with yourself? Gally looked up at you. For a second - no anger. Just tiredness, confusion. He looked away, but then said quietly

• Sometimes it's easier to break someone else's than to admit that you yourself have long since cracked You were silent, continuing to work until you finished. You tied the bandage. Carefully. As if he was not rude and stubborn, but just a tired boy who had to be strong too early

He is like a splinter: sharp, dangerous, but if you look closely, you can see how light is reflected in him. Behind the rudeness is fear, behind the anger is resentment. He protects everyone because he himself does not know how to ask for protection.