𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

"Nope," he says plainly. "And even if I did, why would I tell you?"

I scoff. "Because I'm your friend."

"No. Newt is my friend," he corrects.

"Like you can only have one."

"Only have one like him."

I stare at the vines, the individual rays of sunlight bouncing off of them, creating a weave of sun and vines. The deep green jumps out at me and I smile. Green's my favourite colour. You never notice the beauty of the Maze at night, when it's riddled with danger. Despite that fact that it's heavily overgrown and crawling with insects, the Maze is stunning — a complex puzzle of twists and turns. Except, of course, until the grievers come out to play. Then the dream turns into a nightmare.

"There are different kinds of friends," I eventually say. "You're telling me you want more than one Frog-faced, annoying—"

He cuts me of, scrunching his nose. "I get the picture."

"Not clearly enough apparently." Minho scoffs at me and continues to eat his sandwich, stealing quick glances at the notepad next to him. I stare at mine, the notes identical to Minho's. He looks over at mine and nods his head in approval. I'm doing well so far. "Newt is the quote unquote weird friend."

"I can't argue there," Minho says, laughing.

"I'm the amazing friend—"

"Who's too sarcastic and egotistical for her own good," he grumbles.

I raise my eyebrows, nudging his shoulder. "So you agree, then?"

"What?"

I smirk at him. "That I'm your friend."

Minho stares at me for what feels like forever with a cautious glance, almost hesitant to reply to me. I don't break the eye contact, like I'm demanding an answer from him. I'm still not sure where Minho and I stand; all I know is that it's a lot better than where me and people like Gally stand. He clears his throat. "Don't push it, Greenie."

I'll take that as a yes.

"I have a name."

"I hadn't noticed," he says sarcastically. "Don't hear ya complain when Newt doesn't use your name, though do I?"

I tilt my head a I try to decipher what Minho's just said. What his he getting at? "So?"

Minho just shakes his head and says, rather abruptly, "Right. Lunch break is over."

I shrug at him before we pack up our things and jog back to the Glade, which is a couple hours away if we were to walk. However, since we're running, we should be able to cover the distance in one hour at the minimum. On the route back, I focus my attention solely on remembering everything. Where we came from... where Minho's leading me... inverting the pattern I made in my head when we came this way the first time. Minho notices my concentration and slows a little, nodding at me to run forwards.

He wants me to take us back.

I nod firmly, conveying a false confidence that he seems to pick up on. I'm not ready. But Minho doesn't seem to think so. Well, it's either that, or he enjoys seeing me fail. Now that I think about it, the second one's probably more likely.