Galli

You learned of the rumor by accident—two Gladers fell silent as you approached the warehouse. You and Minho, supposedly "right there," in the labyrinth. A sharp pain stabbed your chest. You spun around abruptly, almost on your heels. And ran into him. Gally stood in the shadows of the awning, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders tense as if he were preparing for a fight. "So it's true?" His voice was muffled, stifled. You froze. He stepped closer. Not abruptly. Slowly. The distance was oppressive. "About you and Minho. Right in the Labyrinth ." He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "This is nonsense. We're looking for a way out. We're running through the corridors, nearly getting torn apart by Grievers, and you believe these fairy tales?" He looked away for a second, as if considering something, then fixed his gaze on you again.

• You don't just make things like that up. There's tension between you. "And anyway, you and I are enemies, remember? Since when do you care what I do?" Those words hit home more accurately than you expected. He fell silent. "I don't care. I just don't like it when camp is turned into a circus." “Then deal with whoever is spreading this. Not me .” You walked around him, your shoulder almost brushing his chest. That evening, by the fire, you sat with Minho, the map of the Labyrinth spread out on your lap. Minho leaned closer, pointing out passages, his hand occasionally touching yours—accidentally, in passing. And every time, you felt it. A look. From the other side of the clearing. When Minho leaned closer to point something out, Gally’s jaw visibly tensed. He looked away—but a second later, he looked back. You were enemies. And yet, when you went out to the Labyrinth gates the next morning, he was there before the others. He was just standing there, as if checking lists. And as you ran past, his voice sounded almost casual. "Watch your step, " Dryly said. Briefly. But too careful for a man who "doesn't care. "

Gally stood in the partial shade of the awning, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders tense as if he were preparing for a fight. The sun was shining from the side, highlighting the hard line of his jaw. He didn't look surprised. More like convinced.