The Cliff

The Explanation

Minho raises his eyebrows and glances over to make sure Alby has left. His expression softens slightly when he notices how worrisome Newt appears to be. "Why?" Minho asks, pain and sorrow evident in his voice. Newt shifts uncomfortably and buries his head in his hands, gripping his hair tightly. "I hate this place, Minho. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."

Minho looks at the dirty floor of the hut and takes a seat on a makeshift chair. "And you . . . tried to kill yourself?" he asks him quietly. He knows the answer, it's obvious. But he doesn't want to accept it. Head still buried in his hands, Newt nods. And then, Minho does something he's forbidden himself to do, especially not in private. Something he hates almost as much as the Creators themselves. He cries.

"C'mon, man! You're the only friend I have here! The only reason life doesn't suck as much as it could! Without you . . ." Minho doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't want to think about it. Newt looks up when he hears how shaky and strained Minho's voice sounds, and widens his eyes slightly when he notices he's crying. "You're bloody crying?! The fearless, cold, Minho is crying like a shuck baby?!" Newt jokes with a small smirk.

Minho wiped his face with his hands and runs his fingers through his hair. "Slim it!" he whisper-shouts before standing up, arms crossed. He shoots Newt a long, piercing gaze and unfolds his arms before jabbing his index finger in his face. "Never, I repeat, never do that again. Everyone hates it here just as much as you do. If you ever want to do that again, tell me and I'll put a stop to it. Understand?"

Newt nods as he tries to hide a small smile, causing his mouth to form into a misshapen, twisted smile. Minho softens his expression and smiles slightly, something he does extremely rarely. Newt forces out a small laugh and swings his legs over the bed, grimacing slightly.

"Jeff wrapped that leg of yours up. Broke it apparently," Minho says. Newt smirks. "I can feel it." He stands up and begins to walk, his gait uneven as he limps through the small, stuffy room. "Hurt?" Minho asks him, his mouth turned downwards into a frown. Newt nods a little. "Yeah, but I'll get through it." Minho nods. "Shuck yeah you'll get through it. You're not dyin' anytime soon. Not on my watch."