"So, any idea what the hell happens now?" Thomas asked, sitting at the table.
"Duh, we eat." Minho said, shoveling food into his mouth.
"I'm not stupid shank. I mean, now that we're out of the maze....what happens?" Thomas asked again.
"No idea." You sighed, picking at your food with a fork. Minho stopped eating and looked you up and down.
"What's wrong?" He asked. You shrugged.
"Nothing." You mumbled, playing with your scrambled eggs.
"Really?" He said, obviously not buying it. You shrugged again and avoided eye contact. Minho kept eating his food, shooting you worried glances every now and then.
"You can tell me what's wrong you know." He said quietly so the rest of the table wouldn't hear.
"It's nothing, Min. I just...they took some blood samples and poked me with a bunch of needles and I don't feel good." You shuddered. "I hate needles."
Minho frowned and his gaze softened. "You wanna go back to our room? Maybe a nap would help." He offered. You smiled a little.
"Yeah...that sounds nice." You said quietly. Minho pushes his tray away and stood up.
"Good that. Let's go." He smiled, holding your hand and kissing your forehead.