Trapped - Gally x Reader - TMR

A sharp grunt ripped from his throat, but he didn't even look at it. He slapped a hand over the wound, blood seeping between his fingers.

He turned to me, face serious, breathing heavy.

"We gotta move."

With a rough shove to my shoulder, he pushed me toward the Box. "Go, (Y/N)! Get inside..now!"

I stumbled forward, hands catching the edge of the Box, and before I could hesitate, he practically threw me inside.

He jumped inside after me and Tony slammed the door shut.

Gally leaned back against the wall, dragging a sharp breath into his lungs, his hand still pressed to his side.

I scrambled toward him, hands hovering, not knowing where to touch.

"Gally...you're bleeding..."
My fingers brushed his shirt, sticky and warm.

He grunted low, tightening his hand over the wound.
"'I'm fine" he muttered through gritted teeth.
Tears burned in my eyes. I pressed the cloth Tony tossed me against Gally's side, trying not to panic when he flinched under the pressure.

It wasn't fatal.
It wasn't.
It wasn't.

Gally clenched his jaw, letting me work,
"I'm fine," he repeated when I pressed harder, trying to stop the bleeding.

My hands shook as I pressed harder against the wound, feeling the sticky warmth soak through the cloth and onto my palms.

I hated seeing him like this.

I hated it.

And I would swap places with him right now.

"Stay still," I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Outside, through the thick metal of the Box, we heard it.

Screams.
Roars.
The screech of metal against bone.

The Glade was being ripped apart.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing closer to Gally, feeling the steady thud of his pulse under my hand.

Alive.
Still alive.

"You're okay," I whispered...maybe for him, maybe for myself. "You're okay, you're okay."

His arm came up, pulling me closer, tucking me against his uninjured side. His heartbeat thundered in my ear, fast and hard and real.

I clung to him. I didn't care if it hurt.
I needed to feel that he was still here.

The bleeding had stopped.

I sat there for a long moment, still curled against Gally's side, staring numbly at the little wooden wolf around his wrist.

Red now.
Smeared with his blood.

It felt like some cruel symbol.

Outside the Box, it was dead silent now.
Not a scream.
Not a roar.

Just the crackle of fire.

Slowly, shakily, Gally pushed himself up. He winced, but didn't say a word.
I followed, my legs trembling so badly it was a miracle I could even stand.

Tony, Mark, Luke.. three other Gladers who were in the Box with us...stood too, pale and shaking but alive.

The door creaked open.

Smoke poured in.

We climbed out one by one into a nightmare.

The Glade was burning.
The fields.
The huts.
The whole sky was black with smoke.