HIIII!
New chapter everyone!
StarStableGal- I'M SORRY, IT BREAKS MY HEART TOO! And, awww, "Ahh, you amaze me with how you are able to make every chapter consistently wonderful! Like all of them are beautiful pieces of literature." THIS MADE MY DAY! TYSM FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS.
.2021- TYSM for the review! And I'm not following any specific script; there will be chunks of the film, chunks of the book, chunks of my own plot. My suggestion; read it like you would read a normal book- don't expect anything to have a pre destined outcome unless clearly foreshadowed.
Quick note: Anyone who gets the Percy Jackson reference later on, I LOVE YOU!
Another quick note: Let me know if the "memory" bit at the end makes sense (you'll see as you read)
Another another quick note: TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT! If anyone is into greek mythology (MASSIVE NERD HERE) please recommend me some books related to it; I've got Circe, Song of Achilles, Mythos so far!
CHAPTER 3:
The sun burned brightly overhead, its heat dominating over the struggling Gladers as they trudged across the empty, barren cracked land. It seemed wrong for everything to be a Mars red, wrong not to see a small patch of green bursting out of the monotone, wrong for the land to be so plain and uninteresting.
WICKED hadn't been lying when they were talking about sun flares- the Scorch looked completely burnt, ravaged by heat. Swallowing felt like sandpaper was being rubbed against her throat and running felt like gravity was a hundred times stronger.
"Right, stop." Minho called out, noticing that some boys were lagging behind. He'd been moving fast and while the Runners could just about keep up, most of the boys were struggling with the pace. Minho glanced at Newt's worsening limp, "We'll take a break till the sun goes down, do what you want but don't go too far off."
Everyone looked exhausted and Frypan collapsed down, leaving Aris to tend to Winston's position on the ground. Minho blew out a breath, glancing at the setting sun. It had only been an hour, but they'd covered considerable distance however, the heat was starting to affect all of them. Moving at night was the better thing to do.
"Water?" Adira asked, fishing out a plastic case of the precious liquid and pressing it into his hand. He took a small sip.
"Thanks." he grinned, pulling back the sheet as the evening fast disintegrated into night, "Look, there's stars."
She tilted her head upwards, awed by the twinkling lights far above their heads, the real ones, not the fake dots WICKED had plagiarised and pasted carelessly across the grey dome above them. They glimmered as if they knew the secrets of the universe, their fires raging for eternity as they died below them, an insignificant whisper in the grand scale of time. It made her want to cry. She had forgotten their majesty and their grandiose appearance due to WICKED. What else had she forgotten? What other little, beautiful things had they ripped her away from?
"They're beautiful." she said quietly and Minho hummed in appreciation, his eyes fixated on her face. She didn't know, enchanted by the balls of fire in the sky, but he felt his heart swell in his chest, felt his entire being thrum to life because of the wonder in her eyes and the beauty of her person. It was surreal to love someone as much as he did her, to hold such tender affection for someone other than himself. Ever since he could remember, Minho had felt like he was defined by other people as the "selfish asshole" and uncharacteristically, their opinions had morphed into his own. But now, he could dispel the myth, with the help of her hand in his. She held his heart and held power over him, a graceful goddess he worshipped.
The air cooled slowly but surely as the Earth faced away from its life giver, surrendering to the darkness of space and giving the Gladers a chance to run to the city. She could make out flickering lights of fires in the windows of the buildings, like glimmering jewels in the distance, enticing.
"Let's go shanks!" Minho called out, hoisting his backpack up on his shoulders, "Ain't got much time to linger."
There were scattered groans but most of the boys seemed ready to move again; whether out of restlessness or excitement, she couldn't distinguish. Still, with the load on their backs, they set off, hearts low and hope practically vanished. It didn't speak well that the twenty one people they had started with had dwindled down to nineteen. And with the way Winston looked, it would soon be eighteen, but she sincerely hoped not.
Hours passed, and they were closer to the cluster of buildings. It was different to how it had seemed from the distance; red and dusty, but spread out with empty lanes for pedestrians, organised neatly into rows and columns and she even spotted a rusting, lopsided sign that indicated a street name. The print was a standard black against a luminous white, spelling out Upland Drive, though the "e" was practically ruined. Still, there was a long journey ahead; they were on the absolute furthest outskirts of the place, and judging by the distance, they would arrive within the vicinity of more building by the next night.
"Look there." Frypan whistled, pointing to the nearest building- the first they would cross, "There's someone watching."
She hadn't seen the person in the doorway of the building but when she squinted hard she could make out the figure of a girl, young, maybe her age. A sudden stroke of familiarity cut through her, the blade of recognition strong. Thomas jerked his head up, eyes widening.
"We should go see." he said, "They seem like…"
Minho looked baffled, "Why, shank?"
Thomas struggled for words for a few moments, "They look like someone we know."
Minho stared at the unmoving figure for a long minute, the corners of his lips creased downwards. She could tell he wasn't happy with the sudden detour, but he also knew Thomas' gut instinct was a finely tuned instrument that never proved wrong.
"Fine." Minho said, rolling his eyes, "If you shucking insist."
Thomas looked surprised, "I'll go, not everyone."
Minho rolled his eyes again, harder this time, "Alright shuckface. Do what you wanna."
Newt shook his head, "No way is he going alone. I'll go with him."
Thomas waved his hand in a partially conciliatory gesture and a partly irritated one. "No point. I'll be fine. I'll talk to her. She looks like Teresa, y'know, she won't bite."
Minho shrugged uncaringly and Newt looked baffled by his attitude. It was a quality that set them apart the most. Minho dealt with things as they came but Newt preferred to prevent and opted a more serious approach to situations. It was why he worked well as a leader in the Glade, but she'd be dead wrong if she said Minho's style was inefficient, "If he wants to go, let him go."
Newt gave Thomas a hard look before turning away, swiping the back of his palm across his forehead as he sought Adira's opinion wordlessly. She wasn't happy about it, but if it was Teresa, then they'd bring her back, question her and Thomas would feel a little more secure. And judging by the ink black hair, she wouldn't have been surprised if it was her. She shared an exasperated look with Newt.
"Go then." she muttered and Thomas ran off, his pace rapid, like he was running from a Griever. Minho blew out a breath of impatience as they watched her brother's figure diminish with time before he stopped in front of the girl and then stepped inside.
"For the love of shuck." Newt snorted sardonically, "Of course he went inside where we can't see none."
Minho laughed, "Like the shank said, she won't bite."
"I hope so." Newt muttered, glancing at Adira. The blonde had always rigidly agreed that Teresa was an odd one out, an imposter while Minho was a floater; he didn't care much for her since Adira had a low opinion of the girl, but he couldn't ignore the connection she had with Thomas. Whether the shank knew it or not, he'd become one of his best friends, fast, so he preferred to be more neutral about the girl. It was strange that Minho wasn't so vocal about his views- he was an opinionated person by nature- but Teresa had caught them all off guard. And he hadn't seen her wake up, totally calm, so different from all the other Greenies. It was too orchestrated to not be suspicious.
"He's coming out." Minho whistled, but even from the distance he could tell something was wrong with the younger boy, "And he's running."
Thomas reached them in no time, gasping with shock rather than exertion, face pale, "We gotta go. Don't…don't ask. But we gotta go."
True to his request, Minho didn't question him, instead calling to the Gladers and setting off at a sprint behind Thomas who failed to slow down, running off into the distance for reasons they didn't know. He wanted to race off after him, but leadership kept his ankles chained.
"Should I go? After him, I mean." Adira asked, unable to watch Thomas sprint off and Minho looked down at her, concern in the lines of his face. He nodded, relieving her of her backpack and she shot him a grateful smile before racing off through the dust behind her brother, who hadn't looked back, not once.
He was fast and she absolutely hated him for it in that moment as sweat built on her forehead and her fatigued muscles pushed forward for him. She thought she heard sobs but he was too far away to tell. Minutes later, she managed to meet him, anger inflaming her better intentions.
"Are you shucking mad?" she cried as her brother finally slowed, collapsing near a rock, "Why'd you run off for?"
"I had to." he mumbled petulantly, "It was Teresa."
Her anger dulled. He shouldn't have run off without them but if he was running away from Teresa, it must have been bad. He'd do anything to stick around the ink haired girl.
"What did she do?" she asked, sitting next to him.
His eyes flickered to her glum face before he blew out a breath, his cheeks flushing with new colour, "She kissed me."
Adira choked on air, patting her chest violently as tears gathered in her ears with the force. Of everything she had expected- stabbings, freaky mind control, or riddles from WICKED- this was the least, "She what?"
"You're not deaf." Thomas grumbled, "I'm not saying it again."
"Fine." she conceded, sensing his walls rising, "Fine. I'm sure you didn't run because of that though?"
Thomas looked weary, "No. I don't know. I'll tell everyone when they come."
She nodded, looking up at the night sky, the twinkling stars reigning over them. Their ethereal beauty left the silence between them full and comfortable despite Thomas' recent panic, a healing effect from seeing nature in its true form.
She could make out the shadowy figures of the Gladers walking briskly towards them, slowing as they spotted their sedentary positions.
"Do you love him?" Thomas asked suddenly and she turned, frowning.
"What-"
"Do you love him?" he repeated, firmer, "Minho?"
She twisted the question in her mind, but an answer was ready before her mind could process his question, a slight smile twisting her lips upwards, "Yes. Of course I do."
He nodded, "Imagine he disappeared from you. Told you to run, gave you a warning. Imagine he was crying, telling you to leave him behind, even though he actually wanted you to stay."
She was speechless. She hadn't seen this side of her brother before; a deep, poetic, human boy, hurting with the pain of heartbreak. She didn't know how badly he craved Teresa's presence.
"I- Is that what she did? Gave you a warning and told you to leave?"
He nodded glumly, "Yeah."
She couldn't muster the energy to hate the girl anymore, she found. The name that had once brought forward a hundred curses to the tip of her tongue had morphed into a bittersweet reminder of the love the Gladers had for each other.
"I'm sorry, Thomas." she said quietly. Imagining Minho in Teresa's position felt like someone had jammed a spear through her body. She suddenly felt selfish.
"It's fine." he muttered, tipping his head back, "Once this klunk is over we can live normal lives."
She would've agreed with him had they been in the Maze. Back then, the possibility of retaining "normalcy" was more believable, but here on the flat, hot ground of the Scorch it lacked conviction.
"Yeah," she shrugged, "maybe."
Thomas looked at the empty face of his sister, before throwing his arm around her shoulder and bundling her in for a hug. It felt normal, sibling like, something that he'd done countless times.
She laughed lightly as he squashed her tight, "Ew, gross, you stink!"
"Your welcome." Thomas said, letting his arm fall back, "Minho's coming."
She perked up immediately, "Great."
"So eager to get rid of me?" Thomas feigned hurt and she rolled her eyes.
"Get over it, you big baby." she muttered, before a serious look crossed her features, "You can talk to me whenever you like. I know Teresa was there for you before…but I'm here too. If you want. We barely get enough time to bond as it is, so, my door's open."
He was tempted to make a joke but he instinctually his younger sister was offering something that made her feel vulnerable, so he decided against it, "Thanks, Ad."
She smiled, turning as Minho's figure started getting bigger.
"I talked to him." Thomas grinned smugly and she whipped back to him, her eyes narrowing.
"About?" she asked suspiciously.
He grinned even wider, savouring her unease, "About some things. Involving you."
She looked confused for a brief moment before realisation dawned on her and she groaned, her hands covering her face in embarrassment, "You didn't seriously give him the big brother talk, did you?"
Thomas' grin widened further, resembling the Cheshire Cat, but worse. It provided all the answers she needed.
"Oh my god, you shuckface." she groaned, "This isn't the freaking 20th century, I'm a big girl- and besides, this is Minho we're talking about, not shucking Gally! And, you do realise that we've got just a tiny little more to worry about than…than whatever you talked about!"
"I was just clarifying some things!" Thomas defended, throwing his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, "Nothing over the top!"
"Hands up! Damn straight Thomas." Minho cried and they could hear his fury at Thomas' sudden run away into the distance.
"Save me from your lover." Thomas muttered but Adira grinned slowly, her eyes lighting up at the discomfort on his face.
"Payback."
"The shuck was that for!" Minho asked, his lips pressed into a flat line of disapproval, "You can't just up it and leave, Thomas, that's not how a team works, case you didn't know."
"Sorry," Thomas apologised blandly, shooting a Adira an unimpressed look, "but it was a little traumatising."
"Then you cry for your mum. But you cry for your mum with us." he said, though his voice was gentler, "Don't leave again. Otherwise we'll leave you for the Cranks."
"Duly noted." Thomas muttered, running his hand through his hair.
"So? Was it her, Teresa?" Minho asked curiously.
"Yeah," Thomas nodded, "it was her. She was being controlled, like Gally, but she told me it was a trap or something. Told me we had to leave."
Minho let out a low whistle of disappointment on behalf of his friend and shock- he hadn't been serious when he went with Thomas' idea of Teresa being the mystery girl. He could tell Thomas had taken Teresa's confusing dismissal hard and he could empathise with him, could understand with the feeling of incompleteness.
"But she didn't come with us ?" he said and Thomas shrugged.
"Said she couldn't and that I had to forget her." Thomas muttered.
"Has she forgotten that, you know, you're kinda both telepathic or something?" Minho asked, frowning. The entire situation was weird and unprecedented. He'd expected bloodthirsty Cranks, blood and gore from the Scorch trials and although they'd already lost some Gladers, they were more occupied with trying to solve mind games.
Thomas shrugged, defeat lining every cell in his body.
"We'll take a nap." Minho announced, "Shank here made us run and we're bone tired now, no point going further."
Thomas gave him a sour look, though its effect was diminished by the exhausted relief on his face. Adira turned, finding Nico behind her, his raven hair scattered messily along his forehead, his lips turned down in their customary frown. He had never been a sunny kid in all senses of the word, but she supposed his darkness balanced well with Will- a close friend of his- who never ran out of smiles.
"Hey," Nico greeted, his voice gravelly, "it's been a while."
She nodded, pondering over how they'd barely had any time together despite being in close vicinity of each other.
"It has," she agreed, "and I know you have things you want to spill. So go on."
Nico shuffled on his feet, shrugging a little as he sorted out a bed for himself next to her own.
"Well, you know Will?" he started and she nodded, "He was my best friend."
She nodded, pretending that she hadn't noticed their shy smiles at each other, their secret touches of awe, "Was? Is everything okay?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Nico mumbled, flopping down onto his 'bed', "Will…we're more than friends now. He's my boyfriend."
She smiled, her lips stretched into a gentle curve upwards, "That's amazing, Nico. Really. I'm happy for the both of you."
Nico glanced up at her, his green eyes melting with relief, "Thanks, Adira."
"Ain't a problem." she replied, trying to sound upbeat, "Nap time now. Dream about Will."
Nico shot her a playful scowl and she made her own bed, facing Minho as they played with each other's fingers, their minds occupied, content with sharing silence. It was moments like this that she craved because the silence spoke volumes, spoke about the emotion that they couldn't put into words.
Thomas pulled his rucksack under him, shooting an apologetic grimace to Newt who'd carried Thomas' load on top of his.
"Thanks."
"Ain't a problem." Newt replied, almost merrily as he lied down beside him, "Long as you don't ditch us again. I don't think my leg can take it shank. The whole thing, knee down was shakin' like a bloody leaf."
Thomas winced, "Sorry. How did it happen anyway? Your ankle, I mean."
Newt turned to the side, his fingers working on a random knot he'd made out of restlessness, the darkness shadowing his face, "Bad encounter with a Griever. Let's keep it at that, Tommy, shall we?"
"Yeah," Thomas muttered, frowning a little, "fine, you're the boss. I don't need the gore anyway."
"It was lucky." Newt elaborated, "Cos our heroic Keeper himself came and saved my sorry butt. I could'a died out there, but that shank took me all the way back to the Glade. Stubborn shuck, honestly. "
He sounded almost bitter but Thomas pencilled it down to losing the ability to run. It sounded torturous for a Runner to be restrained. He could override the confusion easily, focusing on the closeness Minho and Newt had built over the years. Their friendship was a subtle one and Thomas hadn't expected them to be friends based by their opposing personalities, but he could see now. Newt cared for Minho, more openly than the former Keeper, with his sarcastic remarks that concealed his intentions to check in with the Asian boy. And Minho cared for Newt by carrying him through the Maze and by the little actions he did out of concern- stopping when he could, to let Newt's leg adapt, soundlessly stealing the weight off his back when he wasn't looking. Putting your life in someone else's hands was the highest form of intimacy, platonic and romantic alike, he realised and the boys didn't need to hug and kiss to show they loved each other.
"I didn't know you were a Runner." Thomas said finally and Newt shrugged, a glow of nostalgia setting in his brown eyes.
"I've been a lot of things, Tommy, everything but a bloomin' Slicer, my stomach can't handle that." he started and Thomas listened to the gentle lull of Newt's voice, his distinctive accent soothing, his words calm, "But after the accident in the Maze, I settled on a Track Hoe most of the time. I liked the work and I liked seeing all the plants grow."
Thomas made a noise to indicate he was listening. He didn't want to interrupt the blonde's talking, feeling safe as he rambled on about the tiniest details and the broadest theories he could conjure up. Newt, observant as usual, noticed straight away and smiling to himself, talked right on.
"Of course, I tried to help your sister around, but my, she's a bloody horse. Doesn't stop working till everything's set right and pretty and even then, she'll work more. In the end, there wasn't much to do cos she'd done it all."
He shrugged, a hint of poignancy in his tone, "She didn't grow tired of it, not once. Some people like their work, Tommy, and they do it with their all and we can't fault 'em for that. I guess she liked havin' something to do all the time. Does wonders to your head if your hands are full, I'll tell ya."
"So, of course everyone would follow her example. Course, I tried my absolute bloody best, but," he let out a short, raspy chuckle, "I lack the spine, sometimes. All I wanted to do, some days, was sleep forever. Or float. I wasn't picky."
Thomas felt a deep sadness resonate with Newt's words and he wondered if there was a hidden meaning in his talk.
"Well, I tried my best. But the Glade's the Glade and as they say, the past's the past. But I think of the better times, not just the bad, Tommy. Course, it wasn't bloody Disneyland and it was shucking hard to make it through the day, but the little things made it more bearable."
"You weren't there long enough, and even then, everything went to klunk the minute you came up the Box." Newt scratched his jaw lazily, eyes flickering to Thomas' slowly blinking eyes, watching as sleep made its slow progress over him.
"I made good friends in the Glade, Tommy." Newt said firmly, "Bloody good friends. And that's something I'm grateful for even if those bastard Creators only wanted us in there to suck our blood dry."
"Some of 'em died. But I'll never forget them. Or at least, I'll try. Someone needs to remember who's been here walking and who's left us be, god bless 'em. Otherwise what are we really? Loveless robots?"
"And there's Minho and Adira. Saved my life more times than I can count, those shanks have." he shook out his hair, looking up at the stars, "Sometimes I wonder how people live on when they've lost the people they love the most. I really wonder, mate. How'd they make it through the day without missin' them so much till it hurts, eh Tommy? How'd ya move on?"
Thomas closed his eyes, the sadness rolling of Newt's frame in waves as he turned over to catch some shut eye. The same question rolled around in his mind, and he never would've guessed that the blonde boy beside him, who had lulled him to sleep with his good words and kind heart, would be gone so soon, would slip through his fingers like quicksand. He'd ask the same question again.
How would he move on?
"Right shanks," Minho started, his voice slightly more energetic than it had been before, "let's get a move on now, otherwise we'll never make it anywhere."
The boys were less willing to move this time around, but they got themselves together, rubbing sleep from their eyes. The sun had resumed its torture, the beating heat stinging their skin as they walked through the sand. She'd figured out quickly enough that the shirts WICKED had changed them into were temperature sensitive and she would've thanked the Creators if they hadn't put them in the Scorch in the first place.
"Bloody hell, this sun's gonna be the death of me." Newt hissed as Thomas and he neared Adira and Minho. Minho winced as the sun intensified.
"Don't worry Newton." she said preppily, "You won't die. All you're getting is a tan."
"No, love," Newt scoffed, sticking his face out into her sight, "this is called sunburn."
Indeed, the blonde was looking unnaturally red, his skin pinched and flushed- even looking at it was painful. She grimaced and Newt chuckled.
"You win this round." she said.
"I'd lose every round if it meant I don't have to be as burnt as a bloomin' chicken out over Fry's fires." Newt muttered and Thomas let out a sound that resembled a laugh.
She looked back, the forlorn faces of the Gladers only furthering her grim mood. They'd been travelling for just under a day and two people had died, Winston looked like he was in hell itself and everyone looked beaten and broken already.
Rat man hadn't exaggerated at all.
Minho wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her forwards as she subconsciously lagged behind and she shot him a grateful smile.
"Thanks."
"Anything for you, babe." Minho smirked and she rolled her eyes, pulling the sheet firmly over her head, the sun's glare hurting her skin.
"Newt's dead right." she muttered, "The sun is really gonna be the death of us."
"Slim it." Minho said, looking back cautiously, "If they hear, the argument's never gonna end."
Negativity wasn't taken kindly anymore. Especially negativity from the people everyone looked up to- it set the mood.
They continued on for hours, sweat trailing down their faces, the heat parching their throats, pressing them in on themselves. Few talked, the heat making the task immeasurably enervating despite the billion questions floating like storm clouds in their heavy minds.
"I'm done." Aris declared, though his tread never slowed. It was nearing around ten at night, the darkness providing relief from the incessant rays of the sun.
Minho glanced back at the boys, pursing his lips at their bedraggled figures staggering behind him in the darkness. He couldn't keep pushing them any longer as much as he wanted to.
"Yeah, fine." he breathed, "We'll take a break."
"Sweet." Frypan whistled, though there wasn't any of his usual enthusiasm saturating the words, only plain relief. It was a stark difference to his normal self and the Gladers were silenced by their misery.
They settled for sleep and she frowned worriedly, noticing the slight nip in the air and the breeze travelling through the tresses of her hair. Minho noticed too, propping his head up as he squinted into the distance.
"Might be a storm soon." he muttered, flopping back down, "Just what we need."
She didn't reply, too tired to say anything. Minho kissed the top of her head before his eyes shut and the world faded away.
He looked on with defeat as Adira's eyes fluttered shut, Teresa's worried face morphed into extreme relief and Thomas' head bowed down, presumably in pain. Closing his eyes hard, he pulled back from the screen of glass, his heart's deep beats pounding in his ears.
She was gone.
Every memory in her mind was eradicated, leaving behind an unfillable void. Betrayal coursed through his veins. She hadn't told him that she was suddenly going to be thrust into the Maze Trials; as far as he-and everyone else- knew, she was a white coated scientist, studying brain scans and providing her own brain patterns that could give them the blueprint for the ambitious cure.
He wanted to cry, but he didn't know how. He couldn't pinpoint the mess of emotions tearing through his skin and ripping him apart, a contradiction that existed together. He felt betrayed, hurt and a sick relief. Betrayed that she hadn't told him, hurt that she felt she couldn't trust him and relief that she would always be by him. But he couldn't feel anger. No, he'd never be angry at her. Anger was concealed hatred wound up in a moment and he could never hate her.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he watched as she was wheeled away to the Box, his heart sinking even lower if possible, in his chest. It seemed unreal, another horrible hallucination WICKED had cooked up for his tests. No, she'd come back like she always did, running her hands pensively through the strands of his hair as a source of comfort, sneaking to his room at night. His eyes roved over her vanishing features, wanting to commit her face to memory but knowing it was futile.
"I'm sorry."
Minho's head whipped up to find Teresa, her bright blue eyes wide and filled with sorrow he knew was fake. She'd never cared for Adira.
"No, you're not." he responded stoutly, noticing the raspy crackle of his throat. The pounding in his ears faded a little. He'd forget this. All of this. He'd forget everything in a month- her smile, her hair, her warmth and her soul. He dismissed the thought. It pained him too much.
Teresa looked a little lost at his blunt statement. She was a manipulator to the core, so she'd never meshed well with the more confrontational candidates, shying away from their bold talk and radical claims. Minho had never scared her, not his muscles, his glares or his harshness, but ironically now, seeing the redness in his eyes and the defeat in his face, she felt frightened. What would he do now that his anchor had gone?
Thomas came out, his fist coming away from his eye, obviously recovering from tears. Minho wanted to punch him in the face but also wanted to comfort him in his own, vaguely demented way. Teresa melted into the plain white walls of WICKED's pristine corridors, her exit not noticed by either of the boys.
"You knew."
The words were blank, devoid of the accusation Thomas had expected, just as his face was devoid of a black bruise given by Minho's fist. He wouldn't have minded if the boy had punched him, would've preferred it even.
"I did." Thomas replied, his voice low and mournful. Minho shook his head as the younger boy's eyes flickered to the Asian.
"She didn't tell me."
Thomas winced at the pure pain in his words, feeling his agony resonate within his own chest.
"She wasn't allowed."
It was a stupid excuse, one Minho saw through immediately and he glared, "I'm not stupid. She would've told me anyway."
Thomas' shoulders sagged, "They decided to put her in, Minho. She wanted to be put in, couldn't stand being in here," he glanced around furtively, "and she couldn't stand the idea that she'd be here alone."
"She wanted to be put in there?" Minho asked, a strange little proud smile pulling his lips up. Thomas had long ago stopped trying to understand the boy. Still, the familiar confusion swelled as he saw Minho's smile. There was nothing to be happy about.
"Yeah," he sighed, "she wanted to go. So she told me and Teresa and we tried- we tried to stop her, Minho, but you know how she is. Stubborn."
Minho shrugged, but the gesture was weighed down with infinite sadness, "That's my girl. Stubborn as a donkey, brave as a lion."
"The Chancellor wanted a report done." Thomas said, "She assigned it to me and Teresa after Janson botched it, said she wanted good results. So we did it, and obviously Adira was a fit for the Maze trials. Everyone expected that. And she wanted to be put in. She asked us. So we supported Janson's view and now she's in the Maze like he wanted all along."
"You've always been Ava Paige's favourite. She'd do anything for you, Thomas." Minho snarked, but there was no spite in his tone, "Thanks for helping her out, I guess."
"You're not mad?" Thomas gaped, surprised, "That-That I technically put her in there?"
Minho laughed drily, "Oh, I'm mad. But I can't tell her what to do, Thomas. She's got her own mind, with her own reasons." He shrugged, "What's the point anyway? I'll forget her in a month."
Thomas winced and Minho's lips flattened.
"It's true, dude. I'll forget everything, even your pretty face."
"What the bloody hell? Aris just came up, telling me Ad was gone?"
A new voice joined their silent vigil, Newt's frantic voice piercing the quiet understanding the two boys had reached.
"Tell me it's not true." Newt whispered, his chocolate eyes wide with innocent fear, his voice rising "Tell me she's here, not in the bloody Maze."
Their silence rang loudly.
Newt gave a small moan of pain, his entire body shrinking as he came to grips with the harsh reality that his best friend was no more. Minho felt bad for Newt, for Thomas, for himself- for all of them. Sure, she wasn't the sunniest person in the place and she had her flaws, but she was important to them all, held a piece of each of their hearts. Newt would be devastated if he found out that she hadn't told them on purpose. He didn't understand her like Minho did.
"She was forced to go." Minho said, his voice somewhat soothing and Thomas shot him a discreet look of surprise over Newt's shoulder. The blonde didn't notice, taking in Minho's words like they were saving him from death.
It didn't matter if he lied.
They'd all forget anyway.