His wide brown pupils circled all around as the small boy came into view.
Eleanor's disappointment that it was yet another boy immediately dissipated as his glazed over eyes, glistening in the morning sun, collided with her own.
She couldn't even bring herself around to feel sorry for herself. It made two months since she had came up on that same box. She couldn't pity herself, not when there was someone else down in the box; someone suffering the same fate as herself, someone hovering back on one corner shaking and scared out of their mind.
Eleanor's gut took a leap as she observed the new-comer, taking in his floppy hair and racked clothes drenched with sweat and dirt. The stench that followed the opening of the box made the situation even worse.
His stare bore into hers for a quick second, but it was enough. It was more than enough to see the evident panic his mind held. The fear, a head-sliptting, agonizing fear that paralized Eleanor's entire being just by watching its reflection on his eyes.
Her nerves were on high point.
Suddenly, she was that boy. A young boy inside a stinky rusty box. A boy without a past, being stared down by dozens of strangers that could do nothing but taunt and joke around, ignoring the panic and confusion emanating from this young soul. A boy with a fear so strong, he couldn't feel embarrassed for his body's reaction to the unknown. He couldn't because his fear was the only thing occupating his mind, eating away everything else.
Eleanor felt frozen for a moment, terrified herself. She knew she was not so different from that boy.
Alby and Newt had already started talking to the new Greenie, but she couldn't focus.
A few boys were laughing.
Laughing.
The laughter started getting louder in her mind, like someone had turned up a dial.
She knew she was letting herself fall prisioner to her emotions. But, how could she not? He was so... young.
She was surprised no one else seemed outraged by the situation. She guessed he wasn't the first boy to arrive that young. But still... How could they be so cold about it?
Of course, Eleanor was aware of the fact that they knew what they were doing a lot more than she did. After all, she had only been there for two months. But she didn't think she could even stop feeling that empathy that made her stomach turn and her breathing stop.
If she was being honest with herself, there was a part of her that did not want that to change. Sure, she was sensitive, but that was part of what made her who she was. She didn't want to stop being herself. Because then they would've won, and she couldn't have that.
Although, she couldn't fool herself. She had already changed. Perhaps not enough to make her insensitive to the torrent of emotion that assaulted her every once in a while but she had undoubtedly changed.
There were some moments Eleanor couldn't feel like a Glader. The times the alarm blared once every four weeks, signalling the arrival of a new poor victim to that hell-hole, was one of them.
Pablo's arrival had been nothing like this. This was worse, so much worse.
She didn't understand how the Gladers could joke about it, place bets, laugh...
She supposed it was preferable to everyone cowering around every corner, crying. Even so, it still made her feel sad.
After a while, she willed herself out of her mind to decipher parts of their conversation with the Newbie.
"Can you remember your name?" Alby's voice rang a little clearer now in her ears.
The short rounder boy looked up to meet the Leader's stare. The teardrops leaking from his eyes gave away how scared he found the dark-skinned boy.
Eleanor held her breath. An unexpected urge to flee appeared in her mind unannounced. It was getting harder and harder to ignore it as she observed the new greenie.
She hadn't realized she didn't wish to know his name until his lips were already parted and had formed a stuttered word.
"Ch- Chuck."
Eleanor had backed away considerably. She noticed she was then standing a few meters away from the rest of the boys.
And just when she didn't think she could handle it any longer, she ran.
"Ok, what's your problem?" Elanor said, chasing after Minho.
She had been waiting for him to come out of the Map-room as she sometimes did. She had been meaning to ask him about his strange behaviour since he had talked to Newt and herself.
Although the Second-in-command had been acting oddly aswell, she had a feeling both boys had two entirely different matters on their minds. But, no matter how hard she had tried to approach the runner it had all been in vain. He had been avoiding her like the plague.
That's why, when her friend exited the Map-room walking straight past her without even sparing her a second look, she didn't find it strange at all. However, she would be lying if she said she said it didn't hurt her in the slightest.
"Hey Min."
Nothing. He didn't even turn. If anything, he picked up the pace.
"Minho!" Eleanor shouted now, almost running up to catch him.
"Sod off, Eleanor."
Said girl almost stopped in her tracks. They were so rare, the ocassions in which Minho called her by her full name when he was adressing her directly. But that was not what she found to most distressing, it was the hatred in his voice; that anger that the boys sometimes exhibited and still managed to catch her off guard.
She forced herself out of her shock. Sure, she had seen Minho mad before. She was pretty sure every Glader there ever was had seen Minho angry more than once. It was the fact that he sounded angry towards her that turned her stomach into knots.
She swallowed hard as she chased after him, once again.
"Min, what's wrong?"
Nothing.
"What is it? What did I do?"
To this he finally turned to face her.
Eleanor almost collided against his chest, reminding her of the first time they met. She caught herself on time.
"Shucking..." He seemed to take a second to regain his thoughts. But judging by the words that came out of his mouth afterwards, she guessed his anger won. "You know, Eleanor? Not everything has to be about you."
Eleanor furrowed her brow. Where had that come from? He had never treated her like that.
A flash of Gally, laying in the Med-hut bed screaming at her, flashed in front of her eyes.
No. she thought, Not again.
"Why don't you go and ask your beloved Newtie what's wrong?"
If Eleanor hadn't been taken aback before, she certainly was then.
"What? What are you...?"
She was sure she looked like a fish out of the water, with her mouth gaping open, as her best friend walked away from her.
She stood there for five good minutes, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of that interaction. She wanted to cry but she didn't, she was pretty sure she hadn't done anything wrong. She would remember doing something that had Minho in such a state towards her.
But if the matter didn't concern her. What was it?
And why did Minho have to mention Newt like that? Like he was angry at him, like he accused Eleanor of paying more attention to Newt than to him. Surely that could not be the reason. There was no one else whom Eleanor spent more time than with Minho.
Maybe the matter really did not concern her at all. Maybe she was missing the puzzle completely.
She guessed she could allow them to have some off days, she had them herself, but that couldn't stop her from worrying about her friends.
Actually, it wasn't just Newt and Minho. Many of the Keepers had been acting weirder than usual over the previous days. Specially then, after the new kid had arrived. But that didn't mean much, only one more kid in the mix, one more month gone by.
And suddenly, just like that, it dawned on her.
How hadn't she thought of it sooner?
For her it made two months, but not for Minho or Frypan, or Alby... or Newt.
There was her explanation, so clear before her eyes, she couldn't believe she hadn't considered it sooner.
It didn't just make one month more for them. It made three years.
Three years of unanswered questions and stolen freedom. Three years without finding a way out.
Eleanor felt so ashamed then, how could she had thought Minho could simply be jealous of Newt.
He was right, not everything was about her.
"Shuck!" She couldn't help the newly familiar word from escaping her lips.
"Damn, Eleanor. I don't think I've heard you use that language before."
She turned around startled, to find a certain blonde Runner smirking at her. Jack, one of the younger Runners trailed after him. He dedicated Eleanor a short smile which she tried to return as sincerily as she could.
"Hey, Jack. Hey, Ben."
"What are you doing in the middle of the woods?" He asked her, never losing his trademark smile.
Eleanor snorted.
"This is hardly the middle of the woods." She said, then she sighed, "I was trying to talk to Minho."
She couldn't completely conceal the glimpse of sadness that tinted her voice.
Both boys presented her with sympathetic smiles, seemingly knowing how well that could have gone.
"Just give him a few days. He'll come around." Ben replied.
"Yeah, we're all on edge." Jack added.
Eleanor smiled at both boys, appreciating their concern.
"Anyway." Ben said, "Is there a party tonight or what?"
Eleanor laughed as he offered his arm.
Jack shook his head and walked ahead, visibly embarrassed of his fellow Runner. Eleanor took his offer, feeling a bit better. She let herself be led away towards the centre of the Glade.
Two months, two full months in that hellhole.
That was all Eleanor could think about as she watched half the glade walking around, drinking, fighting... Her gaze drifting from one boy to the other.
She watched as the newest addition to the Glade walked around, trying hard to blend in. Some Gladers blew him off, but others actually entertained him.
She sadly smiled. At least, he was doing better than she had done so far.
"He's so young..." She said softly, more to herself than out loud.
"Yeah." She heard Ben reply to her left.
"How can they send someone so young?"
"They're monsters." And it sounded like he meant it.
"All of you seem like you don't care." She said, and immediately regretted her words. She knew they weren't true, even if it sometimes seemed that way.
"It's not that, Eleanor." He replied, "No one should get special treatment, that's the way things work."
"I get that, but it wouldn't hurt for Alby to show a little compassion for the poor boy."
A tear scaped her eye, uninvited and she quickly brushed it away.
"Hey, are you ok?"
"I don't know." She sighed. "I just wish there was a way to make them feel better."
Eleanor's sight focused back on Minho across the pit.
A few of the Runners sat together in their usual spots for the bonfire. But that night, there was nothing usual about the image.
Some Runners weren't even there, like Ben and Jack; who sat with her, not wanting to bother them. Their familiar loud chattering and snickering could not be heard. Instead, they carried matching grim expressions that kept the rest of the gladers away.
Another look around told her their Leader and his second could be seen huddled together, whispering things to one another. The older boy looked troubled and showed his branded don't come close if you appreciate your life look. Newt, on the other hand, looked concerned and something else she wished she could decode.
"I don't think there's anything we can do."
Eleanor turned to look at Jeff who had spoken, as she took another sip of Gally's mystery recipe. He didn't even look at any of them as he spoke. He sounded nonchalant enough, but Eleanor was no fool.
She gazed at Clint. He was sitting with Zart and Wiston. The Keepers were close together, barely speaking.
She knew the young Med-jack was sad he couldn't do anything for his best friend, but she didn't know what to say to him. She felt helpless just the same.
Her gaze went unwantedly back to the Runner. She missed seeing his usual smile on his face. He looked so... angry.
It wasn't long before Alby called it a night and everyone retired to their sleeping places.
Not many people complained. The ones who did soon fell back to silence at the look they received from Alby.
Eleanor laid awake in her sleeping bag unable to fall asleep.
She was extremely tired but found herself tossing and turning. It did not matter how many times she told herself she had to get up early the following day, she was simply unable to fall asleep.
After several more turns she couldn't take it anymore.
"Fuck it." She said outloud as she threw her sleeping bag open.
Why am I doing this?
Eleanor thought to herself as she stood infront of the door inside of the Homestead.
She put her fist up to knock on the door but quickly put it back down, rethinking her late night decision. She inhaled and quickly knocked before she could regret it.
She waited.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt ridiculous, even if no one was around to observe what she was doing.
No answer.
She closed her eyes tightly, plucking up the courage and knocked again.
Still no answer.
Before she could talk herself out of it, her hand found the door knob and she was inside the dimly lit room.
"Eleanor, what the hell?!" Minho exclaimed, sitting up on his bed.
Eleanor's orbs widened as she observed that he was shirtless. Hot blush crept at her cheeks but she forced her mind off of those trivial matters, and focused on fixing her friendship.
"Look, I know I shouldn't be here and I would understand if you're mad at me. But, I couldn't sleep."
Minho just looked at her.
He didn't seem angry, just surprised, so she went on.
"I can't sit back and do nothing while I see that you are suffering. I get that you don't want to talk about it, and you don't have to! But please, Minho, don't shut me out."
Tears began to well up in her eyes but she did nothing to stop them.
"Minho, you're my best friend. I'm not going to let you throw that away. That might work with the others but not with me."
She willed her voice not to crack, but she was having a hard time.
"And I understand, that I can't help you with what you're going through, but I can be there for you." She paused, breathing, "So let me."
They were silent, as a few tears finally fell, rolling down Eleanor's cheeks.
After a few seconds, Minho got up, the sheets pooling down on the bed.
He walked up to her. All she did was follow him with her eyes.
Bringing his hands up, she felt his thumbs caressing away the tears; his touch so gentle, so unlike Minho. His eyes were sad and the light allowed her to see that they were glazed over.
She softly smiled, a sad smile. Maybe she still had her best friend.
Then, his arms were around her, and her own imediately went up around his middle. She felt his nose in the crook of her neck as he buried his face on the side of her head. She laid her own on his chest as she felt his wet tears on her exposed skin.
None of them spoke as she traced circles on his shoulder blades, hoping to calm him down.