I do not own this amazing franchise know as the Maze Runner. All rights go to James Dashner, the author of the Maze Runner, and his publishing company whom he probably sold the rights to. This story is written purely for my entertainment with nothing to do with profit or recognition. "I write what I want to write, I write what amuses me, it's totally for myself."- J.K. Rowling

Gentle fingers carded through a shock of fluffy blonde hair as though running through slick grass. The locks traced the boy's thin face and popped out to the side of his head at his ears. The face, as sweet as honey, didn't stir.

"He looks so young," a voice offered an opinion. "Can't believe he's up here with us. Poor squirt."

"Can't believe any of us are up here, Nick. Watcha think his name is?" A different voice now.

Small and slight, the boy stirred, murmured and relaxed.

"Dunno. Something subtle, yeah?"

"Newt."

"Right. Subtle."

" 'Eyy idiot! Minho! Find anything?" Sarcasm laced the joking words.

Said Minho snorted, glancing at the blonde walking towards him. "Worst thing to ask a Runner, short stuff. You know that as well as I do. No. Just some new junction for us to explore and die in."

"Fun. Really fun."

"Good luck convincing me or anyone else on that one. You're on your own, Newt."

A joking laugh filled with fun. "Thanks for that, idiot. I really appreciate the support so shucking much. So tell me, what did you find?"

"A cliff."

"A cliff?"

"You heard me, shank."

"Excited?"

"Shucking terrified, idiot. You reckon I'm gonna die?"

"Nah, you got me to protect ya."

"And if you die?"

"You're quicker than Ben, Shortie. You'll make it back."

"If I fall of the Cliff?"

"You won't fall of the Cliff."

"And why not?"

"Because there is no way you're going within a hundred miles of that until we know, a) that it's safe and b) that you're strong enough not to fall."

"Gee, thanks. So much confidence is overwhelming."

"Ah come one, Newt. You know ya love me."

"In your dreams maybe."

"Damn Newt, why'd'ya have to get so shucking tall all of a sudden?"

Newt smirked playfully, his lips tugged back into a half smile. He towered over the dark-haired boy. "It's called a growth spurt, Minho. Just 'cause I'm tall and you're not is no reason to get so shucking jealous."

"Not jealous, Shortie."

Newt let out a long, tinkling laugh. "You sure about that one, Minho? Is that why you commented? Wanted to inform me you're totally not jealous 'cause you are?"

"Just shut up, Newt. Damn, I hate you so much."

"What happened to him?" Newt whimpered, staring in horror at the closed doors. Minho circled an arm around the blonde's shoulders, guiding him.

"You know what happened, Shortie. The Grievers got him and stung him. Gally fought through it but I guess Max just wasn't as strong against it." There was no sarcasm, just truth.

Newt frowned disapprovingly. "He's still alive, Minho. At least- at least for now."

"He won't make it long out there. Best be asleep before the screams."

"I just can bare to think we're in here while he's out there."