In The Maze

Chapter twelve (Y/N)

Thank you to everyone else who's read, liked, and bookmarked this fic! I love you all and I love hearing what you think!!! I'm also cross posting this fic on AO3 and my username is alltheSinnersandalltheSaints.

Brad is named after G. Bradshaw and Greg is named after Gregor Mendel, two scientists I love.
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"Come on, (Y/N)," Minho yelled as he banged on my bedroom door. "It's time to start training!"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm coming goddamn it!" I yelled right back as I laced up my new running shoes.

My eyes were still gritty from sleep and my body was loudly protesting the earliness of the hour. I'm sure the other keepers weren't too pleased by the racket Minho was making. It was another thirty minutes until the other runners got up to run and a full hour until everyone else normally awoke. It was too fucking early for this shit. The sun wasn't even up yet!

I stomped out of my room once I was ready and crossed my arms. "There, I'm up. Happy?"

"Eh," he shrugged, unphased by my outward show of aggression. "I'll be happy once we start running. If you can keep up that is."

"I swear to god I'm going to smack that stupid smirk right off your face."

"You'll have to catch me first," Minho challenged as he turned and sprinted down the stairs, quickly disappearing out of sight.

Grudgingly, I forced my tired body into a run and took off after the keeper. Without a doubt, I knew I was in for a tough workout.

"Come on, (Y/N), keep up!" Minho ordered as we ran our third lap around the Glade. He wasn't out of breath and continued to maintain his steady stride and smooth gait. Besides being slightly sweaty, he gave no indication that he was growing tired. Not that I was surprised. He's the keeper of the runners for a reason.

Then there was me. A sweaty mess, huffing and puffing about five feet behind Minho on shaking legs like a newborn colt. A few loose strands of hair were plastered to my forehead and neck with sweat as it dripped down my back. For the first time since entering the Glade, I was put off by the large ball of fire in the sky. Its heat beat down on my (Y/S/C) skin, making me hot and uncomfortable. After two hours of stretching, warm ups, and actual running I was ready to call it a day.

On our fifth lap, I had to stop to catch my breath. "Minho," I panted, "please give me a minute."

Surprisingly, Minho granted my wish and stopped beside me, panting slightly and covered in perspiration. He kept his posture straight and took several long breaths to slow down his breathing to a normal rate. "You did good," he said, "better than a lot of the other runners did on their first day of training."

"What?" I leaned back against one of the massive stone walls, thankful for the cool sensation it brought to my hot skin.

"You did good," Minho repeated.

"But I sucked, man." I gestured to my sweaty and rumpled appearance incredulously. "I mean look at me!" I definitely needed a shower after this. Fuck, I deserved a long-ass shower after all this stupid running.

He shook his head and chuckled. "(Y/N), you had great form and kept running even when you started to get fatigued. An excellent start in my opinion." He could probably tell that I was still questioning his logic so he explained further. "Runners map the maze for approximately nine hours each day. But to do that they only need to maintain a steady jog. We also take small breaks periodically to eat, drink, and cool off if it's a particularly hot day. Unless you're being chased by a griever or are running late, you don't have to sprint or move faster than a jog at all."

"Oh." I hadn't thought of that. For such an important and notably dangerous job, Minho was awfully apathetic about it. But it did calm my nerves somewhat. Made the job seem more manageable.