Disclaimer: The Maze Runner series (c) James Dashner

Side stories work like filler chapters, but they're all related to the same universe. Some really important information will pop up in side stories so I don't think it's a good idea to skip it. They're also a good way to develop other characters since Tribulations is mostly Thomas's POV.

Excuse the errors. This is written in Newt's POV

Side Story:

Grocery Shopping

"In which Thomas is anxious, Minho is oblivious and Newt wants to strangle the both of them for not communicating properly."

Newt really didn't see the purpose of a relationship outside of its most primal need. He'd been content sleeping with Minho out of basic necessity. Falling in love had been accidental on both their parts. Falling in love with Thomas, well, that hadn't been foreseen either. If he thought dating Minho was a handful, dating Minho and Thomas was another level of unbelievable complexity.

Compared to Thomas, Minho was easy. He was honest about his desires and had no trouble telling Newt when he absolutely hated something. No mushrooms on the pizza? No problem! Hate the way that cologne smells? Gone in a second! Want to play a game? Sure! Newt complied with Minho's wishes and found satisfactory compromises when both stumbled on an impasse. Minho listened to him and Newt did the same.

Thomas was not so simple.

He wasn't very forthcoming with his feelings—not for any effort of trying, of course. Thomas cared deeply for his partners and tried to comply with both their wishes, even if that meant he had to neglect his own. Newt found it endearing but worrisome. Thomas had special needs, to allow the boy to neglect said needs—especially the more problematic medical ones—had Newt gnawing his bottom lip in anxiety. Especially now, when the three of them were wandering the aisles of their local grocery store.

Minho took the lead, flittering here and there in every aisle for food that wouldn't perish quickly in their new dorm, but would fill them to satisfaction when eaten. Newt pushed the near empty cart down the aisle, eying three boxes of cereal they had found that they—partially—agreed upon: a box of cheerios (for the health), frosted flake (for the sugar) and fruity pepples (for the sugary flavor).

Thomas walked alongside the cart in a leisurely pace. He kept his eyes on Minho as they walked, but Newt caught the boy's occasional glances at the cereal boxes, a worried glint in those chocolate brown eyes. He knew why, of course. The three of them had been friends for so long, Newt felt it was a feat to be able to read his boyfriend's body language so well. It also irked him how dense Minho was being when the track star didn't notice Thomas's hesitance in their choice of cereal, or that he didn't out right agree to wanting them in the first place.

He wanted to kick Minho in the shin. Or punch him. Punching would work too.

What bothered him more was Thomas's refusal to speak up. All he had to do was let Minho know he was allergic to two-thirds of their chosen brands. Newt didn't understand why Thomas was being so tight lipped about it. It wasn't like Minho would shun him for it. Lots of people had food allergies. Hell, Newt had some! Did that make him weird? Of course not.

He guessed it was more than that. Thomas was still mortified about their failed adventure as a couple last night after all.

When Minho wandered far enough away from them, Newt cleared his throat, loud enough to catch the boy's attention. Thomas gave him an inquisitive stare. He glanced at the cereal boxes then back to Thomas, the question implied but unspoken. The brunet looked away, his brows furrowed in a way that reminded Newt of the times Thomas felt insecure (which was often, he noticed.) Thomas crossed his arms, brown eyes fixated anywhere that wasn't Newt.

"It's not a big deal." He muttered. "It's not like I eat a lot of cereal anyway." No he didn't. He was lactose intolerant, but sometimes cereal was all they had to eat in the dorm when they grew tired of the cafeteria food and ramen noodles. "I'll just eat the frosted flakes."

"And when Minho finishes that off, then what? Are you going to let yourself starve or do you plan on upsetting your stomach with cereal you can't eat?" He was being impertinent but honestly, he was tired of Thomas letting them ignore his health.

It was bad enough the boy was tormenting himself about last night, letting them ruin his health was not something Newt could handle. (The cereal wouldn't kill him, but it was enough to give Thomas digestive problems for two days.)

Thomas saddled the blond with an expression that screamed exasperation-or his insistent worrying-and apology—as though he was at fault for anything his body did.

Newt exhaled through his nose. Tommy please, don't let your insecurities control you.

"Newt—"

"Please, Tommy, let Minho know. How do you expect this thing to work out if you don't talk to us?"

They stopped walking then, the aisle devoid of movement. The mention of the track star brought their eyes back to the empty aisle, but all they saw were stacks of cookies, boxed juices and other snacks.

Thomas gnawed on his bottom lip, a habit he had stolen from the blond over the summer, before he gave him a reluctant nod. "Fine. I'll tell him, but he's going to be disappointed. I have a laundry list of food I'm allergic to and most of it are things he likes."

"Tommy, the most important thing is that you tell him. Besides, it's not like he's going to break up with you because you can't eat pizza."

"What?"

All eyes turned to Minho, the older boy having just returned from wherever he had wandered to. He dumped a bag of potato chips into the cart before giving Thomas and Newt a look that conveyed his turmoil.

"What do you mean Thomas can't eat pizza?" He stared at Thomas, mouth slightly agape. "He's joking right? How can you not eat the greatest dish in the world?"

Newt watched as the brunet tensed, uncertainly and guilt marring his face. The urge to punch Minho came back with startling force, but he resisted. It wouldn't do to make a show. He would also feel bad for hurting his boyfriend even if it is in his second boyfriend's defense.

Thomas licked his lips. His eyes were fixated on a point on the floor by Minho's feet.

"Um… I'm actually allergic to tomatoes so…" he trailed off.

Minho frowned. "So? You can eat pizza without sauce."

"I… I can't eat the cheese either." He murmured, cheeks turning pink.

"Oh, because you're lactose intolerant? You don't have to put cheese on a slice of pizza either."

Newt couldn't help but sigh. He had to admit, Minho could be persistent if he wanted to.

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, face red with shame. "I can't eat the dough either because of the wheat. Pizza is just… a toxic combination for me. I rather avoid the, uh, diarrhea explosion."

That was an understatement, but Newt would rather not think about the last time Thomas had a slice of pizza. He shuddered.

Minho's expression was blank. Newt couldn't read what was happening behind those almond shaped eyes, but whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't something that would make Thomas feel worse than he did now. He didn't want Thomas to close himself off because of something his body couldn't help. Getting him to open up again would require a pry bar.

Minho suddenly blinked. He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh and said, "I'm sorry Thomas, we need to break up."

"Minho!" Newt snapped, outrage burning in his veins. Thomas's body stiffened, his jaw slack. Newt was ready to strangle the runner, but the boy suddenly laughed. He grabbed Thomas by the hand and pulled him into a hug. He squeezed tightly.

"I'm just kidding, jeez! You shanks need to lighten up!" They pulled apart, a wide smile on Minho's face. "Okay, fine, no pizza, I get it. You've got food allergies. What else are you allergic to and is it going to kill you?"

Newt massaged his temples as Thomas reluctantly divulged the long list of food he couldn't have.

(He hoped Thomas included all the non-food related items he was allergic to as well. If Tommy was already sensitive about his sexual dysfunction—after just one night—he didn't want to see what would happen if Minho accidentally used the wrong lube or condom. That would just make things worse.)

He followed behind them in silence, relieved they wouldn't have to scramble to the hospital now that Minho knew, but also frustrated with the lack of communication. Honestly, did they have to make things so complicated between them?

"What about peanut butter?"

Newt stopped in his tracks, the cereal boxes and bag of potato chips jerking from the unexpected halt.

"I'm okay with peanut butter." Thomas smiled.

"Okay good. Let's grab some."

Newt immediately abandoned his cart and hurried after them. "No! No peanut butter! I'm allergic to peanut butter!"

"Oh come on!"

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