𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 ✭ DTC love triangle

2 - Never Felt So Alone

"A very good morning everyone!" I climbed out of my hammock and walked over to the old, rusty kitchen in the abounded building we found, which was also old and rusty, by the way.

"And.. here we go again," Rye muttered from his seat. I hadn't even bothered to ask him about his subject number yet. I was too busy hiding my pain from losing Minho.. so my sarcasm also got worse.

Frypan handed me a plate filled with bacon and some egg, which I refused to take.
"No thanks, Fry."

"Nah, ah ah." Fry shook his head. "You're going to eat, Honey."

"Eat honey?" I scoffed. "I don't remember having honey here."

Frypan just laughed and pushed the plate in my hands anyways. I sighed and started eating the food that somehow still tasted delicious, though my appetite had been gone since the moment I lost Minho.

I tried not to think about it too much, but that was pretty hard. And it hurt. Newt was there. He was always there for me, yet it still felt like a part missed. And that was Minho. Newt could comfort very well, he was super kind, but Minho was the one that joked a lot. He was the one that lit everyone up.

"Coffee?" Cyra suggested before taking a sip of her own. "It'll cheer you up."

"I'm already in the best mood," I replied.

"One of these days again?" Newt walked into the kitchen, hair still messy from sleeping, which looked amazing.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Blondie." I gave Newt a teasing smile and handed him my plate. "Eat, Honey." I mimicked.

"Hey!" Fry laughed once again. "Be happy I gave you a good nickname. I can think of worse!"

"Well, spit it out." I threw my hands in the air.

Frypan chuckled and leaned in. "Simp."

My face darkened for a split second. "Where did you even learn that word?"

"Her." Frypan pointed at Cyra, who joined Harriet on a dirty-looking couch. "But I'll stick with Honey."

"Because Honey sticks, obviously." I joked, by now my favorite thing. Minho's thing. Hiding everything behind a mask by joking and making comments.. doing everything to not have the attention drawn to yourself or a subject you don't like.

"Yep." Frypan popped the 'p' right before Newt scooted his chair closer to me.

"How's it going today, love?" Newt lowered his voice. He had asked the question every single day after I broke down one time.

I felt fluttered by the nickname but didn't show it. "Shitty, crappy, unbelievably wrong." I sighed. "No, it's fine."

Newt raised his eyebrows. "Are you gonna eat?" He put my plate back in my hands.

"I don't need to eat to eat, Blondie," I said toughly.

He laughed. "I sure know that you're eating, but even more if you will eat."

Rye furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Newt. "What? That's confusing."

Newt glanced at him too. Not a very nice one. "Well, I didn't tell you, did I?"

I giggled at his comeback but soon stopped as Rye focused on his food again. "I'm not hungry." Then I got up and wanted to get back in my hammock to grief, but Rye grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

I stared at him, then my arm. Since the moment Minho left, it got harder for me to accept physical touch from anyone except for Newt. Maybe the fact that Teresa, who was supposed to be a friend, betrayed us made me have some issues with trusting.

Rye's eyes widened when he saw my threatening face. "I'm taking my hand off." And so he did. I sighed and walked off to Thomas, who still sat on his own hammock, looking down at something.

"Hey." I talked and he looked up. "What're you doing?"

He shrugged and put something behind his back. "Nothing much."

I moved closer to him, trying to get a peek behind his back. "What have you got there?"

Thomas took a breath before revealing the thing in his hands, then looked down. "Minho gave it to me after you 'died'."

I gasped quietly when I saw it was Chuck's handmade figure he gave to me when he died.

I swallowed, trying to hide the pain that was already in me. By now, Chuck's figure was redder than before, covered in most likely his own and my blood, which made me feel so guilty.

"Do you want it back?" Thomas wondered as he held it even closer to me.

I shook my head. "You can have it." It came out in barely a whisper.

The truth was, it hurt too much to talk about Chuck, let alone have something that belonged to him before. Yet I did a pretty good job hiding my grief about the kid in the Scorch, if I had to be honest. I forced myself not to think about it, and if I did anyways, I wouldn't tell anyone and just.. well, suffer in silence.

I hadn't even noticed a tear running down my cheek until Thomas asked if I were okay, to which I quickly nodded in reply.

"So how's it going with the plan?" I sniffed, trying to change the subject to something more cheerful. Saving Minho.

"Good," Thomas replied, talking a little more confident too. "We're working the last things out."