𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐏𝐀𝐇 - TMR, Minho

𝟢𝟤𝟦，𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞

Just watch, note some things down, and then go back in the morning.

Blood. Because of her.

Both of them unconscious. I am useless. It is charging at me.

"Just watch, note some things down, and then go back in the morning," she said, right before she forced me into the Maze at night.

She knew.

She knew what would happen. She knew we would get hurt— but Gally joined in, and he got hurt instead of me. And to... to make herself seem innocent, she hit her head.

Both of them unconscious.

Blood. Because of her.

The monster charging at me. Me, useless.

Just watch, note some things down, and then go back in the morning.

Blood. Because of her.

Both of them unconscious—

★

I sit alone the next morning. Time feels strange. It's flying by at a remix of speeds.

Some kids are already working while others are still eating. Are the eating ones late or the working ones early?

I am not allowed to work because of many reasons Nick would not mention because 'I would attempt to throw chairs at him again'.

It's weird to eat with the non-Runners. Or eating late in the morning at all. It doesn't sit right with me and me sitting alone for sure isn't right.

Embarrassing. Their eyes are on me now and then. Somewhat in fear. Did they hear the talk between me and... I squeeze my eyes shut.

The talk between me and... Nick, and... Newt, and George— no, it was Alby.

"Hi." Someone plops down next to me. Immediately, I sense the confidence and... joy they carry.

I glare up. Then glare back down immediately.

Somewhat in fear.

"I have a question," the girl continues.

"I have a request: leave."

For a second, something in her eyes changes, but then she readjusts herself in her seat, pressing a finger to the table. "Look. You once told me that I would sooner or later find out how y'all keep the grass growing without rain. I haven't gotten an answer, but I'd like one now."

"How am I supposed to know that? Ask someone else." Leave.

"You're supposed to know because you're the one who went all mysterious about it."

"I guess that means I became mysterious for a reason: I don't have an answer."

"No, you have an answer," she says determinedly. "So tell me—"

"I said I don't know. I don't know the answer to your question and I sure as hell don't remember ever telling you any of that."

She exhales. "That's because you're still a bit shaken up. It'll come back to you eventually. I'm just trying to regain—"

"You're trying to manipulate me into thinking you're someone who you're not, so you can do everything all over again."

Her eyebrows furrow.

"Perfect example," I comment before rushing off my seat. "I've got things to do. Don't talk to me again."

"Will you go to the Map Room? Remember when we planned to build a tiny version of the Maze? I can help you now! And we can catch up—"

"No. Leave me alone." I speed my page up as she starts following me. Manipulator. My jaw clenches with anger. How doesn't the rest realize what's she's doing? Liar. And my legs wobble with—as much as I hate to admit it—fear. She's capable of killing and hurting, and clearly isn't afraid to do it.

"Did you know you made the braids in my hair? And that you have a paper butterfly in your pocket, which I gave you? And that you used to call me Pua? I called you—"

"Did you know I have asked you to leave me alone multiple times already? And you haven't listened?"

Her footsteps stop. It almost makes me stop, too. "Well, yes, true, but... you're Minho. Before a serious question or apology gets through your head, it has to be repeated multiple times. So if I just remind you of everything we used to do, it'll get through your head eventually."

"What will go through your head eventually, if you don't quit right now, would be a weapon if I had been carrying one with me," I snap. She hasn't quit standing still, so I quickly take the opportunity to flee into the hut the Builders made me.

Manipulator. I don't even know how to braid. Making a tiny model of the Maze makes no sense in the first place: it changes everyday. She's lying about that, too. And me calling her Pua? I guess already saw her as something bad before. A lying pig.

At that, frustration bubbles up my throat. Thinking those words about her felt indescribably wrong. But at the same time, I want to yell them right in her face.

I take a look inside my backpack, only to find exactly what I was looking for. The dagger feels light in my hands before I tuck it in my waistband.

Just in case.

Then my hand reaches for my pocket.

Nothing.

When I put it in the other one, it reappears with a small paper.

A paper heart.

Manipulator. My lips press together. I open my drawer.

Grab a lighter