Dylan's pov

"Oh my god, Dylan! Get up! You're going to be late!"

My groggy flew eyes opened to be faced by a blank white wall. Slowly I registered my surroundings; the pillow under my head didn't feel quite right, the blankets scratched my skin-- where was I? Surely not my room.

"C'mon Dylan! Get your lazy ass up!" I vaguely heard again.

I rolled over onto my back with a loud groan to assess the scene. My thoughts moved as slow as molasses, up until a pillow came crashing across my face. "Mmmffk," I complained, still unmoving.

"We overslept, get up!" And suddenly Emma was in my line of vision, her hair wild and her eyes wide.

Emma. Pillows. Uncomfortable bedding. Hotel.

I'm in a hotel. April 24th. Castmates.

"Dylan, your first meeting is in ten minutes!" Emma's shrill voice pierced my ears.

My slow thoughts sped up and hit me like a freight train. Sadly, the only thought speeding along the tracks was holy shit holy shit holy shit I have a cast meeting and I cannot be late.

I shot out of bed, barely staying on my feet as I tripped into the bathroom. I was in the shower in seconds, nearly falling when the cold water cascaded down my skin; then I was out, picking up my t-shirt and sweatpants from the night and throwing them on.

"Five minutes!" I heard. I tugged at my hair, trying to look half-decent. Dammit, why did we leave our luggage at the airport? All I had with me were the clothes on my back and a few essential items. Luckily, my toothbrush was included in my small carry-on, so at least I wouldn't smell too.

"Dylan, we have to go!" Emma shouted by the door. I cast another glance in the bathroom, restraining myself from groaning at my appearance.Way to make a good impression, Dylan, showing up looking like trash. Real proffesional.

I couldn't dwell on my sunken eyes or my still-dripping hair. Instead, I shoved my phone in my pocket, jammed my feet in my sneakers, amd was out the door on Emma's heels.

The elevator has never moved slower, and by the time we were in the hotel lobby, I had one minute to get to the meeting. Luckily, everyone partaking in the making of this movie was scheduled to stay at this hotel, so the cast meeting was being held in one of the conference rooms down the hall.

"I'm not supposed to go, it's room 12B! Run!" Emma said from behind me. I dashed out of the elevator before the doors had even opened fully, stumbling on my untied sneakers.

My eyes scanned the plaques labeling each room as I ran down the dark hallway, and I skidded to a halt in front of 12B. I took a deep breath to compose myself, then leaned against the closed door, slowly creaking it open.

But of course, I'm me, and nothing ever goes as smoothly as I plan it to.

The next seconds were quite possibly the worst of my life.

I seemed to have forgotten my untied shoelaces as I stepped in, so of course, when I raised my left food, the lace got caught under my other shoe, and before I even knew what was happening, I was falling. Falling fast too, my hands grappling out frantically in search of something to grab hold of.

That of course, only resulted with me latching on to the suit of some old man. I continued my descent towards embarrassment, and the floor, as a tearing sound ripped through the air; it was followed almost immediately with the clunk of my body hitting the ground.

The air whooshed out of my lungs, and I clampered to my feet as quickly as possible, my face a flaming red. I looked at the man with the ripped sleeve, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. He looked down on me with an unamused glare, so I said, "Uh-s-Sorry. Um, maybe I could--" I placed the cloth piece over the patch I had ripped, patting it like that would fix it. "Um, there you go. Just-um, don't move your arm?"

His eyes had never left my face, still unamused.

Although he looked naturally peeved off, the rest of the room had broken out in hysterics. That of course, did nothing to lessen the red of my cheeks.

"Dylan O'Brien," a deep voice said from the opposite side of the room, laughter evident in his speech. I turned to meet the eyes of another proffesional looking man, though at least this one didn't look like he'd eat me. He stood at the head of a long table, arms open wide. "Quite an entrance. Take a seat."

My eyes scanned the room looking for an empty seat, only to meet with about 20 pairs of young eyes looking at me, all but one pair male. A majority of them looked about my age, and of course, were dressed much nicer than myself. They had welcoming eyes and were smiling at me, though I was well aware their laughter wasn't to make fun of me, but to jab at my clumsiness.

I found myself in the only vacant seat, between an Asian man and the only female at the table. I quickly recalled that they were Kaya Scodalario and Ki-Hong Lee, and seeing them in person was both intimidating and striking.

Ki Hong was still chuckling at my expense, his smile contagious, so I found myself grinning as well. I glanced across from me, and my smile slid off my face as quickly as it had appeared, my blood running cold. A young blond man was watching me intently, and I recognized his appearance like the back of my hand. He didn't look angry, nor did he look happy. His gaze didn't waver when our eyes met, so I arched a challenging eyebrow in his direction. His frown deepened, so I turned back to who I assumed was leading the meeting, pushing him from my mind so I could focus intently.

"Now that everyone's here, let's begin," the man who spoke my name earlier said. I glanced around the room, feeling slightly self-conscious when I noticed everyone else was dressed much nicer than myself. Buisinessmen in suits, who I assumed to be casting directors or producers, lined the perimeter of the small conference room. I saw Wes Ball and the woman who had auditioned me, but their attention was already trained on the man speaking.

"Now that we've gotten all mishaps--" the man glanced at me, and I shrugged in a 'what-can-you-do?' way, causing the room to chuckle, "--out of the way, I think some brief introductions are in order. I'm Wyck Marty, head executive producer for the Maze Runner. My goal--"

"No one cares, Wyck," a female interrupted. The occupants chuckled quietly again, though I wasn't sure what was so funny. She began to make eye-contact with each individual in the room as she introduced herself. "I'm Ellen Vein, the other executive producer. Instead of going on and on about who we are and what we've accomplished blah, blah, blah, how about we have the cast introduce themselves? They ARE the reason we are here after all."

The occupants of the table glanced at each other, and I recognized a few more from their headshots. "Any takers?" Wyck asked us.

It was silent, and then someone at the end of the table cleared his throat. He stood up from his chair, and he gave a shy smile. "Hello," he drawled in a british accent. "I'm Will, uh, Poulter, I'm British, and I'll play Gally." He smiled, then sat down.

"We're here for you, Will Poulter," both Ki Hong and I muttered under our breath mockingly. It was just loud enough for the few sitting around us to hear, and a few muffled laughs erupted. Ki Hong and I turned to each other in mock excitement, fist bumped, then returned to the circle of introductions as though nothing had happened. I bit my lip to refrain from laughing, and Ki Hong covered his mouth with his hand.

The rest of the introduction went much like that, though Ki Hong and I decided to stay quiet. With each introduction, I discovered many of my castmates had accents. I also realized most of them seemed like rather approachable people, so I didn't forsee working with them to be any sort of problem.

That is, until the blond across from me stood from his seat.

Right off the bat, I knew I wouldn't like where this was going. He opened his mouth, saying in an annoyingly posh British accent, "I'm sure you know me, but I'm Thomas Brodie-Sangster, and I'll play Newt."

A wave of dislike washed over me, and he made sure to hold my eye contact as he sat back down. Jesus, I haven't even spoken one word to the guy and I already knew we wouldn't get along. I stayed silent in my seat, missing the next introduction as we held a silent stare down. He tilted his head, and get this, he had the freaking nerve to smile. I scowled, turning away.

I knew his eyes still watched me, but I was too afraid to look back. When it was finally my turn to introduce myself, I looked at everyone but him, in an act of defiance.

"I'm Dylan O'Brien," I said. "I'd just like to put it on the record that I'm not usually that clumsy," I began to sit down as everyone laughed. Then I shot back up embarrassingly quick and added, "Wait, I play Thomas too."

As I settled back into my seat, embarrassed yet again by my awkward social skills, I knew Thomas was watching again, though I refused to meet his eyes.

****

"So you play Minho?" I questioned Ki Hong.

The meeting had come to an end, and my brain hurt, though I knew the day was far from over. After the introductions, Wyck had explained what our roles were for the making of the movie. He handed out tentative schedules of the set days too, and I wasn't as shocked as I thought I'd be when I realized I'd be there almost every day. Shooting would start in about two and a half weeks, and until then we'd be training and practicing for our scenes.

"Yup," Ki Hong said, in response to my question. "I think we'll have a couple of cool scenes together. Have you read the book?"

I nodded quickly, replying, "Of course, it's one of my favorites."

Ki Hong nodded, "Only thing that sucks is how much exercise we have to do."

I laughed, agreeing with him. "We'll survive, and if not, we die together."

Ki Hong laughed too. Around us, the cast mingled together, clearly already hitting it off. I opened my mouth to point this out to Ki Hong but felt a gentle tap on my shoulder that made me spin around.

I froze, eyes narrowing immediately as I took in the figure in front of me. I took a step back and restrained myself from brushing off the shoulder he had touched in disgust.

The person standing in front of me was worse than the amount of hours I'd spend on set, worse than the lack of sleep I'd be subject to, worse than the amount of exercise I'd be forced to partake in.

Yes, the creature standing in front of me was worse than all of those combined.

Thomas Brodie-Sangster.

//

A/N

So, shorter than usual but also 4 days earlier than usual too. I'm actually really excited for next chapter eeeeeeek

Also, HOLY SHIT THIS STORY HAS OVER 200 READS??? LIKE WHAT?

I'm sorry, that probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but as a freshman in high school who doesn't even know 200 people, that's like, huge.

This chapter wasn't even 2k words. Yikes.

Its nearly 3 am here and I have school tomorrow. GO MEEEE

Alright, thanks for putting up with me and this story, I love you all :)

//sam\\