Despite the drumming in his ears, the ache in his ribs and the griever pursuing from behind, Thomas managed to choke out a laugh. A short, breathless sound considering his attention remained on the path ahead and keeping his legs moving; but loud enough to warrant a quick, side-long glance from Minho.

"Not funny!" His friend roared over the howl of the wind.

"I-" A breath. "-Disagree!"

Not a minute before Minho had commented on how Thomas was slacking, easing up, just asking to be caught in the sharp, rusted claws of the griever…only to then stumble over a tangle of vines himself and almost go down. The irony of it all had lifted his spirit. However, it was the surge of adrenaline that came with recognising walls the around them that kept him going, that gave him the power to ignore the burning in his chest and blink away the stinging sweat from his eyes.

Together they slowed a fraction as they turned the next corner and Thomas took a moment to risk a glimpse behind – and meet the cloudy, yellow eyes of the griever. A bulbous, inhuman creature. Spiderlike, with its several spindly metallic legs, each decorated with various sized rods, spikes, sheers and saws – tools designed to slaughter. As if sensing that Thomas had broken one of his own rules (Don't look back) its jaw unhinged and through jagged, rotted teeth came a high, screeching cry.

The path began to incline, making each step more painful than the last but as they passed beneath an old arch and turned the next corner, they reached the crumbling edge of a walkway and the considerable jump to the other side. A jump they had both made before.

"Go!" Thomas shoved again at Minho's back, ushering his friend forward. Minho only glanced over his shoulder once before biting down on his lower lip and charging to the edge of the roof. Thomas felt his panicked breath catch and something rise inside him as the power in Minho's strong legs propelled him up and forward – feet kicking, arms outstretched, then a somewhat perfect roll across the flags on the other side.

Immediately, Minho's head snapped up. His dark eyes were wide. "C'mon!" A scratch of metal against stone caught their attention, coming closer beyond the wall. "Thomas, come on!" Minho snapped again. To gather speed, he backed up to the wall and pressed his sore fingertips against it. He shook his dark, sweat-drenched hair from his face and took in the space he had to work with. He had done it a dozen times by now but now with death literally on his shoulder and barely a breath in his lungs, he was not so confident.

But a glance across at Minho, at the way his mouth hung open and his hands were gripping fistfuls of his short, black hair. How his lips parted to form his name with urgency. He had to do it. He could it. He just had to move. He had to move.

Now.

He sucked in a breath and charged.

Thomas barely made it three steps before the wall behind him exploded. An eruption of dust and bricks rained down on him and knocked him off course but with no way of turning back, he reached the ledge and leapt. The very moment he kicked up into the air Thomas knew he would not make the jump.

Limbs flayed but he felt his shins connect with the coarse stone ledge, he began to slip and a burn tore through his thigh. His torso slammed hard against the surface and bruised hands sought out the thin vines for support, but the weeds tore free of the broken stone with ease.

"Minho!" Thomas cried, wondering if the word would be his last but just as he felt his weight drag him down, a rough and calloused hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. Thomas's own wrapped tightly around the arm and he looked up. Minho leaned over the edge, using one hand to secure himself against the surface while using the other to keep Thomas from falling.

Lungs working again and with a sense of hope, Thomas reached out with his free hand and grabbed the warm leather of Minho's leather backpack. Minho spat out a shaky breath as he began to pull Thomas towards the ledge, just enough for him to rest his elbows on the stone. Letting go, Minho dived over Thomas's shoulder and grab him by the straps of his belt; having a secure grip, he yanked and the two boys rolled onto their backs.

Thomas lay there for a moment in the crook of Minho's arm and stared at the clear blue of the empty sky above. The sun shining from the left partially blinded his vision. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of Minho's chest, hear his heartbeat as it thrummed in his ears, just beyond the quiet snarling of the griever.

Thomas's chin jerked up at the same time Minho swore and the two scrambled to their feet. The griever had its head down, seemingly surveying the jump and retreating in preparation to make it. Minho tugged on his sleeve and they moved; but a bolt of fire shot through his thigh, burning straight along the muscle and his right knee collapsed beneath him. Minho noticed Thomas's leg instantly and then glanced in the direction they headed – they both knew what awaited them around that corner.

"Go." Thomas urged but Minho ducked under Thomas's arm and hauled him forwards. They rounded the corner and along the ledge to the first of a dozen steps leading to the ground floor of the maze. "Go," Thomas said again, "Get to the others."

Minho ignored his every word and dropped into a squat, only to wrap one arm around Thomas's waist and the other beneath his knees, pulling him up into his arms.

"Minho!" Thomas tried to argue. The idea stupid enough to get them both killed but Minho forced a smile.

"Hold on tight, Greenie." And he set off down the steps. Thomas knew he could have hobbled down them with Minho by his side but there was no denying that this was quicker. Within seconds, they made it to the ground floor where Minho let Thomas drop against the nearest wall to gather his strength. Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the stairwell, listening, waiting for –

The wet smack of the griever's body as it cleared the jump, then the increasing scratching as it crawled its way to the stairwell.

To show Minho he was fine, Thomas set off in a hobbled run through the maze. Minho ran by his side, but Thomas could feel his friend's eyes on his leg. Clenching his teeth, he fought through the pain to maintain a good speed. Probably doing more damage than good, he knew, but it would be worth it in the end.

They turned the last corner and came to an abrupt halt, Thomas even skidding and hitting the flat surface of the wall ahead. The dead-end. Minho again tucked an arm under Thomas', lifting him back to his feet. Both pressed their backs against the wall, surveying the corner they found themselves in. Fifty-foot walls met them on every side, except the right which from the looks of the rubble and the grooves, a battle had taken place leaving half-broken walls and ledges out in the open. Too high to climb, Thomas knew. Though he didn't need to climb. He needed to wait.

"It's coming!" Minho exclaimed just as the griever rounded the corner. Instinctively, Thomas and Minho stepped back. Noticing the enclosed space they were in, the griever seemed to pause.

"Thomas…" Minho breathed.

Thomas's eyes flicked to the right. To the already destroyed wall. To the shadow of movement beyond. He shook his chin.

Its grotesque, worm-like body twisted as it surveyed the two boys in the corner. Its deformed mouth parting – saliva swelling in its black gums. A mechanic whir began as the creature slowly advanced. Each metal foot screeched as it stepped closer and closer. Thomas nudged Minho into the corner with his shoulder and stepped before him.

"C'mon," Thomas teased the creature. "C'mon!"

"Thomas!" Minho exclaimed in a wasted breath.

The creature sprang into action.

"Now!" Thomas roared.

A booming crack echoed into the corridor. The creature itself paused to inspect where it had come from. The right wall. The foundation of it shifted, cracks spiderwebbed out in all directions and the upper ledge collapsed. The griever barely had time to squeal before great boulders of stone came raining down upon it. Thomas turned away and threw himself against Minho. Perhaps a bit too harshly, but both boys hit the corner and dropped to their knees, arms overhead to shield their faces from any rogue debris. A sickening wet squelch combined with a metallic crunch hinted that the stone had hit. Dust and dirt from the ground below began to accumulate around them, filling their noses and causing a coughing fit from Minho who must not have closed his mouth in time.

Thomas grabbed his friend's shirt by the collar and lifted it to cover Minho's mouth, which he held in place. "We get it?" His voice muffled through the fabric.

They cautiously approached, wafting away the dust in the air. Through it, they could see the creature…or what remained. The griever lay beneath a mountain of fallen debris. Old stone and tangled vines covered most of its body but the pool of black and green, vomit-like blood that flowed out from the centre verified the kill. Thomas reached down and grabbed a chunk of stone, studied the weight of it between his hands then hurled it at the griever's head. A wet thud answered but the griever remained still. "I'd say so." He answered Minho.

"It's dead!" Minho yelled out, his voice full of intonation.

A chorus of cheering began from above and both heads snapped up to see the three Gladers they had positioned up there earlier that morning were on their feet and bouncing, fist-pumping the air.

"Take that ye great old worm, you!" Shouted Fritz, a boy with unnaturally curly red hair and an accent as equally strange. They poked their spears to the sky and danced in circles around one another. Thomas couldn't help but be infected by their joy, their victory.

"Get down here!" Minho called up to them. Within minutes, the three boys rounded the corner and immediately paused at the overwhelming stench that met them. Thomas was familiar with by now, the scent of rot and death that came with each kill, but it wasn't a smell you ever got used to.

"Well done, boys." Minho congratulated them, "Especially you, Nik." It was Nik's first kill.

"Whoa," Nik blinked and rubbed his large, blue eyes. "I can't believe we did it."

"I can," Replied Leo, circling the corpse. Leo and Nik were the best of friends but total opposites, with Leo being tall and broad, with brown hair that reached his waist when he wore it out of its usual braid. Nik, however, was the smallest of the Gladers – smaller even than Chuck – and the skinniest. No matter how often Frypan fed the kid, he remained skin and bones. Not exactly what Thomas had envisioned when recruiting Gladers for his sector but since hearing about it, Nik had been persistent to join. Fritz's tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he squatted by the griever's appendages, his head angled as he studied the bolts holding them together.

"Who?" He wondered aloud, his accent making the word almost unrecognisable. "Who could think up summet so disgustang?"

"I wish I knew," Thomas replied. He turned away from the corpse and ducked back into the shadows, resting against the nearest wall. He took a minute to check himself over. He undid the straps of his leather gloves and shook off his backpack. Other than the pulled thigh muscle and a few grazes, he was otherwise uninjured. Though he had very nearly lost his life today. The drop from that jump would have ended him, he knew for certain. Without Minho there…

"Hey," Minho elbowed Thomas's arm to get his attention. "You okay?" He held out a canteen of water. From the water dribbling down Minho's dimpled chin, he had already had a few gulps.

Thomas smiled and shrugged, "Yeah, fine." He pressed the lid to his lips and began gulping. The water was warm – impossible to keep it cool in those pouches – but refreshing all the same. By the time he emptied it and rubbed the back of his hand over cracked lips, he again had the energy to rise.

Minho's gaze slowly lowered to how Thomas had positioned his weight onto his left leg. "You sure about that?"

"A pulled muscle. It'll be fine by tomorrow." He lied. He handed the canteen back to his friend, who screwed the lid on and reattached it to his belt. They observed the three other boys, still inspecting the griever's corpse. Nik poked at it with his spear. Thomas turned back to Minho. "But thanks, you really helped me out back there."

"Helped you out?" Minho scoffed, "Saved your ass is what I did."

Thomas laughed, "Yeah. That was some grade A lifting back there. You wanna carry me like that back to the Glade?" He jerked his chin in the direction he hoped was home.

Minho's "Pfft." And shoulder bump was answer enough. But just as Minho went to turn, he glanced over his shoulder at Thomas and pointed straight at him as if he were a child being scolded. "Seriously though, don't scare me like that again."

"Yes, sir," Thomas mumbled too low for Minho to hear. A welcome silence hung in the air between them as their eyes lingered but that gentle calm soon vanished as quickly as it had begun when Nik let out a scream.

By the time they faced the other Gladers, Nik was hunched over and spluttering words, his eyes locked on…on the stinger piercing his gut.

The Griever snarled and withdrew the appendage. Nik collapsed to the ground.

"No!" Leo wept, dropping his bags, and grabbing Nik by the collar, dragging him through the dirt and away from the corpse of the griever which began to stir beneath the stone.

Thomas snatched up Nik's spear whilst Minho raised a hefty sized boulder above his head but neither had the chance to move. One of the griever's metallic arms lashed out again, slicing at Fritz who ducked beneath the limb and jumped. He landed steadily on the very boulder pinning the griever to the ground. Fritz withdrew a ragged blade from his belt, held the handle tightly in two hands and raised it high above his head. "Feckin die!" He screamed, plunging the metal deep, deep into the griever's skull. A wet crunch, the dying whir of an engine and the creature went limp again.

Fritz grunted as he tore the blade form the Grievers skull and repeated the action; a splatter of green blood hit his face. "Fritz…" Thomas breathed. Fritz ignored him and again took a lunge at the creature, this time aiming for the throat. A new wave of nausea hit as the fresh stench enveloped them but unbothered, Fritz hacked away. Within seconds, he hit the metal-infused spine connecting head to the body, only stopping when he had sliced through half a dozen wires.

"Help!" Leo begged. He knelt beside Nik in the shadows; Nik who convulsed like he was having a seizure.

Leo lifted the hem of his shirt and Minho swore again, "Fuck. He's been stung."

The stinger punctured deep into Nik's lower stomach, the wound spilling out dark blood, but Thomas's focus turned to the veins in his skin turning black, pulsing violently with the poison. It spiralled out across his skin like spiderwebs.

"Shit." Thomas breathed.

"We gotta get him back. Now." Leo urged.

"Come on, lads," Fritz said as he squatted to grab one of Nik's arms and throw it over his shoulder. Leo took the other and Minho took the ankles, leaving Thomas to carry the bags and be a look-out for any other grievers that might have been nearby. As they navigated their way back through the maze, Thomas only prayed they would make it back in time.

~Asher's Note~

Hello! It has been a long time since I uploaded anything to this site and after watching the Maze Runner movies again, I felt inspired to write something! I am not a huge fan of the source material however I do enjoy the movies; I am obsessed with Dylan O'Brien and being a gay man, ship many of these characters! One such ship being Minho and Thomas. I do not expect this story to be exceptionally long. I have approximately 5 chapters planned however depending on the length, this number could change. The chances are that this story will get personal and descriptive as many of my stories do – I advise you not to read if you do not enjoy reading graphic sexual content. I hope to upload a new chapter every couple of days however depending on my job and university workload, that also could change. I am currently writing the next few chapters so hopefully the update will not be too far away. Any reviews and thoughts are very much appreciated and will be answered at the bottom of the next chapter.

Stay safe.

~Asher~