Seperation // Gally x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four - Traitorous Whore

Immediately the entire dynamic nestled above these rocks changes. What was once cold and distant has a new sense of warmth. Of course, I'm going to get him to tell me everything, but I didn't realise how exhausting it was to loathe my best friend. Not to mention the stupidity of blaming him for Chuck, when, in reality, I know it couldn't have been his fault. I was mad at the situation, not him, and not the others.

"What were you saying Minho?" Frypan says, steering the conversation back towards the raven-haired boy. "Oh, right. Jorge was asking questions, strange ones, about the maze. I understand he wants to know where we came from, but he was being so pushy. And you know I can't handle more than two questions at a time." We all nod and laugh as his pace increases, the words spilling from his lips. "So, I decided I might try to lighten the mood."

My smile drops as I remember how terrible Minho is at making jokes. "I tried to think of the best line I could that would involve Spain, since that man can't say one sentence without being all hermano this and por favor that." A strange croak of a laugh escapes my lips as he attempts to mimic Jorge's accent.

"It took a good ten seconds, but I finally got one that I thought would make him go away. Whether he would leave because of respect or disgust wasn't really a priority of mine at the time. He was staring at me like I was crazy, so I said, 'What do you call a hangover when you're alone in Spain'? The staring didn't stop, only intensified, and he didn't even give me the courtesy of trying to guess the answer, so I said it for him."

"And what was the answer?" I ask. "Barf-a-lona," he says with a shrug. The small spoonful of stew that I was trying to swallow almost catapulted out of my mouth. It was a terrible joke. Especially since it was aimed towards Jorge.

"Jesus, Minho, I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a joke better than that," I say between giggles. "What? I thought it was such a good one," he complains, hands raised in the air. I've almost toppled over, and he looks to the others for help, but they clearly thought the joke was just as bad as I did.

We're pulled from the conversation as Thomas shuffles up the rocks, struggling to balance with one hand. He joins me on my rock and I smile at him, guzzling the last few bits of my stew with a loud gulp.

I peer into his bowl and my mouth drops. The contents were a milky white, with small snow-like flakes melting into a puddle at the bottom. This was no clunky stew. Thomas had ice cream.

"No way," I gasp in disbelief. I snatch the bowl and take a small spoonful, leaving plenty for him but taking just enough to savour the flavour. He takes it back after a few seconds. "Y/n, go get your own!"

"Sorry, T. I will, it's just... ice cream is my favourite thing in the whole entire world."

"Wait, what? There's ice cream?" One of the others asks. In a matter of milliseconds, Frypan is scampering down the rocks and over to the table where the food was being served. It takes him less than a minute to return with two bowls, and passes one over to me. I can tell from the burning in my cheeks that my smile must be beaming. "Thank you, Fry," I say happily.

I shovel a large handful into my mouth but stop when I see Thomas staring at me. "What? Do I have some on my shirt or something?" He shakes his head and chuckles. "Weirdo," I mutter, eating another spoonful.

"What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to try it?" I ask him, noticing the mounds slowly reducing to a chalky pool in his bowl. He seems almost startled by my question, as if he'd forgotten the contents in his lap.

Carefully, he scoops some into his spoon and brings it to his lips. Immediately, the bright rosy glow returns to his cheeks. "Oh my god, this is amazing," he exclaims with a breathy laugh. "I told you."