Minho sighed as he surveyed the forest floor. Alby wanted to expand their shack. Of course, Alby did bring up a good point about other Gladers eventually joining them hence the expansion of said shack, but Minho regretted cutting his run short in order to help Alby.

His days were becoming routine. Wake up, garden, explore the Maze for a few hours, eat, return, tell Alby if he found anything—spoiler: he never did, try to craft tools, attempt to make a fire, talk briefly with Alby, eat, sleep. Alby didn't like the Maze, which Minho supposed he could respect. If the coward didn't want to leave his safety nest then who was Minho to stop him? It was obvious Alby would have preferred for Minho to adopt his own habits and also avoid the Maze, but Minho actually wanted to leave this shucking place. After a few days of his explorations, Minho discovered the Maze changed each night—some of the nightly noises now made sense—which was already more than what Alby figured out during his month alone.

Honestly, Minho wasn't sure what Alby accomplished in the Glade before he arrived. He knew Alby started the garden and a rickety shelter. But that was about it. At least Alby didn't try to order the other Glader around besides adamantly refusing to let Minho eat some berries he found in the forest. Which was irritating. Not that Minho knew much about foraging plants, but he was trying and Alby should be more appreciative. Alby didn't bring a whole lot to the table, in all honesty. Yes, Alby tended to the garden and made the Glade more livable while Minho was running, but Minho was a huge advocator of focusing their efforts more on actually escaping than building a settlement. Minho could already navigate the Maze with ease during end of his second week—the patterns were repeating, Minho was sure of it—just imagine the progress they would make if Alby ran the Maze too. Minho needed all the help he could get. Minho kicked at the dirt as he gathered smaller logs. He would have to run the Maze for more than few hours if he wanted any hope in actually solving the thing. Alby would not react well to that.

Alby and Minho didn't talk much. Alby did whatever Alby did and Minho tried to solve the Maze. Of course, the Maze was huge. Alby attempted to talk to Minho more after his initial appearance, but his excitement died down with Minho's insistence to explore the Maze. Minho frowned as he studied his armful of wood. His general avoidance of the other Glader might also have something to do with it, he supposed. He just didn't understand Alby. Alby wanted to leave as much as him, except he refused to leave his little safe haven.

He trekked back towards their shack, spying Alby leaning against the pine tree.

"Get all the wood?" Minho asked in greeting. Alby nodded, gesturing towards the huge pile next to him. Minho laid his wood next to it, ignoring how measly it looked in comparison. "How big were you planning on making it?"

"Enough to fit at least ten people, I think," Alby said, shifting from his position to grab a log.

Minho frowned. Alby theorized that a new boy was brought up every thirty days. "How long do you plan on being here?"

Alby glanced up at him. "It's better to be prepared."

"Is it? Do you even want to leave this place?"

"And why would I want to stay?"

"Sorry, how many times have you left the Glade?"

Alby's eyes flashed. "I did go into the Maze when you weren't here."

"And you never found out the Maze changed? Are you a liar or just that stupid?"

Alby dropped the log to the ground. "What's your problem?"

"You are my problem. You want to leave? Try contributing every once in a while."

"Who do you think repairs the shack, supplies food, and taught you how to make a shucking fire? I may not be out in the Maze, but don't think for a second that means I'm not contributing."

"You're not contributing," Minho snapped. "Do you know how huge the Maze is? I run three hours a day and get nowhere. I'm already going to have to run the Maze longer if I want to solve it."

"And get stuck behind the Walls at night?" Alby scoffed. "That'll end well."

"It's called paying attention to the time."

"Do you know how to keep time with the sun?"

"Do you?"

"Yep, I could've taught you by now if you talked to me about this sooner."

"Shut the shuck up," Minho snapped. "You aren't turning this on me."

"Look who decided to play victim," Alby mocked.

"I'm not shucking playing victim," Minho hissed, "I just want to shucking get out of this place!"

"I do too!"

"Yeah? You got a shucked up way of showing it."

"You're not special just because you run the Maze."

"Not special, just not a coward."

"Just go," Alby snapped, waving at the gaping Maze door. "Run the Maze. Don't let me keep you."

"Don't order me around," Minho hissed.

Alby glared. "What do you want from me? Just go. If you want to die in the Maze, that's on you."

"Right like you'll be fine with me leaving," Minho taunted. "You were practically clinging to me the first day."

"I was alone for a month."

"And you'd be alone again if I die."

"Don't think so high of yourself," Alby scoffed. "You're replaceable. Another person is coming up in a couple of weeks."

Minho pursed his lips, ignoring the jerk in his chest in favor of staring down Alby. "See you, shuckface."

Minho sprinted towards the Maze, refusing to wait for Alby's reaction. He ran left at the first turn. The sun was still high. He could cover a lot of ground before nightfall. Not that he'd let Alby know he returned. Minho will camp out in the forest. Alby deserves to sweat, wondering if Minho made it.

Replaceable. Shucking replaceable. Who did Alby think he is?

He turned right, his heart pounding.

Shucking wishing death on him.

The Maze walls began to blur.

Replaceable.

Minho was not replaceable. Who ran the Maze? Who learned some of its secrets? Who helped make a building that wouldn't collapse?

Him.

Minho ran straight through an intersection, slowing to a jog, his heavy pants echoing through the Maze.

Shuck Alby.

~O~

Shuck Minho.

He ran the Maze.

So what?

Alby? Alby ensured they had shelter and food. So they could survive. And this is the thanks he gets?

Minho needs to get his head out of his ass.

He glanced at the sky. The doors would be closing in a few hours. Enough time for the Asian boy to return. Maybe by then his temper would cool down.

Alby released a deep breath in an attempt to think more calmly. He needed to focus. And anger would make him stupid. Alby took another breath. He still needed to expand the shack.

He clambered on top of their shack, the roof creaking under his boots. He surveyed the logs from his perch. He liked the height the shack offered him, even if it was roughly eight feet. It gave him a better idea of where he wanted the shelter.

Alby frowned. Maybe expanding the shelter so quickly was a bad idea. Alby did want to leave. But he had issues declaring if his need for a larger shelter was motivated by realism or his lack of faith that they could get out.

Which they could. Theoretically.

Probably.

Alby had been there a month and a half and it still felt like he was in a weird limbo. The Glade, the Maze...it still hadn't sunk it yet. Alby kept expecting to jerk awake from this dream—nightmare?—at any moment. Who was sending up supplies? Why did those people want them here?

Had he really already given up hope on escape before he had a chance to fight?

Maybe Minho was right...Someone had to be brave enough to solve the Maze.

And that person was not Alby.

Alby gnawed his lip. He really didn't want to be alone again, and Minho...

His face. Alby winced in memory. Minho went from rage to stoic in less than a second, his blank mask more telling than anything. Alby shouldn't have devalued Minho's worth. Alby didn't want the boy to die, didn't want Minho to think he was expendable.

He shouldn't have snapped. Alby sighed. The argument got away from him, but that was no excuse. He tore his gaze away from Wall. He'll talk to Minho if he returned.

When he returned.

Alby paced their roof. He had to focus on the task at hand.

He brought his hand up, picturing where he could add on to the building. As long as they expanded away from Jujuba, of course. Alby shifted, turning to face the logs. The roof groaned as he took a step forward. He needed to—

~O~

Minho neared the Maze's west opening, his bloody boiling the closer he got to the Glade.

He didn't find anything useful. Minho did get further into the Maze, as planned, but got turned around for longer than he anticipated. He attempted to retrace his steps, but hadn't been positive he was actually on the path back to the Glade until twenty minutes ago.

And that had been a relief.

For all his bluster, he did not want to be in the Maze at night. Minho didn't want to die, much to Alby's chagrin.

Minho veered towards the shack.

Where no progress had been made. But what else is new?

He clung to his simmering anger.

Shuck Alby.

"Alby!"

Minho rolled his eyes at the answering silence.

"Alby!" Of course the shuckf—A groan ripped through his thoughts. Minho paused mid-step. His heart began to race. "Alby?"

"Minho..."

Minho ran into the shack, his eyes widening at the gaping hole in the roof and bloody boy. "What the shuck happened?"

Alby was leaning against the wall, attempting to wrap a piece of canvas around his arm. "I fell."

"I can see that." Minho's sarcasm was strained even in his own ears.

Alby glanced up. "It's not that bad. I think I knocked myself out there for a bit—my head hit one of the old boxes—and I might have landed on my arm funny, but I..."

Minho tuned out the boy as soon as Alby gestured to the box. The box that was right next to the hatchet Minho threw carelessly the other day. It landed against some rock on the ground with the blade facing the roof and Minho hadn't thought twice about it. The blade was still propped up.

And pointed towards the roof.

Minho's breath hitched. If Alby had fallen a foot to the right...

Blood pounded in his ears.

The hatchet was so close to the shattered box. Alby could've been hurt. Alby could've died.

His gaze kept flickering between the hatchet and Alby, the dark-skinned boy had long fallen silent and was now staring at Minho in confusion.

Alby could have died.

Minho would have been alone.

He had no idea how much that thought terrified him until now.

"I'm glad you're alright," Minho said, breaking the silence.

Alby gave him a hesitant smile. "Glad you made it back."

"I didn't find anything."

"You will."

Minho silently took the canvas away from Alby, unrolling it. He rewrapped the canvas gently up Alby's arm, tying it firmly under his arm. "Come on, let's get you food."

"Sorry I didn't really get a lot done today..."

"It doesn't matter. You do enough," Minho said, heaving Alby off the ground. The boy let out a hiss. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, sorry," Minho insisted, looking imploringly up at Alby.

Alby smiled. "Me too."