In The Maze

Chapter twenty-two (Minho)

I'll also be utilizing Minho's POV in the next couple of chapters because I wanted to explore how the loss impacted him and felt it was a good way to get some backstory through his eyes. Minho harbors a hefty dose of guilt which prompts him to look out for Thomas. In his emotional state, he also reverts to regular cursing. Lol Let me know if you enjoy the angst, because there's a lot coming your way;)

Special shoutout to Lust, Emily, Bella_7, and a wonderful Guest who left me beautiful, wonderful, amazing, and such heartwarming comments last chapter! I love you all and I want you to know that you mean so much to me. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment! I love to hear from you!!!
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Five months later.

This new greenie is different. Just like (Y/N) was.

He's only been here a few days yet he's asked about a million questions and pissed off Gally twice as much. It's hilarious to me and infuriating to Alby and the builder. Chuck follows him around like a lost puppy; clinging to him and keeping close to his side. The only other person Chuck looks up to in such a way is Newt.

He also remembered his name the same day he arrived; a feat no one else has managed to achieve. Thomas. A name I know I've heard before, prior to being dumped in the Glade. I knew Thomas before the maze and so did Newt. We were friends then, brothers, if our - Newt's, Thomas', and my own - snippets of memories were anything to go by. Brotherly bonds that were already being restored despite the pressures we were under. Subsequently, Newt is the only one he'll listen to.

Alby gave Thomas the tour while Newt helped him fill in some of the blanks. Of which there were many. When his curiosity of: 'who built the maze?', 'why were we here?', and 'is there a way out?', wasn't satiated, he began questioning our way of life.

Newt tasked me to babysit the greenie since it was my day off. I couldn't say no to the second in command and the damn shank knew it. It wasn't all that bad though. Thomas is entertaining even without trying to be. His thought process is unorthodox yet methodical and logical. By noon he'd already formulated a dozen theories as to why we were here and who W.I.C.K.E.D could be. All of which seemed plausible. Things only took a dark turn when he noticed (Y/N)'s name on the wall.

"Who's (Y/N)?" he asked, while we rested at the Homestead. "There are no girls here yet I saw her name carved on the wall."

I tried to keep myself from snapping at him. Just her name alone made my heart hurt. "Didn't Alby tell you not to worry about that?" I know for a fact he did. Whenever he took the new greenie to carve their name into the wall he explicitly instructed them to leave it on behalf of Newt and anyone else who loved her. No one openly talked about her. It was just too painful.

He sat down beside me criss-cross applesauce. The little spark in his eyes that appeared whenever he was hungry for knowledge was back. "Yes. But you're not Alby."

I was torn between smacking him and laughing. Instead, I said, "She's not here anymore."

"But her name isn't crossed out. Why?"

"Because," I took a deep breath and steeled myself, "we don't know what happened to her."

"What." Now he was upset. "What do you mean you don't know? How don't you know? She was one of you, wasn't she?"

"Of course she was!" I bit out between clenched teeth. "She was important to all of us. Especially Newt."

Properly chastised, he gently pressed on. "Sorry. What happened to her?"

This wasn't a conversation I wanted to have. This wasn't a topic I would willingly touch with a ninety-foot pole. Just thinking about that day made me sick.