Minho Imagines (Minho X Reader)

Its Cold

Much better just to keep yourself busy working.

There was only so much you could take, though. It was well after midday when you finally got a chance to sit down- the second your weight was off your ankle, the pain hit you again. You leaned your head back against the wood and tried to breathe.

You hated feeling helpless like this. That wasn’t how the other Gladers thought of you, you knew that. But you thought it of yourself. If a Griever burst into the Glade right now, you wouldn’t even be able to run from it. If Minho got into trouble of some kind, you couldn’t go running into the Maze to help him.

And it wasn’t going to get better, so you were wasting time by sitting here and having a pity party for yourself. It was pathetic.

The rest of the day was no less busy than the morning, no less busy than it was on any regular day, but suddenly you couldn’t wait to get out of that damn kitchen. It was stiflingly hot. You needed to feel fresh air on your skin.

The sun was already setting by the time you finally got out. The boys who weren’t still at work were already gathering around the campfire. They waved at you, called for you to join them, but you just smiled and headed in the other direction.

Minho would be back soon. This wasn’t the first time since your accident that you’d settled into a mood like this, but he was the only one who could shift it. And it wouldn’t be long until he was back now.

Fifteen minutes ticked by. Half an hour. Fourty-five minutes. He wasn’t among the Runners who were stumbling back into the Glade.

Soon, he and Alby were the only ones left who hadn’t returned.

You weren’t the only one waiting breathlessly at the gates any more. As the sun sank lower and lower, more and more boys joined the crowd. Eventually, the only sound in the Glade was breathless silence.

Nothing moved in the depths of the Maze.

This was too much. You couldn’t stand it. Your ankle protested as you began to limp forward. You ignored it, but a hand clamped down on your shoulder. You twisted to see Newt, and glared at him.

“Let me go.”

“No.” He didn’t even have to ask what you were trying to do. “You’re not going in there.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Yes, I can. One more step and I’ll knock you out. Is that clear enough?”

You could have been able to outrun Newt before you hurt yourself, but you had no chance now. He was stronger than you. And, to your disgust, he was right. There was nothing you could do for Minho now, except wait.

The new boy, Thomas, was standing behind you and Newt. He looked at you curiously as you shook Newt off and stepped away. You stared into the Maze, begging for any little hint of movement beyond the gaping gates.

Nothing.

Something. Something was moving out there. It was slow, but too small to be a Griever, and then one of the last rays of sunlight fell on its face.

His face.

Minho was just beyond the walls, Alby half-unconscious next to him. He looked up desperately as the gates began to move. You let out a strangled noise, staggering forward, because Newt was not going to stop you from getting him back in here safe.

But you physically couldn’t move fast enough. You were doing all you could, but the walls would be closed before you could even reach them. Newt was yelling, the rest of the Glade was yelling, and…

Someone sprinted past you. You staggered to a halt, watching Thomas legging it past you. He made it to the Maze, just about.

Minho’s gaze met yours. He shook his head hopelessly.

The walls crashed closed.

You only vaguely realised that you were on your knees, staring blankly at the walls, or that the other Gladers were slowly beginning to drift away, murmuring amongst each other. There would be no bonfire tonight.

Newt crouched in front of you, looking much too pale.

“Y/N, come on. Come back to your hut. Get some sleep.”

“No.”

“You can’t do anything, Y/N. Whatever happens- we won’t know anything until morning.”

“Then I’m staying here until morning.”

“You’ll make yourself ill.”

“I don’t care.” You met his eyes for a split second, then had to look away again. Seeing the misery in his eyes was too much.

He walked away.

You tried not to shiver. Without the sun, the maze really was quite cold. But then, it meant Minho would be cold too.

You should have been able to go and get him back. You had never felt so frustrated with yourself.

Suddenly, something warm was being draped around your shoulders. You looked up. Newt was back, crouching.

“Okay. I accept that you’re not moving. Just take care of yourself, okay? Minho will kill me if you get ill.”

Will kill me. Not would. You could have hugged Newt.

You settled for “Thanks.” He nodded, trying to smile.

Then he was gone again.

The blanket wasn’t much use as the night got even darker, but it meant you weren’t freezing. You kept it.

The cold kept you awake. The night felt like it would never end.

If Minho wasn’t right on the other side when morning came, what would you do? You could barely even think about it.

More hours passed. The sky was slowly lightening. On any other day, he would have been getting out of bed now, and you would have been complaining about the cold.

You had no right to complain about it now.

-

As soon as the first rays of dawn touched the walls, they began to grind open again. You were surrounded by a crowd again, no one looking anywhere other than at the entrance to the Maze.

When you started to shiver as the walls finished moving, it had nothing to do with the cold that was buried deep in your bones.

You couldn’t see movement. There was nothing out there- at least, nothing living.

Then something did move.

It gradually came into focus- three boys. Alby. Thomas.

Minho.

He didn’t even look hurt.

The second they were back in the Maze, boys rushed to help them, making a cacophony of noise. You were frozen in place. Minho shook everyone off and came over to you.

He put his hands on your face, making you look up at him. “Y/N, you- you’re freezing. Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you, shuck-face,” you sighed, and grabbed his head to bring his lips down to yours.

His kiss made you warmer than you had been all night.

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