The Maze Runner Imagines

Food Fight//Minho

Prompt: Y/N and Minho are in a heated argument... that turns into a food fight.

You take a seat beside Newt at one of the picnic tables situated outside. The day is still light, going onto night-time. You look at the food in front of you, which is just another bland looking meal of stew with some sort of unrecognizable meat. You sigh, you were hoping for something a little more extravagant than this.

"Not sitting with Minho today?" Newt pipes up beside you.

You sigh again and push the food around your plate, already disinterested. "No, I am not sitting with that shank."

"What did he do now?" Newt asks as he lifts a spoonful of the dreadful looking food into his small, grubby mouth. Reminding you that Minho and yourself tend to argue a lot.

You open your mouth to reply but instead, you watch as Minho sits down at the table. Directly in front of you. You think about leaving, there's always a seat next to Chuck or Thomas. Maybe even Gally. To be honest, you'd rather Gally than Minho right now.

"What's got your knickers in a knot?" Minho asks, even though he already knows.

"Oh, you bloody know what." You reply, the anger spilling from your mouth, radiating off your body.

Minho glares over at you, neither of you touching your food, all the while Newt sits off to the side, practically shovelling in his so he can get away from the argument. "Why don't you remind me?" Minho challenges.

You stand up, "Alright, Minho." He stands up to you as well, "Maybe it's the fact that you refuse to let me become a Runner?"

"Well Y/N," His hands curl into fists, "Maybe it's because I don't want you getting hurt."

"Oh, don't pull that bullshit on me, Minho!" Your voice rising, pulling in a crowd of other Gladers. "You know fully well that I am capable! Besides, who said it was your duty to care if I get hurt or not?"

"It's not my "duty", you shank." He sighs, "I just care, okay? I don't want you to go through the same things I have-

"Slim it!" You're fed up with this. "You're not being fair, Minho! I want to help. I want to contribute my time and skills to this place and the only way I can do that is to become a Runner! I am not going to waste my time in the Gardens or the Kitchen. I am going to be a Runner if you like it or not."

"I'm the Keeper of the Runners which means I am the one who decides." He states, firmly and seriously. "And I have already made my decision."

He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand that you want more than anything to be a Runner, to run alongside Minho. To help him find a way out of here. He doesn't get it that you don't want to be stuck in the Glade doing ordinary jobs that aren't helping anyone to find a way out of this shuck-place. Why can't he get it through his thick head that you want to help in the only way you can!? "Minho..." You say, calmly. Your hand reaches for your plate. You squish your hand into the food and pull back a handful of mashed potato, sauce and whatever the hell else is in it. "You're a slinthead." You throw the food directly into Minho's face.

It splatters with a sort of slap sound and a collection of gasps echo through the crowd that gathered while you two were arguing. Newt slides away even further, his plate almost finished. You try to block out the background commotion however as you keep your glare onto Minho. He glares back.

He lifts a hand and wipes away the food from his face, flicks it off his hand and then in swift movements, throws a handful at your face. It doesn't hit directly, only slaps against your chin and dribbles down the front of your shirt.