Thomas' pov

It was now or never.

My hand shook slightly as I reached out, forcing myself to break the tense shield that had enveloped my co-worker and I ever since our eyes met upon his entrance. I brushed two fingers along his shoulder in a vie for his attention, feeling a lump in my throat at the mere thought of talking to him. I swallowed roughly as his shoulders tensed slightly, and then he turned, leaving us face to face, just feet apart.

Our close proximity sent my senses into overdrive, my motions becoming robotic. I watched as his eyes widened imperceptibly, flashing a range of emotions I could not identify. Finally his face settled, but the look he was giving me made my stomach twist and my smirk dim, like he knew my secret reasoning behind approaching him in the first place.

I hadn't said anything yet, and his eyebrows raised in question. I gathered my wits, giving a breathy "Hi."

Dylan glanced to the side, seemingly perplexed. "Uh, hello?" His voice raised in question.

"I'm Thomas Brodie-Sangster." I stuck out my hand for him to shake, using my confident mask to hide the guilt that was already churning in my stomach. My reasons for introducing myself were immoral and wrong, but I knew I had no other choice; I might as well get started on this stupid bet as soon as possible.

Dylan made no move to grasp my hand. "Dylan," he introduced shortly, leaving no room for inquiry.

I awkwardly let my hand fall to my side, noticing a moment of triumph visible in Dylan's eyes at the motion. I cleared my throat, saying, "It's nice to meet you."

Dylan's eyes flared, though I had no idea why. Why was he being so closed-off? Did I do something wrong?

Apparently, in the eyes of Dylan O'Brien, I DID do something wrong, because he responded after a brief hesitation, "I wish I could say the same."

My mouth fell open in utter shock. Bloody hell, what did he just say? I searched his face for signs of joking but found only resentment written in the curve of his jaw.

Now, I've met a lot of people throughout my career; I've seen thousands of different reactions to my appearance, I've witnessed tears and happiness and awe. Yet never once, have I ever, ever, been given this response to just a brief introductions. What the hell was his problem? I struggled to come up with a response, and Dylan clearly noticed, but finally I managed an indignant, "Excuse me?"

Dylan bit his lip, and against my own will I followed the motion with my eyes. He released it slowly and our eyes met again, this time with a softer stare. He took a deep breath to reign in some self control, running his fingers through his hair. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm not usually that blunt."

For some reason, his apology had no effect on me, no matter how sincere he sounded. "You should be fucking sorry," I growled angrily. He could apologize a million times, I was still pissed that he had the nerve to say something like that when he was the newbie and I was the king. "That was rude as hell."

His jaw tensed. "Yeah, that's why I apologized," he said in a rather strained voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, just a word of advice from someone way more experienced than you: lose the attitude. No one likes a douchebag."

"I can tell you don't practice what you preach," he replied in a huff, voice quieted like he didn't want me to hear.

My face twitched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dylan glanced around. "Well, it's quite hypocritical for you to tell me to lose the attitude when yours is just as bad, if not worse, than mine."

"My attitude is tolerable," I defended. The angrier his words made me, the worse my comebacks became.

Dylan gave a sarcastic laugh. "Do you know what they say about people with attitude like you?" He leaned in closer, scanning my body as he did so. "If he's a punk, he's got no junk."

"Hey, I've got a big penis!" My voice had risen to a near-shout, sounding like a cannon shot in the small room.

Dylan bit his lip to suppress a laugh as the room became awkwardly silent after my outburst. All eyes fell to the two of us, and my face became bright red when I realized everyone had heard my last statement.

"Congratulations," Dylan muttered quietly, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere but only making it worse.
Slowly the other occupants in the room turned back to their conversations, laughing awkwardly and shooting Dylan and I curious glances. I turned on Dylan, who was shaking with silent laughter, a smug grin fighting onto his face.

"You did that on purpose," I accused, causing Dylan to shrug indifferently. I huffed, crossing my arms. Dylan's frown returned to his face, and I subconsciously decided that his smile fit him much better.

This Dylan kid was really beginning to piss me off. I've known him less than five minutes, and he's already insulted me, argued with me, and embarrassed me. Usually I had pretty tough skin, especially with co-workers, but Dylan O'Brien knew exactly how to push my buttons.

"Is there a reason you came to a meeting looking like a hobo?" I suddenly questioned, realizing he was in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Even his appearance was ticking me off. How was I supposed to work with this guy for five months?

How was I supposed to make him fall in love with me?

A shadow of vulnerability passed across Dylan's face, almost as if a memory frightened him slightly. "We ran into press at the airport and had to leave our luggage behind. My bags won't be delivered until tomorrow."

"Rookie mistake," I said. Dylan rolled his eyes.

"Alright, look. It's pretty clear you and I won't be getting along. If you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours. Sound fair?" Dylan turned before I could answer.

Like hell I would let him get the last word, so I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face me. "What the hell is your problem?" I questioned. Then I added mockingly with a hand over my chest, "I thought we were getting along perfectly."

Dylan looked me dead in the eye. His tone was cold and deadly serious as he spoke.

"There is not a single part of me, Thomas Brodie-Sangster, that likes you. Infact, I kind of hate you a lot."

Then he turned on his heel, disappearing to go greet the rest of the cast.

I gritted my teeth, agitation flooding my veins. This may be harder than I thought.

************************

"I picture the movie to start right with Dylan, as Thomas, coming up in the box. I want to get that actiony-thriller type vibe translated to the audience right from kick off. Then the screen will widen, revealing..." The cast and crew had reseated themselves, watching the previously introduced director, Wes Ball, as he spoke. I watched in fascination as he rattled on, eyes fixated on the table in front of him and arms waving wildly around.

Wes was an intriguing character to me, and I found myself completely captivated as he described his vision of the Maze Runner. He had clearly thought out every little detail and character of the movie, and was most definitely the perfect match for the film. I was definitely excited to be able to work with him, at least.

Four hours later, Wes had finished speaking, Wyck had described the budget and time span of the movie, and a new tentative script had been given to the cast. I was mentally exhausted from all of the information being thrown at us, and by the looks from the rest of the cast, they were feeling the same.

"Alright, how does lunch sound?" Wyck clapped his hands, wiping at his sweaty forehead. We nodded in agreement, slowly getting to our feet from around the small table. The room was full of mindless chatter as we dispersed, making our way towards the small hotel restaurant.By the time I had purchased my lunch, most of the small tables were full.

"Thomas!" I heard someone shout. I looked around and saw my castmates looking like absolute idiots as they waved their arms, gesturing for me to come over. I smiled wide, already knowing I was really going to like this group of people.

My steps faltered slightly as I neared, finally noticing that there was only one available seat; and of course, because I have the best luck in the world (sarcasm), it was right across from the one, the only, Dylan O'Brien.

Dylan's eyes were lit as he chatted animatedly with Will Poulter and Ki Hong Lee. I watched him with heavily lidded eyes as he said something, causing the other two to throw their heads back in laughter.

I placed my tray down and took a seat between Kaya and a dark-skinned man, whom I recalled to be Dexter.

"Hello, folks," I drawled quietly

Dylan's eyes flew up from his food when my british accent graced his ears. The laughter in the crinkles of his eyes faded, replaced with what I presumed to be hate.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Dylan muttered as I sat down. I glared at him and struggled to respond.

"Dickhead," I finally settled on.

"Oooh, good comeback. Did you come up with that one on your own or did your manager have to write it out on cue-cards for you?" Dylan sneered.

I slammed my sandwhich down and pieces squirted out from the sides. I looked him dead in the eye as I said, "I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a better insult than that."

"I could shit out anything, and it'd still be more attractive than you," Dylan spit out. My castmates watched our exchange like a tennis match, eyes following each speaker.

"Like you're one to talk. I bet you can't even look in a mirror without shattering it."

Dylan opened his mouth then closed it. I smiled in victory, picking up my sandwich and biting into it. When I looked up, my castmates were still watching Dylan and I.

"Wha'?" I asked with a mouthfull of food.

"What crawled up your asses?" Kaya asked next to me.

"Dylan started it," I defended quietly. I swallowed my mouthful.

"What are you, five?" Dylan asked. I glared at him.

My castmates glanced at each other with knowing looks, then unanimously turned back to their food. My eyebrows crinkled in.

"What?" I asked again.

"Nothing, nothing," Kaya answered. "It's just nice having two gay, single castmates is all."

I nearly choked on the bite I had just taken, and Dylan started coughing.

"WHAT?" Dylan and I gasped together in unison.

"I wouldn't-"

"Dylan and I--"

"He's fucking disgusting--"

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with him, but--"

"Thomas is a terrible person!"

I froze at Dylan's last statement as we spoke over each other. He stopped talking, befuddled over my silence. I looked at him for a moment, then got to my feet, muttering an excuse about going to charge my phone, and bidding a quick goodbye. My face remained stony as I quickly strode out of the restaurant, ignoring the silence that had followed me like a shadow as I left.

Dylan thought I was a terrible person? I thought. I stepped into the vacant elevator, quickly pressing the up arrow.

He doesn't even know me. What could I have possibly done for him to say something like that? I wasn't heartbroken or hurt or anything, just angry and confused that he judged me so quick. I knew he hated me, that was clear enough in all of his sarcastic comments, but a terrible person? Was I scum to him or something?

The elevator dinged, and I stepped out. I made my way down to my room, my eyes trained on the floor. The dirty carpet beneath my feet was pretty similar to how I felt during that moment: useless and disgusting, ground beneath someone else's feet.

I unlocked the door to my room, immediately opening up my laptop after I entered. I opened up Twitter, searching up Reggie Mills, then clicked the DM icon next to his name.

Thomas Sangster: I can't do it. I typed.

I waited a minute, and then Reggie responded.

Reggie Mills: A bet's a bet, kid.

Thomas Sangster: He hates me. I physically can't win this. It's impossible.

I waited again.

Reggie Mills: Good luck. Five months remaining.

I sighed, threading my fingers through my blond hair. Then I slammed my laptop shut angrily, slowly coming to the conclusion that everything would only get worse from here.

//

A/N

HIIIIII

Aaandd Dylan and Thomas met yikes

Im so freaking hungry but I'm too lazy to get up ugh the struggle

Literally my stomach sounds like its eating itself.

Anywho, special thanks to JellyzaPrima for really getting ny ass in gear to actually write something. Also her name is the coolest thing ever

Next, Imma see Scorch Trials tomorrow (finally) ((im the worst fan ever)) eeeeep

WE ARE OVER 400 READS FHSJUIXNSOS HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN

Thank you guys so so much, I appreciate every vote, read and comment :)

That's it.

*rolls away*

//sam\\