The Maze Runner Imagines/Preferences

Minho Imagine #1

it's not every day the glade gets a gift, but today was special. minho never really had a passion for anything, but when the glade had a received a guitar—courtesy of WICKED—he wouldn't stop plucking and strumming the strings, mapping out a pattern of chords. day and night, he spent countless hours teaching himself to pick at the guitar until it sounded like he really was playing the guitar. needless to say, he was practically in love with the instrument, refusing to let anybody touch it without his supervision.

so of course, you had  to pick it up to give it a few strums. you weren't the most coordinated, to put it lightly, so when you tripped on that rug that you never noticed was in his room, you'd stuck your arms out, completely forgetting that you had been holding one of minho's latest obsessions—other than making out with you. you heard the sickening crack before you saw it, and the already tattered and worn guitar that WICKED had sent you—because they were cheap as fuck and couldn't bother to send things of good quality—now had a gaping hole, just beside the bridge.

you racked your brain for ideas. how the fuck were you meant to fix this? you werent even sure why you had even picked it up in the first place, your small hands could never play all the chords.

you heard the door open and a gasp of pure anger escape someone's lips.

"what the fuck?"

you'd heard him curse all the time—he had put off using glader slang for a while, claiming it had not been edgy enough.

"what the fuck?" he repeated again, walking over to you, snatching the guitar roughly out of your hands.

he ran his hands around the edges of the crack, ignoring the obvious splinters that jutted out from your injured hand.

"how the fuck did you do this?" his body shuddered with rage. he gave you little to no time to respond. "are you gonna fucking answer me?"

"i-i just wanted to take a look at it. i wanted to try it out—to see if i could be as good as y-you." your excuse was lame and pathetic, no doubt that was what minho thought of you right now.

"as good as me?" he snickered, though the anger never left his face. "you'll never be as good as me. know why? because you always fuck everything up. everything good that comes along, you fuck it up. oh im y/n and i just love to play the victim card! oh, my! don't blame me for anything, im just a stupid, fucking little girl who has no place in the glade."

you shuddered upon hearing these words. tears threatened to spill over, balancing precariously at the edge.

"i-i d-don't know what you want me to do," you replied, weakly.

he stared at you incredulously, as if he didn't spend every second of every day with you; as if you didn't sit watching him pick at his guitar for hours when nobody—not even newt—would.

"you know what i want you to do?" he grabbed your wrist tightly, you were sure there would be a bruise.

he dragged you out of the room, across the glade, boys staring at the commotion. chuck looked away—he was one of the only ones who could remember snippets of his past life. you were sure this reminded him of his mother being dragged away.

minho pulled your arm harder, swinging you to stand in front of him.

"leave," he said, calmly.

your back faced the doors of the maze.

you struggled to find words. "what?" was all you could come up with.

"leave," repeated minho, his voice rising. he pushed you; you now stood in the maze, just beyond the doors. "you always wanted to be a runner; now you can. leave. don't come back. if you're such a strong, independent woman, you can survive in the maze." 

he pushed you deeper into the maze. you could tell he would start yelling if you didn't start walking away, so you did.
you didnt know your way through the maze; he never bothered to show you. you realized you were on your own, once you had turned around, and he had already begun walking away, never looking back.

you entered the maze.
and you never came back, just like he had wanted.

-

updated: 01 / 16 / 17