𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Think I caught you, Greenbean.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"You're not that bad, y'know," Minho says to me as he slows to a walk. It's the next day, and Minho wanted me back out in the Maze as soon as possible. Newt wasn't so thrilled at the idea of it, however he wasn't the Keeper and didn't get to make any of the decisions. I haven't had a vision yet today, and I pray they don't get worse — I don't fancy a trip back to Jeff and Clint and explain to them what's wrong with me. So, I keep it to myself. For now.

"Come on, Min Min, just say it," I taunt. "I'm better than everyone else."

Minho spins around, shoving his notebook in his pocket and pointing a finger at me. "First of all, call me Min Min one more time and the grievers won't be the only thing ya have to worry about killing—"

"Okay, Min Min," I say, flashing him an innocent smile.

"Second," he says, sighing dramatically which only makes me laugh, "how are you so full of y'self?"

"Lets not pretend that I'm the only one here with a god-complex," I drawl. "Tell me, how many hours a day do you spend combing your hair?"

"Hours? Please," he scoffs. "This takes days."

I stifle a laugh and continue to walk next to him, surveying the area. "I'll bet you ask for hair gel in the box each month, don't you?"

Minho smirks sideways at me, "Caught me red handed."

I laugh at Minho as we pick up the pace, taking two lefts and a right. Another left. Right. Right. Left. Trying to keep track of everything is not only exhausting, but confusing. Minho is the only one who really knows his way around here, and I'm glad that at least one of us is well versed. Thankfully, Minho doesn't take me through the same doors in the same area I was stuck out in, instead gives that to Ben.

Minho's deep into explaining how being a Runner works when we decide to stop for a lunch break. Apparently there are eight Runners, including the Keeper — one for each section. However, they dropped one when one of them was stuck in the Maze overnight. I still can't believe I survived that. I don't think anyone else believed it, either.

The two of us, chests heaving and muscles worn, slump against a wall, staring at the ivy in front of us blankly before pulling out the lunch Frypan made us. Our sandwiches are a little squished and are stupidly hot and sweaty but I really can't complain. I bite hastily into it and turn to Minho, who's already wolfed down a half of one.

"How am I doing?" I ask.

"I'll tell ya at the end of the day."

"Yay," I say dryly. "Really like to keep a girl waiting, huh?"

Minho laughs at me now, not a cynical one as is the usual but a real chuckle, his eyes lighting up. I roll my eyes like him. Does this man not take a joke? "As if I like girls."

"I knew it!" I say, giving him a grin. I wiggle my eyebrows at him as he rolls his eyes. "Anyone special caught your eye?"

"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.

I rack my brains for the way back, and an image of when our first route pops into my head. From here it's a right, straight on for two, left, left and straight on for four then another right. That should bring us back onto the main corridor, and from there it's easy to get back to the Glade. I trust my instincts, sweat dripping down me as I run faster and faster, staring at the digital clock on my wrist. Thirty minutes until the doors close. We'll make it early.

Once the Glade comes into view, I let out a small sigh of relief. I did it.

As we jog into the Glade, fresh air floods my lungs and Minho and I stop for a second, catching our breaths. I'm about to make my way over to Frypan's for a glass of water when Minho stops me.

"We're not done yet."

"Well, what else is there?" I say as I follow Minho, who's running over to a small concrete building in the corner. When I'd asked Newt about that place before, I'd always gotten a vague answer. I run a little faster, intrigued by the room I've never been into. As I enter, I squint in the darkness to see something, anything. But all I see are random shapes and letter standing out to me in the dark as Minho shuts the door behind us. There's no windows in here, making the air stuffy and dust ridden. In the middle of the room is a massive map of the maze made out of twigs and pieces of wood. It astounds me with its intricacy. Combinations are scrawled on muddy paper and stuck to the walls absentmindedly — the room is chaos.

Minho spends an hour or so walking me through the mapping process, which I grasp the concept of quicker than running. They have mapped every inch of the maze. Every inch. And they still haven't found anything.

Once the working day is over, Minho turns to me before he walks out of the building. "Ya did alright, Thea."

"Thanks, Min Min!" I call. He growls before slamming the door, plunging the room into darkness once more. I take an hour just sat in here, comparing notes, maps and gaging the different areas of the maze and comparing when the sections open and when they close.

When I step out into the Glade, exhausted after today, I stare at the the sun; low in the sky, almost about time to set. I listen to the birds chirp as I cross the field — I want to get a drink. However, a British voice calls me as I near Frypan's.

"How'd it go, Greenbean?"

I shrug nonchalantly and call back to him as his figure materialises by a tree, "Minho said I did alright."

"That's Minho code for I'm impressed," Newt says, his eyebrows raised as he pushes himself off the tree he's leaning against and walk towards me, the sun reflecting off his hair.

"Who wouldn't be?" I say. Newt smiles and rolls his eyes. I raise my hands in mock defence. "I'll take credit where its due."

"I'll feed ya to the grievers if you carry on," he jokes.

"You wouldn't."

He stops and turns to me. "I would."

"You wouldn't be able to catch me," I say, a mischievous glint in my eye as I stare at him.

"Want to bet?" he grins.

"Yeah, I do," I say. Newt jolts towards me, and I immediately sprint away, evading his reach and laughing as he runs after me. I dash towards the gardens on the opposite side of the Glade, glancing behind me to see Newt just out of arms reach. I try to pick up the pace, however my legs and body are aching from running so far today and though I will myself not to, I slow down. Just as I do so, Newt tackles me to the ground, and we land with a thud in the grass.

"Think I caught you, Greenbean," he says, pinning me to the grass, hovering above me with a grin on his face.

"Really?" I say, kicking his legs and rolling over. I smirk at him — now I've got him pinned to the ground. Newt struggles underneath me, making me grin. "Might wanna rethink that statement-"

I'm so busy revelling in the fact that I just managed to pin him that he sweeps himself from under me, throwing me over him and pressing my wrists into the ground, his knees trapping my legs. "Might wanna rethink that statement," he mimicks.

"I do not sound like that."

"No, you sound exactly like that," he breathes, staring down at me. I can feel my face flush under his touch... but that's just because I'm boiling hot, right? I stare into Newt's glimmering eyes, the same soft brown that I saw when I was in the Maze. Our breaths slow as we look at each other — my hearts beating out of my chest. The sun shines just behind his head, illuminating his hair like a halo, making him look like some sort of angel. He's got another dirt smudge on his cheek, and it takes all of my willpower to not reach out and wipe it off. I notice the small freckles dotting his cheeks that I've never seen this close before. Newt smirks down at me, pulling me out of the trance, "Alright there, Greenbean?"

"Get off me," I growl at him, anger replacing the haze I'd been pulled into. Newt pushes himself off me immediately, offering a hand for me to stand up.

"Come on, stop bein' so stubborn," he says when I don't take his hand. Electric pulsing through my skin when my hand slides into his, he pulls me to me feet, rolling his eyes at the frustration I seem to portray somewhat convincingly. I'm more confused than anything.

I'm about to tell him to get lost when a deep voice sounds by the gardens. "Newt's a lucky bastard. Pretty much got her wrapped around his finger, he has."

"What I'd give to be him right now," the other gushes slyly, shooting me a wink. I want to be sick. I've got half a mind to have a go at him, however Newt gets there first.

"Enjoyin' the view, mate?" He calls, his jaw clenching as he glares at the two Track-hoes. I don't even know their names.

"Yeah, I am actually," the pale one says, looking me up and down.

"Eyes up here, Slinthead," I snap. When he does it again, I scoff at him, "You're disgusting. Who even are you?"

"You don't tell us what to do, Greenie," the other says, making a shiver run down me. Newt tenses beside me.

"First of all, yes she does. If she doesn't want ya looking at her like that, then you don't," he snaps. "And second, even if ya were a complete git, which I can only assume you are and didn't learn the lines of consent and ignored her, you forget that I'm Second in Command. So unless you want a free ticket to a week in the Slammer, get back to work, and mind your bloody business. Good that?"

I'm surprised entirely by Newt's outburst... I've not seen him angrier than when I first asked to be a Runner. But that's a small scolding compared to this. His eyes burn holes in the two of them as they hang their heads. Misogynistic arseholes.

"Good that," they both grumble before turning around and headed the other way.

"Bloody bastards," Newt says under his breath as we watch them walk away.

"We need a 'bloody' tally," I joke, attempting to lighten the mood. Those boys don't faze me in the slightest — if it came down to it I know I could kick their sexist arses blindfolded.

"Are you okay?" he says suddenly.

I smile at him, "They don't scare me at all, Frog-face."

—
Thank you so much for reading, ya'll! And a special thank you for the people who vote and comment — it makes my day seeing how you react to the story.

If you find any errors, don't hesitate to tell me! I love feedback :)

Some very fluffy scenes are coming up in the next chapter hehe. I hope you all are doing okay and are staying safe.

~ sophie xx
(2384 words)