𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ༒ minho, tmr

seventeen ~ the longest night

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Minho and Londyn sat in silence in the Map Room, a silence which felt as though it went on forever. Minho stared blankly at Ben's vest which lay on the table, wondering how he even fit into it in the first place since he had ended up so frail and broken during his last moments.

Londyn's face was beginning to ache from how hard she was trying not to cry anymore. All she could do was picture the happy memories of having Ben around, how their lives in the Glade would never be the same without him.

"Why'd he have to go and get stung?" Minho broke the silence suddenly, but not his gaze on the vest. "Why'd he do something that stupid?"

Londyn shifted closer towards him, grabbing his hand. She could tell he was looking for someone to blame, and as it was his call to send Ben home, she knew who he was pointing the finger at first.

"It wasn't his fault," she told him softly. "Grievers haven't come out during the day in months. He knew that. We all did."

"Apparently, they do now." He tried to turn away from her as if it would drive her to stop staring at him. "Shuck... Why Ben, though?"

"I don't know," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears before looking at the vest. "He didn't deserve that. Look, I know--"

"What are you gonna say now, Londyn?" he snapped, which startled her suddenly and she pulled away from him quickly.

He grunted at himself in frustration, especially for shouting at her. "Alby doesn't want to hear about it, so just forget it. Ben's gone."

"Alby doesn't expect us, of all people here, not to be upset about it," she opposed, slowly urging towards him again. "He was our friend. I know that you won't admit you're upset about it because of Justin. I haven't forgotten that day, all right? You changed. You can talk to me--"

"What do you know?" he scoffed. "I've been dealing with this shit a lot longer than you have."

"Bull," she opposed sharply. "I know that you're so scared of losing people you care about that you won't show that you care to anyone. I mean, it's a miracle you even showed it to me. No one expects you not to feel this, especially not me."

She could tell by the way he was clenching his jaw that he was trying not to break, and her hand found his cheek, knocking him lightly. "Hey, look at me."

He didn't comply, which twinged a hint of annoyance in her. She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

Saying nothing, he let his chin fall limp on her shoulder, his rough hands flat on her back. "Thank you."

"Of course, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing him hard on the cheek. "We'll get through this. We just need to fight harder, find a way out, for Ben."

"I just keep thinking..." he carried on. "What if that had been you? What the hell would I do if I lost you?"

"You're not going to," she promised him and could picture herself crossing her heart to herself internally as well. "I told you a long time ago."

There was a knock on the door, and Newt let himself in, observing the two glumly. "Thought I'd come check on you two."

"We're fine," Minho lied, pulling over a stool for Newt to sit on. "Are you okay?"

Newt rested his arms on the table, chortling before brushing his hair back. "I don't know anymore. Thought I'd come here for some good old hope."

Londyn only smiled with the corners of her mouth, letting her lips fold into her mouth as she wasn't sure how to console him. "I'm not sure this is the shrine you were looking for."