Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Eight

As Minho disappeared into the rain, Lyra and Thomas sat in silence, the tension between them palpable. Thomas scooted a bit closer, confusion evident on his face.

"How is it possible he's alive?" he asked, his voice low.

Lyra, equally baffled, hesitated before responding. She still didn't trust Thomas, but there was something oddly comforting about talking to him, despite her reservations.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly, her gaze drifting towards the doorway where Minho had just left. "It doesn't make any sense."

The silence stretched out until Thomas broke it again. "So, what's the deal with you and Minho?"

Lyra turned to face him, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Thomas shrugged. "You guys don't act like just friends."

Lyra went dead silent, contemplating his words. After a moment, she shook her head. "We are just friends," she insisted, though her tone lacked conviction.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. "Really? Because it seems like there's more."

Lyra's temper flared. "What do you know about it, Greenie? You've been here, what, a few days?"

Thomas smirked, unfazed by her anger. "Long enough to see how you look at each other."

Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "And what about you? Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Thomas leaned back, his amusement growing. "Just calling it like I see it. And what I see is someone who cares more than she's willing to admit."

Lyra felt her cheeks burn with frustration. "You don't know anything about me," she snapped.

Thomas shrugged again. "Maybe not, but I can tell when someone's in denial."

Their bickering grew louder, Lyra's words spilling out in a torrent of frustration. "You don't get it! Minho and I—we've been through a lot together. More than you could ever understand."

Thomas's expression softened slightly, but he kept his tone light. "Maybe you should tell me, then."

Lyra opened her mouth to retort, but Minho's return interrupted them. He looked between them, a hint of amusement and concern in his eyes. "What's all the noise about?"

"Nothing," Lyra said quickly, casting a glare at Thomas.

Minho sighed and sat down next to her. "Ben's stable for now," He said, his voice calm but tinged with underlying concern. He ran a hand through his wet hair.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. "That's good to hear."

Thomas, still sitting nearby, looked curious. "Stable? What does that mean exactly?"

Minho sighed, glancing at Thomas. "It means he's not getting any worse, but they need to decide what to do with him."

"There's going to be a Gathering soon," Minho continued, his tone serious. "They need to decide how to handle the situation."

Lyra's relief turned to frustration again. "What do you mean? He tried to kill Thomas. They'll settle to punish him."

Thomas furrowed his brow. "Punished? Isn't that a bit extreme?"

Lyra rolled her eyes, her irritation growing. "You don't understand how things work here, Thomas."

Thomas leaned back, observing her carefully. "Maybe because no one bothers to explain anything."