Maze Runner Imagines and Preferences

First kiss -- Minho

*your perspective... again*

My feet pound against the stone floor of the Maze, and I take another turn, mentally noting the direction. Ahead of me, Minho stops, leaning against the wall and pulling wrapped sandwich from his pack.

"Lunch time?" I ask, jogging up to him.

"Yeah, we need a break."

Gratefully, I slide down the wall, pulling my own sandwich out and unwrapping it.

"So what do you think so far?" Minho asks, and I swallow a bite of sandwich, nodding.

"It's just as great as I thought it would be." I grin, looking sideways at him. I've wanted to be a runner since I got here, and I finally managed to convince Minho to train me. The only thing is, it's a little awkward given that I love Minho, and I have for a while now.

He snorts, taking a sip from his water bottle.

"What's so funny?" I say, and he shakes his head.

"Nothing, you're just cute when you're happy about something." That makes me blush, although my face was probably already red from running all morning.

"Should we get going?" I say, just to change the subject.

"You haven't' even finished your sandwich," he points out, eyeing the offending piece of food in my hand. Quickly, I finish it off, dusting my hands and getting up.

"Now?"

"Yeah, ok, since you're so eager."

We've only run a few kilometres when Minho stops, holding out an arm for me to do the same.

"What is it?" I breathe, peaking around his shoulder. He holds a finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of the corridor before us.

In front of us, just around a bend, is a Griever. I stop myself from cursing out loud, although I come pretty close.

"What do we do?" I ask softly.

"We back away, slowly and quietly as we can, then run." Minho takes my hand, pulling me back along the corridor with him. I try not to make any sound, but I'm sure the Griever can hear my hammering heart anyway.

About five meters back, Minho turns, pulling me with him and breaks into a sprint. I follow, pumping my legs as hard and fast as I can. I can hear the Griever coming after us, metal clinking against stone and the mechanical whirs of its engine echoing off the walls of the Maze.

I trip on a stone, but recover, running on, following where Minho goes. The Griever is getting closer, its horrible sounds getting louder.

"Come on, (Y/N)!" Minho yells, looking over his shoulder at me, "We can make it!"

I don't reply, just keep running.

After a series of sharp turns and twists, I realise where we are. Ahead, the corridor ends in a vast expanse of nothing, gaping as if to swallow us should we run to close. The Cliff. 

"When I say, jump left." Minho tells me, standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Ok," I can see what he means to do.

The Griever comes whirring and clanking around the corner, its metal appendages snapping and spinning as it hurtles towards us.

"Minho..." I say, it's getting really close.

"Hold it..." he watches the Griever bearing down on us calmly, calculating the distance.

"Minho..." I say again, it's too close.

"Just a second... Now!"

I jump sideways, the Griever passing us with an inch to spare. I turn, watching it jump over the cliff, then it disappears. I must be seeing things, probably a products of the stress.

"Oh my god," I whisper, my hands shaking.

"Are you ok?" Minho runs across the corridor to me, checking for injuries.

"Yeah," I say, painfully aware of how close he is to me, "yeah, I'm ok, you?"

"I'm fine, as long as you're ok."

My heart skips a beat, or maybe it's just the near miss we just had.

I can feel the heat from his body and his warm breath on my face, that's how close we're standing.

"I..." I say, but my voice fails me. If I moved an inch, I think, I could kiss him.

His hand moves from my shoulder to my face, and I realise just how sweaty and gross we both are. It doesn't matter.

Hesitantly, carefully, Minho leans down, pressing his lips against mine. I return the kiss, my heart beating just as hard as when we saw the Griever, except this time it's a good kind of fast.

We kiss for quite a while, probably way longer than is appropriate, but I'm not complaining. Eventually, I draw away, looking up at him.

He smiles, a faint pink tinge colouring his cheeks.

"I guess now would be a good time to tell you how I feel about you and ask you to be my girlfriend?" he says wryly, and I laugh.

"Yeah, might be a good time."

"So," he looks around, "I think you're an amazing person, absolutely stunning, and I think I might be in love with you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," I say, "yes Minho, I would love to be your girlfriend. And by the way," I add, "I think I might be in love with you too."