Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

He was dying. That was the only explanation for his sheer terror when he opened his eyes. The deafening sound of metal angrily scraping against metal roared in his ears, turning his blood into ice. The floor was damp, or perhaps it was so cold that it simply felt as such. He tried to stand but was too unsteady and fell roughly to the floor again. Though the room was nothing but inky darkness, jarring rumbles from all around told him it was in motion. He clutched the sides of the grated walls and pressed his back against it so hard that it was sure to leave an indentation on his sweat-slicked skin, the thin shirt he wore providing no padding whatsoever. This was panic like he’d never felt before, suffocating. He could feel his heart pounding away in his chest … okay, so he wasn’t dead. Wasn’t dying. He was very much alive, at least for now.

My name is Tweek.

That was all he could remember; it was the only thing that kept his dwindling sanity intact. 

My name is Tweek. My name is Tweek. My name is Tweek.

Tweek repeated it like prayer; as though if he stopped, it would cease to be true. There was no memory of how he got in the rapidly moving chamber, nor was there any memory of his life prior to the confinement. Maybe he’d always been here, and maybe not. In any case, it was horrible, so he must be horrible. That was the only explanation for his sentencing to the chamber that seemed logical to his delirious mind. Horrible things happened to horrible people, didn’t they? At least it’d make those things justifiable, but he was in no sensible state to debate it any further. His breath came in quick, strangled gasps and his limbs jerked in harsh motions of anxiety.

My name is Tweek.

And as the chamber continued hurtling him upwards like … like something he couldn’t put a name to. Something he’d seen before, but where he wasn’t sure. A white rectangular room with large metal doors and a panel of some kind inside it. It wasn’t the same by any means, but the motion was. Tweek’s terror was briefly subdued by frustration at the fuzzy blank he was drawing. He thought he’d been on it before, but the ascension he’d supposedly experienced then was far gentler than this one.

Elevator, his brain suddenly supplied.

As the nightmare version of an elevator continued its angry journey upwards, Tweek was certain the stress of the situation alone would kill him. Yes, he would, in fact, die from the panic and his horrible, short life would come to an end after all. Alarms began to blare, and a flashing light cast the enclosure in an eerie, red glow. If Tweek had been a little more collected he would’ve screamed for help, but his voice wouldn’t allow him to; it was too muted from the overwhelming stimulation around him. He could feel the chamber slowing and was suddenly struck with the notion that elevators, surely unlike this awful thing, were made to reach a destination.

The room lurched to a halt; Tweek jumped, but not to his feet. Instead, he scrambled around on the hard floor of the chamber, willing his limbs to stop shaking. The blaring and the red light stopped, but the relief from their absence was brief. Suddenly, there was the squealing of the hatch above him opening (not that Tweek knew it could do that, or even that it was there to begin with) and a harsh light forced his hands over his eyes as he squinted up.

“Stand back!” A voice shouted.

“Box is a bit late today,” said another.

“Oh, hell he looks awful !”

“So did you, asshole!”

“He’s kinda on the shorter side, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he looks strong!”

“Dude quit staring at him—you’re gonna freak him out!”

“I said: stand back !”

The voices greatly confused Tweek, they sounded young, or at least far younger than he’d expected and although they were all different, they melded together in Tweek’s foggy mind. Before he could feel fear, Tweek was perplexed by the mysterious owners of the voices. They were just shadows at first; the dark outlines of bodies pressed against the brightness, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he could make out faces—so many faces. The people standing over his cowering figure, still splayed out on the floor of the chamber, were all boys who seemed to match his prediction of age, though some seemed younger than others. They varied in height and race and had their hair cut to different lengths, but they all peered at him with similar amusement and curiosity.

“Well don’t just stand there,” commanded a dark-skinned boy, “help him out!”

Instantly, two boys stepped forward from the crowd and knelt down towards Tweek, hands extended. He hesitated but accepted the help as he realized the alternative was remaining in the hole. The two boys, one with messy, golden hair and a face spotted with a great deal of freckles and the other with short brown hair and brown eyes hoisted him up and out of the chamber with minimal difficulty. When they let go of him and Tweek managed to scramble to his feet, he immediately began to take steps away from the crowd that arced around him in a half-circle, which he could now see was something like 40 or 50 boys. So many of them, yet the oldest looked no more than 18.

That’s when Tweek realized he had no clue how old he was. But why was that? Why could he remember his name, but nothing else about himself? A boy stepped towards him before he could dwell on it further.

“Take it easy there, man.” It was the same dark-skinned boy who ordered his freedom from the box. He was tall and broad-shouldered and looked like he could lift a downed tree alone. Tweek knew he must’ve looked beyond scared based on the looks the other boys were giving him, and his stomach did an uncomfortable squirm at their stares. “I know you’re freaked,” the boy continued, “but you just need to relax. Welcome to—”

Tweek’s body jerked into action. He ran, his legs springing to life as he flew across the grassy field and away from the boys. His strides were strong and fueled with adrenaline, and his heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his ears.

“Someone grab him!”

That sent a twinge of fear through Tweek’s spine, and he willed his feet to go faster. But before anyone could apprehend Tweek, he lost his footing and came crashing to the ground without any grace, tumbling a good way further from his initial fall. Before he could even think about getting to his feet, the boys had surrounded him again—making another rash escape attempt impossible. There were snickers and hushed exchanges rippling throughout the group, but a long sigh cut through them.

“Damnit, Greenie, what’d I just say about relaxing?”

The boy from before looked down at him with tired eyes, but now that Tweek was really looking at him, he noticed that the boy had a rather kind face. It was a stark contrast to his almost overly commanding voice, and as he watched the other boys around them, they seemed to gaze at the boy as though they were waiting to see what he would do next.

He must be their leader , Tweek realized.

The boy offered his hand to Tweek, and this time Tweek didn’t hesitate in taking it.

“I’m Tolkien,” the boy said as he helped Tweek back up. “Like I was trying to say earlier, welcome to the Glade.”

“The what?”

Tweek cringed at the sound of his own voice. It didn’t sound right to him, and whether or not that was because of how shaky it sounded, he wasn’t sure. Tolkien gestured to the space around them with his arms, and for the first time, Tweek took in his surroundings.

They were standing in a grassy expanse of land likely the size of a good hundred or so football fields with pockets of different trees in some of the corners that made up a startlingly perfect square. There were four great stone walls separated by four large gaps that seemed to open into long, dark passages that Tweek couldn’t see much of. The stone was a smooth gray, obstructed only by dark green ivy here and there. Where they stood, nearly at the center, in the portion that Tolkien had referred to as the Glade, were many wooden shacks of varying sizes and shapes, what looked like an already massive farm with plenty of room for expanding, a larger section of dense forest, and many other structures that gave Tweek the impression that the space had been occupied for a long time.

Without a word, Tweek swiveled his head around, gaping at the sight. If this was a prison, it was a strange one. Eventually, he forced his attention on the boys; they all wore relatively normal clothing and not prison uniforms as he might’ve thought. Tolkien, for example, who still stood in front of him, wore a very simple white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. The clothes didn’t seem to fit the farming vibe of the Glade, and yet it kind of suited him. The others wore similar attire and Tweek briefly noticed that he too wore a long sleeve, some kind of slate-colored pants, and sneakers. Not far off was the blonde who’d helped him out of the box, and to his right was a lean dark-haired boy. He stood almost a full head taller than Tolkien, and Tweek was startled to find that the boy’s eyes were already trained on him. He held his gaze for a moment, the boy’s face remaining painfully neutral before he raised an eyebrow at him and Tweek took that as his cue to look away. Something in the boy’s stare made his stomach squirm. He turned his body around in a circle trying to see everyone there at once, but it was impossible. They’re all staring at me. Tweek began to feel dizzy.

“Like what ya see, Greenie?” sneered a boy Tweek couldn’t see. The comment earned a bubble of laughter from the other boys, but it didn’t last long.

“Everybody shut up!” Tolkien snapped. “Not another word out of any of you, ya hear me?”

The boys fell silent, but Tweek’s head was still swimming with shock and confusion.

“Where am I?” He asked feebly.

Tolkien frowned.

“Alright, everyone back to work! Get outta here, give the Greenie some space!” He shouted.

Although many of them grumbled, the crowd of boys dispersed into different areas of the Glade, though Tweek paid no attention to specifics. Instead, he stumbled over to a tree that was only a few feet away and collapsed on his hands and knees. A nauseating swirl of emotions overcame him as he dug his fingers into the grassy earth—fear, anger, confusion, curiosity, and most prominently, disbelief. Why was he here? What had he done to be sent to a place like this? What had they all done to land themselves here?

It wasn’t until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder that Tweek realized how quick his breathing had become. He looked up through the long strands of his own hair to see Tolkien and the blonde boy from before kneeling next to him.

“It’s cool, dude. Just breathe. Focus on my voice, on that little ladybug crawling right there,” said the blonde.

Contrary to Tolkien’s projecting sound, his voice floated in the air like butterflies in the spring. Tweek drew his eyes downward again searching for the insect in the grass until he finally spotted it: bright red and dotted with black lazily making its way up a blade of grass. He drew in a shaky breath as he gazed at it, then back at the boy. His eyes were soft, and more gray than blue, a quiet sympathy sparkling in their muted depths. He glanced at Tolkien who was watching him carefully as Tweek’s breath finally returned to something close to normal.

“Feelin’ better, newbie?” Tolkien asked. Tweek nodded. “You’re not gonna run again, are you?” Tweek shook his head. “Good,” Tolkien straightened. “Otherwise, we’d have to throw you in the pit!”

Though Tolkien laughed, Tweek’s stomach dropped.

“The pit ?”

“Ah, shoot. I was just joking mostly.” Tolkien said. “The pit is just what we call our jail. ‘S like holding cells for troublemakers. Can’t have you sprinting off like that again, okay?”

Tweek nodded slowly. How long had the boys been here to need a jail?

“Actually,” the blonde added, “I thought you had the stuff to be a runner! Well, before you fell on your face and ate shit.”

They both laughed; Tweek didn’t.

“Runner?” He said. There were so many words being thrown around that he didn’t understand. They sounded familiar, but not in this specific context.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tolkien said, waving him off. “I’ll give you the tour tomorrow morning. Not enough time right now—the box was late today, and there’s lots of work to be done.” He stood up and nodded at the blonde who was still crouched next to Tweek. “This is Kenny,” he said with a grin. “When I’m not around, he’s in charge.”

“Good thing you’re always around,” Kenny stood up and offered his hand to Tweek, but Tweek refused, deciding it was time to stop using these guys as a crutch and got to his feet on his own. Nevertheless, Kenny gave Tweek a toothy grin and captured his hand in a firm shake. “Glad to have you, newbie! I know everything’s all mixed up in your head right now, but don’t worry—you’ll learn little by little. We all did.”

“Can you tell us anything about yourself?” Tolkien asked. “Any details? Where you came from, maybe? You remember your name, don’t you?”

Tweek made a face at that remake.

“Yeah, it’s Tweek … my name is Tweek.”

Tolkien nodded.

“Good. Can you think of anything else?” Tolkien pressed.

Tweek thought for a moment, reached deep into his foggy, confused mind in search of something, anything, that might’ve resembled a fragment of memory but found nothing. He shook his head, frustrated.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” He sounded distressed again, even to himself.

“It’s okay, it’s normal,” Tolkien explained. “None of us remember anything past our names either. It’s the one thing they let us keep.”

“They? Who’s they ?” Tweek felt his curiosity overtake his distress.

“The ones who put us here,” Kenny answered.

“Look, I’ll explain more to you tomorrow on the tour, but right now we gotta get back to work,” Tolkien cut in before Tweek could ask any more about the matter. “Kenny, go find Ike and tell him to get this newbie settled.”

“Sure thing,” Kenny moved to leave but paused to look at Tweek again. “Glad to have ya, Tweek!”

Tweek forced a smile as the blonde jogged towards an area with a plethora of wooden structures and disappeared.

“Ike will be by to get you a place to sleep, you just wait right here for him, okay Greenie?” Tolkien gave Tweek a look of real sympathy and although it did little to curb Tweek’s uneasiness, he nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good that. We’ll talk again soon.” Tolkien began walking away in the opposite direction that Kenny had left. “Welcome to your new life.”

Chapter Text

Two

The daylight was already beginning to dwindle over the Glade as Tweek leaned against the scrawny tree he’d collapsed next to moments ago. Long shadows stretched across the grass and the air had cooled, biting at his skin with cold fangs. He heard a cow moo somewhere far off behind him and was struck with a clear recognition of the animal: what they looked like, what they sounded like, what they ate. He knew the same for the other common farm animals he was willing to bet lived in the Glade too. Maybe he grew up on a farm, but then he possessed no memory of it if he had. Tweek frowned.

His memory loss was strikingly odd; he could remember vastly more now than when he’d first woken up in the box, but nothing about it was specific to himself. He had a good idea of the inner workings of the world, basic concepts, principles. He could roughly picture houses and cars, TV screens, various fashion trends, and what families might look like, but not his home or his family. He knew he could read and write but wasn’t sure what kind of books he liked to read or if his handwriting was neat or messy. Tweek could even remember how to make a cup of coffee, but he couldn’t remember if he took cream and sugar or not. All he could remember about himself was his name.

That was all he really had to go off of: the one thing that linked all of the boys together was that they each had no recollection of their lives except their first names. But why? Why were they allowed to keep that sliver of personal knowledge, but nothing else? He tried to reason that it must be some kind of cruel punishment meant to drive them mad, but the others hadn’t seemed very distressed about it. Certainly not Tolkien or Kenny. But if Tweek was right, and it was meant to punish them, what exactly would warrant this kind of strange, psychological violation?

Something moved in the tree just above Tweek’s head, making him jolt backward with a shriek of surprise. When he looked up to see the source of the movement, however, he was utterly confused all over again. Peering down at him with tiny, red eyes was a metal creature that vaguely resembled a lizard, though its legs took more after an insect. It moved carefully down the rough bark of the tree until it was at eye level, its eyes focused on Tweek’s face and forever unblinking. He took a tentative step closer to the creature, thoroughly intrigued. It wasn’t like any animal he could recall existing in his mind, and he briefly wondered if it was really alive or not. On its back written in shallow, carved-out letters read:

W.I.C.K.E.D       

Strange, he thought. His curiosity was beginning to grow again, and he was gradually learning that he had an appreciation for the tactility of his surroundings. Slowly, he reached his hand out toward the creature.

“I wouldn’t,” came a voice behind him. Tweek turned around to find a short boy with black hair and dark eyes peering up at him. “Unless you’re looking to lose a couple of fingers.”

His arms were crossed, and he had a smirk etched into his gentle features. The boy wore black shorts and a yellow tee shirt with a growing collection of grass stains on it. He was small and slim and the glint in his big eyes made Tweek’s stomach churn with the sickening realization that he couldn’t be any more than twelve years old.

What kind of people would send a child to a place like this?

He had to look away for a moment, not wanting his face to give away his emotions again, so Tweek turned back to the tree, back to the weird metal animal, but the creature was nowhere to be found.

“What was that thing?” he asked aloud.

“We call them Beetleblades. They’re harmless, really, just as long as you leave them alone.”

“They just live here?”

“I guess so. Don’t know much about them except that we’re pretty sure that’s how the Creators watch us,” the boy explained.

“The Creators?” He turned to face him fully.

“Yeah,” the boy scowled, “the dirty fucking bastards that put us here.”

The boy’s sudden harsh language surprised Tweek, and maybe if his mind wasn’t swimming with more questions, he might’ve laughed at the absurdity of such a young boy proudly showing off his colorful word choice.

“So, have you seen these Creators, then?” Tweek asked hopefully.

“Nope, never.”

Tweek frowned.

“Then how do you know about them?”

“I don’t. I’m just telling you what the others told me when I got here a month ago, dude.”

“A month?”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Yes, a month. Every month we get a new Greenie in the box—today was you, and before that  was me.”

So, they all arrived through the box. But every month only one person? There were so many boys in the Glade—how long had they been here to accumulate this large of a population? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“You must be Ike,” he finally said.

“Yep,” he unfolded his arms to point in the direction he likely came from, “and I’m supposed to get you a place to sleep, so follow me, Greenie.”

Ike began walking toward a section of trees nestled against a small building constructed entirely out of wood, not bothering to see if Tweek was actually following or not. Tweek did reluctantly move after his tiny escort, though.

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” He asked once he’d caught up with Ike. “Greenie.”

“Because you’re the newest new guy around here, obviously,” Ike replied like it really was that obvious. “Used to be me, so I guess I should be thanking you for that, Greenie.”

Tweek huffed.

“I’d rather you just use my name.”

Ike gave him a sideways glance.

“Which is?”

“Tweek. Call me Tweek.” He let his shoulders relax a bit as they reached the shaded area beneath a gentle green canopy. It was still warm in the Glade even in the early evening and Tweek was thankful for the relief that the shade provided. “Please,” he added.

“Alright,” Ike grinned, “but just so you know, Tweek isn’t exactly an improvement. If I were you, I’d just stick with Greenie.”

“And you’re what, ten?” Tweek bit back.

To his surprise, Ike actually laughed at that.

“Yeah, maybe. Probably a little older than that, but how would I know?”

It was rhetorical, but Tweek’s face fell. That’s right, how would he know?

“Okay, wait here while I go grab your bedding,” Ike said before he made for the little building not far off and disappeared inside.

Tweek glanced around and found hammocks of various sizes made from similarly varied fabrics and colors strung up among the trees. He supposed that was where he’d be sleeping as well, and although he couldn’t place why, something felt nice about the prospect of sleeping outside.

But the comfort was short-lived, his most recent exchange with Ike worming its way back into his mind. The people that put them here, the Creators, really had taken everything from them. Whatever life they’d led before, however many loved ones, personal traits, and experiences, were gone. They took everything from them except their names, and Tweek wondered how he could miss something he didn’t remember. He knew nothing about himself, and it nearly made him sick. His chest tightened. He had no idea how old he was either. Or even what he looked like.

Ike returned to Tweek’s side, his arms filled with dull crimson fabric and a blanket piled on top. It made the younger boy tip backward into his hips with the weight of the small load and Tweek quickly took it from him.

“Thanks,” he puffed. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

Tweek nodded. The fabric was quite thick, but he felt no strain from it in his own arms. Ike grabbed an end of the cloth and promptly began tying it tightly to a tree and motioned for Tweek to do the same with the other end on an opposite tree trunk. He slowly followed suit.

They worked in silence for a moment before Tweek worked up the courage to quietly speak his mind.

“Ike… how old do you think I am?”

Ike looked up from the knot he was tying and studied him for a moment, his eyes raking over Tweek underneath long, dark lashes.

“I’d say seventeen or eighteen,” he finally said.

“I … really?” He felt a lot younger than that, and only about a third of the guys he’d seen so far looked about his age, so he’d just assumed he was younger. 

“Yep, practically all grown up. Lucky you,” Ike said. 

Tweek was silent for a moment, contemplating the information. 

“And … what do I look like?” He finally asked, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.  

 “Hmm,” Ike squinted at him, “about five-six, blonde, blue eyes, and ugly.” He began laughing to himself, seemingly very amused by his own words.

Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

That wasn’t exactly the response he’d been expecting. He wasn’t going to let this kid mess with him, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel slightly self-conscious. Even still, he was thankful for the information, though he struggled to piece together what specifically his own appearance might look like. He already knew that his hair was blonde, very blonde since it was just barely long enough to fall into his eyes. But he wasn’t sure if his eyes were dark and misty like Kenny’s or sharp and bright like the lightest part of the sky in the early morning. He didn’t know what shape his nose was, or if his eyebrows matched his head. In all honesty, he didn’t know if Ike was actually telling the truth and he wasn’t pleasant to look at, or if it was purely a joke and he was decent looking. So, despite the description, his physical appearance remained vague, a fact that bothered Tweek.

As he continued to help Ike set up his hammock, Tweek found his gaze drifting to the opening in the wall closest to them a good fifty or so yards away. The sheer size of it was almost terrifying, yet there was a quiet beauty about the way the sunlight shone on the worn concrete and danced in the dark ivy. Tweek was suddenly struck with something close to recognition as he gazed at it from afar, but it was fleeting and faded nearly the second it arrived. Instead, it was replaced by his ever-growing curiosity at the odd place he found himself in and what lay beyond the walls in those dim corridors.

“Hey, Ike,” he said, voicing his thoughts, “what’s out there?”

Ike followed his gaze to where it was trained on the opening far off to their left. When he said nothing, Tweek turned to look at him, and the boy squirmed under his stare.

“I don’t know,” he finally settled on. “But you can’t go in, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Why’s that?”

Ike frowned.

“It’s just the rule, Green—uh, Tweek. We’re not allowed to go past the walls. Ever.”

Tweek looked back at the gap. What could be so bad that a rule like that had to be made? Still, his curiosity stayed strong and though the gaping mouth in the stone did look eerie, he was thoroughly intrigued.

“It’s really nothing,” Ike said a little too quickly when Tweek failed to respond. “Let’s just finish up here and then we can go get some food.”

The offer of food was surprisingly enticing, making Tweek painfully aware of how hungry he was. But the hurried dismissal in Ike’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Tweek had caught the way that the boy was all too willing to change the subject as though the walls and their openings were so unbelievably ordinary and boring. But there’d been something else covered up there, something like fear.

Even so, he was ready to shrug the feeling off, but something coming through the massive gap made Tweek stop what he was doing. Two boys jogged through the opening and made their way toward Ike and Tweek. They both looked flushed and were dripping with sweat, but they continued to keep their pace. They also wore some sort of pack around their chest and upper back, a leather item Tweek couldn’t recall seeing before. When they approached the spot where Tweek and Ike still stood, Ike waved at the two boys.

“Hi, Jason!” He called.

The boy leading the pair, a tall guy whose dark brown hair was so long he’d pulled it back into a tight bun, flashed the younger boy a smile and waved back.

“Hey, Ike,” he greeted without stopping. “How’s it feel to be promoted?”

Tweek assumed he was referring to Ike losing his newest new kid status now that Tweek had replaced him as the Glade’s Greenie.

“Feels awesome!” He returned.

Tweek watched in deep curiosity as the boys, still jogging, passed them and finally stopped to enter a particularly strange-looking building that was barely visible in the thicker part of the woods a good way away from what seemed to be the main open part of the Glade. Unlike the other buildings in the Glade, this square hut was made of stone and not wood. What was so important inside for the guys to have run to it like that?

“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to go out there?” Tweek said turning back to Ike. The boy avoided his gaze and frowned.

“Yeah, I said we can’t. They’re runners; they’re allowed to leave.”

“What are runners?”

Ike froze, he seemed to pale at the question like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“They, uh,” he fidgeted with his hands, “it’s just what we call the guys whose job is to go outside the walls.”

“Well why do they get to leave and we don’t? What makes them so special?” He pressed.

“Because they just are!” Ike was clearly getting annoyed with him, but Tweek didn’t care. Couldn’t care. He needed answers and he needed them now, all of the tip-toeing around the mysteries was quickly driving him insane. And if Ike wasn’t going to give him anything else, then he’d find another way.

Tweek stopped tying the last knot in his end of the hammock and began to walk away, ignoring Ike’s loud protests. He marched right up to the odd little building that the guy Ike had addressed as Jason earlier and his companion had entered. Up close it didn’t look any bigger than it had from where he’d first noticed it, but the stone was strange and there weren’t any windows that Tweek could see. The door, unlike the rest of it, was actually wooden, but there was a massive lock on it. Even so, Tweek was able to get a hand on the door just before it was thrust open and he jerked backward in surprise. Filling out the doorway and now blocking the entrance was the dark-haired boy with an unreadable expression that Tweek had made awkward eye contact with when he’d first come out of the box. His eyes burned into Tweek’s own with cool indifference yet again, though only after what he could only imagine was the guy’s own surprise at Tweek’s presence fading.

“What are you doing,” his voice was somewhat nasally and unbearably deadpan, his question more like a statement than anything else.

“I just wanted to see—”

“You can’t go in there.”

Tweek blinked up at the boy, he was at least a head and a half taller than him, and his tone made Tweek’s stomach burn with frustration.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t. It’s runners only.” The boy closed the door behind him and took a step away from the entrance and closer to Tweek, invading his personal space and making him freeze. “You’re in my way, Greenie.”

But Tweek refused to budge. He wasn’t going to let this guy intimidate him.  

“Why can’t I go in there? What’s inside?”

“Doesn’t matter. Rules are rules. You can’t go in and it doesn’t concern you anyway.”

He tried to take another step forward, silently telling Tweek to move, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Now something flashed through the boy’s green eyes and for a moment his blank expression wavered.

“Whatever you’re doing isn’t going to work,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Tweek. If they hadn’t been so close Tweek might’ve missed the dip in the guy’s voice, but he didn’t.

“Really? Because it seems like it’s working just fine.” He stood his ground.

“I’m not telling you anything, Greenie.” The boy had managed to slip back into his indifference. Tweek crossed his arms.

“Fine, then what’s out there?” He demanded, pointing toward the opening in the wall the two other boys had come from. “What were those guys doing out there?”

This time, the boy frowned.

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Well for you, it is.”

Tweek opened his mouth to give his retort but was never given the chance.

“Tweek!”

He turned to find Ike skidding to a halt beside him and immediately began attempting to drag him by the bottom of his shirt away from the building and the guy he’d subsequently cornered.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tweek asked, stumbling a little.

“You shouldn’t be over here,” Ike said, then he turned to the guy Tweek had been berating, his face twisting into a deeply apologetic look. “Hey Craig, sorry about him. You know how new guys are.”

The boy said nothing, his expression nearly blank, and simply looked tiredly between the two of them. For the first time since Tweek had woken up in the box he felt the hot flicker of true embarrassment erupt in his gut. He’d just wanted some answers, for everyone to stop acting like none of this was out of the ordinary. He felt like he was losing his mind.

“Come on Tweek,” Ike was still trying to tug him back over to the sleeping area, “let’s finish up and go eat.”

But Tweek wasn’t done just yet, he had one more question for the guy Ike had called Craig, and even though none of his other questions had been answered, he held out hope for this one. However, when he turned around the guy was already a good several yards away and heading for the biggest structure in the Glade. Well, so much for that.

“Ike,” Tweek pulled out of the little boy’s grasp, “why did you interrupt us like that?”

“Because you were harassing Craig.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was just talking to him.”

“That’s not what it looked like,” Ike crossed his arms at Tweek. “You were harassing him about the maze, and if you knew any better, you’d know how stupid that is since Craig doesn’t like talking to anyone really. You’ll never get anything out of Craig.”

Tweek was frozen. Not because Ike had essentially called him an idiot for his little interrogation of Craig, a complete stranger to him, a few seconds ago. Not because Ike was accusing him of being a nuisance and harassing random Gladers. And not because he was actually pretty correct about all of that, and Tweek was still feeling embarrassed. No, he was frozen because Ike had just referred to the outside portion of the walls as the maze.

“What did you just say?”

Ike looked taken aback.

“What? That Craig—"

“You just said the maze. What do you mean by the maze?”

The desperation was growing at an alarming rate inside Tweek. Ike looked shell-shocked: his eyes were big and his mouth a-gap.

“No I didn’t.” The boy said quietly.

“Yes, you did.” Tweek was quickly running out of patience with this kid. “You called that thing the maze and I want to know why. What’s out there? Is it actually a maze?”

Ike said nothing. Tweek groaned his frustration. No more messing around.

“Fine,” he began walking briskly toward the closest opening, pushing past Ike as he made for it. “I’m sick of all the secrecy! If no one’s gonna tell me, then I’ll figure it out myself!”

He could hear Ike calling after him, pleading with him to stop, but that wasn’t an option. Tweek was thankful that Ike was short and that he’d already had a head start on the kid so that the boy had to jog after him as Tweek reached the gap in the wall. He stopped and looked up. The walls seemed to go on forever.

They towered above him, reaching far into the heavens. He could feel the air leave his lungs as he gaped up at them, feeling impossibly small. The stone was dark and worn, green ivy snaking up and down like veins. The vast opening’s border was smooth, but it had a pattern of holes on the left side and an identical pattern of rods on the right side. They were roughly three times the size of Tweek’s head and were spaced out from the ground up, yet their purpose was beyond him. But what shook Tweek most was what lay beyond the pillars: dark corridors that stretched out into more stone and darkness that he could just barely make out. Some curved to the left, some to the right and a few came to a dead-end, yet further out still he could see breaks in the walls that likely led to other paths. It certainly looked like a maze, and it frightened him a great deal, but the longer he looked the more his fear turned into longing. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t place where it’d come from, but suddenly he felt as though he were being pulled out into those passages, something out there silently calling to him, begging him to step out into the halls. It was magnetic, and Tweek couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward on their own.

“Tweek, don’t. You can’t—” Ike was puffing beside him, and moved to grab his shirt again but Tweek pushed his hand away.

“I just wanna get a better look,” he said, cutting the boy off, “it’s fine, Ike.”

But before he could even step foot onto the paved, stone floor between the gap, Tweek was shoved to the ground with such force he found himself a good five or so feet from where he’d stood moments ago. He looked up to see an unfamiliar face approaching; marching toward him was a large, stout boy with short brown hair and an ugly grin plastered on his face. Tweek jumped back to his feet, something about the look in the boy’s eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“The hell was that for!” He snapped.

“Uh, how about a thank you?” The boy rolled his eyes which he now noticed were different colors: his left a deep brown and his right a gray-blue. They were so different that they almost seemed out of place.

“Thank you?” Tweek’s hands balled into fists. “Why would I thank you?”

“Well, I did just save your life, so a little gratitude would be nice. Especially since I didn’t have to, Greenie.”

Saved his life? Was this guy seriously so delusional?

“You pushed me to the ground! How is that saving me? I wasn’t even doing anything!”

Ike pushed himself between the two of them quickly. 

“Eric, it’s fine. Kenny said I’m supposed to take care of him today—I’ve got this!”

“Clearly you don’t,” Eric sneered before Turing back to Tweek. “And uh, yeah. You were doing something. Maybe you already have some kind of death wish or something, but I’m not just going to sit idly by while a Greenie tries to off himself without even knowing.”

“Death wish? I just want to see what’s out there!” Tweek threw up his hands in utter bewilderment. “No one wants to tell me anything, and it’s ridiculous!”

Eric rolled his eyes.

“Yes and seeing what’s out there is exactly what’s gonna get you killed.”

Tweek felt his body and mind pause together.

“Why?” He asked slowly.

“Didn’t that little dildo tell you anything?” He said glaring at Ike. 

“Don’t call me that, Fatboy!” Ike defended himself.

Eric shot a warning glance at Ike who slipped back into a neutral expression until Eric turned back to Tweek and he promptly stuck his tongue out at the bigger boy. Tweek had to fight hard not to laugh at the gesture, which wasn’t all that difficult when Eric jabbed his index finger into Tweek’s chest.

“Look Greenie, you’re new here so I won’t take any of this personally. This time. But you’re gonna wanna figure out who you should be associating yourself with nice and quick, you got that?”

Tweek opened his mouth to give his reply, his anger growing by the second, but was silenced when another voice sounded not far from where the two boys stood.

“What’s going on here ladies?”

Both Tweek and Eric turned to see Kenny jogging up to them, a few other boys Tweek hadn’t seen before following shortly behind him. However, something about how Kenny was running caught Tweek’s eye: he seemed to be limping slightly with his left leg, though his face showed no signs of discomfort. He wondered if it was an old or new injury that made him wobble like that. The boy stopped in front of the two and looked directly at Eric, almost ignoring Tweek for a moment.

“What’d you do, Eric?” He said, placing both hands on his hips.

“Me?” Eric sounded offended. “Ask him what he was doing!”

Kenny sighed but turned to Tweek nevertheless.

“Tweek, what’d you do to piss Eric off?”

Tweek glanced back at Ike who was conveniently avoiding eye contact with him now, looked to the opening in the wall, and then back at Kenny who was patiently waiting for him to explain himself.

“I just wanted to see what was out there,” he said in a small voice, sensing he really had done something wrong as he pointed to the passage.

“And I just stopped him from making a huge fucking mistake!” Eric said before Kenny could respond. “Dumbass just about waltzed right out the east door and everyone was just gonna let him! Since Ike couldn’t keep this Greenie in line,” he shot a pointed look at the little boy, “I did it for him. For you. You’re welcome.” He folded his arms and scowled.

“By shoving me in the dirt!” Tweek retorted.

“You didn’t give me much choice, Greenie!” He snapped back.

Kenny just rolled his eyes, but when he looked back at Tweek his expression was very serious.

“Look, Eric might’ve gone overboard with how he stopped you,” Eric scoffed; but he was ignored, “but he was right to keep you from going out the door.”

Tweek’s anger melted immediately. They both called the opening a door now. The east door in particular.

“Door? What do you mean by the door?”

Kenny exchanged a long look with Eric and frowned.

“Well, we don’t usually talk about this on a Greenie’s first day, but I guess you were gonna find out sooner or later.” Kenny nodded at the opening behind Tweek. “Those gaps aren’t just holes in the walls,” he said. “They’re doors. And they close every night at the same time and open at the same time every morning. They should be closing any minute now—”

“Which is why I had to stop you from going out there and getting stuck like a fucking idiot,” Eric grumbled.

“Yeah, well he is right technically. Could’ve found a nicer way of doing it though, Eric.” Kenny said pointedly.

“Whatever,” was all he said in return.

“Hold on,” Tweek interjected, “I’ve heard a lot of insane things today: our memories are completely gone, we have no idea who’s put us all here, and there’s some kind of fucking maze out there. But these walls? Moving? Closing? How is that even possible? You guys are fucking insane!”

Tweek looked back up at the door which was still open. He couldn’t fathom anything this gargantuan and ancient looking moving on its own accord. The entire situation really did feel insane, so much so it made Tweek want to laugh. It was almost funny. Almost. 

“Wait, maze? Who told you about the maze?” Kenny demanded.

“Oh, um, well—”

Tweek looked at Ike unintentionally and saw the dread on his face. Why did that piece of information that the little boy had let slip by mistake seem like such an offense all of a sudden? Even so, the matter wasn’t discussed further as the last thing Tweek expected to happen happened.

One second everything was fine, the next the most terrifying boom Tweek could imagine shot through the air. He jumped at the sudden noise, nearly tumbling to the ground but caught himself just in time. Then the ground began to shake, and a deep rumbling filled his ears. The world was ending, he was sure of it. He looked at the others frantically, their lack of reaction only fueling his panic. And then all at once, Tweek was witnessing the most impossible thing he’d ever seen: the gap in the wall was closing. On either side of the opening, two walls began slowly but steadily reaching toward each other, a horrible scraping sound erupting from the movement. He was faintly aware of the same noise echoing from the other three walls in the Glade, telling him that all of the doors were closing. He watched in silent horror as they finally closed all the way, sealing them inside the Glade.

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. 

Chapter Text

Four

For as much shit as he’d just given Craig about calling him weak, Tweek wasn’t sure how physically strong he was. But based on how the blood still dripped from Craig’s nose, he had either aimed well or had so many more puzzle pieces missing about himself than he had originally thought. His knuckles stung, but he barely felt it over the icy adrenaline that shot through his whole body in a harsh, static wave. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he watched Craig wipe his bloody nose on the back of his hand

Craig straightened, and with locked eyes, they both waited for the other to move. Tweek wasn’t a fighter—well, he didn’t think he was anyway. Yes, the punch had come easily to him, and admittedly, it felt cathartic in some twisted way, but that didn’t automatically insinuate that he was accustomed to violence.

Right?

Darkly, he wondered if that was the reason he’d been sentenced to this terrible fate. Hidden behind thick amnesia, was he just a violent, rage-filled disaster? He didn’t think so, but there wasn’t much to prove that theory either way. But if that was his crime, what had Craig done?

“Fuck him up, Craig!”

Tweek broke the deadly staring contest he and Craig had lost themselves in. The shout came from somewhere in the back of the crowd that’d circled the two young men, but Tweek was unable to pinpoint who it’d come from. He wasn’t given much time to dwell on it, though, as Craig roughly tackled him to the ground, leaving them in a small cloud of dust.

The air was knocked swiftly out of him, momentarily reducing him to a gasping fish denied water. Craig was on top of him, scrambling upright and rearing his fist back for more retaliation.

“Fight! Fight!”

Again, he wasn’t sure whose voice it was, but it wasn’t long before the boys surrounding them began to chant too.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Time seemed to slow down. He could see anger in Craig’s eyes, maybe even hatred. He didn’t like how much that hurt, but it was quickly usurped by the explosion of pain that erupted from Craig’s fist landing harshly on the left side of his face. He threw his arms over himself, trying to block the punches that followed from his attacker.

God, he felt stupid. It was like some redundant high school drama scene that Tweek badly wished he wasn’t currently starring in. And while their ages seemed to match that analogy, he felt embarrassingly too old for this shit. He quietly scolded himself for getting mixed up in such a situation, fully aware of how bad this looked as a first impression for most of the Gladers.

Then he saw it: between Craig’s half-assed, but heavy blows and his own arms struggling to take any more hits, Tweek saw the smirk on Craig’s stupid fucking face. It was so subtle, so inconspicuous. The upward curve of the runner’s lips burned into his mind, and he knew there was no way anyone else would’ve noticed. It was meant for him, and him alone. And Tweek hated him for it.

Like it was second nature, Tweek’s body jerked into action, kicking Craig’s right knee as hard as he could and making it shoot out from underneath him. In the same instant, he drew his other leg in and rammed it into Craig’s left side, causing the taller boy to topple over onto the ground. Finally free, Tweek scrambled to his feet. Without thinking, he launched himself at Craig. Back onto the ground, they fell, the Gladers loudly cheering their approval. The boys rolled in the dirt for a moment, ending with Tweek looming over Craig this time. He let out a noise somewhere between a shriek and a growl before swinging his fists repeatedly at the taller boy’s face. The crowd was eating it up, their shouts fueling Tweek’s precise movements. He wasn’t in control anymore: not of the situation, nor his own body. Blinded with rage, he kept attacking his attacker without care.

All he wanted was to be left alone. For good. This seemed to be the only solution, though a forgotten part of himself knew that wasn’t true. He didn’t know who he was; he didn’t know anything, really. And yet, he was being punished for it. Punished for something that was so far beyond his control. Somewhere in his haze, Craig’s bloody face registered in the back of Tweek’s mind. He’d probably had enough; it wasn’t like Tweek wanted to kill the guy, but fuck did it feel good to take everything out on this asshole. Tweek threw one more hard punch to Craig’s cheek and then climbed off him, gasping for air. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was.

“This,” he wheezed, “is done.”

Some of the boys booed their disappointment as Tweek shakily got to his feet and began walking towards the opposite side of the circle.

What just happened? He didn’t know he had that kind of violence in him, and it immediately scared him how amazing it’d felt to beat the shit out of Craig. That could not be the kind of person he was. He could claim self-defense all he wanted, but in the end, he’d thrown the first punch. Deserved or not. His breathing hadn’t slowed down; if anything, it was getting faster. This wasn’t who he was, was it? Violent, out-of-control, careless?

Suddenly, he hit the ground again. He groaned from the impact, his head spinning, and the boys began yelling around him. Craig grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him towards the fire. He never heard him get back up. Admittedly, it was kind of impressive that the Keeper could take so many hits and keep going. That just made Tweek mad all over again. He was flung roughly near the fire’s edge, and in a second, Craig was on top of him yet again.

Tweek tried to move his arms, but he could only get them inches off the ground as Craig’s hands held them down. Heat on the crown of his head told him he was merely a foot away from the bonfire’s flames. Again. Great. He continued to struggle against Craig’s grip, refusing to lose this way.

“Even though you’re a fucking liar,” Craig’s voice sounded above him in a rasp, “you’re tougher than you look.” Tweek grunted in frustration. Craig was putting all his weight on top of him, doing everything he could to hold him down. His grip tightened around Tweek’s wrists. “Could’ve used someone like you as a runner.” Tweek glared at him. Craig’s tone was mocking, and there was that fucking smirk again. “Too bad. I hate when our greenie is a dud.” His eyes glittered with malice. “Do you know what we do to guys who attack other Gladers? We feed them to the grievers. After all, there will always be another greenie to replace you next month.”

Then it happened.

Craig went completely rigid, Tweek stilled, and all the boys around them became uncomfortably silent. The firelight glistened on the spit as it rolled slowly down Craig’s cheek, much to Tweek’s satisfaction.

He had acted without thinking again, and the speed at which Craig’s face contorted from one emotion to the next told Tweek he was going to pay for it. But before the runner was given a chance to retaliate, he was being dragged off of Tweek by Tolkien and the brunette. Tweek sat up and was immediately whisked to his feet by two pairs of arms. Kenny quickly stepped in front of him as another boy with black hair and dark blue eyes kept a firm grip on Tweek’s arm.

“What the fuck are you two doing!”

Tolkien’s voice was hard as he looked between the two of them in disbelief.

“Defending myself,” Craig answered, looking pointedly at Tweek.

“You started it!” Tweek snapped.

“Me?” Craig’s nasally voice pitched up in disdain. “You fucking punched me!”

“And you pushed me, asshole! I almost got burned because of you!”

“ENOUGH!” Tolkien’s face was twisted with rage, and it made Tweek feel unbearably childish. “I want both of you in the Homestead. Right now.”

Tweek’s face fell. He’d messed up. Bad.

“Keep them away from each other,” Tolkien told Kenny. “Put Tweek in the infirmary, and I want Craig in my office. I need a word with him.” He glared at the Keeper, and he scowled right back. “The rest of you go to bed or go do something useful!”

The other boys dispersed with a murmur, and Kenny and the dark-haired boy ushered Tweek towards the Homestead, which ended up being the largest structure in the Glade, especially in height. Once inside, he was directed to a room off to the right of the entrance, sat down on a makeshift bed, and then left alone with the boy, who Tweek quickly learned was the Keeper of something called a Medjack. His name was Stan, and from what Tweek gathered, he was the Glade’s doctor. Stan was taller than Tweek was, but not by much. He had blue eyes and a stocky build, and his face had a deeply sad look etched into it.

Apart from another bed, there was only space for three shelves and a desk that presumably belonged to Stan. There were multiple candles lit about the room, and what had to be a battery-powered lamp of some sort positioned over where Stan worked without pause. It was awkwardly silent as he cleaned and stitched Tweek’s open wounds; Tweek gritting his teeth silently when they stung. He hadn’t seen Tolkien since he dragged Craig off of him, and he supposed it was for the better. As mad as he still was, there was a great deal of embarrassment knotting his stomach.

The infirmary wasn’t terribly large, and like the rest of the Homestead, it was constructed primarily of wood. Nevertheless, it was an architectural miracle like the rest of the structures in the Glade. It made Tweek wonder how any of the boys knew how to build complex structures. Or run so well. They even had medical knowledge, apparently, so what did that mean for their forgotten memories? From the life they had before the Glade? His body hurt too much to stew on the matter further.

“Almost done,” Stan told him without looking up from one of the nastier scrapes. “For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “it was really fucking funny when you spit on him.”

Glancing at Stan, Tweek could see the poorly suppressed smile on his tired face.

“He’s a dick,” Tweek winced as the last of the stitches were finished. “He had it coming.”

“Yeah, Craig’s an asshole, I’ll give you that,” Stan mused.

Tweek hummed his agreement. There was some comfort in knowing that the other Gladers disliked Craig’s rude personality, too. It made him feel slightly less silly for letting the Keeper get to him so easily. Then there was a knock on the door, and Kenny came walking into the room. The blonde looked exhausted, and Tweek couldn’t help but feel like the cause of it.

“Well, fighting a Keeper isn’t exactly what I meant by keeping your head down, Tweek.” Kenny crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“Yeah, I figured,” Tweek mumbled.

“Gotta say, I haven’t seen Tolkien that pissed off since Eric locked Clyde in the outhouse,” Kenny grinned

“I’m sure Craig is having fun feeling his wrath,” Stan chuckled.

“He hates me, doesn’t he,” Tweek said, his head hanging.

“Craig hates everyone, it’s not such a big deal,” Kenny shrugged.

“No, Tolkien,” Tweek clarified. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Kenny frowned.

“Look,” he pulled a wooden chair from the desk and placed it so he could sit in front of Tweek, “it’s not as bad as you think. Tolkien gets that it’s your first day, meaning it’s the hardest day. Yes, you’re the first greenie we’ve had who’s fought another guy only hours out of the box, but most things greenies do we try and ignore.”

“You don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not,” Kenny said firmly. “We’ve all been there. Besides, Craig knows better than to pick a fight with the greenie. Or he should know better.”

Tweek supposed that made sense, but it didn’t ease his guilty conscience. Everything about the Glade, his life, and the other boys was utterly confusing. Yet, it wasn’t like he was still in hysterics over any of it. He knew better, too, and there wasn’t a good excuse for punching another person he’d only just met. Not in his mind.

“Craig will come around. Not that you guys will be buddies or anything, but he’s tolerable once you get to know him, right, Stan?” Kenny looked to his friend, who’d begun putting away the medical supplies. Stan just scoffed. “Not helping.”

“So, when is it my turn to be yelled at?” Tweek asked half-heartedly.

“Definitely not tonight,” Kenny replied. “Tolkien said he’d come get ya in the morning before you start your first job.” He rose to his feet slowly. “As for now, I suggest you go get some sleep. You’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”

Tweek nodded. His whole body ached, and he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to fall asleep tonight. The idea of lying down alone was so inviting that he could cry.

“He’s all set,” Stan said, “send Craig in here before you go, Ken.”

“Will do.” He turned to Tweek. “Ike got you set up for the night already, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Tweek said.

“Great. Get some rest, and I’ll come check on ya tomorrow.”

Kenny headed for the door, and Tweek stood to follow him out. He said a quick thank you to Stan and the two left the Homestead. Ike was waiting outside when they walked into the cool night air.

“Try and stay out of trouble this time, Tweek. We don’t need any more excitement than we already got here,” Kenny said before offering a friendly smile.

“I’ll keep out of the way,” he told the blonde seriously.

“Good that. See you tomorrow, greenie.” And with that, Kenny disappeared back into Homestead, leaving Tweek with his smaller companion that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

“That was awesome!” Ike bounced with excitement. “The way you tackled Craig, or how you punched him right in his big, dumb nose, or when you spit on him!”

Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Glad you enjoyed yourself,” he grunted.

“Oh yeah,” the little dark-haired boy began skipping toward the sleep area, and Tweek reluctantly followed. “It was so great. I haven’t had that much fun at a bonfire since my first night here!”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a month.”

“Ah, right.” Every month, there was a new greenie, and Ike was the freshest in the Glade next to Tweek. It made his chest tighten with sympathy for the younger boy.

“Anyway,” Ike said as they reached the hammocks, “did you get screamed at by our fearless leader?”

Tweek shook his head.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Ike laughed.

“Something to look forward to then,” and the boy’s grin was mischievous.

The two lay down in their respective hammocks, deliberately placed next to each other on Ike’s part. Stars twinkled through the tree branches, and Tweek wondered if there was anyone else out there in a similar situation; trapped in a giant stone maze filled with horrible monsters and no memories whatsoever. He really doubted it.

“Will you teach me how to fight like that?” Ike asked suddenly. “I wanna beat Eric up.”

Tweek snorted.

“If you let me sleep peacefully with no other questions tonight, maybe.”

“Okay, yeah! Can we do it tomorrow?”

Tweek glared at him.

“I mean, nope, anytime is fine! Goodnight, Tweek!”

The little boy rolled over in his green hammock and tried to stay as still as he could. Time passed, and although Tweek had worried it’d be a long night for him, he could feel sleep calling to his aching body. His eyes began to close just as they landed on the maze door, closed and silent. The stone was so interesting, it was almost pretty in a weird way. Pretty, and odd, and …

Tweek’s eyes went wide. He’d done it, he’d pieced it together. Finally, he understood why the glade was so unsettling; not because it was strange or foreign, but because it was familiar. Realization ran through his body, making him feel cold. That had to mean something, good or bad, and it seemed like he might be alone in his discovery. But he had to know for sure.

“Ike,” he murmured. The younger boy only responded with a groggy grunt, likely half asleep already. “I think I know this place. I don’t think this is the first time I’ve been here.”

Silence. If Ike had heard him, there was no indication of it, and Tweek was left with the odd feeling in his chest, the quiet of a sleeping Glade, and the distant rumbles from deep inside the maze.

~~~

Tweek stood barefoot on a cold tile floor.

The room is blindingly white. No corners. No shadows. Just light—pale and endless, humming overhead. He’s wearing a hospital gown. Thin. Too thin. His arms are covered in faded bruises, a series of tiny scars running down the inside of one elbow. A voice crackles through the ceiling.

“Sit. We are not finished.”

He flinches. Not because of the voice itself—but because it feels normal.

He sits.

A metal table slides in from the wall, seamless and silent. On it, a tray of pills. A cup of water. A gray folder with his name on it in block letters. He doesn’t remember how he got here. He doesn’t remember his last name. He closes his eyes, trying to pull at something—anything—but all that comes are flickers.

A hand, warm, pulling him down a hallway. Laughter—his own, but real this time. Coffee brewing. Someone is shouting his name. Another voice, calm. Steady. It sounds familiar. It sounds like … Craig?

But it’s gone. The table retracts. The room shifts.

Now he’s in a hallway—metal walls, lined with flickering screens. On them, faces flash like static. Some are familiar. Some are labeled with codes. Some are children.

Each screen buzzes:
OBSERVATION: CLYDE.
OBSERVATION: STAN.
OBSERVATION: TOLKIEN.
PSYCH EVAL: TWEEK.

He tries to run.

But the hallway stretches with each step, like the floor is made of rubber. The lights above him flicker faster, and that voice returns—calm, mechanical, always watching.

“Instability expected. Memory retention: erratic. Reset sequence recommended.”

“No,” Tweek whispers. “Please.”

He passes by a window.

Inside is a small boy—blonde, pale, face blurry. Younger. Wide-eyed. Sitting at a desk covered in wires and blinking lights. A woman stands behind him, clipboard in hand. Her face is obscured, but her voice is soft.

“Try again, sweetheart. We just want to see how your brain works.”

He slams his fists on the glass.

“Stop! Stop showing me this!”

The lights go out.

Darkness.

Then: a scream.

Not human.

Griever.

Tweek turns, breath catching, and he’s no longer in the corridor—he’s in the Maze. Alone. At night. The walls are breathing.

He hears footsteps.

But not just one set. Dozens.

And voices. Whispering.

“Tweek—run—don’t let them—”

“They’re watching—always watching—”

“You don’t belong here—you never did—”

“Don’t you remember us?”

He spins.

Faces appear in flashes—Craig’s, Clyde’s, Token’s—half-formed, fading like smoke.

Then nothing.

Just stone.

Just Maze.

Just the cold.

Tweek falls to his knees, hands in his hair, eyes squeezed shut.

And then—stillness.

A light above him. Warm. Dim. Familiar.

He looks up.

And for the briefest moment—

A kitchen table. Steam rising from a mug. A woman is humming. A man reading a newspaper. A dog barking. The smell of home.

Then it all burns away like paper in fire.

Tweek bolted upright out of sleep but was roughly held in place by a firm grip on his shoulder and another over his mouth. His panic was immediate, and he was sure this was it for him. Finally, the true intentions of the Glade were here to claim him, to put him out of his misery. He blinked rapidly, his vision finally focusing on Tolkien leaning over him. Tweek stilled and Tolkien released him, motioning for Tweek to be quiet and follow him.

Tweek climbed out of his hammock and weaved between the other sleeping Gladers after Tolkien as best as he could. His body ached from the altercation that, technically, Craig had started last night. The grass glistened in the weak morning sunlight, and dew clung to his shoes and pants. The air was sweet with the remnants of a rainstorm, but Tweek was sure it hadn’t rained last night. He could feel the humidity rising already and knew that the day was promising to be hot. Tolkien led him clear across the Glade to the opposite wall, its doors now open. When they passed by the opening, Tweek caught sight of Craig and two other boys heading out into the stony abyss. Good riddance.

Eventually, Tolkien stopped in front of a section where no ivy grew. Instead, the gray stone was disrupted by hundreds of names etched into the wall. If Tweek held out both of his arms, he wouldn’t be able to reach the end of the carvings on either side. It was an overwhelming and intimidating sight, but before he could question anything, Tolkien pulled a large knife from his belt.

“You’re one of us now, Tweek,” Tolkien said, handing him the knife, “and you need to understand what that means.”

Tweek gazed at the names carved into the smooth stone; there were so many of them. Some of the names belonged to Gladers he knew: Kenny, Ike, Tolkien, Stan, Eric, Craig. But most of them he didn’t recognize. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand. This had to be everyone in the Glade. Some kind of claim to the space the boys were forced to call home. However, he noticed that about a third of them had a line hastily scraped through them.

“What happened to them?” Tweek asked, brushing his fingers against a crossed-out Phil at eye level.

Tolkien’s expression darkened.

“This place holds countless threats to our survival, many of which come from the maze. But the greatest threat to what we’ve built here, to our safety, is trust.” Tolkien fixed Tweek with a stern look, the morning light dancing in his dark eyes. “Nothing works if we don’t trust each other, and some of these poor boys are the unfortunate result of a system without any trust. Trust brings order, and order keeps us working together toward our goal.”

“Escaping the maze,” Tweek guessed.

“No, surviving the maze.” Tolkien corrected him. “Everything you do from now on affects our chances of survival. If what you’re doing raises our chances of survival, then you’re doing something right. But, if you’re lowering that chance in any way, you’re not only screwing over yourself, but every other Glader too.”

Tweek instantly thought of his fight with Craig. That certainly hadn’t helped anyone’s chances of surviving. Guilt wormed its way into his stomach.

“Tolkien,” he looked the leader directly in the eye as he spoke, “I’m really sorry about last night. That was a stupid thing for me to do, and it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t,” Tolkien wiped dirt from his hands onto his purple t-shirt. “We’re a family here, Tweek. We’re gonna fight, that’s what a family does, but I can’t have Gladers putting hands on each other like you two did last night. Craig will leave you alone from now on, but I need you to promise that you’ll do the same and not go looking for trouble, okay?”

Tweek nodded vigorously.

“You have my word.”

“Good that,” Tolkien’s shoulders relaxed. “Now, it’s your turn,” he said, looking back at the wall of names. “By adding your name to this wall, you’re promising to be a positive, functional part of this family. You have our backs, and we’ve got yours.”

Tweek faced the wall again. There wasn’t exactly a way to opt out of this family contract, but even if there was, Tweek wouldn’t have taken it. He didn’t know much about the Glade or the Gladers, yet he felt a new kind of respect for both. Despite being forced into this less-than-ideal situation, he was honored to be a part of this strange family. Tweek placed his free hand on an open space on the wall and carefully carved his name into the stone with the knife Tolkien had given him. Whoever he was before was gone and dead. Tweek was a Glader now.

~~~

In the morning heat, Tweek knew he was in for a long day of hard work, but he welcomed the distraction. The air smelled like dust and sweat and dry wood. Tweek stepped into the courtyard, squinting against the light. His boots were scuffed; the soles still caked with dust from his fight in the southern corridor the night before. He spotted a bigger boy with dark brown hair near the lumber pile, hauling a log onto a sawbuck like it weighed nothing.

“Since Kenny already explained how job assignments work around here, I’ll show you to your first shadow job. You’ll be building a planter bed today.” Tolkien said as he led Tweek to where the boy continued to set tools and wood up in piles. They stopped next to him, though he didn’t seem to take notice. “Clyde,” Tolkien addressed him, “this is the greenie, Tweek. He’s gonna be shadowing you today, so put him to work.”

Clyde eyed him wearily before nodding.

“Alright, I’ll put him to work.”

“Good that, I’ll check on you tonight, Tweek. Work hard and listen to Clyde, he’s the best builder we’ve got.”

Tweek nodded his agreement and watched as Tolkien headed toward the Homestead.

“You’re late,” Clyde said, not looking up.

“I came straight from a meeting with Tolkien,” Tweek replied calmly. “I didn’t realize I was on a time crunch.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re late.”

Tweek exhaled through his nose. “So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Clyde straightened up. He wore a tight gray shirt soaked with sweat down the back, his hands wrapped in makeshift gloves stitched from an old tarp. His face was unreadable.

“You want to build or argue?” he asked.

Tweek didn’t respond. He walked over to the stack of lumber and picked up a log, hefting it onto his shoulder. His movements were careful, practiced. No flinching. No twitching. They worked in silence for a while, apart from the occasional order Clyde barked at him. The planter bed had already been partially laid—two parallel beams on a stone platform, forming a rectangle that would soon hold soil, herbs, maybe a few stubborn vegetables if the sun held.

Tweek dropped his log beside the frame. “Did you volunteer for this job?” he asked finally. “Or was this all that needed to be done today?”

Clyde kept sawing. “Because leadership said the bed needed to be finished by the end of the day.”

“No. I mean—why this job? Why me?”

Clyde stopped, finally. His eyes lifted. Calm. Cold.

“You think I asked to be paired with you?”

Tweek stiffened. “I didn’t ask for you either.”

“Then let’s just get through it.”

Tweek walked around to the side of the frame, measuring the spacing between the foundation logs. “This is about last night.”

Clyde didn’t answer.

“You think I shouldn’t have hit Craig.”

Still no answer. Just the rhythmic scrape of a saw through wood.

Tweek looked up, voice even. “He started it, Clyde. He said something I wasn’t okay with, and I told him. He didn’t back off.”

“You punched him in the face.”

“And he tried to trip me into the fire. On purpose.”

Clyde dropped the saw and turned to face him. “Craig isn’t built like you. He keeps stuff locked up. You explode.”

“He doesn’t get to insult me and act like I’m the problem.”

“Maybe not,” Clyde said. “But you didn’t have to escalate.”

They stood across from each other, the wind whispering through the cracks in the stones above. The Maze groaned quietly in the distance—a distant shifting of walls they’d all come to live with. Like thunder with no rain.

“I don’t need you to like me,” Tweek said. “But I’m not the enemy here.”

Clyde’s jaw flexed. He looked away.

“You’re not,” he said finally. “But I’m not ready to pretend nothing happened, either.”

“Fine,” Tweek said, stepping back toward the frame. “Then let’s build this bed, and we don’t have to talk again.”

Clyde nodded once. “Deal.”

They worked until the sun touched the rim of the Maze walls. By the time they finished laying the frame and fitting the support beams, both of them were filthy, exhausted, and silent—but the work stood strong. Straight lines. Secure corners. A real foundation.

The planter bed was finished.

Tweek sat on the edge of it, elbows on his knees, watching the last rays of sunlight streak across the stone courtyard. His shirt clung to his back, and his arms ached from hours of labor, but it was a good kind of sore. Earned.

Clyde was crouched by the fire pit they'd rigged from an old metal drum, tossing in scraps of unusable wood. Sparks jumped upward, catching the warm orange light against the stone walls.

Neither of them had spoken since the last board went in.

Finally, Clyde stood, brushing off his hands, and walked over. He didn’t sit, but he hovered near the planter bed, looking down at their work.

“…It’s solid,” he said. “Better than the last one we did.”

Tweek glanced up. “Because we weren’t half-assing it.”

Clyde gave a small, dry laugh. “Yeah. That too.”

Silence again, but something had shifted. The weight between them wasn’t as sharp now—more like something dull and heavy that had been set down.

Clyde scratched the back of his neck.

“Look,” he said, voice quieter now, “I was a dick earlier. I didn’t show up just for the planter. I showed up to keep an eye on you.”

Tweek raised an eyebrow. “Because you thought I’d snap and throw a plank at someone?”

Clyde winced a little. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t trust you not to take things too far.”

Tweek looked away, jaw tight. “Yeah. Well. I’m not a violent person.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Clyde said. “What happened with Craig … I don’t know, man. I guess I didn’t want to pick a side. So, I froze you out instead.”

Tweek’s voice was calm. Tired, but steady. “You don’t have to pick a side. But you do have to admit that Craig’s not always right.”

“I know.” Clyde let out a breath. “He screws up, too. He just hides it better than you do.”

Tweek smirked faintly. “Yeah, well. I’m not exactly subtle.”

Clyde chuckled. For once, it wasn’t bitter.

He stepped forward and sat on the edge of the planter beside Tweek. They sat there, side by side, not touching, not looking directly at each other—just staring out into the Maze as the sky dimmed from gold to blue.

"You know,” Clyde said after a while, “you didn’t break this thing.”

Tweek looked at him. “What?”

“Your temper. The fight. Everything that went down.” He nodded toward the finished frame. “You could’ve walked. You didn’t.”

Tweek shrugged, eyes flicking down to the dirt. “I was angry. But I wasn’t wrong.”

“No. You weren’t.”

They sat in silence a little longer.

Then Clyde stood and offered his hand. Not a dramatic gesture—just a quiet, honest one.

“We good?”

Tweek looked at it for a second, then took it.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

Clyde pulled him up, and they started walking back toward the camp entrance at the north edge of the Maze. The shadows were long, the night creeping in, but the path was familiar.

Not everything was fixed. Craig was still out there. So were the walls, and the shifting gates, and whatever tomorrow was going to bring.

But for now?

For now, they’d built something. And that was enough.

“Oh,” Clyde stopped and looked back at the fire pit, “I forgot to put that out. Think you could grab that bucket there and go fill it with water from the creek?”

Tweek nodded. “I didn’t know we had a natural water source here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly natural. Whoever trapped us here definitely put it there, but it functions like a real creek.” Clyde motioned toward the wooded area behind the space where they’d put the planter bed. “It’s back there. I’ll wait for you out here, keep an eye on the fire.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

Tweek kept low as he moved through the tree line. The creek was about a mile out from the center of the Maze — not part of the main grid but tucked into the edge of a ruined sector where the stone gave way to overgrown root systems and wild green. It wasn’t the only clean water source they had; he’d seen pumps and wells in the glade, but this had to be fetched in person. No pipes. No pumps. Just buckets and a steady hand.

He moved fast but carefully, his breath steady, one hand on the strap of the bucket slung across his back.

The woods around the creek were quiet. Too quiet.

Tweek crouched near the bank, dipped the bucket in, and let the cold water fill it. He watched the surface ripple—clear, undisturbed. No movement behind him. No sound.

But then he heard it.

A low rustle. Leaves shifting. Bare feet on dry ground.

Tweek froze.

He rose slowly and turned his head toward the tree line. Someone stood just beyond the trees, hunched and breathing heavily. Shirt torn. Arms cut. Wild, glassy eyes locked on Tweek like a predator tracking prey.

“Hello?” Tweek called, frowning.

The figure didn’t answer. His mouth opened slightly, teeth showing. He was shaking, twitching like something inside him was too fast for his body to hold.

Tweek’s heart dropped.

He stepped back, and his hands raised slightly. It was the runner from the other day, the one Ike had called Jason. “Hey, uh, Jason, right? Aren’t you supposed to be out running?”

Jason took one slow step forward, then another.

His fingers curled like claws. His skin was slick with sweat, but his eyes… they were wrong. Unblinking. Feral.

Tweek backed up toward the creek. “Are you okay, man?”

Jason twitched violently, head snapping to the side.

And then he charged.