For the past two years, running was all Minho had known. He knew it to be the only way one could survive in the life of a lab rat the Gladers had all been given and he had seen too many friends die due to their foolish ignorance of this fact. He'd quickly learned you couldn't stop and make friends, you'd just get hurt – no point in coming to care for someone who could so easily be dead the next day. So he ran alone, everyday, with the dying flame of hope kindled weakly in his chest being his only source of support, the only thing that kept him alive.
He was a runner, through and through, his instinct telling him to flee before all else. And that's what he'd done – When the shucking Greenie had been stupid enough to enter the maze to help him and Alby, he hadn't hesitated before abandoning them both to the unforgiving walls of their stone tomb in a desperate attempt at survival. His mind went void of all emotions, save the fear that drove him and his body began working on autopilot, guiding him through practiced maneuvers in his flight of self-preservation. His feet pounded off the stone floor in a rhythmic pattern that soothed him with it's familiarity as he matched his breath to it's steady beat. Another left. Another right. A long straight. Eyes ahead. Don't stop. Don't look back. Run. Survive. The well known heart beat of his existence.
He didn't know how far he'd run before he began to slow his pace and allowed his thoughts to catch him back up, the once familiar walls looking like nothing he'd ever seen before in his blinding panic. It wasn't until then that he began to feel something aside from fear, his mind working sluggishly as he came down from the sudden burst of adrenaline brought on by his instinct to run. Bit by bit, he processed more thoroughly the events having just taken place, his heart beginning to sink as emotions he hadn't known were possible in this life suddenly began bubbling up. Thoughts flooded Minho's mind, having been smothered out by his need for survival until this moment and he felt himself stumble to a stop as he let them wash over him, unable to continue his retreat.
He left them. Just like that, he's left them for dead. His own selfish fear had driven him to the point that he couldn't even stop a moment to consider the lives of his companions. He felt bad about Alby but the chances of him surviving a Griever sting were next to nothing, the real thing that hauled his retreat was the Greenie.
In all the time he'd lived here no one had ever dared to risk themselves for another – let alone throw themselves into the certain demise that was the maze. Especially not to help him of all people. The Greenie – Thomas he thinks his name was – had only been here two days, yet he willingly threw himself into unknown peril for him and Alby... And he hadn't hesitated before he'd left him to die.
He felt disgust creep into his heart at the revelation. What kind of person was he? What life was he so desperate to save that wouldn't stop to help one that had been so willing endangered for it? Minho, in no time that he could remember, had ever experienced guilt or remorse as he did now, having been determined to remain detached and untouched by the gut twisting emotions caring for others brought upon him. He felt nauseous and unsteady, self-loathing consuming him like a dark cloud of black smoke as he the weight of his actions came down upon him.
The boy turned about him, roaming eyes taking in his surroundings and linking them to memories of past experience, needing to, more quickly now than ever, figure out where he was in the endless winding paths of the stone prison. He forced himself into motion and began sprinting back the direction he had come, struggling to remember to breath evenly as he focused everything on retracing his path and searching for Thomas. He strained to hear anything over the obnoxious sounds of his own heart racing, his ragged breath, anything other than his shoes beating loudly off stone path...
Then he heard something, but not anything that he wanted to hear. The harsh metallic clicks and fleshy squelches that indicated the presence of a Griever, one moving rapidly and with purpose. Minho faltered, listing intently to try and decipher the location of the beast, fear grasping his heart with inky poisonous claws that tore with ease and sunk deep. He deduced with relative ease that the creature was advancing through a hall coming from the left a few paces down from where he stood, frozen in fear. No sooner than had he discovered this, the nightmare itself became visible, rolling out of the corridor in a atrocious ball of spikes and death, sending a shudder of fear through his body and chilling him to the core. The creature hauled its advance, uncurling itself slowly, menacingly, and Minho thought for sure that he was done for. The creature had undoubtedly seen him, or smelled him, or whatever they did, and was now about to come at him, an attack he knew there would be no fighting.
Just as the Asian felt himself give up on life, the monster moved again, advancing, not towards him, but towards something in the hall across from the one it had come out of. It's sinister metal claw clasped and unclasped as though it was trying to cast fear upon its victim and it moved with with a mocking lack of speed, obviously having whatever it was chasing cornered. There was only one other living thing in the stone tomb, Minho knew that to be a fact. With a stomach turning moment of revelation, he realized he knew exactly what the cornered prey must be.
He felt queasy as he crept silently nearer to the corridor the Griever had now completely disappeared into, the ominous sound of its scissor like claw still audible as he moved closer. He hoped desperately that he could prove himself wrong if he glanced past the beast but he honestly had no doubt that all he would see was Thomas's untimely demise at the merciless claws of the living nightmare advancing on the helpless male. And it's your fault. You left him. His mind, oh so helpfully, reminded him as he leaned past the corner, unable to breathe and shaking with horrified anticipation.
His eyes were met with the heart wrenching sight of the boy he'd left for dead standing, surrounded by Grievers, no means of escape presenting themselves as he watched the scene. Two of the monsters could be seen in the far end of the passage, blocking him from the empty corridor beyond, each standing, unmoving and waiting, as they allowed the creature still slowly advancing on the brunette to have it's prey. Thomas's face was flushed and his body heaved with great desperate gulps of air as he stared at his attacker, his hair hung limp with sweat it was obvious the boy wouldn't have been able to go on much longer anyway. Minho wanted to look away but could do nothing to pull his eyes away from the sickening moment, bile rose in his throat and it was hard to stand under the weight of the crushing devastation he hadn't expected to feel.
Thomas kept his eyes on the advancing Griever, panting uncontrollably as he eyed the beast with an odd mix of dismay and determination, shifting occasionally as though trying to form a course of action. Whatever the boy planned to do, Minho knew it would be useless. No one had ever survived a night in the maze and this was the reason why. Suddenly, the boy darted froward, rushing towards the oncoming Griever, which faltered slightly in its advance for a moment at the sudden change in action. Thomas screamed as he went and the beast he ran towards began moving again, rolling towards its victim, spikes glinting maliciously in the dark with its movement. Minho stared, horror stricken at the collision about to happen, disgusted by the thought of what he was about to see but unable to break his gaze. Then, something amazing happened, just as the first spike was about to rip through the younger male he planted his left foot and dove skillfully to the right, dodging the Griever as it rolled passed him in a moment of confusion. Minho sucked in a astonished gasp, feeling a surge of elation as he watched Thomas move amazingly out of harms way and was barley able to stop himself from dashing forward to pull the boy from the ground in that moment.
He quickly formed a hasty plan as Thomas scrambled upright and began running towards him, the Griever shuddering to stop with an enraged howl as it realized what had happened and turned round in a blaze of furry. The boy surged forward in a sprint as the beast began pursuit, the two that had remained still until now immediately joining chase as Minho prepared himself, the plan finalizing itself in his head as Thomas neared. Just as the boy reached the point where his hall passed Minho's corridor, the Asian reached out and caught him, pulling him towards himself with as much force as he could muster.
The brunette slammed into him as Minho braced himself as best he could, using himself as an barricade and stumbling slightly with the momentum of the boy's flight. He warped himself securely around the struggling mass of boy, fighting to keep his grip on the younger male before Thomas finally realized what was restraining him and went eventually went still in his arms.
"What-" The boy began, his breath nearly gone and his voice coming out as nothing more than a desperate wheeze when he spoke.
"Shut up and follow me!" Minho yelled in response, beginning to drag the boy away from the oncoming attack as he spoke, desperate to get them both away from danger this time. Never wanting to experience the emotions flooding him when he looked upon what he was sure was to be Thomas's demise ever again. Thomas quickly stabilized himself as Minho moved them forward and it wasn't until the keeper was absolutely positive that the boy would run fine on his own that he released his hold on him, running only slightly ahead of the younger male, least one of the Grievers get close enough to attack from behind. He led them through long since memorized turns and paths, keeping the boy in his peripheral vision as he rounded corners and sprinted along lengthy straights.
"I just saw the dive move you did back there." Minho gasped as they went, "Gave me an idea." He paused to suck in a few breaths, "We only have to last a little while longer." He assured, hoping the boy could make it, he looked incredibly worn and the Asian wouldn't have been surprised if the younger boy collapsed at that very moment. He was going as slow as he possibly could without the beasts trailing them catching up too much but still, Thomas had been running from the creatures for who knows how long before Minho had found him and the keeper could practically see the fatigue rolling off the brunette as he guided him. Thomas didn't respond, just kept following, and that's what really worried the older boy, he had met the other only once before but distinctly remembered how excessively inquisitive the greenie had been – to be to breathless to ask questions? It was worrisome...
Luckily, just as that moment had passed, they rounded the corner to what Minho had been searching for, the inexplicable hole that led to nothing and seemed to absorb Grievers like magic. He noticed Thomas perk up slightly and silently thanked the gods that the boy still had enough energy to be aware of the change in scenery.
"Don't get too excited." Minho deadpanned between gasps, running a few more paces before slowing to a halt. He reached a hand out over the younger male's chest to make sure he stopped as well, grimacing as he thought with a shudder of how sickly ironic it would be if, after everything, the boy accidentally ran off the cliff. He dropped the hand as Thomas slowed to a stop and turned to stare apprehensively down the corridor as the boy went to inspect what he'd been led to, staring in confusion at what Minho had long since just come to accept.
"I don't get it." He heard the boy whisper from behind him, sending relief washing over Minho as he came to the conclusion that Thomas's breath had returned to him and that the boy apparently would not go into cardiac arrest.
"Careful," The runner warned, wishing the idiot wouldn't lean out over the edge to look at the abyss like he currently was, "You wouldn't be the first shank to fall off the cliff." He continued, resisting the urge to pull the boy back from the edge. A eerily close whirring sound suddenly brought his attention back a more pressing threat however and he reached out to grab the boys shoulder, using the action to both bring the younger boy's attention to the presence of the monsters pursuing them and pull him to safer ground.
"Did you forget something?" The Asian reminded the boy sarcastically, nodding back towards the oncoming attack as the brunette shook himself out of his stupor and followed the older male's gaze. "These things may be vicious, but they're dumb as dirt." Minho began in a soothing tone, "Stand here," he continued, using his hold on Thomas's shoulder to position the boy, moving him so they stood shoulder to shoulder. "Close to me, facing-"
"I know. I'm ready." Thomas cut him off, sounding confident even in the face of the horrors rolling towards them with vengeful speed. Minho had no choice but to trust the boy as they shuffled closer to one another, creating a wall in the middle of the open hole and stood as close at they could to the edge, heels but inches away from the open air behind them.
"We need to be in sync!" Minho yelled, barley audible over the thunderous din of the rolling monsters, "On my mark!" He braced himself in anticipation watching the Grievers with calculating eyes as they advanced far more rapidly then he'd ever known they could. They moved like lighting, progressing yards in seconds, moving ever nearer until the sound of them had become defining and the ground shook with their weighty advance.
"Ready," Minho spoke slowly, trying to keep the boy beside him steady until the last moment, "Not yet," He warned, feeling the younger male grow tense, "Not yet..." Thomas was practically shaking, his shoulder, pressed against the Asian's side having gone completely rigid as he arched instinctively, not daring to breathe.
"Now!" Minho suddenly shouted, just as a Griever extended a claw to grab at them, diving towards the outer wall milliseconds before the claw snapped shut where he had been standing moments ago. He slammed into the cold stone with a grunt as he heard the Griever's roar be cut off abruptly, assuring him the plan was working as it should. He flipped himself around as soon as his bearings returned, just in time to watch the second Griever follow its companion without a chance to attempt resistance. He watched with bated breath as the third monster slammed a spike into the ground to no avail, creating a god awful screeching noise as metal drove helplessly into concrete and the creature tumbled into the the oblivion. The final beast managed to stop itself, however, and Minho barley had time to process the situation before he found himself glancing over at Thomas. He nodded at him before they were both rushing at the teetering nightmare. He jumped and slammed his feet into the slug-like flesh of the beast just as Thomas did the same, their combined momentum sending it careening over the edge and out of existence.
Minho stared blankly at the cliff, the knowledge of what they'd done ringing dully in his mind, but not quite being actually accepted. He stumbled backwards and leaned against the stone wall for support, the feeling of the cold stone against his back giving him some sense of stability as he allowed himself to slid down until he sat, knees drawn close against his chest, on the familiar concrete path. He breathed slowly and heavily, trying to calm himself a little before he glanced over to where Thomas sat, trying to focus on anything besides the impossibility of what they'd somehow achieved.
It helped. Focusing on the boy. It reminded him that not all impossible things were bad. It made entirely no sense for not only Minho but also Thomas to be alive right now, but Minho was surprised to find he'd never been more glad for anything in his life. The boy had thrown himself directly in harm's way for two shanks he'd never met and Minho had abandoned him, but somehow he had managed to find him again. And now – quite impossibly – he was alive. They were both alive.
Thomas didn't seem to notice Minho gaze upon him, he had his head peeked out over the edge, staring at endless sky with a look of bewilderment, a emotion Minho had come to recognize with ease. He pulled back and sat still for a moment as Minho watched him, breath erratic as he scrambled a few paces away from the edge, his face contorting to one of distress. Thomas suddenly curled in on himself, forming a tiny ball of boy as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs and the horrors of the night began to wash over him, adrenaline no longer supporting him as he crumpled.
Minho sucked in a breath as the boy began to cry, he wasn't good at emotions, he didn't know how to react. He sat frozen against his spot at the wall, now feeling the bewilderment he'd seen on the younger male moments ago, trying desperately to think of any sensible response to the sudden vulnerability. He moved forward tentatively, scooting slowly toward Thomas as if the boy were a feral animal that would dart if he dared move to quickly and reached a shaky hand out to place gently on the broken kid's shoulder. The runner felt his heart skip and his breath catch in his throat as the younger male turned to him, his hazel eyes wide with fear and glossy with tears. Thomas hurriedly tried to wipe the wet streaks from his cheeks, as if he thought he could somehow convince the older boy he wasn't crying but Minho grabbed his hand and halted the pointless act.
"Guess I'm kinda a pussy, huh?" Thomas sighed, the words shaky and breathless as gave up trying to pretend he was okay and let his shoulders shake with the sobs that wracked his frail body.
"Dude, you just threw yourself into certain death for two shanks you didn't even know." Minho deadpanned, staring incredulously at the other boy. "That sounds a whole lot more like being a selfless idiot with a death wish than being a pussy, shuckface." The keeper thought he caught Thomas smile at his words, though it was hard to tell when the kid was still crying, but the small act sent tingles over the Asian's skin and butterflies threatened to fly from his mouth as the flitted around his stomach. The poor butterflies soon had their wings ripped off however as Minho watched the younger boy's momentary smile falter and tears begin to pour from his beautiful eyes again, twisting the keeper's stomach in tormented knots. He was at a loss. He'd watched tons of Greenies break down and crumble under the weight of the horrible world the Gladers endured before but never had he felt such a need to reach out and help. Thomas was different.
Minho moved without really thinking about, unsure of what one was supposed to do in the given situation and even less sure he, of all people, could offer the boy what he needed - But he had to try. Tentatively, The keeper pulled the crying boy into his arms, squeezing him tightly against his chest as Thomas instinctual grabbed at the sweat soaked cloth there, burning his face in the older boys shirt and finally letting himself be consumed by his tears. That was the moment Minho realized he was shucked, completely and utterly shucked. After two years of running away from everything, he'd just created a problem he couldn't run from. He cared - Wanted to hold and comfort. In this disgusting excuse of a life, he'd gone and decided he wanted to protect something. He felt his own breath hitch at the sudden rush of conviction he felt. No matter what, he had to defend this boy who would willing to throw himself to certain death for people he barely knew. He couldn't leave him again. He had to protect Thomas...