Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three

“Holy shit.”

Tweek’s voice shook. His body was frozen, still in complete shock as he stared at the massive doors now closed in front of him. His heart was still racing and although he’d just witnessed it himself, his mind continued to reject the impossible reality he found before him. This was a new kind of insanity, one that made him want to fall to his knees and hide away somewhere far from this place. He was so bug-eyed over the doors shutting that he didn’t register Eric’s explosive laughter or jeering until a hand patted him on the back. He turned to see Kenny; he never noticed him moving to stand next to him.

“Just ignore Eric,” the blonde said, “he won’t admit it, but it freaked him the fuck out on his first few days, too. Same for me, for all of us.”

Tweek just faced the doors again, his head still dizzy with bewilderment. How did the walls move? Something that massive shouldn’t be able to do that. And how did they know when to move? Kenny had said that they closed and opened at the same time every day, so was it somehow programmed into them or was it being done manually? Tweek tried to picture a guy somewhere out in the maze holed up in a little stone room whose only job was to press a button at the beginning and end of each day, and he almost laughed. It was ridiculous and didn’t seem likely. But even so, the entire concept of this place was exactly that.

“Oh, man,” Eric wheezed, “that never gets old! You looked like you were gonna shit your pants, Greenie!”

“Fuck off, Eric,” Kenny scolded tiredly. “Don’t you have work to finish up?”

“Kenny, dude, come on—that was hilarious, and you know it. Pull that stick out of your ass and loosen up!”

Kenny just rolled his eyes to which Eric huffed dramatically.

“I can’t believe it,” Tweek whispered. “They move. These fucking walls move. ”

Kenny frowned at him.

“Yeah, well as you know it’s not the strangest thing about this place either. Thanks for catching Tweek up to speed, Ike,” he said pointedly.

Ike, who had been quietly slinking backward from the little group in a slow, careful movement stopped and turned to face them. His smile was fake, strained with nervousness at being caught in his attempted escape.  

“You’re welcome, Ken,” he replied.

But Kenny didn’t seem to find his response as amusing as Tweek secretly did.

“Ike, you know how we run things around here. You know we don’t bring heavy things up around the Greenie until he’s good and ready, especially not the damn maze! You see how freaked he is?” Kenny gestured at Tweek who was beginning to feel bad for the younger boy. “What were you thinking?”

“I was just—”

“You weren’t thinking, that’s what you were doing.” Kenny snapped. He took a deep breath in, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Kenny wasn’t yelling, even though he was clearly aggravated. It was more of an upward inflection in his voice and a stern expression painted on his face. Intimidating all the same, but not outright harsh. “I’m sorry, Ike,” he finally said, “but this is serious. You know how scared you were on your first day—there’s a reason why we do orientation this way. Right?”

Ike just nodded his head.

“Right. So, did you tell Tweek anything else that I should know about?”

“Uh, I maybe kinda mentioned runners, too,” Ike mumbled without meeting Kenny’s eyes.

“Christ, Ike. You know what, that’s fine. Anything else?”

Ike shook his head.

“Good. Alright, just stick to the basics from now on, yeah? We don’t wanna stress Tweek out any more than we gotta.” He sighed, finally acknowledging Tweek again. “Greenie, go with Ike and get something to eat. No more starin’ at the doors--they’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ll come check on you in a few hours when the bonfire starts. I’ll let ya pick my brain about our little situation here.” Kenny winked at him, the tension of the exchange seeming to vanish into thin air before calling to the two boys he’d rushed over with, and they moved in the direction of the largest structure in the Glade.

He glanced over to Ike who was kicking dirt absentmindedly, seeming rather downcast. But Eric moved between them before Tweek could go to the boy’s side.

“You see, Greenie? Keep hanging around the wrong people and you’ll be fucked. Listen to me and things might just go your way.” He pushed past Tweek, roughly ramming his shoulder into him as he did. “Those assholes Kenny and Tolkien might act like they’re in charge, but you’re lookin’ at who’s really in charge around here. So, you better start respecting my authority.”

The larger boy stalked away and left Tweek with a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t like Eric, and the guy certainly didn’t seem to like him all that much. Not even a full day in the Glade and it seemed like he was making more enemies than friends.

“He’s always like that,” Ike said moving next to Tweek. “Likes to push us newbies around. But so far, he’s mostly just bark and no bite. That fat asshole thinks he’s so great just because he was one of the first ten guys up in the box, but he’s not. ”

“He was?” Tweek looked down at the younger boy.

“Yeah, that’s probably why he gets to be a Keeper even though he’s, like, the worst one,” Ike said rolling his eyes.

Tweek gave his companion a hard, blank stare until Ike caught on.

“Right, sorry. Uh, a Keeper is like the head of one of the different jobs we’ve got going here. Eric is the Keeper of the Bricknicks, they’re for fixing stuff when it breaks, so he oversees the guys who help with that. You’ll learn more about that stuff when you get your first job assignment from Kenny, though. Basic stuff, for now,” he added a little mockingly, though there wasn’t any heat there.

“Okay, so is there someone who oversees the food then?”

Ike began walking and Tweek automatically followed.

“Yeah, that’s where we’re goin’ now. That Keeper’s name is David, he’s a nice guy, I’m sure you’ll like him.”

Tweek nodded.

“What about runners? Is there a Keeper for that, too?”

Ike stopped abruptly.

“Oh, no. Nope, no way,” he said waving his hands. “I’m done talking about runners and all that bullshit today. You heard Kenny; throw your questions about that stuff at him. Not me.”

“But—“

“Tweek, you saw how pissed off Kenny was. I’m done with it today, got it?”

Tweek sighed.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll let it go.”

For now. But Tweek had every intention of taking Kenny up on his offer that evening. Even so, Ike’s shoulders relaxed at his words.

“Thanks. Now, let’s go fucking eat already."

~~~

It was late evening when the Gladers called it quits for the day, and collectively began setting up for the bonfire that seemed to spark excitement in everyone that Tweek had heard mention it. Not far from the tallest structure in the Glade, just on the edge of the trees that grew near it, was a massive firepit surrounded by eight long logs and various stumps scattered about. Just as the sun was setting, Tweek watched as a team of 4 boys hulled far smaller logs and tossed them into the pit. It wasn’t long before it was filled with an impressive amount of firewood, ignited, and grew into tall orange and yellow flames hot enough to reach anyone within a good ten-foot radius. 

David, who had been preoccupied with food preparations when he and Ike had grabbed sandwiches three hours ago, was quick to set up dinner for everyone around the fire. He ordered his small team around with ease, and though Tweek hadn’t officially met the guy yet, he couldn’t help but admire his talent for cooking and giving orders. Drinks were passed around as the other boys settled in and for a moment the atmosphere lacked the apprehensive fog that lingered above their heads. All around him, boys were chatting, laughing, and socializing as if they were on a camping trip instead of being trapped in a maze wiped of their memories. It almost felt normal. Not that Tweek knew what normal was, he supposed. 

Ike had run off as soon as the food was set up to stuff his face again, telling Tweek not to wait up. So, not feeling hungry, he began searching for Kenny. It took some time pushing past multiple groups of boys he still didn’t know, asking if anyone had seen Tolkien’s assistant before he finally spotted the blonde stretching on the other side of the fire. He’d likely been working all day, just as the others had, but he still wore an easy smile. Anticipation rose in Tweek’s chest. He was finally going to get some answers. 

As he made his way towards Kenny, Tweek couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. He glanced around until he caught sight of the green eyes that had been burning a hole in the back of his head. Whether it was coincidence or not, he found Craig staring at him again with equal intensity as he had before. Maybe Tweek was just imagining it, or exaggerating the attention, but it made him uneasy for reasons he didn’t understand. When he reached Kenny, however, he forced his uneasiness aside. 

“There you are,” Kenny greeted him. “I gotta say, I’m a little offended.”

“Why’s that?” Tweek asked as they sat down together in the middle of a mostly empty log, the only others occupying it on either of the far ends. 

“I thought you would’ve tackled me as soon as the bonfire started,” Kenny said with mock disappointment, “I guess you didn’t want to see me as much as I hoped.”

Tweek shifted in this seat. 

“I mean, I just want some answers finally,” he told the other blond honestly. 

Kenny threw his hand over his heart, jerking backward like he’d been stabbed. His freckled face twisted in pretend pain, but it made Tweek jump all the same. 

“You wound me, Tweek.”

He rolled his eyes. “Could we please skip the theatrics?”

“I guess, but it’s so much more fun, don’t you think?” Kenny wiggled his eyebrows at him. Tweek cringed. 

“I don’t.”

Kenny sighed.

“You’re no fun. Besides, the bonfire is supposed to be relaxing. Take it easy! You won’t have many more chances to.” Tweek said nothing. “Alright, fine” Kenny threw his hands up, “what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Tweek said seriously. 

“Well, yeah, dude I meant where do you want me to start?”

Tweek shrugged. “Anywhere is fine. What about the Glade? How does all of this work?”

“Ah, good choice” Kenny leaned back on his palms, “You’re gonna get the tour tomorrow and Tolkien already knows Ike told you about the big bad maze, so he’ll thank me for saving him some time.”

Tweek nodded slowly, not daring to say anything in case it once again distracted the dirty blond from giving him his long-awaited explanation.

“So, it’s just like you’ve heard: outside all four doors is the maze. Where we’re at, in the Glade, is the middle of it all, and each morning when those doors open, we send runners out to go and run the maze.”

“Why run? And how many guys get to go out and run it at a time? Has everyone been in the maze? Or is it selective? And–”

“Dude, Tweek,” Kenny interjected quickly, “slow down. One thing at a time, yeah? You’re making my head hurt with that kind of rapid-fire.”

Tweek took a breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed again. 

“It’s okay, just stick to one question at a time. Give my brain a fighting chance,” Kenny chuckled. Tweek nodded his understanding. “Okay, let’s see. Right, the maze.” Kenny turned toward the east door. “That’s our top priority after survival and safety—solve the maze; find a way out.”

“And how long have you been trying to solve it?” Tweek asked slowly. 

Kenny didn’t meet his eyes for a long moment, his face set in an unreadable expression. “Three years.”

“ Three years! ” Tweek was stunned. Was the maze really so vastly complex? “You’re telling me that you guys have been running around that maze for three years straight and still haven’t found an exit? Are you sure you’re even trying!”

Kenny frowned.

“It’s not that simple, Tweek.”

“Well, it sounds like it is.”

Sighing, Kenny rose to his feet and motioned for Tweek to do the same. He complied and stayed silent as the other boy led him a short way away from the rest of the Gladers still laughing around the fire. Kenny stopped them in an open space where the grass was just tall enough to kiss the beginning of Tweek’s calves. Kenny put his index finger over his lips, silently telling Tweek to be quiet.

“Do you hear that?” Kenny said in a low voice.

Tweek strained his ears to hear whatever it was that Kenny was trying to show him, but there was nothing but the distant chatter from the other boys. He opened his mouth to question Kenny but was cut off by a low rumble beyond the walls somewhere deep inside the maze. It sounded very similar to when the doors had closed earlier, but the ground wasn’t shaking, at least not in the Glade. He snapped his eyes back to Kenny’s.

“What is that?” He asked.

“That,” Kenny said, his voice devoid of any smugness, “is the maze changing.”

Tweek didn’t say anything. He supposed he shouldn’t be all that shocked at this point, after all each time he thought this place couldn’t be any stranger he learned something far more impossible than before.

“Changing?” Tweek asked in a small voice. “Like the walls move around or something?”

Kenny nodded and began to walk back toward the group who had yet to notice their absence. Tweek followed slowly.

“There are two things that make the maze so difficult to solve, and the first is that every night, the maze rearranges itself.”

“Every night,” Tweek echoed.

Kenny nodded. “Without fail.”

Of course, the maze changed. Because why wouldn’t it? Nothing made sense here. No wonder the Gladers hadn’t solved it yet. They sat down on an open log near the fire, Kenny taking a mystery drink from a boy he didn’t recognize and taking a big gulp before offering it to Tweek who refused as politely as he could at the moment.

“But wait,” Tweek turned to Kenny suddenly, “if it changes at night hasn’t anyone ever tried staying out there? I mean, maybe it’d open up a door or something. What if—“

“Nope, doesn’t work.” Kenny cut him off.

“But—”

“Tried that already, and it doesn’t work. No one survives a night in the maze,” he said darkly.

“How many have tried?”

“Too many,” Kenny said.

Tweek went silent. That was clear, even to him.

“You see those guys over there?” Kenny nodded towards a group of seven boys laughing loudly at something that likely required a lot of context. Tweek could pick out Jason, the boy who had come back in through the maze doors earlier. “They’re runners, and every morning when the doors open, they leave and run the maze—mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out. They’re our best chance at finding a goddamn exit.”

Tweek looked at him with wide eyes. So that’s why they got to leave. They were actually running around the maze and looking for a way to escape.  

“First few months or so,” Kenny continued, “we tried sending boys out there at night. All volunteers. Not one of them made it back. And that brings me to reason number two for why the maze is so fucking difficult. Listen, Greenie. There are … things in the maze that give surviving out there a lot slimmer odds than just some moving walls.”

As if on cue, a faint screech cut through the air from somewhere outside of the Glade. It made Tweek freeze, and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped. When nothing followed the noise, and Tweek had composed himself again, he gave Kenny a hard look. Even he seemed disturbed this time.

“Kenny,” he could feel his voice crack in the loud silence, “what the fuck was that.”

“We call them Grievers,” the blonde said quietly. “Not sure what they are or where they came from, but the one thing we do know about ‘em is that you don’t ever wanna meet one.” He took another swig of the mystery drink, his freckled face grimacing minimally as he swallowed. “Lucky for us they seem to be nocturnal or something. Haven’t ever had one come waltzing through the doors in the daytime.”

Tweek just nodded, his head spinning with the new horrifying information. Everything about the maze, the Glade, and their lives here seemed so fantastical that he questioned if he was even awake for a moment. It seemed like the kind of thing a feverish mind would conjure up in a restless sleep.

“On a lighter note,” Kenny’s tone shifted easily, “tomorrow morning you start shadowing jobs. Tolkien will give you a quick tour of the Glade, show you who our Keepers are and why, and give you a nice little run down of whatcha gotta do for each job.”

“I don’t get to pick which job I want to do?” Tweek asked, allowing the subject to be changed. 

“Eventually. But for the first week, every Greenie shadows every job once. After that, it’s up to you what you wanna stick with. As long as you’re good enough at it and working hard no one cares which one you end up choosing.”

“What if I wanna be a runner?”

Kenny laughed at him, a short, staccato sound that he barked with his chest.

“After all that you still wanna go out there?”

Tweek shrugged. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he had to be a runner. He’d be lying if he said that the new information regarding the maze’s dangers didn’t curb his enthusiasm, but not nearly enough to change his mind.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said matter-of-factly. When Kenny didn’t respond he pushed further. “What do I need to do?”

Kenny sighed long and low.

“Tweek, you don’t just become a runner. It’s not even a job we let guys shadow. You gotta be chosen.”

“Alright, fine. How do I get chosen?”

“A Keeper has to nominate you and then a gathering is held with all the Keepers to vote on it. If the majority votes yes, then you get to be a runner.”

“So, what, I just have to ask someone to recommend me for the position?”

Kenny frowned. 

“You’re not hearing me, Tweek. No one wants to be a runner. Most guys end up quitting. It’s a crushing, dangerous job with no reward. And it takes months for a recommendation anyway, so don’t get any ideas.”

His words were meant to be deterring. Another attempt to squash Tweek’s weird obsession with the maze, but they did nothing of the sort.

“So, if Keepers are the heads of a work division, does that mean there’s a lead runner?”

Kenny gave him a wary look but nodded after a moment.

“That guy there,” Kenny pointed to someone using a stump as a makeshift chair, “is the Keeper of the runners.”

Tweek’s heart dropped immediately. Although it was dark, the orange light from the fire lit up the familiar features of the guy in question. It was Craig. Craig was the Keeper of the runners. He groaned inwardly. Of course, it just had to be Craig. The ebony-haired boy was chewing his dinner quietly, ignoring the loud voice of a brunette Tweek faintly recognized as the other boy who’d helped Kenny hull him out of the box. On his other side was another boy with dark hair who nodded along with whatever had the brunette so excited, occasionally giving a reply. It wasn’t long before Craig’s gaze found Tweek’s, his green eyes almost golden in the dim light, and his stomach tightened at the attention. Beside him, Kenny waved at Craig, but instead of returning the friendly gesture, Craig flipped them both the bird and looked away.

“Don’t take that personally,” Kenny said rolling his eyes. “That’s just Craig being Craig. Despite his total lack of people skills, he’s the best runner we’ve got and there’s a good reason why he’s the Keeper.”

“That reason being?” Tweek knew how snarky he sounded but couldn’t help it. Thankfully, Kenny just laughed.

“Seems like you’ve already met him. Not a fan?”

“Hardly.”

“Well, if—and I only mean if— you keep your nose clean and work hard enough to be nominated as a runner, you’d better become a fan because you’ll be taking orders from him and him alone.”

Tweek frowned. Great. If he was going to be a runner, he would have to find a way to get on Craig’s good side, assuming he even had one.

“I’m gonna go find Tolkien,” Kenny said standing up and stretching. “He’s a great leader, but he works himself way too hard. Gotta remind him to take breaks sometimes.”

Tweek nodded. Considering he hadn’t seen Tolkien at all since his initial arrival, he could easily picture the taller boy busying himself with anything and everything he could around the Glade.

“We’ll talk more when I’m back. Until then try and relax a little, okay?” Kenny offered him a grin, and although he knew relaxing probably wasn’t possible, he agreed.

“Okay.”

“Good that. Be back soon, Tweek!”

With that, the blonde crossed the circle to the opposite side, waving at various Gladers as he disappeared into the little crowd.

Reluctantly, Tweek’s eyes slid back over to Craig. The noirette was alone now, both of his previous companions seeming to have found better company somewhere else. Tweek frowned again. He needed Craig to like him, otherwise, he might as well kiss his desire to be a runner goodbye. But how was he supposed to win someone over who obviously didn’t want anything to do with him? Suddenly, Craig was meeting his gaze, and on instinct, Tweek quickly looked away, mortified that he had been the one staring that time. 

Maybe Craig found him weird, or annoying. God, he hoped he wasn’t annoying. Maybe he had been out of line earlier and their short interaction had offended Craig. Ike’s earlier accusation of harassment, though extreme, still made his ears burn in shame. Yeah, he’d definitely been too aggressive. Sure, he was desperate and confused, but that wasn’t an excuse, especially considering everyone else in the Glade had gone through the same thing at one point. Even Craig.

He took a long breath in and blew it out slowly, looking back at the abrasive Keeper. Even from this distance, Craig didn’t look very approachable and maybe that was a conscious choice. It might make things worse if he were to attempt an apology, but doing nothing didn’t feel right either. Tweek knew he was overthinking this, and either way, he was going to have to befriend Craig … hopefully.

Refusing to dwell on it further, he rose to his feet and made his way over to where Craig still sat by himself near the fire. The runner noticed his approach quickly and watched silently until Tweek was beside him. It was uncomfortable immediately, the tension thick between them, making Tweek want to run away. But he didn’t. With another deep breath through his nose, he forced a smile.

“Hey. Uh, Craig, right?” He hoped that he sounded less awkward than he felt.

“Yeah,” Craig’s monotone voice wasn’t encouraging by any means, and Tweek immediately feared this was a mistake.

“I’m Tweek.”

“I know.”

There was a painful silence between the two; Craig continued to stare up at Tweek, and Tweek refused to acknowledge that despite feeling the boy’s green eyes on him. 

“Uh, look,” Tweek started slowly, “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

Craig raised an eyebrow at that.

“You do?”

“Yeah, well, I was maybe a little more intense than was necessary.” He was fidgeting with his hands–had he always done that or was it a symptom of the Glade?

“Oh, okay.”

Craig’s voice was still so painfully uninterested, but giving up now felt cowardly. So, he pushed through his unease and bravely made eye contact with the runner.

“I was just freaked out. This is … a lot to take in,” he said honestly. “And I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

Craig’s blank expression shifted into an odd look that Tweek couldn’t place. His eyes were wider, his lips weren’t pressed into a frown anymore, and his posture seemed to straighten. His eyes lit up with whatever they had during their first encounter again but faded before Tweek had a chance to properly work out its meaning. Finally, Craig broke their eye contact and opted to stare at the ground instead. Then he mumbled something too quiet to hear over the chatter of the other boys surrounding them.

“Uh, sorry, what was that?”

Without looking at him, Craig turned his head, so he was facing Tweek more directly.

“I said we’re cool.”

Oh. Wait, really? It sort of didn’t seem like they were “cool” now, especially given Craig’s sudden and apparent inability to look him in the eye. But Tweek supposed he shouldn’t complain about victory, as small as it may be.

“Okay, um, cool,” he replied with a total lack of confidence.

Craig opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but then seemed to have second thoughts and closed it. It made Tweek feel incredibly anxious. After, a beat, though, he quickly and quietly said, “Thanks.”

Now it was Tweek’s turn to gaze wide-eyed at Craig. Of all the outcomes never in a million years did he expect Craig to thank him for apologizing. And now that he was looking closely at the runner, it occurred to him that maybe Craig was just a little awkward. Not mean; awkward. Because his creased brow didn’t seem like it was knitted out of anger, but maybe something like shyness instead. Yeah, and the way he was running his hand along the fabric of his pants was more like a nervous fidget than boredom. He almost looked embarrassed or even flustered. Tweek couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

“Sure thing, dude,” he said, and his voice was the steadiest it’d been since he’d walked over. It made Craig look back up at him, and unexpectedly Tweek felt something strange and foreign skit through his chest when their eyes met this time. It wasn’t unease. It wasn’t apprehension. No, it was an emotion that made his heart beat faster, but not in an unwelcome way. And for once, he found it difficult to look away from Craig’s fern-green eyes. “I, uh,” suddenly, Tweek felt flustered himself, “I’ll see you around then, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you around,” and Craig’s voice was noticeably less deadpaned. 

Feeling it was best to leave things at that and not risk losing what little progress he’d made, Tweek retreated quickly. The odd feeling faded slowly into muted confusion. He knew Craig’s eyes were likely still on him as he scanned the crowd for someone he could justify excusing himself to go and speak with. Which meant his options were limited to, well, probably just Ike. Luckily, he found the younger boy sitting on one end of a log by himself, and when he caught his eye, Ike waved vigorously at him. It was over the top, but Tweek returned the gesture with a very timid wave of his own, hoping not to draw any more attention to himself. Of course, he was given no say in that matter.

“Tweek! Over here!” Ike shouted through cupped hands hastily raised to ensure Tweek noticed him even though he’d made it clear he already had. 

Tweek felt embarrassed all over again, but it died quickly when he glanced around at the others closest to him to find not even one was paying attention to him or Ike’s boisterous antics. He let his shoulders relax and decided he was grateful for the distraction. He took a seat next to Ike and let out a long sigh.

“What, not enjoying the bonfire?” Ike asked.

“No, it’s, uh. It’s fine. I guess.”

 “Okay, so did your little talk with Kenny not go well?”

Tweek shook his head. 

“No, Kenny was fine.”

“ Okay, so then what’s wrong with you now?” Ike rolled his eyes, and maybe if Tweek had been less conflicted about … well, everything then he would’ve taken some offense to it. 

“I think Craig and I are good now? Or he hates me even more and is just fucking with me. I really can’t tell,” he said with another exasperated sigh. 

“Oh, yeah. I saw you go over and talk to him,” Ike laughed. “I thought I was gonna have to intervene again!” 

This time, Tweek did make a face at him. 

“Whatever,” he said crossing his arms. “I wasn’t harassing him, I was apologizing . And … he took it well I think.”

Ike furrowed his brow. 

“Wait, like how?”

Tweek shrugged. 

“I dunno, he said we were “cool” and then thanked me. What would you call that?”

“That’s weird.” Ike turned to look off into the crowd, likely searching for Craig.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s just interesting that he was so ready to let it go like that.”

Tweek risked glancing at Craig, expecting to find him staring again but was surprised to see that he was currently in the middle of what looked like an unpleasant conversation with Eric. Whatever they were talking about, it was obvious that Craig was aggravated by it. 

“Maybe people just don’t apologize to him much,” Tweek suggested looking back at Ike. “He is a little abrasive.”

Ike chuckled. 

“You can say that again.” Tweek humed his agreement. “For what it’s worth, though, I think that was pretty nice of you to apologize like that. Even if he doesn’t show it well, I bet Craig appreciated it at least slightly.”

“Let’s just hope you’re right. Otherwise, it’s gonna be a lot more difficult for me to convince him that I should be a runner.”

“Whoa, what?” Ike was looking at him with big eyes. “You want to be a runner now? Since when?”

Tweek opened his mouth to give his reply, but the pair was loudly interrupted by Eric stomping up to them.

“Greenie, we need to chat,” he declared. “Ike, get lost.”

Eric plopped himself down next to Tweek and he groaned inwardly. This was not someone he wanted to talk to now, or maybe ever. Ike glared openly at the larger boy. 

“But Tweek and I were–”

“Fuck off and let me talk to the Greenie, Ike!” Eric snapped.

“And what if I don’t want to talk to you, Eric?” Tweek said, crossing his arms defiantly. Eric looked directly at him and frowned. 

“Trust me,” he said, “you’re going to want to hear this. Especially if you’re serious about becoming a runner.”

Although Tweek was steadfast in his dislike of the brown-haired Keeper, Eric had his attention now. 

“How’d you know I wanted to be a runner?” Tweek asked suspiciously. 

“Word travels fast around here, Greenie,” Eric said rolling his eyes. “You and Kenny are loud, too.”

Tweek frowned. If Eric had overheard their conversation earlier, then others likely had as well. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad yet, but he supposed having the idea out in the open couldn’t hurt all that much. 

“Give us a minute, Ike,” Tweek told the younger boy. 

Ike looked a little hurt as he huffed and stood up. Tweek immediately felt bad. Even though he did want to hear Eric out, even if it ended up being nonsense, he didn’t want to brush Ike off like Eric continued to do.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on Ike’s shoulder, “I’ll come find you when we’re done, okay?”

Ike tried and failed to hide a small smile at that and nodded. Then, he slowly walked away leaving Tweek with Eric and an unsettling feeling in his stomach. 

“What do you want, Eric,” he said sternly. He didn’t want to play games with him, just get straight to the point so Tweek didn’t have to look at Eric’s face any longer.  

“I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” Eric stated simply.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“And I totally understand if you’re still pissed at me, but hear me out before you go bustin’ my balls, okay?”

Tweek wrinkled his nose at that comment but said nothing. So, Eric continued. 

“Look, I just thought you should know that Craig is talking shit about you to everyone else and clearly has some kind of vendetta against you.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” Tweek scoffed. 

“I’m serious! I was just talking to him and he literally said, to my face, that he thinks you’re the most useless greenie we’ve ever gotten. Thinks you’ll be kicked out in a week tops because you’re so irritating. Obviously, I told him how fucking dumb he sounds. You’re fast and probably strong based on looks alone, so I don’t know why you’d be useless.”

That didn’t make sense. Unless Craig had been fucking with him when he’d apologized. He had seen the two of them talking moments before Eric approached him, and they had been arguing about something very plainly, that much he could confirm. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what Eric would have to gain from confronting Craig in Tweek’s favor. He frowned. 

“Why would he say that? Craig doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him, believe me.” Eric shook his head in what looked like frustration. “I’d asked him why the hell he was staring at you so damn much,” Tweek stiffened—so, he hadn’t imagined it, “and he got all mad and was like ‘I don’t trust that Greenie, he’s bad news. He’s a nosy asshole and we’d be better off without him.’ Then he stormed away mumbling some bullshit about how what we needed was a new runner, not a whiny bitch.”

Tweek clenched and unclenched his fists. What the hell was wrong with this guy? One minute he was telling him that they were on better terms and the next he was talking shit. They’d barely spoken to each other and already Craig hated him. For no reason!

“And what—you agreed with him?” Tweek said through his teeth.

“Oh, no,” Eric replied without missing a beat, “I said, ‘Craig, you’re being too harsh. He’s actually a nice guy.’ But he wasn’t listening.”

Tweek gave him a skeptical look. There was no way Eric, who had antagonized him just hours ago, was now doing a complete one-eighty and defending him to another Keeper. It just didn’t make sense.    

“Okay,” Eric said, as though he’d read Tweek’s mind, “I know I was all up in your face earlier, but even I think it’s unfair for Craig to hate you without getting to know you first. That’s why I’m here, telling you this! As a friend.”

Tweek frowned. He didn’t like Eric, there was just something off about him. The entire shift in attitude, the authoritative comment he’d made earlier, and his unsettling, sudden friendliness made Tweek’s stomach squirm with suspicion. As much as he’d like to think that Eric had simply come around to accepting a new member into the Glade, he just couldn’t be sure it was sincere. Then again, he didn’t really know Eric well enough to make that judgment. He didn’t know anyone well enough to solidify such strong opinions on the people he was ultimately stuck here with. Still …

“Why?” Tweek finally asked.

“Ugh, because the enemy of my enemy is my friend or whatever that dumbass saying is. I’m trying to help you, Greenie.”

Eric’s help earlier hadn’t been welcome, nor had it been practical. Having his face roughly shoved in the dirt by a stranger wasn’t exactly on his bucket list for the awful new life here in the Glade. But, Tweek had to admit, that while Eric’s method of preventing him from entering the maze had been over the top, the bigger boy had successfully stopped him from possibly getting trapped out there for the night. And, apparently, losing his short-lived life so soon after starting it. If he’d managed to step out there into the stone labyrinth, Tweek wasn’t sure if he’d had the self-preservation to remain close to the entrance just to forgo exploring further. So maybe there was, buried underneath layers of delusion and hunger for power, some kind of good intention to Eric’s actions.

“Craig is your enemy?” That didn’t quite make sense to him unless Tweek was missing something.

“He’s everyone’s enemy,” Eric replied matter-of-factly. “No one likes him, except Clyde maybe, but he’s a stupid asshole, too.”

Tweek could see the other Gladers avoiding the tall runner’s abrasive attitude, which wasn’t so far-fetched, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“He’s definitely not the friendliest, but he seems like an okay guy.”

Tweek knew he didn’t need to be defending Craig, especially if what Eric was saying had any merit. Yet, he wanted to believe that their short conversation had been genuine. Unbelievably awkward, but genuine.

However, one glance in Craig’s direction and his resolve began to falter. He had indeed moved to another spot further away from where he’d originally been seated, but he wasn’t alone anymore and was surrounded by the other runners now. The runner’s eyes were already searing into him, and when Tweek met them, Craig scowled. He scowled at him! There was such an animosity in his expression that Tweek suddenly couldn’t deny that while Eric might still be untrustworthy, he was right about Craig hating him.

“That fucking jerk,” he said aloud.

Eric patted his shoulder as if to attempt to console him. It didn’t work.

“It’s just not fair of him to judge you like that, Tweek,” Eric said sadly. “After all, it’s only your first day here! Of course, you’d be stressed out and searching for answers. Every Greenie does that. It’s such a dick move of him to ban you from becoming a runner without even giving you a chance.”

“He what?” 

“Well, he told me there was no way in hell you could be a runner because you’re too weak—his words.”

“Weak?” Tweek was furious now. “What the hell does he know!”

“Trust me, I’m on your side here. I don’t think you’re weak. I bet you could kick his ass no problem!”

“Yeah, I—wait, why would I do that?”

“Hm?” Eric looked up from the scab he’d started to pick at. “Oh, well I’m not saying you would or anything, but if you did I know you’d knock the shit outta Craig. That’s what I told him, anyway. He shouldn’t pick a fight he can’t win, but Craig’s stubborn as fuck and said he was still gonna jump you tonight.”

“ What?!”

“That’s why you have to prove him wrong, Greenie! Stand up for yourself, and act before he does. Catch him by surprise. No one around here is going to respect you enough to elect you as a runner if you can’t even fight your own little battles.”

Tweek wasn’t so sure about physically confronting Craig like Eric was heavily implying he should do, but he was definitely pissed off now and confrontation wasn’t exactly outside the realm of possibility now. He was positive he did not want to be confronted by Craig. It seemed like the only option. 

“Fine!” He snapped. “I’ll go put that fucker in his place, but if this ends up being bullshit, you and I are going to have an issue,” he glared pointedly at Eric who just raised his hands in defense. 

“Hey, I’m with you on this, Greenie.”

“And stop calling me that,” he growled. “My name is Tweek.”

“Tweek, of course,” Eric grinned. “I’m with you, Tweek.”

Tweek stood without another word and glared daggers at his target. He was sick of feeling pushed around by the other boys. Being laughed at for his confusion and need for answers, his every move judged, and their refusal to take him seriously. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but he was too frustrated and drained from the hellish day he’d had to rationalize. 

“Hey!” He marched up to where Craig was sitting and jabbed a finger in his chest. “What the fuck is your problem, man? You’re talking shit about me just because you couldn’t handle a few questions?”

For once, Craig did look surprised, but it melted quickly into irritation.

“What?”

“Yet I’m the weak one?” Tweek continued, not caring for the growing audience of eyes on them. “You don’t even know me! I barely know myself! And you can fuck off with the staring.”

Craig stood, and though he loomed over Tweek with his height, Tweek didn’t back away. He stayed right where he was; in Craig’s stupid (admittedly kind of handsome) face and searing his eyes into Craig’s angry green ones.

“I don’t stare,” Craig said flatly.

“Really? Because every time I so much as glance in your direction, you’re already looking at me like you’re trying to make my head explode!” Craig scowled again and Tweek felt a fresh wave of anger run through him. “I even apologized—you said we were cool! So, what the fuck is your problem, Craig?”

 “My problem,” he growled, “is that you keep trying to insert yourself where you don’t fucking belong.”

By now, the majority of Gladers nearby had given up whatever they’d been doing in favor of watching the scene that Tweek and Craig were loudly making. It was a lot of attention. Attention, Tweek realized, he didn’t want. 

“You know what,” he turned to storm away but stopped. He glared at Craig over his shoulder. “Fuck you, man.” 

Turning around fully now, Tweek was more than ready to go off and find somewhere he could be alone in one of the shadow-ridden corners of the Glade. His heartbeat was racing, his face was uncomfortably hot, and his jaw was clenched so tightly it burned. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to look at Craig a second longer without saying something he wouldn’t be able to take back. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Craig shoved him, hard. Tweek nearly tripped into the fire from the force but managed to catch his footing at the last second. Distantly, he thought he heard Craig bark an irritated “hey” at someone. However, even if he had, Tweek was far past rational thinking. He whipped around to find Craig stumbling a little toward him. 

This had been the worst day of his life, the only day he could remember living and it was awful. If this was his new life, he didn’t want it. Maybe his previous life hadn’t been any better, but he didn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than this. Just like that, the thin resolve he’d been holding on to since being dragged out of the box snapped. 

Maybe if he’d taken a moment to calm down, to gather himself, or even just take one deep breath he wouldn’t have done what he did next. He might have realized his feet were moving him forward. He might have noticed his muscles tensing. He might have felt his fingers balling into a fist. And he might have thought twice about slamming that fist into Craig’s face. But he didn’t.

The taller boy let out a surprised grunt, swayed in the opposite direction, and snapped his eyes to Tweek. Rage. Blood dripped from Craig’s nose where Tweek had struck him, and the unmistakable weight of dread fell over Tweek with crushing force. 

He was never going to become a runner.