𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦, minho (tmr)

Chapter Seventeen

Florence couldn't take her mind off Ben the next day. He was her friend, and the Gladers had thrown him into the maze with barely a second thought.

How could they have done it so easily?

Shivering involuntary, Florence attempted to shake the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to remind herself of the fact Newt, Minho, Alby, or even Gally could send him to his death so easily.

She willed herself to think of anything else, the girl perhaps. She had still not woken from her coma, and Florence was beginning to worry. The girl barely ate, despite how much Clint and Jeff were trying, and she was thinning terribly.

She wanted the girl to live, selfishly so that she wouldn't be so lonely. Florence could only imagine how it would help to have the company of another girl, no matter when.

Considering her outburst yesterday, she knew she was not expected to go into the Maze; any thoughts of seeing parts of Ben the Grievers had left behind prevented her from even setting a toe over the threshold, and no one dared to tell her to get to work as a Med-jack today.

Florence found it funny, almost. The boys were too afraid to fully enforce the Glade's rules on the girl, after all, she was slacking right now. She didn't mind this however, the power she held over them was way too tempting to resist.

It was about mid afternoon, and Florence was just rising from her bed. She knew Minho had left early in the morning, and although she knew he would go, she couldn't help but wish that today would've been different.

She had his sweatpants on, the ones he had given her on that second day, but she chose to change her shirt before leaving to get some food from Frypan's kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, the hard exterior she had planned to keep up for all of the boys had immediately vanished. She couldn't stay mad at Newt when he looked like this. He was sat alone, his eyes bloodshot and his forehead creased with wrinkles.

Grabbing food from the counter, she approached the boy carefully, sitting down beside him. His eyes briefly fluttered over her, taking a double take when he realised it was her.

"Hello." He muttered quietly, before going back to staring off, beginning to bite his fingernails.

"Newt, what's wrong love?"

She imitated the boy's accent in an attempt to get him to crack a smile, but it failed miserably. Thomas and Chuck were sat close by, Florence quickly looking to them, before turning back to the troubled boy.

She chose to not speak, wanting the boy to talk to her first, if he did want to tell her anything. But he said nothing either, and Florence began to eat her food, still sending careful glances his way.

"What's wrong with him?" She heard Chuck ask Thomas, and she knew that the boys didn't know that they were both in earshot of their conversation.

"I don't know. Why don't you go and ask him?" Thomas replied, and she knew that neither would have the guts for that.

Newt may be the nicest guy in the Glade, but he was clearly distraught, and so no one knew how to act. Except Florence. She knew that Thomas would want to help, if his love-sick expressions towards the boy were anything to go by, but he had no idea what to do.

"I can hear every bloody word you guys are saying." Newt called to the pair, causing them both to jump, and Florence to let out a laugh. "No wonder people hate sleeping next to you shanks."

Florence could see the guilty expressions on both the boys faces, and almost felt sorry for them. They weren't meaning to be insensitive.

"What is wrong with you Newt?" Florence asked him gently, grabbing his hand and squeezing it softly.