𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ༒ minho, tmr

two ~ things that go bump in the night

❅

The Greenie was woken up by a knock on the door, the interruption to her sleep proving more peaceful than what was happening in her head while she slept. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

"Who is it?"

"It's Newt," he called, before poking his head in the door. "Are you decent?"

"Yes," she chuckled dryly, reaching for her shoes. She could hear all sorts of noise outside and lifted her chin in confusion. "What's that all about?"

"That's why I came to get you," Newt smiled. "Trust me, you're gonna like it."

She wasn't sure exactly how many boys lived in this place with her, but the thought of going outside for them all to feast their eyes terrified her.

"Is Minho gonna be there?" she asked meekly, standing up.

Newt nodded. "Yeah, he is. What, does he smell better than me or something?"

"No," she laughed. "You're both really nice."

"Come on then, you," he head-gestured back at the door. "Or you'll miss it."

Skeptical, she followed him outside, where a bonfire made of a totem roared and all the boys were gathered around it, having the greatest time.

Clanking drinks, talking, dancing, playing, it was a party in full swing. Each group of boys carried a certain energy about it, some sitting and talking, others yelling and throwing each other around.

The Greenie panned her eyes around, in search of one person. She hadn't noticed Newt had left her side, and when she did, she was left looking left and right.

"Look who finally showed," a familiar voice startled her, and her face softened to relief when she saw him. "What've you been doing all day?"

She crossed her arms, smiling. "Sleeping, Minho, ever heard of it?"

He pretended to look confused. "Can't say I have, seeing as I woke up before dawn today and I'm standing here at this party of yours."

She looked somewhat confused. "This is all for me?"

"Every Greenie gets a party to celebrate their arrival. Chance to integrate with everyone," Minho explained. "You know, people other than me."

"Oh, I don't know..." she trailed off. "This place is still a lot to take in."

"And there I was thinking you'd be up for a challenge, girl-shank," he taunted. "Come on, it's just a bunch of stinkin' guys. You need to talk to them sooner or later."

"Fine, introduce me," she caved, and the deeper they got into the crowd, the more eyes locked onto her.

She took in the activities going on all around her. There was a thick smell of burning wood in the air, topped off with a strange aroma of alcohol.

She noticed all the boys were drinking out of jars, some strange rusty substance. It must have been alcohol of some kind, as a particular group of boys had way too much energy for swinging knives.

The girl studied them for a moment, unable to hide the slight grimace on her face.

"Here," Minho said, handing her a jar and taking a sip of his own. "If you can't beat 'em, might as well join 'em. They're the Slicers."

"They're the ones who deal with the livestock, right?"

"That's a nice way of putting it, girl-shank," Minho chuckled. "You don't wanna hang around them, somethin' tells me you don't like to get your hands bloody."