DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MAZE RUNNER, OR ANY OF THE MAZE RUNNER SERIES.
Labyrinth
"To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom, and the guidance of virtue."
Minho didn't really know what to think about girls.
To be brutally honest, the subject only crossed his mind once in a blue moon anyhow.
But lately, he had found his mind wandering over to the concept more and more, especially now that she had arrived. Ever since that Teresa girl had been lifted up from the box into the Glade, she was all the other guys could talk about.
And she was all he could think about, as he sat down on an isolated trunk under a shady tree. At the far end of the maze wall, he watched, playing with his blade by the tip of his finger, itching against the skin that lay there.
In the distance, she was speaking to Thomas. That was all she ever seemed to do. Somehow, that Greenie was her new found spot of attention, and he didn't seem to care.
Minho let out a gruff of air to himself.
Girls.
What was it about them that threw everything off perspective? It annoyed him to think that the Creators had done this - thrown a black-haired, blue-eyed thing into a mix of teenage guys, who were functioning perfectly well before hand. What was their game?
It wasn't that he didn't like girls. Because he did. In his head, they were perfectly alright.
Sure, they looked nice...and probably smelled nice...and he seemed to remember in his twisted, foggy memories that he liked the way their hips moved when they walked. (A trait he most definitely did not notice with Teresa. ...He was sure.) Yet for the most part, he liked it when things were just him. Just him, and the runners, and the other Gladers.
Girls made things complicated, and he could tell already.
"Hey, shuck-face," a voice echoed from behind him.
Great. Already found.
Minho craned his head over his neck to catch the image of Newt walking over to him. The blonde haired boy came and sat down beside him, clasping his hands together against his knees.
"Newt," Minho shortly replied.
Newt glanced over at him, a small smirk on his face. "So, is there a reason you're being particularly anti-social today?"
"Possibly." There was a pause in the Keeper's voice. "...Just observing."
"Observing the girl."
"Yep. Just keeping an eye out. Kind of a weird situation we've got going here."
Newt kicked his shoes against the dirt. "Don't bloody remind me. Gally won't shut up about Tommy. Says that he can't be trusted and what not, and now Teresa turning up...we'll have to be on guard."
Minho shook his head. He never did take to Gally, no matter how long they had both been trapped in the Glade. "Thomas? He's harmless. Doesn't know anything more than he's letting on. This chick, on the other hand...I don't know. It seems too manipulated."
"Well, watch them all you want if it makes you feel better," his friend sighed. "To be frank, I'm too tired for this right now. Alby's doing better, but he still needs constant watch."
A shudder ran down Minho's spine. Alby. The changing. It all came back to him in a wave of guilt. How he had left him, his leader, and Thomas, a newbie. Left them in the depths of the maze, scared shitless by a few Grievers. Not something he should have done, ever.
Almost sensing his self-loathing, Newt clapped him on the shoulder.
"He is getting better," he assured. "Don't worry about what's happened in the past. Nobody is judging you."
Turning a glare towards Newt, Minho finally decided that he wanted further peace and quiet. It wouldn't be long now before Frypan whipped up dinner, and the very idea of socialising made him irritable. "Don't you have something to do?"
Sensing his tone, Newt held up his hands in surrender. "I get it. Don't need to tell me twice." He rose from the trunk, brushing off the remnants of dirt from his pants. As he began walking away, he clocked his head over his shoulder to send the Runner a sly grin.
"What's it gonna take to get your mind off all this angst?" he teased.
Minho buried his head mockingly in his hands. "All this teenage anxiety. The world is against me."
"Maybe just the Creators," Newt shouted. "...We could always ask them to send you up a lovely girl."
Sending him a quick sarcastic smile, Minho watched as his friend disappeared into the center of the Glade. When he was sure he was alone, he lowered his head to the ground and stuck his blade into the ground.
Under his breath, he muttered, "I'd rather they send me a shuck Griever."
No, Minho didn't know what to think of girls.
But he sure as hell wasn't wishing to get one anytime soon.
