𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

He won't be.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Hey, Frog-face," I say lightly the next day, walking over to Newt, who's leaning on the walls of the Homestead, his eyes glued to the Maze. He's covered in dirt again, which makes me smile as I approach him. He's been working in the gardens again. It's all he ever does now, apparently.

"Alright, Greenbean?" he says, his voice tight with concern, not even looking at me. I follow his gaze to the wall. They should be closing by now, shouldn't they? I glance around the Glade, picking up on the tension radiating off of Newt and scanning the gladers for familiar faces. Where are Ben and Minho?

"Shouldn't Minho be back by now?" I ask him. Over the past week, Minho and I haven't talked much, bar maybe one or two sarcastic conversations — which always seemed to brighten my day, no matter how infrequent they were. Every time I talked to him, I tried to get more information about becoming a Runner out of him, but I think he knows my game by now. I'm not exactly the most discreet person in the world. 

Newt's eyes don't stray from the wall, his breath catching. "He's just running late s'all."

"What do we do if he's too late?"

Newt squints at the wall. "He won't be."

"But if he is?"

"He won't be," he repeats.

We stand there in silence, pondering over the possibility of Ben and Minho's return. I can tell that Newt has just as much as faith as I do... none. He's just a lot better at hiding it than I am. I stare at Newt, who remains oblivious to my gaze, tracing his soft features with my eyes. The strange thing is about Newt, is that his face is a mixture of harsh and gentle features; his strong jaw contrasting with his tranquil eyes. Underneath the splotches of mud on his face, some of his freckles were still noticeable, which was more charming than offputting. I nudge him and chuckle. "In the gardens again today?"

"How could ya tell?" he says sarcastically, a ghost of a smile edging onto his face.

"Might have been the massive dirt splotches on your face, but that's just a hunch," I say lightly. Newt rolls his eyes and wipes his face with a sleeve, however only makes it worse. I stifle a laugh, throwing all the seriousness into my voice as possible. "You didn't get it."

"Oh, shove off, Greenbean," he says, a small smirk on his face. He rips his eyes from the wall, meeting mine, the concern that he's trying to hide so very evident on his face.

"Come on," I say, offering a reassuring smile. "We'll go wait for Minho."

It's strange how much my personality changes when someone else is worried.

Newt nods firmly and we both jog towards the doors of the Maze, keeping in time with the others paces. The thought of Minho and Ben stuck overnight plagues my mind, and the possibility of their deaths the most frightening thought of all.

"Minho!" Newt calls, snapping me out of the burdens in my mind. My eyes find Minho, running through the opening of the Maze, panting heavily, sweat dripping from him as he catches his breath. We both sprint over to him, who's now doubled over and holding his stomach. Minho. No Ben. Where's Ben?