There was a stillness in the cold air that made Gen feel somewhat isolated. Newt was different, for the better- he no longer followed her around everywhere or questioned her every action; he was kind, funny and even a little charming. At first, Gen had to admit she missed him terribly and in a way, she still did. But Newt had a lot to focus on, he didn't have the time to stress, so his change was a good one. As for where Gen had decided to 'isolate' herself, she had found herself in her and Newt's room, snuggled up in her hammock; for some reason, she wanted nothing more than to visit Peter inside the shack. Peter knew everything about her and she trusted him with everything... of course, Gen knew he wasn't real, just a dream. But, there was something about him, about the way he spoke, the way he stood that made her feel as though he wasn't just a dream. That he was... no, that was crazy talk. There was no way the Creators could access their minds through dreams. That was impossible. But, then again, Grievers seemed like things made from impossibility, why should there be a reason for the Creators not to be able to access her mind through dreams. Hearing a loud thud on the door, Gen quickly sat up, snapping back into reality as her eyes stared at the door in front of her. Another thud sounded before it swung open and a shadowed figure... staggered into the room? Squinting, Gen tried to adjust her eyes to the light. Newt had a limp, yes. But he had never walked like that. The only person she had known to walk like that was Gally when he was drunk and he seemed to hate her guts ten times more that he usually did when he was like that. So the possibility of the figure being him was slim to none; unless he had come to kill her.
"Hey girly." Letting out a sigh, Gen blinked a few more times as Minho's features came into view,
"Hey, Minho. What are you doing here?" She asked in between a yawn before she slipped off of the hammock and stepped towards him, an unfamiliar smell wafting from his clothes and breath. Scrunching up her nose, she then realized the scent was Gally's liquor, one of the strong bottles for sure. Leaning forward, Minho grinned broadly, almost mockingly at her
"You think I've had too much to drink, Gen?" He asked suspiciously, placing his hands on his hips. Gen raised her eyebrow,
"Yes. You stink of Gally's drinks." She snapped back at him. She had not meant to have been so harsh with him, but it seemed the only way to get through to Minho. Period. Taking a breath, he moved closer towards her, the staggering she had witnessed beforehand seemingly vanishing into thin air,
"I can hold my liquor." He told her in a small voice. The way Minho spoke, Gen could have sworn that he was as sober as he was, "It was just easier for me to sneak away from Ben." He told her, clearing the confusion from Gen's mind as she gave a nod of understanding,
"You were very convincing." She smirked, turning on her heel and moving back to her hammock, "What can I do for you, Minho?" She asked as she climbed back into the hammock and placed her hands behind her head, watching him with a small smile,
"You and Newt seem... different." He said, "What's up with that?" Gen frowned at him,
"He's no longer responsible for me. Guess, he's just enjoying the free life." Gen laughed. Minho however continued to wear the same neutral expression,
"Newt doesn't enjoy anything... and for the record the dude's not even that funny." He said, smirking slightly as he spoke, "But yeah, you guys just seemed a little weird. Newt isn't usually the dramatic staring at a distance type." Sitting up, Gen raised her eyebrows,
"What are you talking about?" She asked. Minho sniggered, moving closer towards her, the foul smell filling her nostrils once more. Anyone else and she would have told them to shower, but it was Minho and for some reason, he could do no wrong in her eyes,
"I heard a rumour that Chuck caught him staring at you from one of the watch towers." He said smugly. Gen rolled her eyes,
"You do realize Chuck only tells you those things because he thinks Newt is getting 'in between' us." She said. Minho tilted his head,
"Define us." He slurred slightly, further proving that Minho had had a lot to drink and was somewhat drunk despite his argument that he could 'hold his liquor'.
"As in you and I as a couple." Gen answered with a slight frown. She had thought she had made that much obvious. Pulling a flask she didn't notice from where it was strapped against his hip, he took a long swig of what she assumed to be the liquor before he wiped his mouth and turned his gaze back to her.
"No, I knew that was Chuck's definition. I want your definition." He said as if she had said the most stupidest thing in the world and he was trying to give her time to correct her mistake. Gen paused, unsure of how to reply. Minho wasn't usually the type to ask such questions, but then again, it could have just been the liquor. He knew what they were; friends, fellow Gladers, fellow Keepers. Nothing more. They surely weren't enemies, just as they weren't... lovers. Seeing that Gen had no intention of answering his question, he cleared his throat, "Let me try again then, girly." He sighed, placing his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath, "If this was the end of the world and this was the last night before we were about to all die horrible, bloody deaths at the hands of Grievers. Would you be mine? Just till the end?" Gen paused,
"It's not the end of the world." She replied before she could even think. The reply caused Minho's brow to furrow and his gaze to drop; a slow, deafening silence filled the air as her own mind began to tick over. She had hoped Minho had more than enough to drink to cause him to not even remember their conversation the following morning before she spoke once more, "But yes."
A/N: I stayed up specially to write this, sorry if it's bad! I am also sorry I haven't updated for a little bit, I've been studying :/