☆彡 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿
❛ 'cause someone is out there, and they're sending out flares. ❜
FLARE | NOUN OR ADJECTIVE
a sudden brief burst of bright
flame or light, a sudden burst
of intense...
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If there was one thing that Kennedy knew about Minho, it was that he would always jog back into the glade when all the sun-rays stroked the top of walls. That was what he always did.
Okay— maybe she knew a lot of things about Minho.
Like, for instance, that his favourite colour was grey. It wasn't a colour that made him happy and it wasn't a colour that made him sad, either. Grey was just... grey. Neutral. Nothing else to it. Not an airy, light grey, and not a dark charcoal grey, but a deep stone grey, like the colour of the maze walls.
That's what it reminded him of: the maze. Kennedy thought that would be a morbid favourite colour, but Minho disagreed. He was a fan of it; not because it gave him particularly fond memories, but because it was his motivation. The maze kept him going. It was all the reasons he woke up in the morning, and why he went to bed at night. Everything Minho did revolved around the maze. That gave him purpose, running it everyday, and Kennedy had never thought about it that way, before. It made sense. So, when he had told her the lowdown on his favourite colour, she'd made good note of it; just in case she ever needed it for a moment like this one: where she stood waiting for her friend, recalling what she knew about him— things both big and little.
