Multi-Fandom One Shots

3 go in.....2 come out

Thominho

Thomas buried his head in his hands, trying to escape the flood of memories that threatened to consume him. Here he was, all alone. Teresa had left him. She had promised she wouldn't, but in the end, she had traded her life for his. He had loved her once, but that was in the past. Even before she died, he had been falling for someone else. He could never tell him, though—fear of rejection and the potential ruin of their friendship held him back. The thought of losing Minho, too, was unbearable.

His mind spun, torn between the weight of his feelings and the fear of what might come next. What was he supposed to do now? He lifted his head and stared out at the sea, the waves crashing against the shore.

A voice broke through his thoughts. "What are you doing out here, shuck-face?"

Thomas turned to see Minho standing there, looking at him with that mix of concern and annoyance he'd come to expect. "Just thinking," he said, though it came out more like a croak. His throat was tight, like he'd been running for hours.

"Well," Minho said, sitting beside him, "There's a first time for everything."

Thomas's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to tell Minho how he felt, but the words stuck in his throat. He hesitated, wrestling with his fear. 

"Shut up," Thomas said, rolling his eyes, trying to mask his anxiety. "Whatcha thinking about?"

He should tell him. Just open his mouth and say it. His palms were sweating, his breath quickening. It felt like a maze more impossible than any he'd run through. He stared at Minho, barely containing his urge to confess.

"I... I like you," Thomas blurted out before he could stop himself. The words came out in a rush, like if he didn't say them now, they'd never come out. As soon as they were out there, his heart dropped. What had he done? "Oh, shuck," he muttered, feeling his face go hot.

Minho stared at him, and for a second, Thomas couldn't read his expression. He panicked. Before Minho could say anything, he turned and ran. He didn't know where he was going, just away. Away from the embarrassment, from the possibility of rejection, from all of it.

 Minho sat there, stunned. The boy he was madly in love with had just confessed his feelings. 

"What the hell," Minho muttered, trying to process what just happened.

"Thomas, wait!" Minho yelled, but Thomas didn't slow down. Minho sprinted after him, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the other survivors. He finally caught up, panting.

"Shuck-face!" Minho shouted. "Come down from there! You're not gonna solve anything by turning into a tree-dwelling hermit."

Thomas peeked over the branch. "No," he shouted back. "I'll just stay here until lightning strikes me."

Minho flinched, remembering the Scorch Trials. "Thomas," he said impatiently, "I like y—"

BANG.

The sound echoed in the air. Thomas's heart skipped a beat as he looked down, eyes widening in horror. Minho staggered, his hand clutching his chest where blood was quickly staining his shirt. He swayed on his feet, looking down at the spreading stain with a kind of stunned disbelief.

"Oh, great," Minho muttered weakly, his voice dripping with sarcasm even as he collapsed to the ground. "Just when I was about to confess my feelings. The universe really knows how to ruin a moment."

"No!" Thomas's voice tore from his throat, pure panic taking over. He scrambled down from the tree, nearly falling in his desperation to reach Minho. "Minho, no, no, no, no, no, no. Minho, wake up. Wake up, you have to wake up." He shook Minho's shoulders, his hands trembling. No response. "No, no, no!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Minho, please, please, please wake up. I can't lose you. Not you too

Thomas was barely aware of the chaos erupting around him. He was too focused on Minho, on the blood soaking into the ground. He kept his hands pressed to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his mind racing, heart pounding. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after everything.

"Minho," he choked out, his voice trembling. "Minho, stay with me. Please."

Minho didn't respond, his eyes half-closed, his breaths shallow and ragged. Thomas could feel the panic rising, threatening to choke him. He'd just confessed, just told Minho how he felt, and now... now it was all slipping away.

He heard shouts and hurried footsteps approaching, but it all felt distant, like it was happening in another world. Then, suddenly, a voice broke through the haze.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Thomas looked up, his vision blurry with tears, and saw a small figure standing a few feet away. It was a boy—no older than twelve—clutching a gun with both hands, his eyes wide with horror. He was trembling so badly that the weapon shook in his grip.

"I didn't mean to shoot him!" the boy cried, tears streaming down his face. "I swear, I didn't know it would go off! I didn't mean to hurt anyone!".

Thomas felt a surge of anger and disbelief. This kid had shot Minho? On accident? It felt like a cruel joke, something too twisted to be real.

Thomas turned back to Minho, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding. Minho's eyes fluttered open, and for a second, Thomas thought he might be okay, that they might have a chance.

"Minho," Thomas said urgently, leaning in close. "Stay with me. Please, just... stay with me."

Minho's lips twitched into a faint smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "Thomas..." he whispered, his voice weak, barely audible. "Always... making things... dramatic..."

Thomas let out a choked laugh, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Yeah, well... you know me," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Can't do anything the easy way."

Minho's smile faded, his eyes closing again. Thomas's heart skipped a beat, terror gripping him. No. This wasn't happening. It couldn't happen. Not like this.

Thomas's vision blurred with tears. He grabbed Minho's hand, squeezing it desperately. "I was too late," he whispered, "I should have told you sooner. I'm so sorry. Please, don't leave me."

He felt like he was suffocating, the memories crashing over him in a relentless wave. Newt, Chuck, Teresa—every single person he'd cared about ripped away from him. And now Minho? It wasn't fair. It was never fair.

"Newt," he choked out, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer. "Minho. Chuck." His voice rose into a desperate scream. "Why? Why does fate have to hate me so much? Why does it take away everyone I care about?"

The friends he had fought for, loved, and lost were gone, leaving Thomas as alone as a Glader in a never-ending maze.

Once again Thomas was alone.

(a/n 😈)