𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐏𝐀𝐇 - TMR, Minho

𝟢𝟨𝟥，𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐭

We walk in silence. I'm staring at the ground, my chest hollow at the reminders of Stan. At the knowledge of there being no way out. The laughter of other Gladers feels off right now.

Minho walks next to me. When we reach the little hut Gally built, I stop and take it in. Wooden walls. Doesn't look any different from the others. Maybe a bit sturdier.

It's nothing fancy, but it's mine. And I'm glad to have a place for myself after three years of sleeping in a hammock outside.

The door creaks as I open it, then step inside, my mouth falling open. A bed is standing in the corner. A desk directly to my right. A tiny closet. There's a string of lights stuck to the ceiling. In the corner, there's a mess of pillows stacked up.

"Wow." I spin around to face Minho. "This is incredible!" Then I reach out for the pillows, sinking my fingers into the soft material. "A mattress, multiple pillows, and a desk. And my own closet!" I run my hand along the walls.

"Careful. You might get a splinter."

"That's your reaction? This is a masterpiece!"

"It's the same as every hut, except you have a few more lights and pillows," he points out.

"But it's still my own place." I grip his shoulders. "Be happy for me."

He manages to hold onto his dry expression for only a few seconds, then it breaks into a smile. "Yes, alright, it's cozy."

"You can come in, you know."

He steps inside, looking around at the space. "Yup. Cozy."

"I need to go bring my box here," I decide. "I'll be back."

"I'll just come with you."

Together, we make our way to my old hammock. It has lost its color by now, and there's some holes here and there.

I grip my hands around the box standing below it, and lift it up with some struggles.

Minho reaches out. "Do I need to—"

"No, I got it." I push him away with my hips before I step through the grass. It's becoming damp. The laughter that's still in the background now sounds ten times more cheerful. It makes me smile, too.

"Watch out, there's a—" three thuds "...rock."

The first thud was the box flying out of my hands. The second one was me tripping over the rock. The third was Minho tripping on me.

Laughs escape my mouth, loudly. "You warned me yet you also fell!"

"I warned you so you wouldn't fall because I knew that if you would fall, I'd fall!" He replies. He tries to sound pissed, but his chuckles are loud and clear. 

Our laughter dies down slowly. I'm now frozen in my place, eyes wide against the grass. Minho's pressed into my back, his arms clumsily beside us. His chest is plastered to my back, and I feel his breath against my ear.

I do my best to laugh again, but it sounds weak. "Uh... maybe we should get up?"

He clears his throat and quickly he pushes himself up. Then he offers me a hand, pulling me back onto my feet.

I dust myself off, sighing. My stuff is all of the ground right n— his fingers brush against my cheek. I freeze as he gently wipes away a smudge of dirt from my face. "There. Now you're good," he scratches the back of his head, as often.

A rush of warmth floods through me. "Thanks," I manage to say..

"Yeah, no problem," he replies, stumbling over his words.

I reach inside my pocket only to press what I revealed against his chest: a paper butterfly. Then I quickly bend down to grab my stuff.

He stands completely still for a few seconds, then bends down as well. He grabs the heavier items from the box. The ease with which he does it makes me smile.

We walk side by side. Now and then, I glance at him. A lump forms in my throat I do. I love how he scrunches his nose when he concentrates. The sound of his voice. Every movement he makes. I love everything about him. I love him even more than I did before he lost his memories.

"You know, I like this new version of you, maybe even better than the old one."

He looks at me. "Then you'd be the first."

I smile. He smiles back.

We reach my hut. I'm nearly squealing as we put all the stuff down on the ground.

"Are you going to make it all fancy now?" Minho wonders.

"Absolutely. Can you help?"

"Sure."

We spend the next half hour putting the pillows in the right spot, filling my closet, hanging things on the wall, and decorating my desk.

"Look." Lastly, I reveal a whole pile of paper. "I asked the Box for paper, so we can make more butterflies. Do you want to make more? Right now?"

"Sure," he says. "But not on the ground again. My body was aching after that night in the Homestead."

"I have a whole bed now," I acknowledge. Happily, I sit down on it. The mattress isn't the softest and it creaks with every movement, but it's a million times better than the hammock.

It takes me a few minutes to finish folding my first butterfly. It's blue, made nearly. "There it is. Your turn."

Minho raises an eyebrow. He begins to fold, and I lean in closer, our shoulders brushing. I catch the smell of him. He seems to have showered after a day of running already, because there's nothing wrong with his scent. The fire has left a certain smell, but that's it.

"Finished." He holds his red butterfly up.

"Not bad."

He nudges me in the side at my tone. As I do it back, my heart races. "Damnit. If you do that, I'll have to give my butterfly away." I hand him the blue one.

With a big grin, he gives me the red one. "Me, too."

In silence, we create about ten new butterflies. Both of us are scooting closer by the second, until our sides are fully pressed against each other. As weird as it sounds, it's like I'm drawn to his touch.

He slides another butterfly into my hand. My cheeks gain a color. "Thank you." And I hand him one as well.

"We'll be trading forever if it continues like this."

I shrug. "Every time you give me a paper butterfly, I gain more real butterflies."

"True," he sighs out. "That's bad. It only takes us a piece of paper to gain butterflies."

"It can take more." Before I can think too much about it, I press a quick kiss to his cheek.

From the millions of reactions he could've given, it's the one where a smile spreads across his face. "Is that how we're playing now?" He hands me another butterfly.

I bite my lip. "It worked, didn't it?"

His fingertips brush against the skin of my waist as he pulls me a bit closer. "Yeah, yeah," he admits. "I'll get you back."