2 weeks. 2 weeks and Minho was tired of being a Runner. Newt made him one just a couple of weeks ago, and Minho had been really excited about it. Had been. Running throughout the entire day with minimal breaks, and the stress of having to find a way to escape was one thing. Running into walls and having to constantly sweep his black fringe out of his face was another. Sure, Newt's hair was much longer than Minho's, but that klunk had his hair braided every morning. Minho's fringe would constantly fall over his eyes, and he returned to the Glade one day with a big abrasion. "I tripped when I rounded the corner. Can't see anything past my shuck fringe," he explained in annoyance when he noticed the curious looks the Gladers gave him. He gave a sigh before making his way to the Map Room. Newt let out a light giggle as he watched Minho, then sauntered off to the Homestead to find Alby.
The next day, Minho woke up to a gentle tug on his hair and found Alby quietly braiding his fringe. He jerked up, nearly knocking Alby in the chin. "Dude what the shuck?" Minho cursed softly, not wanting to wake the other gladers up. Alby just rolled his eyes before muttering something about not wanting another abrasion. He attempted to reach for Minho's hair to braid it again, but Minho roughly shoved his hand away. "No, Alby. No braiding my hair. I look like a girl." He hastily climbed out of his poor excuse for a bed and went off to wash up.
Minho stood in front of the tall giant stone doors, waiting for them to open. Newt jogged over, his backpack slung over his shoulders. "Morning Newt," Minho greeted. Newt gave a nod and stared at the thick stone doors. "Look at me, Minho," Newt broke the silence. He suddenly licked his fingers. "Stay still, slinthead" he ordered, then began styling Minho's fringe. Minho immediately flinched and tried to avoid Newt's saliva-coated fingers, but a sharp tug from Newt stopped him. Newt focused on Minho's hair, his head tilted to one side and he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to get Minho's hair styled perfectly. Several minutes passed, the stone doors already open and Minho squirmed impatiently on the grass. "There!" Newt finished, a proud smile curled on his lips. Minho rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed his backpack, dashing off into the maze. Newt watched Minho's muscular figure disappear into the Maze, before running after him.
Saliva is not a good way to keep hair in place. Minho had learnt that 6 hours after running into the Maze. His hair had fallen onto his forehead in thick hardened strands. My hair is coated in Newt's saliva, he had to remind himself. He shuddered at the thought and made a mental note to himself to request for hair gel.
The sun slowly set, disappearing past the west side of the Maze. Minho grabbed a piece of paper from the Map Room, scribbled a note and dropped it into the Box.
I want hair gel. Minho
4 days later, the monthly batch of supplies came up the Box. Every time the Box came up, everyone's duties started a little later, including the Runners. "This is a combined effort. Our supplies and new Gladers come only once a month, so everyone's got to help," Alby reasoned. Minho hurried over to it and jumped in, pulling the large barrels up. "Woah woah chill it there Minho!" Alby's voice came from several meters away. Minho ignored him and continued hauling the barrel, arm muscles tensing up. Newt raised an eyebrow at the scene. Minho was never excited about the Box. He'd always be somewhere in the Deadheads, waiting for the barrels to be loaded off the Box before the joined the Gladers in unloading them. He swiftly rummaged through the barrel, then muttered "klunk" before stalking over to another barrel.
Just then, a shriek from not too far away caught his attention. "MINHO! WHAT THE BLOODY HECK IS THIS? YOU REQUESTED THE CREATORS TO SEND YOU HAIR GEL?!" It was Newt, holding up a bottle of clear liquid with a note attached. Minho broke into a large grin, striding over to Newt and took the bottle from him.
For Minho. Your hair gel.
Minho practically skipped off to the Homestead, surprising all the Gladers. Minho never skipped. Heck, he would even scoff at Newt when he caught him doing that. He reappeared half an hour later, his fringe neatly gelled and styled, an idiotic grin plastered on his face.
This went on for the next few months, Newt sighing every time he spotted Minho's hair gel in one of the barrels. Minho would expectedly stand around, waiting for Newt to find his bottle of hair gel.
"Yes, Minho. You may stop your bloody bouncing around now. It's giving me shucking headaches. Take your bloody bottle of gel and go do your personal grooming. I'll meet you at the West door in 30."