Alright, so the last time I read the books was about a year ago. So the character's physical descriptions will match the movie. And, with that knowledge, I now leave you with my latest chapter of HSM that turned out much longer than I anticipated. Enjoy!
"This is just so obvious," George said, leaning against Minho. Minho pursed his lips but instantly smoothed his expression when he caught Newt and Alby smirking at him. Alby mentioned in passing how George didn't think Minho liked him. And Newt's snort when Minho protested made him determined to prove he cared about the cretin. Either George was aware of the point Minho needed to prove or he was naturally tactile whenever there wasn't an enforced personal bubble. Either way, Minho was stuck with a bubbly George. Not to make it sound like a punishment. Their personalities just clashed too much for Minho to take George's constant optimism seriously, especially after the ginger insisted 'opposites attract' or some klunk like that. But George's ramblings were comforting—it meant everything was normal. Minho even discovered, much to his chagrin, he couldn't sleep without listening to George's sleepy mumbles. He was a talkative shank.
"It's just a shame that it's when another Glader comes up," Alby said.
"We're not that frightening," Newt said. "He'll be fine."
Minho shrugged. "Probably."
"Probably," George agreed, poking Minho with his foot. Newt snorted. Shank.
"It can't be helped anyway," Nick said, the dark-haired boy watching the Box's opening. "This is worth a shot. We know the Box leads to the outside. Where else would our supplies come from? I just can't believe I didn't think of it sooner."
"You're still technically the greenie," Newt pointed out. "If anything, you're the least at fault here."
"And we've always been focused on building a settlement and solving the Maze," Alby said. Minho arched an eyebrow at the slightly defensive edge in Alby's tone. As the first Glader, Minho knew Alby felt the worst for not trying this theory earlier.
"Like rats in a science experiment..." Nick mused.
"And here we are," Minho drawled, "still experimenting. I hope our scientists are entertained with our efforts."
"Well this isn't climbing the Maze or trying to dig under it but..." Nick began, not bothering to hide his sneer.
"And we did those for the same reason we're doing this," Alby snapped. "We're trying to get out."
"Don't act like you didn't think of those things either when you were brainstorming," Minho said.
Nick raised his hands defensively. Minho rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to help."
"Yeah? Try not being such a smug shank about it."
George let out a nervous laugh, eyes darting nervously between Alby, Minho, and Nick. "We'll see in a bit if this theory is worthwhile, yeah?"
"Yes, I'm sure the people who put us here never anticipated us attempting to use the Box on a downwards journey," Alby said.
"You didn't," Nick said snippily.
"Don't act like you know how the Glade works, greenie," Minho snapped.
"I think I've picked up on things after a month," Nick said. "I'm already contributing on the escaping front, in case it's passed your notice."
"In case it's passed your notice, I actually run the Maze," Minho said. "I'm more involved with the 'escaping front.'"
"You don't run it by yourself," Nick protested, his gaze sliding to the silent Newt.
"I wasn't trying to make it sound like I was struggling savior, single-handedly bringing us to safety," Minho mocked. "So I didn't think it was necessary for me to declare me and Newt have run the Maze every day, which everyone with eyes can see."
Nick sputtered. "I don't think that—"
"Shut your bloody traps," Newt interrupted. "We've got company."
Minho met Newt's raised eyebrow with a shrug. Newt rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the rising Box, the trilling bell competing with loud rumblings.
"Who do you think it's going to be?" George asked, breaking the tense silence.
"No idea," Minho said.
George flashed him a flickering smile. "I'm hoping it's someone with Newt's accent. Your word choices please me. Plus I can easily identify you in a crowd."
"A crowd of four people?" Newt asked dryly.
George shook his head earnestly, earning a soft snort from Alby. "It can get quite overwhelming."
"Who should open the Box?" George asked, staring as the glint of silver grated to a sudden halt.
"I don't think it really matters," Minho said. "Does it?"
"Nope," Nick answered, walking the few feet to yank the door open.
"Aww," George mumbled. "I'll just get the next one then. I really feel like I'll find a kindred spirit eventually. You guys need more of my good cheer."
"Keep telling yourself that," Alby teased, moving forward to get a glimpse of the greenie in the Box.
A moment too late, apparently.
The new greenie shot out of the Box, knocking Nick to the side like a ragdoll. The new blond boy's eyes widened as he caught sight at the rest of them. He dropped to a fighting stance, his grey eyes flashing with challenge.
George blinked before slowly holding up his hands placatingly. "We're all friends here, greenie."
"What did you call me?" the greenie grunted, his gaze assessing George and instantly dismissing him as a non-threat. The blond's eyes narrowed on Minho. Minho nodded coolly as he shifted to the side of George. If the greenie attacked, Minho could easily either push George to the side or pry the greenie off the ginger.
"Greenie," George replied soothingly. Minho glanced to the side, catching sight of Alby leaning over to check the sprawled Nick. The dark-haired boy grumbled when Alby put a gentle hand on the side of his face. "It's what we call the new people who arrive in the Glade."
"What's the Glade?" The blond didn't relax his stance. Newt casually shifted closer, keeping a tight grip on his staff.
"The green area enclosed by the Walls," George said. "It's where we stay if we're not running the Maze."
"Maze? Where are we? I ca-can't remember anything." The greenie suddenly slumped. George ran forward. "I just don't k-know what's happening. I don't ge—"
George placed his hands on the greenie's shoulders as the blond's breathing grew harsher. "Just breathe. Like me. In, out, in, out."
The greenie's breathe stuttered. Newt and Minho approached slowly, easing around the greenie to stand near Alby. They didn't want to panic the greenie further.
"Come on, just like me," George urged. "In, out, in, out...yeah! Just like that! In, out, in, out. You're doing fantastic. In, out, in..."
"George has a way with people," Nick muttered, sitting up from where he fell on the ground. Minho smirked as Nick rubbed his chin tenderly. He ignored Newt's pointed jab.
"Shuck, really?" Alby said. Nick's glare fixed on the dark-skinned boy.
"None of us remembered our names at first," Newt said, addressing the greenie. Minho had the feeling Newt was reminding the other Gladers of the blond's presence, halting any potential arguments. Nick closed his mouth abruptly. Huh. Good call on Newt's part.
The blond tensed slightly until George threw a companionable arm around his shoulder. The greenie tentatively smiled up at him. "Let's do introductions, shall we? I'm George, the one with the accent is Newt, the intense one is Minho, Alby is the dashing lad next to him, and the one you hit is Nick."
"Um...sorry," the greenie told Nick awkwardly.
"Don't worry about it," Alby said. "Minho beat the klunk out of me when he first arrived."
Minho rolled his eyes. "You're dramatic."
"I only speak the truth."
"I'm inclined to believe Alby on this one," Newt said.
"Why?" Minho asked, attempting to sound offended. Alby's following scoff was unnecessary.
"I don't know," Newt drawled. "You're usually such a peach."
"See? This is why I want another accented person," George said triumphantly. "'Such a peach'...such a nice phrase. No one else here says klunk like that. So who knows what another person with an accent could do—not that I don't want you here, greenie. Nothing like that. I like you. Well, I know we haven't known each other for very long. Or even five minutes. But I get a good vibe off you. Plus you entered the Glade with a solid punch at Nick. Like that's your first response? Awesome.Not that you should punch Gladers. It's against our rules. We don't have many of them, but not harming a Glader is definitely one of them. Top three actually...haha. That's funny because we only have three rules. But I feel like the main one is not harming another Glader. Not that I think you would do it again. Honestly, if anyone would punch someone again I really think it'd be Minho. Not that I don't trust you, Minho. Because I definitely do. I'm just—"
"George breath, you're scaring the greenie," Minho said mildly. If you counted the way the blond stared at George in fascination as fear. Of course, it was always interesting to watch George work himself into a rambling frenzy, constantly backtracking so he didn't say anything potentially offensive. Minho stared the first time George did that too. His staring might also have been due to the fact that the Glade hadn't been full of constant chatter until George's arrival.
"So sorry," George said.
The greenie blinked, snapping out of his daze. "No, you're...fine."
"Maybe we should unload the supplies?" Nick suggested, using Newt's offered hand to stand. "So we can get started on...stuff."
"Minho, Alby, and I can start," Newt said. "Why don't you and Georgie show the greenie around?"
Nick opened his mouth to protest.
"I feel like it should be tradition for the last greenie to help out the newest greenie," Newt continued after a slight pause. "After all, I did that for you, Nick."
"Seems fitting," George agreed. "Come on, Nick. Let's show him the Glade." Nick hesitated before wordlessly following the duo, not sparing a backwards glance.
Alby, Minho, and Newt quickly shuffled supplies from the Box to the Glade for a few minutes before anyone broke the silence.
"Glad this one didn't run off," Alby said. "Maybe our group is getting big enough so they think escape is futile."
"Wouldn't a large group be more intimidating and more likely incite someone to flee?" Newt asked.
Alby shrugged. "Maybe we're large enough to at least spark the fight or flight instinct?"
"Well, this one chose fight," Minho said. "A quick bop to Nick's face seems much more efficient than running away for a few days. Plus George seems to have calmed him down."
"Our George does have a way with words," Alby agreed.
"And can befriend a stick, yeah," Minho added.
"Why don't you two like Nick?" Newt questioned abruptly.
Minho glanced at Newt's impassive face. He shrugged at Alby. Alby could answer that one.
"He was just a bit of a shank today," Alby said neutrally.
Ah, so they were going to avoid bringing up Nick's stuck-upish attitude. Right. Of course, Minho understood why Nick was a slintface to him. Alby? Less so. "We obviously want to get out of the Glade," Minho said carefully, "but we were just bringing Nick down a peg or two. We don't have anything personal against the shank."
"Yeah, as unlikely as this is, I actually hope the Box takes us down so we can leave this hellhole," Alby said.
Newt glanced away from the duo for a second, gnawing his bottom lip. Minho frowned. He wasn't used to seeing Newt anything less than self-assured. He didn't like it. "Sorry, it's just been at the back of my mind ever since Nic—well, I mean, I noticed you two were a bit...shorter with him. I know even if you two didn't like a Glader, you wouldn't do anything harmful."
"Course not," Alby said. "If I was going to kill anyone, it would be Minho hands down."
Newt smiled faintly. "Just...sorry I doubted you two."
Minho hated that Newt felt he had to act this way—scared was too strong a word...apprehensive maybe—around them. Where was the trust? He thought that since they started running together—Minho shook his head and forced a shrug. "It's fine. You were concerned. It's behind us now."
Newt's shoulders relaxed minutely. Minho breathed a sigh of relief, before quickly squelching down his wave of annoyance at Nick. He didn't want that shuckface to drive a wedge between them and Newt. There couldn't be any factions in the Glade. Everyone had to work together. It was the only way for them to survive and solve the Maze. Alby had ranted this to Minho for days after Alby had fallen through the Homestead's roof. And it applied now more than ever. And the fact it was Newt...
"You're a manipulative little shank," Minho said, causing Alby and Newt to turn to him sharply. "Orchestrating for Nick and George to help the greenie in order to get us alone...you realize you could've just unsubtly brought us to the side at some point and we would've talked to you. It's what friends do, I hear."
Newt flushed. "That may have been the most I've ever heard you speak at one time."
"Me too, actually," Alby said with forced nonchalance. "I'm impressed. I feel like Minho is growing as a person."
"Talking...sharing feelings..." Newt mused, giving them a small smile as he latched on to the normalcy of Alby's comment. "You know, I think you're right, Alby."
"I'm rarely wrong."
"See? Now you've gone and given him a big head," Minho scolded.
Newt bumped shoulders with Minho. "I try to do what's best for the Glade."
"How is an egotistical Alby good for anyone?" Minho questioned, frowning at the innocent-looking Newt.
"Don't question him," Alby said. "Rude, much?"
"How is that rude?"
"You see," Newt began, "we've always known the finer points of social etiquette have escaped you."
"You're so full of klunk," Minho interrupted.
"See? It's moments like this," Alby said. "This is why we've been trying to mold you into the perfect gentleman."
"Shame our efforts were wasted," Newt said wistfully.
"Both of you," Minho clarified, "full of so much klunk."
"Yet I still find myself trusting in the future," Alby continued, ignoring Minho. "We can sculpt him. Under his rough exterior there lies hope."
"This is why I've never liked people."
"How do you know? You don't remember life before the Glade," Newt said.
"How considerate of you to point out, Newt," Alby said.
"I do strive to keep peace and harmony in the Glade."
"We can only hope that we all follow in your humble, honest footsteps."
"I hate you both so much," Minho said, "and if you could bother to remember our ultimate goal here, that would be great."
Newt furrowed his brow. "To sculpt the perfect gentleman?"
"For shuck's sake," Minho muttered.
"Minho is right," Alby said, apparently deciding to take pity on Minho's plight. Shank. Took him long enough. "Let's guard the Box."
"Good idea," Nick said, lugging a few pouches as he trekked towards them. "I feel like we should go down there in groups of two. I brought us packs of food and water just in case."
"Never know what could happen," Newt agreed, grabbing one of Nick's packs. He turned to Alby. "First shift?"
"Why not?" Alby agreed. "We'll be in there for a while. Hopefully, we'll come up with some out of the box ways to keep us entertained."
"We can only hope," Newt said dryly, before turning his attention to Nick. "Three hour shifts, yes?"
"Six," Nick corrected, having long since smoothed his annoyed expression. "We'll get you food for dinner."
"And then we'll relieve them?" Minho asked. Sharing an enclosed space with Nick...such fun. Of course, he supposes he'll make an effort to make amends with him for Newt's sake. And George, he supposed. George gets along with everyone.
"Actually, I thought I'd try to talk to the greenie some more, teach him some survival skills," Nick said. "George won't mind going down with you."
Minho narrowed his eyes at Nick's innocent tone. He knew for a fact Nick didn't want to mess with the greenie and would rather have firsthand experience with his Box theory. Nick needed to shucking get over his shucking infatuation with Newt and work with others. "Sounds good," he forced out.
"Great," Nick said, smiling at Minho toothily.
At Newt's worried glance between him and Nick, Minho forced a smile. "See you shanks in six hours."
~O~
If Minho thought that the six hours dragged when Newt and Alby had been in the Box, it was nothing compared to when his and George's shift started. George had previously been animatedly chatting with the greenie when Nick and Minho silently returned from the Box. George and the greenie got along swimmingly. Of course, it was George so...However, Nick quickly joined in and captivated the greenie's attention with an animated story involving him, the pine tree Minho was 87% sure Alby named and was strangely attached to, and a rock. So the trio had been chattering for the majority of the time, making Minho feel uncomfortably like an outsider—George was far too excited by the greenie to notice not everyone was involved in the conversation. Minho had repaired his Running gear to give him something to do.
When they started their shift, George managed to remain silent for the first twenty-five minutes. Minho was positive it was a record.
"So we probably shouldn't fall asleep," George said. "I know it'll be late when we get out of here, but if the Box moves while we're sleeping, things could end badly."
Minho shrugged, belatedly realizing that the darkness probably made it impossible for George to see him. "If you want to sleep, I'm not going to so I could wake you up if anything happens."
"You don't have to do that. I'll keep you company. Unless you don't want that...?" George trailed off uncertainly.
Minho huffed. "George, I don't hate you."
"Oh, um...thanks? I don't hate you either, in case you were worried."
"I wasn't."
"Good."
Minho took a breath and forced himself to say it. "I would actually prefer it if...you talked. Your ramblings are soothing. It relaxes me."
"Really?"
"Unfortunately."
"That's great!" George said. "I knew you didn't hate me even when I complained to Alby and Newt. I figured you'd open up around me after though...so glad that worked out."
"You knew this would happen?" Minho didn't know if he was annoyed or impressed.
"Yep." He sounded far too smug. "It only took a couple days after I complained for there to be a noticeable difference about you. Namely, you let me hang off you like a koala."
"Shank."
George laughed. "We just don't really talk much. Well, I talk at you a lot, but actual conversations? Not so much. You were always closer to Alby when I first came up, which I totally get. You guys probably bonded since you were the only two up here. God, I can only imagine how Alby felt his first month alone...Anyway then Newt came and you both got along great after the Griever. Traumatizing experiences bond people. Understandable, I suppose. But I was feeling left out of the Minho party because Newt and you hit it off so much quicker than we did...But I knew it wasn't me specifically, per se. Because you and Nick don't get along like at all. Or Nick and Alby for that matter...which is weird because Alby tries to keep peace among everyone...But I knew Newt and Alby would work themselves into a fuss if I dropped a few hints about my 'fears' with our relationship. I swear they think I'm the younger brother they need to take care of despite the fact I'm taller than both of them. Probably older than at least Newt. There's no way that baby face is older than me. They just need to understand that friendliness does not mean weakness because—"
"Trust me," Minho interrupted, flushing when George turned to him incredibly pleased, the moon lighting the right half of his face. "We know. Your way with people is impressive. You talked the greenie out of a panic attack within minutes of meeting him. If we make you our official greenie ambassador, I feel like initial violent outbursts will decrease."
"I do like it when people don't run to the forest."
"And you can empathize with a rock. You're probably the least judgmental person here."
"I should've trapped you in the Box with me for hours sooner," George said. "Thanks for all that."
Minho shrugged and then grimaced. Put it in words. The beauty of shrugs was their ambiguity. They could say as much or little as Minho wanted. "Someone has to be social in this group."
George turned towards him sharply. "Don't think for a second that you're less valuable because you struggle in big groups or talking to new people. You've been closed off more since Nick got here. Whether that's because it's Nick or because he was new..."
"Both probably," Minho said. "I don't know. We had a bad first impression."
"What happened?"
Minho hesitated. He might as well tell someone. "It was after me and Newt's first run after the Griever. We got back late and Newt went to talk to Alby about the new section we found. I think you were patching a hole in the Homestead's wall. I was tired. I didn't see Nick until I plowed into him. I may have snapped his head off about being a useless, oblivious waste of space."
"That's not too bad. Not the best introduction but..."
"I have a shorter fuse when I'm tired. Nick tried to apologize—he was still scared, but I didn't care. He asked where Newt was. Newt talked him out of the forest and convinced him to join us. He was the only one that Nick trusted. I don't think I fully grasped that at the time. So I made fun of him. Called him a few unsavory names and even dragged Newt's name in the dirt just to get at Nick. I didn't mean it. I was tired and frustrated, not that that's an excuse."
"But you just found a new section of the Maze. I thought you were happy."
"It was because of the other section of the Maze that I was in such a shucking mood. I thought all the progress we made up till that point was useless, that I—we—wasted all of our time. I was crushed for days after that. The Maze was bigger than we thought, which wasn't really a startling revelation, but actually seeing the scope of the Maze...It was demoralizing. I thought we would never solve it. So I took my frustration out on the gree—Nick."
"Oh..."
"Yeah, he fought back after that," Minho said tiredly, "which is good. I treated him and his one friend in the Glade like klunk. I think that's part of the reason he's so protective about Newt around me. Since after what I said about Newt..."
"What did you say?"
Minho's stomach swooped. "Nothing I meant. Newt is great. He makes running more bearable and keeps me distracted whenever I get really dark thoughts. I appreciate Newt. A lot. I understand why Nick despises our interactions. But it still pisses me off whenever he inserts himself into our conversations or distracts Newt. And Newt doesn't even realize he's doing it. It's shucking annoying. Nick and I don't like each other. So we avoid being alone together. It's easier that way. We've just never made amends."
"Thanks for telling me," George said after a moment. "I know I'm not your first choice to unload on. But I still appreciate it. I don't know how to rectify the situation. You're both so stubborn. Honestly, an apology from you might be the only way to fix it and even after that it would probably take a while."
"I know," Minho muttered. "I just hate the idea of groveling in front of the shank. But I really need to do something before this escalates uncontrollably."
George hummed in agreement. "If I can help in anyway, you have to tell me."
"I will."
"Oh, and since we're on the subject, do you know why Alby and Nick aren't exactly friends either?"
"It's not like me and Alby gossip about Nick whenever we're alone," Minho reprimanded mildly. Really the closest they've gotten to it was pointed glances. "But, if I had to guess, it probably has to do with the tension that's apparently obvious to everyone but Newt that came after Nick's appearance. Alby doesn't know about our less than stellar meeting. Also Nick's constant undermining and derision of Alby's efforts to escape before he showed up doesn't help."
"Hmm," George murmured. "I'll find a way to remedy this situation. Just give me time. If you or Alby want someone to vent to or help you..."
"Trust me," Minho reassured. "You're now my official people consultant."
George practically preened. "How fancy. Can I get a plaque?"
"Where would I get a plaque?"
"You're resourceful. I have faith in you."
"Gee, thanks."
"No problem. You can also refer to me as 'PC' in emergencies. Or if you just want to call me 'PC.'"
"Rolls right off the tongue," Minho said dryly, "and has the plus of being very subtle."
"Exactly! So now no one would know what or who you're talking to," George said, "except for me, obviously."
"Obviously."
"We should come up with code words."
"For what?"
"For any situation. For emergency emergencies just say 'bum knee.'"
"But what if I get a bum knee?"
"...This is why we need to come up with code words. We have like ten hours to kill. Let's do it."
"You realize nothing is probably going to happen."
"Oh yeah, I figured that after the Box didn't go down after an hour. The people who put us here are demented, not stupid. But we promised to stay here for our shift. And I don't want to deal with Newt and Alby teaming up on me in a disapproving and probably mocking way. I see them bully you enough for me to know it wouldn't be fun. Plus we'd have to deal with an angry Nick and that will not help the H.M.N.F.O.A.L.N.H.E.O. plan."
"The what?"
George sighed exasperatedly. "Help Minho and Nick be Friends Or At Least Not Hate Each Other plan. Do I really need to emphasize the importance of us going over code words now?"
Minho laughed, startling George...and himself, if he was being honest. "Alright, so say I accidentally insulted someone but I'm not sure if I did. What would you say?"
"Well, if you did insult the person..."
Minho grinned, letting his head knock against the wall of the Box. The soothing sounds of George's rant washed over him as he slowly relaxed in the Box. A short nap won't hurt anybody.
A foot kicked him. He grunted.
"No sleeping. I know my voice is magical, but this klunk is important."
"No sleeping, promise," Minho said, making an effort to shift forward.
"Hmm...Well, like I was saying before I was so rudely ignored by someone who will remain nameless...What was I saying?"
"Code words for potentially insulted people."
"Right, so..."
Minho felt at peace, happy. He had no idea why he never bothered to actually talk to George before now. George continued chattering amiably, waving his hands wildly to emphasize his words, oblivious to Minho's thoughts. Minho smiled softly. He would just have to make up for that lost time in the future.
