[[This one shot is from Newt's point of view and it takes place before Thomas arrives!]]

The sun was starting to dip behind the immense wall that held us in like prisoners as I returned from the maze. I was sweating through my t-shirt as I leaned over, exhausted and out of breath. It was another day of not finding any clues on how to escape. I groaned as I straightened up. My gaze fell on the West Door as I searched for the familiar sight of Minho. I was a bit faster than he was, so I was quite a few meters ahead of him.

I furrowed my brows, frowning. As my gaze flitted between the setting sun and the door, my heart pounded. It was my least favourite part of the day. I hated the anticipation of the runners returning for the day. I always held my breath, especially worried about one Glader in particular wouldn't return before the door shut for the night. Once it closed, they were trapped there, and no one survived a night in the maze.

Finally, I saw the familiar dark-haired figure of Minho enter the Glade. Losing him would be the bloody worst. I squinted as I stared after him. He appeared to be as exhausted as I was and just as sweaty. He sent me a wave as he approached, smiling a bit. Despite the misery of the situation I returned it; his smile was aggravatingly contagious.

As he approached, my heart jumped into my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

"Hey! Did you go to the map room yet?" He asked between ragged breaths.

I shook my head, searching for my voice. "Catching my breath." I manage to get out. I didn't want to admit that I was specifically waiting for him to return.

He smirked at me. "Well, c'mon, shank, we got work to do." He turned to head for the map room, leaving me momentarily frozen before I followed behind him.

We worked feverishly on our maps, though I couldn't see the bloody point. It was inching closer to two years since we arrived in this buggin' place and we had no more of an idea of how to get out than the day we mysteriously arrived. Yet we continued on. Once we finished our maps, we started to compare the previous days. I didn't see anything different in mine, as bloody usual. The pattern never changed.

I glanced over at Minho. Judging by the way he bit his lip as he squinted at the maze; I could tell it was the same for him. I studied his strong jaw and the way he pulled on his short black hair with his left hand when nervous. There were beads of sweat on his forehead where worry lines creased it like an imprint.

He must have sensed me staring at him because he turned his head toward me, his almond colored eyes searching mine with a questioning gaze. I turned a bit pink and glanced away quickly. My heart was pounding like drums into the silence.

"What ya staring at, shank?" He cut in finally.

"You look worried, is all. Did you find anything?" I hoped he didn't pry further. I wasn't sure I knew the real answer to his question.

He took a moment before answering. I could feel his gaze studying me. I didn't like it one bloody bit. He finally glanced away and planted his eyes on the table.

"No. We've been running in this shucking maze for nearing two years and we haven't found klunk." There was despair in his voice that I wasn't used to.

"We'll bloody get it. You'll see. We'll be out of this maze soon enough." I found myself saying as I glanced at him. I hated seeing him of all people sound so hopeless.

When he turned toward me, our eyes met, and I could feel my face heat up again. The next thing I knew, I was leaning toward him with my lips pursed and my eyes shut. There was a flutter in my chest and a distinct ringing in my ears. I had no idea what I was doing.

My eyes shot open when I felt a hand sprawled out across my face, forcing our distance. I gaped like a fish in shock, rendered speechless.

Minho spoke for the both of us. "What the shuck are ya doin'? I'm not gay!" He paused, as though contemplating the meaning of the word he used.

If he said something else, I didn't hear him over the screaming in my brain. I couldn't speak. My tongue felt like it was tied in knots. Gay. I thought. It was a familiar concept, but I couldn't place any personal implications in it.

"Newt? Are you OK?" Minho's tone softened. I must have looked stricken.

"Uh yeah I'm fine. Not gay." I paused as I racked my brain for an excuse. "I was so exhausted I must have imagined you to be a girl. What a bloody disappointment." I let out a strained laugh at my lame attempt at a joke.

He stared at me with perked brows and then let out a derisive snort but for once couldn't come up with a witty retort. He shook his head in disbelief.

I remained frozen; my mind raced as though I was back running in the maze. "Don't tell anyone." I finally spoke, my voice too soft for my liking.

Minho sent me one of his dimpled smiles as he patted my back reassuringly. "Your secret's safe with me, shank."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank you. It would be embarrassing if everyone knew I tried to snog your ugly shank face." I said with a cheeky grin.

He let out a relieved laugh. "Shut up, slinthead. No one would know what snog meant anyway!" He punched my arm playfully. I felt weak in the knees.

I was relieved that he didn't flip out yet, with a sinking feeling, I realized that I had a crush on someone who was never going to be into me in the same way. I felt like a hand reached in through my chest and squeezed my heart until it threatened to burst.

"Come on, shuckhead, let's go grab some dinner." Minho cut into my thoughts like a knife. Concern was written all over his face, but I ignored it.

"Good that." I struggled to keep my voice steady.

We put away our maps as other Gladers shuffled in with similar exhaustion. I mindlessly followed Minho toward the kitchen. I tried to ignore the pit of despair that only seemed to deepen and spread as time went on.