Author's notes:
I wrote this nine years ago, in one night, after I finished reading Death Cure - please do not expect to find answers to any important questions here.
I was scared.
Cranks were on the street below my window, and I was sure everything was going to die.
I couldn't sleep.
Sometime in the night I heard a car driving past, stopping, and a few gun shots. Then only the Cranks, and their terrifying screams of whatever. I shivered. I shivered a lot. Mostly of fear.
An hour or so after I heard the car, the Cranks seemed to leave. I dared to look out of the window. Lots of trash. Blood. Two dead cranks, bloody from head to toe. An arm. I shivered. Corpses on the street. I thought about blogging about it, and if should try to move my closet before the door, when –
I froze.
One of the Cranks had moved. I looked closer. Again. Just his fingers, this time. Nervousness ate its way into my stomach, as I watched him. It was a boy. He was blond, tall, very thin and with blood all over him.
I made a decision.
Crazy, probably. Maybe it was the flare. I wasn't immune. But I didn't care.
I put on a mask and my shoes, unlocked the door and went down three flights of stairs, out of the house. No one was there. Except the dead. And flies. Oh, and of course, the arm without a body to be attached to. The level of creepiness was rising into impossible heights.
I walked over to the boy, trying not to look at the arm a foot to my left. "Hello?" I asked, afraid he'd jump up and eat me.
He let out a moan and tried to move again. He was about my age.
I knelt down next to him, helped him sit up. Helped him stand up. Led him to the door of my building, an old, shabby, dirty building. Without windows on the ground floor.
I somehow managed to get him up the stairs, into my flat. I locked the door carefully after us. I put him onto the floor of the living room, and then took off my shoes and mask. Then I got to work. I put the half dead boy into the bathtub and cleaned him, bandaged his wounds and force-fed him bread and water. Then I let him sleep.
We stayed indoors for months. I had prepared for this exact situation for years – since my dad got me this flat when I was twelve – and therefore had half of my space filled up with water and food.
The boy I saved that day was a Crank, but he recovered. We often speculated about why and how. Maybe he was never sick. Maybe the headshot he'd had had told the flare in his brain to "shuck-off," as he called it.
His name? His name is Newt. And that was the story of how I met the best friend I ever had.
It is pretty clear now. Everyone inside Denver is either immune or dead. Or lucky, like me. Newt is another thing.
A company called SAB (Still Alive and Breathing) had formed. Volunteers helped them clean the city, burning the dead. They had burned everything on the streets, cars and trash and stuff. They had cleaned the houses and thrown away the rotting bodies. They gave food and water to everyone, and had made contact to far-away farmers, building up an infrastructure.
A wave on the internet called them FAB – Fabulously Awesome and Breadfect. Short just the fabulousness of the century. And that's true. Since I am the one who first thought of making the company, found people on the internet to help and SAB was born.
FAB was Newt's idea, though.
Nowadays, five years after the literal Coup d'état by the Cranks, the Flare doesn't exist anymore. It died. Maybe it was supposed to happen. A hundred religious groups have formed and said how the Flare was a work of the gods. Or god. Or some other higher beings. I don't know, and I don't care. Religion didn't help the Cranks. Religion didn't help the people. So why would I care about it?
With the internet we made contact to other cities and continents, and for all I know SAB is all over the world and society is recovering. You could say, the internet has taken over.
Only one mystery remained. The Gladers.
Newt had opened universities and worked with computer technicians, and they had dug up all kinds of stuff from the early twenty first century. Satellites were scanning the world, and job opportunities spread like wildfire.
But now, Newt has finally found his friends, thanks to an old satellite of the early twenty first century.
It's not even a question. I'm going with him.
"I CAN SEE THEM!" Newt shouts over the roaring of the helicopter that our friend, Alyssa, is flying. It's just us three.
I smile. Never before have I seen him so happy. His smile is too big for his face. "THEY PROBABLY THINK WE'RE FROM SPACE, COMING WITH A HELICOPTER," I shout back.
If possible, Newt's smile grows bigger. "I DON'T THINK THEY KNOW WHAT ALIENS ARE," he laughs, "THEY'VE PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OF BLOODY WIFI BEFORE."
I just laugh. His happiness is the best thing since he started giving me Nutella with notes saying "thanks 4 ur fab."
"SHUT UP, SQUAD! WE'RE GOIN' DOOOOWN!" shouts Alyssa. She sings it like Elena Bieber's new single "Down in Space."
And going down we are. We land on a cliff over the ocean. The people living here had already gathered, some with very primitive weapons, a few bows. Everyone looks scared, but ready to fight.
Newt jumps out of the helicopter. Alyssa and I follow.
Silence.
"Hey," says Newt. "I'm alive."
One man in the middle looks like he's seeing his dead boyfriend. Um. I wish I could see Newt's face, but I'm standing half a step behind him.
Silence. Then someone from the back punches his way forward. My heart misses a beat. Light brown skin, and black, perfect hair. Oopsie . That one's handsome.
"Well. I am shucked." The handsome one says, while giving Newt a hug.
The tension vaporizes and a few people laugh. Alyssa and I join the hug, thinking the same thing. We want to touch the beautiful human who seems to be Newt's something.
Some of the people standing around join the hug, laughing. "I can't breathe down here," says Newt after some time. More laughs and everyone steps back a little.
"Dude, you gotta tell us what you've been doing and how you found us. We thought you were dead!" Mr. Handsome says. "Besides, who are your friends?" He wiggles his eyebrows towards me and winks. Alyssa immediately does the same. I blush. Ugh.
Newt puts his arms around me. "That's my best friend. Pretty much the new face of the world, having named the moon Steve and actually made it official. And this," he puts his other arm around Alyssa, "is Alyssa. The Alyssa. Crowned Queen of Internet since that title was invented. By her, by the way. She brought Flower Crowns back, and let me tell you, Free Wi-Fi is only one of the things she's accomplished this year."
Everyone just stares and Newt, while Alyssa and I giggle.
"Newt," says the one who looked like he just saw his dead boyfriend. A woman stands beside him, looking worried.
"Tommy." Somehow Newt sounds sad.
"How?"
"I don't bloody know, man, but I know that I'm not insane. I visited a therapist."
Tommy just stands there, staring.
"We can talk about it later. Does anybody want food? We've got Nutella with us. Much of it. It's like chocolate. Just better. We had to re-invent it because it didn't survive the sun flares, but the internet is a great thing."
A few hours later everyone had agreed that the internet must be a great thing – since Nutella is a great thing. Newt explained what happened to the world – it took two years for everyone with the flare to die, worldwide, before the virus died out. How I wasn't immune, but still managed not to die. How I had built everything up, starting with the internet, going further with cleaning cities, building the infrastructure, and then helping Newt with his stuff. How he found them.
They tell us how they've build their village, how they found corn and how they managed to survive. It was hard for them, but they did it. Tommy is actually called Thomas, just Newt calls him Tommy, and I have to ask Newt about it later. His girlfriend – or wife, no one is really sure – is called Brenda and she's pregnant.
Mr. Handsome is single, though, and whenever he says something, Alyssa winks at me. He's nice. He's muscular, and I'm five hundred percent sure his abs look sexy as hell. Not to mention his arms...
We're sitting around fires; in our circle it's just us and the Gladers. Everyone else went somewhere else, after they lost interest in whatever Newt had to say and to give him and his friends some privacy. I catch Mr. Handsome looking at me, but whenever I look at him, he looks somewhere else. It's getting late, and I'm getting tired. I'll have to ask Newt about Thomas tomorrow.
"What gives you food and is fabulous at the same time?" Asks Newt.
"Still Awesome and Breadulous" answers Alyssa, laughing. Others join. Newt and Alyssa have been doing these things since forever, just to tease me.
I sigh loudly. "I know SAB a stupid name, but at least it means something..."
I only get giggles as an answer. Well. Still a better name than Albus Severus Potter. ASP. SAB. Okay, maybe even worse. I sigh again.
"Excuse me. I'm tired..." I say and stand up. The Gladers wish me a good night and I walk on the beach, towards the cliff to our helicopter. I'll have to send a text message to the major of Denver, maybe post something on my blog. Tomorrow.
I take off my shoes to walk in the water. It's cold, but I don't mind.
But damn. That guy... seriously, his hair ...
I listen to the laughs of Newt and his friends. I've never seen him so happy. He always had this sad expression, ever since I picked him up in that street.
Sometimes I wonder who shot him. And I want to hug that person, because the bullet probably saved Newt's life. And I want to hurt that person, because it obviously hurt Newt. But again... That guy. Abs. I'm sure. His skin... I should stop. I've never freaked out about a guy so much. At least, no one who is still alive. But those arms ...
Also, like, a few actors and singers from nowadays. Since everything is "Rising from the ashes" (Song "Rise like a Phoenix" by Conchita, sometime before the Flare), like it was one of SAB's mottos, humans try to give pop culture a rebirth.
Elena Bieber is just one of them. And Alyssa likes them all.
His hair though...
Shit. That guy.
Driving me crazy.
I hear footsteps. "Hey."
And something inside me goes asdfghjkl. That voice . My throat is suddenly dry and I have to swallow.
"You okay, love?"
Did he just... "Yeeaah, I'm fine. Just..." ...call me 'love' ? "This is the first time since the Flare vanished that I spend my day somewhere without internet, without constantly talking about some things to do or settling some kind of disagreement. Not having internet sucks." Great job. Because he has any idea what internet is . He's lived for over five years without it . "I'm sorry – I don't mean to offend you or any –"
Mr. Handsome chuckles. Has he any idea how cute that is? "You're cute." He says.
"I – wait what? " What what what what what what what what what what what what –
"You're cute."
I look at him. He smiles. Sad eyes, but there is something more. I don't know what. But that sadness – I can feel it, without knowing what it is and why. "What happened in the experiments?" I ask quietly, almost scared. A shadow crosses his face. His smile wavers. Always the perfect questions . Perfect. Maybe I should have stayed inside and never left the computer. "I mean," I say, "I know what theoretically happened, the part of the internet that was still sane – you know, Tumblr and stuff – was against WICKED, what went into extremes and started the Right Arm. That was when the experiments started. The ones who weren't stupid fanatics and rather tried to save people, protested against the experiments, not against WICKED. I was against the right arm and the experiments, which probably gave me the online attention that made SAB possible..." I stop talking. "You okay?"
"I don't know." Mr. Handsome looks at me, helpless. "Sometimes I wish I had never left the maze. That we were still there, that although I knew we were stuck there, we had a life..."
I look to the ground.
I am in shock.
Sure, they were experiments, sure, people died, but... It's like reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time. Having looked all over the internet to find the first six books, then finally having found a complete version of the seventh... Seeing them all die, just after Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric. The Marauders.
I thought nothing would ever hurt nearly as much as those books. But this? What WICKED did? The same. And it makes me so hopelessly angry at them. At the world. At myself, for not hacking into WICKED's database, for not blowing them up, for not flying in there and getting them out. And I don't care that I was just a teenager then, and that I would have died of the Flare.
And I am sorry .
"Hey." Mr. Handsome says, somehow calming. "We're alive. Some of us made it." I look up. My vision is blurry. He's beautiful. "Don't cry, please."
Oh. Oh shit. Why am I crying? I hate crying. It turns me into a useless pile of watering human. And in front of someone as good looking as him? Nightmare-ish.
I blink my tears away and try to look not-as-crappy. "Thanks, Mr. Handsome," I say.
Then I realise my mistake.
"I mean, um, I –" Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!
But he laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. "I know I'm handsome, love, no need to remind me. My name is Minho, though." He winks.
I'm sure my face looks like smashed tomatoes in blood. I am thankful to the earth, for it is circling around itself and making sure that the night is dark...
He wraps an arm around my waist and our sides touch.
"So how are you still single?" I ask, before the awkwardness would become too much. I probably just make it worse, but that question is really important.
"The first year was the worst. I'm pretty sure all girls and boys living here, who were single and around my age tried to kiss me."
"And you? Was there anyone special?"
"Uh, yeah. There was one girl. She was from Group B. Also survived and made it here."
"And?"
"Well. It went well for two years. Um." He seems embarrassed. "Well. She broke up, saying that Harriet – another chick from Group B – confessed her love to her and that she'd rather be with Harriet than with me."
"I'd like to meet Harriet." I say, through my confusion. How could anyone break up with him? Isn't it clear that he loved her? Like ? But yeah, loved. Past Tense. Niceeeeee.
"Wanna congratulate or punch her?" He asks, amused.
"Uh." I say. "Actually, thank her..."
Now he's laughing. What a beautiful sound.
We've reached the helicopter on the cliff. His arm is still on my waist, our sides still touching. I lean onto him. The wind is cold up here. We stand next to each other for another few minutes. The waves crash against the cold stone. The moon illuminates the sea, and the stars are just as beautiful as they've always been.
"Minho", I say. It sounds like a question. His name tastes like the smell of books, like sweat, dirt and breathing, like warmth, like coffee on a Saturday morning in bed next to your lover. Like home.
"Yes." He pulls me closer.
I can't think anymore. I push him against the helicopter, and I'm kissing him.
I've never kissed or been kissed, but I don't care. It's not like I've never read fanfiction. Also, it doesn't matter.
Minho just flips us around, pressing me against the cool metal.
Our mouths are open, and our kiss becomes something more. Our lips and tongues move in synchrony. My arms are around his neck, in his hair. His hair . Oh. Fuck. It's perfect. I can almost ignore his hands on my waist.
What?
His. Hands. On. My. Waist.
I am screaming. In my head of course. But still. It's perfect. He's perfect. I want this moment to last forever.
Yeah, forever sounds good. I think I'll faint. What is air?
We break apart, breathing heavily. Oh, right. Yeah. That's air. He doesn't seem to be bothered much, but given his physical state – surviving the experiments and stuff – that isn't surprising.
Embarrassing is my physical state. I should start working out regularly or something. But then I wouldn't have time to check on the latest news of Europe – after the Crank d'état, everyone had died nice and easy, and some of my immune internet friends there introduced SAB. Oh, I want wi-fi now . Gotta blog about this dream of a man who just kissed me and is, by the way, watching me with a smile.
Well. He could stand a little bit closer if he wanted to.
As if he heard my thoughts, he moved closer and we touched everywhere.
What do they say? Be careful what you wish for?
Whatever. I regret nothing.
"Let's get inside," I say. "It's cold."
"You're not," he replies, giving me a dirty look.
Is he flirting? Uh. "Thanks?"
He just stares at me. "Your inability to flirt is actually kind of attractive."
Oha. What the fuck does that mean?
I poke his chest with my index finger and turn around, opening the helicopter door. It's a big helicopter. I have no idea what Newt and Alyssa will say about this, but I don't really care. I just wanna sleep. If I can do that with a human heater next to me, then everything is perfectly fine.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT HELICOPTERS JUST IMAGINE SOME KIND OF PLACE TO SLEEP THERE WITH BLANKETS)
I get in and put my shoes to the front part of the helicopter, Minho does the same. Then we lie there, really awkwardly.
I can't believe that someone this handsome could even exist – against all physics. Not that I care much about physics. What I can't believe even more is that exactly that handsome someone lies next to me.
"Uh, we can kiss or something," I say, probably topping my list of awkward moments.
"Uh." He says. Is he nervous? I don't know. I'm not in a fanfiction! Haha. Would be fun though... Terrifying... Nope, that's not something I need to be thinking about right now.
"Don't you want to change? Wear pyjamas or something?" He asks.
"Oh. Um, yeah, actually. Jeans can become uncomfortable. What about you?" I really should look up How-To-Talk-To-A-Guy-You-Just-Kissed-About-Pyjamas guides...
"I sleep shirtless."
"Okay then." I say. WHAT, I think. "Would you turn around?"
"Awwww why?" He teases. I think he's teasing.
"Just shut up and turn around."
And he turns around. "One time a griever nearly ate me because I turned around."
"Newt said grievers didn't actually eat people." I say, while putting on pyjama pants.
"Good that." Silence. "Is he still saying 'bloody' a lot?"
"Two sentences spoken by him without at least one 'bloody' don't exist. You heard him talking today, didn't you? I'm done, you can turn around now."
He lifts his shirt, revealing perfect muscles on his back. "How exactly did you two meet? I mean, since he had the flare and you're not immune..."
He had turned around. Yes, I was right. Of course I was right. I'm always right. LOL, always, exactly. You get the irony, don't you? But this time, I was – bloody hell – right. His abs are sexy as fuck .
"What? Yeah, um, someone had shot him in the head and he was lying there, half dead. I went out to look, and since he was alive, I decided I'd help him. Put him in my flat and gave him food and stuff. Somehow he lived."
We lie down next to each other. Have I mentioned his arms?
"So," I say. "Was there a thing between Newt and that Thomas guy?"
Minho laughs. "You could say that. Yes, you could say that. But I'm pretty sure that they broke up. Or Thomas never realised they were together. You know, Thomas had to deal with two girls. Teresa died, which isn't so bad since I never liked her, and you met Brenda." He chuckled. "Nice lady, that Brenda. Likes sharp things."
"Uh." I say. So there was something – or at least Newt acted like it.
"Is there anyone I should know about when kissing you? Someone who might stab me?" He asks seriously.
"Uh." I say again, thinking about my Loki poster. Anime. That handsome Korean guy from that one K-Pop boy band. That one actress. Some internet friends slash beauty gods and goddesses. "No," I say. "Except if a kitchen knife decides it dislikes you more than it likes me. Then stay away from that knife."
"Good that." He says. Somehow it sounds like he's planning something.
"Min –"
He rolled on top of me, hands left and right of head. He rearranged the blankets on top of us. Then he leaned down, tracing kisses down my jaw to my ear, where he whispers – whispers – in a husky, deep, soft voice. "You have no idea what I want to do to you."
AAAAAAAaaaaaand that's it. I faint.
For a second. Then he's kissing me, and I put my hands on his chest, touching him, and then wrapping my arms around him, pulling him closer.
His kisses wander down my jaw again, to my neck, my collarbone. I'm pretty sure everyone will be able to see that tomorrow, but guess what, I don't care. His kisses wander up again, since they can't really go past my shirt, but I don't mind. Then, only for a moment, I feel his teeth, not biting, just there , on my skin.
"Minho," I whisper. Never before have I felt like this. So hopeless. So damn fucking much at someone's mercy, like one word, one movement of him could shatter my heart. And at the same time I feel happiness. He's here, he's kissing me. He's with me.
And I realise. I've fallen for him. What might have started as an admiration of beauty a few hours ago, has turned into more than just a crush. And I know that this is a bad, bad idea.
He seems to notice that too, because he kisses me on my mouth one last time, long, sweet and sad. Then he smiles down at me. Is that sadness in his eyes?
"Maybe one day," he whispers and lies down beside me. My arms letting him go. He rearranges the blankets.
I put my head on his chest, his arm hugging me, holding me close. I reach over him with one arm and one leg. Embracing him.
We fall asleep.
I wake up. We're still in the same position. I look up. His eyes are closed. He breathes slowly and steady. Still asleep.
I would love waking up like this every day.
Wait what? I shouldn't think that way. If I know one thing, it was that Denver – that the world – needs me. I can't just leave the world behind.
I can't ask Minho to come back with me.
I think it's about twelve o'clock. I decide to stay like this – half over the shirtless Minho. I could stay like this forever. The sunlight falls through the window. Dust in the air. Minho's perfect skin. By daylight I can see scars I couldn't see last night. Many, big scars. I assume most of them are from the experiments. Newt told me about it. Two years ago he'd shared almost everything with the internet. He is like a brother to me. A brother I never had. Maybe the mother I lost at ten. The dad who became a Crank when they took over the city... Newt and Alyssa are like family. What if they want to stay here?
Can I go back to Denver on my own? No, I can't fly a helicopter. But I would have to. I can't leave them. I can't leave the people who look up to me. The people I helped. I can't just... abandon them.
I would figure something out. Maybe skyping with governments... if someone could get the World Wide Web on the kind of level to do live stuff. If that's even possible. Apparently it was, before the sun flares...
The light breaks on Minho's skin in beautiful shapes, lets his skin glow golden. Minho.
I trace his scars with my fingers, caught in the light.
He moves. Wakes up.
"Hey, love," he says sleepily.
"Morning..." I murmur.
"Somehow it seems to be midday."
"The sun's not even sinking. How can it be midday?"
"Normally, I take a morning run. Doesn't matter when I wake up. Wanna come?" He asks, changing the subject. I can hear his smile.
"Running? Doesn't that involve physical movement?" Nevertheless, the thought of spending time is too sweet.
"Just a little. I gotta keep the looks, love." Now I'm sure that he's smiling.
"Do you have showers here?" I'm not even feeling bad for asking this. I mean, they know what showers are, right?
"No, we haven't figured that out yet. But there's the sea. And the water should be warm at this time of day."
"Hm." I say. "Then I'll come with you. If you don't run away and leave me as breakfast for some fish."
"Deal."
I sit up. Kiss him. Touch his hair. Smile.
Minho.
"Do you want me to turn around while you change?" He wiggles his eyebrow. Just one. I'm really jealous of people who can do that. By that I mean Alyssa and Minho. Before I met Alyssa I thought it had died out with the flare... if it was ever possible.
"Yes, Minho." I say, loving how his name sounded. "I want you to turn around."
He smiles when I say his name. Then he turns around. I'm glad I took sporty clothes with me. Glad I listened to Alyssa.
When I'm done, he already has his shirt on. We take our shoes and leave the helicopter. Minho says he'll meet me at the beach and runs off towards some buildings. I walk down to the beach, and when I'm there, Minho is already waiting, wearing some sporty looking things. He somehow manages to look stunning.
"How did you even get these kinds of clothes? They're only like, ten years out of fashion but aren't you supposed to live in the woods and stuff?" I say. I've been wondering this since I first saw the Villagers.
"We found an abandoned city south of here. They had things like clothes and furniture." He explains and side by side we start running. After five minutes I am out of breath and after ten minutes everything hurts. Minho is laughing his butt off. Which doesn't help. After five more minutes I stop, catching my breath.
"Are you even human?" I ask between breathing.
"You just haven't been running in your life. You know, I was a runner back in the maze."
"I figured."
"Come on, just a little bit more." He's running on the spot. Humans are a miracle I shall never understand.
"Ugh, fine ." I say, and we start running again.
I manage ten more minutes. Then he carries me for another ten. I have no idea how he can do that without dying, but okay. We decide to start running back, and he carries me almost all the time.
"You are impossible," I say. We're sitting on the beach. He's catching his breath. He did sweat a little – the last 20 minutes or so. "Not only did you just run for one hour without stopping , you also carried me half of the time."
He just laughs. He seems happy, though. "How about swimming?"
"Are there any creepy or dangerous things?"
"Nope, just me."
"Are you creepy and dangerous?" He is confusing.
"No, but I thought you also meant handsome boyfriend material."
"Of course." Handsome. Boyfriend. Material.
Boyfriend. Material.
Boyfriend.
BOYFRIEND.
Then we get up and into the water. After he splashes water at me and I splash water back at him and he screams, others notice us and join. The Gladers, Newt, Alyssa, some teenagers. I love how natural it feels. Minho flirtatious, me saying some crap that comes to my mind and often has nothing to do with what he said, and his occasional dirty lines. Well, what am I saying; almost all of his lines are dirty, if you want them to be.
Most people try to talk to Alyssa, who flirts with everyone, wiggling her eyebrow. Some even try to talk to me, but Minho notices how uncomfortable I am with so many people I don't know trying to flirt, so he puts an arm around me and glares at everyone. The Gladers stare, Newt smiles, Alyssa wiggles her eyebrows and steps real close to a girl nearby.
"So," Newt says in Minho's direction and comes to stand in front of us. "What were you doing with my best friend last night?"
"Things," Minho answered, looking Newt in the eyes, dead serious.
I blush. "Uh."
Newt giggles. "I knew you would like each other. Totally knew it."
"What?" I ask, confused. "How?"
"Look, Minho is that annoying macho who flirts with everything, you're the little internet inhabitant who is scared of actual people and has never been in a relationship involving more than a hug and a kiss on the cheek." Newt says this like it's something obvious.
"Seriously? You've never been in a relationship involving more than a hug and a kiss on the cheek?" "Is it really that obvious that I'm scared of the outernet?" Minho and I ask at the same time.
"Is that surprising, Really-Handsome-Friend-Of-Newt?" Says Alyssa. Of course. Who else? "And yes, it is very obvious that you don't like the 'outernet', as you call it. Everyone else just calls it world."
"Seriously? They're kidding right?" He asks me, pointing towards Newt and Alyssa, who were trying not to laugh.
"Ugh, they have to tell everyone everything about my love life, don't they?" I shoot an angry look at them. Of course, everyone had stopped splashing water. They are all listening.
"You mean non-existent love life," Said Newt.
I glare at Newt, then at Alyssa. "But yes, Minho, that is true."
"Oh? You are pretty good at kissing, I have to admit," Minho says.
I can feel my face lighting up in fire. Newt laughs, really loud, so much he starts crying. Everyone else is either confused or smiling or – oh dear shit – jealous.
"Love me, love me, say that you love me," Alyssa starts singing, but laughs.
"Fool me, fool, me, oh how you do me," Newts manages to sing. Really false, though.
"Kiss me, Kiss me, say that you miss me," sings Alyssa.
"Tell me what I wanna hear!" Both of them end in unison, before laughing even more.
"Did you practise that." I say, trying to sound angry. "Because I am not amused."
"I told you they'd get together!" Newt nearly screams at Alyssa, who is having an 'I can't' moment.
"What song is that?" One of the Girl Gladers asks no one in particular.
"Love Me by Justin Bieber." I say. "Cool guy. He lived before the sun flares and was a singer and songwriter. I'm not sure but Wikipedia is usually working, so if you have internet access you can find out about him there."
"Thanks," she says.
After that general moment of awkwardness passes and most had stopped whispering and watching Minho and me, everyone gets out of the water. We have breakfast with the Gladers, who seem to think it is lunch. Whatever.
By the time we are done, the sun is almost setting. The Villagers and Gladers come together, deciding that they would like to stay away from international affairs for now.
We decided we'd leave tomorrow. Newt and Alyssa will sleep in the helicopter. Minho says I can sleep in his house. Newt, Alyssa and I are on our way to the cliff. I need to get some stuff.
"Newt?" I ask.
"Yeah?"
"What's that thing between you and Thomas?"
"...um." He says.
"Yeah, what is it?" Asks Alyssa.
"Well, you know I was shot when you found me, yeah?"
I nod. So does Alyssa.
"That was Thomas. I don't think Minho knows; he'd have spoken to me about it, so don't tell him, okay?"
"Isn't Thomas your friend?" Alyssa wonders.
"That's why I asked him."
Silence.
"I'm glad he missed." I say. "You survived, and not only that, you survived the flare."
"I did, yes." Said Newt. Somehow sad. Alyssa and I hug him.
That night, Minho and I sleep like we did the night before. Hugging each other.
In the morning, we walk to the helicopter, where everyone is waiting. For me. I put my stuff inside.
Newt is there, hugging the Gladers, saying goodbye. So is Alyssa. I join them.
Newt hugs Thomas. Alyssa smacks him, screams at him, asking how he could do "something like that." If he even cared about anyone. Everyone just stares. They don't know what she means. Except Thomas.
"Fogive me, Newt..." He says.
"There is nothing to forgive, Tommy." Newt smiles. Again. That sadness . "I asked you to do it."
"Do what exactly?" Asks Minho then.
"Shoot me," answers Newt calmly. "I just couldn't... I couldn't ask you to do it."
Minho just stares at him.
I turn towards Thomas. "I am glad you missed." Then I step on his toes while walking past him.
Somehow that conversation seems to be over, because some people hug Alyssa and then the goodbyes continue.
Then Newt and Alyssa are in the helicopter.
I turn to Minho. I won't see him for another week. I've known him for 40 hours.
Can you be in love with someone after not even two days?
I don't know.
But I know I am.
Minho wraps his arms around me.
I put my arms around his neck, hands in his hair.
Then we're kissing, and a lot of 'awwws' come from around.
We part.
"We'll be okay," He whispers.
I follow Newt and Alyssa into the helicopter. After a few minutes I look back. I can see Minho running on the beach. Running. Like he did in the Maze for two years. Like he did in the Scorch for two weeks. Like he'll always do.
And I wonder. Does he love me, too?
BONUS PART II:
„So," Alyssa says after we land at Denver's airport. "Tell me every detail of the past two nights. Now."
"Uh." I blush. I seem to be doing that a lot, lately.
"Well. We saw you in the helicopter, and Minho didn't wear a shirt..." Newt states, seeming very satisfied with existence. "We don't know about you, since there were blankets and we didn't want to wake you up."
I feel blood rushing to my face. "We just kissed..."
"He definitely likes you."
"Really?"
Alyssa laughs. "So are you 'putting your defences up, 'cause you don't wanna fall in love, if you ever did that, you think you'd have a heart attack..."
"UGH." I say. Heart Attack by Demi Lovato, with all Is changed to yous. As if I could do anything against loving him... And who says I don't want to? Who says I don't want to fall in love?
While Newt seemed to laugh at his own thoughts, some people come over to see if we're okay. We exit the helicopter with our luggage and greet them. After a while I ask Newt "Is there any specific reason you find everything to be so explicitly amusing?"
"With those hickeys on you, for everyone to see? One would've thought you were going to be forever alone on that computer." He gives Alyssa a fist bump. Both are grinning, eyes glittering. Ah, my friends, always being so nice . They could've told me an hour ago, but no . Do it the dramatic way, when people can see and hear. Exactly . I feel my face burning.
One of the airport staff people giggles. Another laughs. Great. Now rumours will be spreading, telling about my adventures of love. Woo-hoo. Maybe I should start wearing rainbow shirts, to enable everyone. Yes, that's a good one. I'll just walk to Starbucks like a rainbow... So I can be seen and reblog the rumours, which have probably spread by then... since they have Wi-Fi. I smile to myself. Fun . What a funny thing.
"Oooh, I'm sensing something stylish , Newt." Alyssa says, excited. "The smile can't mean anything boring, so it's gotta be something awfully perfect."
"Yeah. Maybe even half as perfect as me," a smile flashes on his face. "Sexy, free and single…" sings Newt, doing a very graceful (or so he thinks) movement of his arms. Clearly copied from the Music Video. Which is, by the way, swag in form of an mp4.
"I'm ready too, BINGO!" I shout before Alyssa even realizes what's going on. Sexy Free and Single, a song by K-Pop boy band Super Junior. It might not be accurate in my situation, but no, I don't care.
"Wow." Alyssa tries not to laugh.
"FANTASTIC BABY." Another airport staff person yells (Fantastic Baby by BigBang).
"DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE"
"BOOM SHAKALAKA"
I ask all of them what their tumblr urls are and promise to follow.
Author's notes:
(November 2021) The main character isn't named, and does not use he/him or she/her pronouns. With what I know today about gender as a spectrum, I would say they are nonbinary and/or genderqueer, but this is vocabulary that I didn't know existed in 2015.
They can, however, be totally read as the "reader" and as such have Your Name and Your Pronouns, if you'd like.
Thank you for reading. (my tumblr is thespacebetweenworlds)