His Teddy-Bear 🥾Minho TMR💨 (Pre Thomas)

Wanting Words

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The Glade was abuzz the next morning, whispers about the new Greenie—Thomas, as he finally remembered his name—traveling through the groups of boys like wildfire. Delilah overheard snippets of conversation while helping Frypan prep breakfast.

"He's got a mouth on him," one of the Builders muttered.
"Already causing trouble," another said.

Delilah, her hands deep in a bucket of water scrubbing vegetables, bit back a smirk. She's taken on small jobs around the glade when she's not running the maze. The heeling process is long but steady, however everyone's been great help.

She wasn't surprised. Something about Thomas had struck her as fiery, maybe even defiant. She glanced over to where he stood at the edge of the breakfast area, his eyes scanning the Glade as though trying to take everything in at once. Alby and Newt weren't with him this time, which probably meant he'd slipped away.

"Greenie looks like he's ready to take on the whole shuckin' Maze," Frypan muttered beside her, following her gaze. "Cocky little shank."

Delilah shook her head. "He's confused, same as we all were."

"Maybe, but I'd bet my last potato he'll be in trouble before lunch," Frypan replied, tossing a peeled carrot into a pot.

As the morning went on, her mind returned to Thomas's arrival and the sense of tension it had brought to the Glade. That tension only grew when the sound of a raised voice cut through the usual hum of activity.

"I said, I want to be a Runner!"

Delilah froze mid-step, her head snapping toward the commotion. A crowd was already gathering near the Homestead, and she hurried over, weaving her way through the Gladers until she spotted the source of the outburst.

Thomas stood in front of Alby, his fists clenched and his jaw tight. The boy was clearly furious, his eyes blazing with determination. Alby, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from snapping.

"You've been here for one shuckin' day, Greenie!" Alby barked, his voice sharp and authoritative. "You don't get to make demands. You'll do as you're told."

"I'm not just sitting around doing busywork," Thomas shot back, his voice steady despite the obvious frustration simmering beneath it. "I can handle it. Let me prove it."

Minho stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused smirk. Delilah could tell he was enjoying the show, though he didn't look like he planned to intervene anytime soon.

"You think you can just waltz into the Maze and start running?" Alby continued, his voice rising. "This isn't some game, shank. People die out there."

Thomas didn't flinch. "I'm not afraid."

The words hung in the air, bold and unyielding, and for a moment, the entire Glade seemed to go silent.

Delilah found herself holding her breath, her gaze fixed on Thomas. She had to admit, his determination was impressive. Foolish, maybe, but impressive. There was a fire in him she hadn't seen in many others—one that reminded her of Minho, in a way.

Alby let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "You don't even know what you're talking about, Greenie. Now shut your mouth and get back to work before I lose my patience."

Thomas opened his mouth to argue again, but this time, Newt stepped forward, placing a hand on Alby's shoulder.

"Alright, that's enough," Newt said, his tone calm but firm. He turned to Thomas, his expression less harsh but no less serious. "Listen, Tommy. I get it. You want to help, you want to do more. But you don't just become a Runner. You've gotta earn it. Prove you've got what it takes."

"I can prove it," Thomas said immediately, his voice steady.

Newt sighed, glancing at Alby, who looked like he wanted to drag Thomas away by the ear.

"You've been here for one bloody day," Newt said. "You don't even know how things work yet. Take some time to learn, yeah? Then we'll talk."

Thomas hesitated, clearly wanting to argue more, but he seemed to realize he wasn't going to win this battle—not yet, at least. He clenched his jaw and gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine," he said, though the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed in the slightest.

Alby muttered something under his breath before storming off, clearly done with the conversation. The crowd began to disperse, the Gladers returning to their tasks, though Delilah could still hear whispers about Thomas's boldness.

She stayed where she was, watching as Newt placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder, leaning in to say something to him in a quieter tone. Thomas nodded again, though his expression remained tense.

"You're full of surprises, Greenie," Minho said, finally speaking up as he approached Thomas. There was a teasing edge to his voice, but Delilah could see the curiosity in his eyes. "Let's see if you can back it up."

Thomas didn't respond, but the determined look on his face was answer enough.

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Later, Delilah found herself thinking about Thomas as she sat by the Gardens, watching Newt work. He was crouched among the plants, carefully inspecting the soil, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"What do you think of him?" she asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

Newt looked up at her, tilting his head. "Who? Tommy?"

She nodded.

Newt shrugged, wiping his hands on his pants. "He's got guts, I'll give him that. But guts don't always mean much in this place. Gotta have brains to go with 'em."

Delilah smiled faintly. "You think he has them?"

Newt paused, considering her question. "Maybe," he said finally. "Hard to tell just yet. But one thing's for sure—he's not gonna sit quietly and follow orders. He's got that spark, you know? Like he's meant for something bigger."

Delilah nodded, her mind drifting back to the Maze and the words etched into the stone walls. W.C.K.D. World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. Why do those words always drift into thought every time Thomas is spoken of?

"Yeah," she murmured. "I think you're right."

As she sat there, her fingers absently brushing the teddy bear keychain on her belt, she couldn't help but wonder what role Thomas would play in the Glade—and in the fight for their survival. Just something about him tugged at her mind, was it familiarity? Or was her mind just too jumbled at the moment?