𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ༒ minho, tmr

forty-three ~ the cost of wanting more

☾

As the sun began to sink behind the ruins, painting the fractured skyline in streaks of amber and violet, the four Gladers sat in silence, watching the new arrivals move under Vince's command. The slow ripples of the water below where they perched clashed with the screech of drilling, an eerie symphony of creation and destruction.

Their eyes fixated on Vince. He was a man they trusted, one who had kept them alive when the world gave them every reason to die. And yet, as they sat there, knowing he would inevitably make the call to leave Minho behind, the weight of his choices felt unbearable. But maybe it was only because it was Minho.

Londyn finally broke the quiet, her voice hesitant, as if speaking the words aloud would make them more real. "What did Vince say earlier? To the new kids?"

She already knew the answer. It was part of the plan, etched into every discussion they'd had before their desperate attempt to rescue Minho. But still, she asked. Some stubborn part of her refused to let go of the small hope that things had changed.

"That in two days, we're supposed to leave," Thomas answered, his head bowed, fingers twisting together. "Ship's almost ready."

Londyn inhaled sharply, the truth pressing down on her like a weight she hadn't braced for. "So, that's it then?"

Thomas lifted his head slightly, but his face remained hollowed by exhaustion, his glassy eyes barely meeting hers. Londyn, however, refused to look away.

"Are we really leaving him behind?" she asked, the words leaving her lips like a betrayal. Even saying them made her stomach twist, but her body had already spent all its tears.

Thomas swallowed hard. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice catching in his throat. He dropped his gaze again, as if the answer might be somewhere in the dirt beneath his feet.

Londyn shook her head, her eyes locking onto Vince again. "I don't know where to start in accepting that, guys. I mean, I never really thought about... What would happen if we didn't get him back today."

"I wanted Minho to be on that train, too, Londyn," Newt said, his voice rough, strained with regret.

"We all did," Frypan added, glancing at them with quiet understanding.

"I just can't believe we're actually talking about leaving without him," Thomas muttered, his brows knitting together.

Newt sighed, his arms draped loosely over his knees, shoulders slumped under the weight of reality. "No. It's just, Vince is trying to look after the others. Six months we've been chasing WCKD through the Scorch trying to find Minho. I'm surprised he even held out as long as he did."

Londyn didn't respond, her fingers absentmindedly picking at the frayed hem of her jacket.

"This Safe Haven..." Newt continued, his dry eyes catching the golden glow of the setting sun. "I don't know if it's the paradise Vince keeps saying it is, but I do know that Minho gave up everything so that we could have this chance. Are we supposed to just throw that away?"

"I don't know," Frypan admitted, but his lips curled up just slightly. "But I think he'd kick all of our asses if we did."

The other three chuckled softly. It didn't fix anything, it never could, but for a fleeting moment, the weight in their chests lifted.

"I was always good at pissing him off," Londyn said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Doing the opposite of what he told me. Worked, sometimes."

"Yes, we remember," Newt smirked, nudging her playfully. "I remember the early days when you two just couldn't get it together."

"Yeah, wait," Thomas perked up slightly, tilting his head. "How did you two end up a thing?"