SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

38: I should use this gun

Dawn 38

Three hours later and I am awake in the crook of Minho's arms. Though he can drift off into the lull of the night, I can't. After all, pretty soon I will be asleep forever.

"Are you awake?" I ask him, leaning up and pressing my nose against his.

He blinks awake. His eyes are coming in and out of focus. I could be tired, but I know better. Hopefully this is him. I pray that he isn't an illusion. It doesn't make a difference to me, but it does to him.

"I love you," I tell him, because he has to know.

He exhales a chuckle. Minho leans in and I kiss him. Our lips are chapped and peeling, and our skin is rough. The fairy tale I had always imagined between us isn't going to come true. There will be no proposal on a beach underneath the stars.

You know, that would be a welcome hallucination.

"I love you too," he answers. His fingers run along the bottom of my chin and he presses a kiss against me again. Every movement is as gently a touch as I have ever known.

"Do you remember the first time I met you?" I ask him.

"In the Maze or before?" He responds.

I hadn't realized before was an option. Yes, before. Before all this chaos. I imagine it was perfect back then. Maybe, actually, I don't want him to tell me. No reality is as good as anything I can create. "Before."

Minho smiles. "We were 13, I think. Even though Leo didn't want you to, you used to sneak out with a bunch of us. Newt, Alby, Thomas, we were always hanging out. Teresa dragged you along one time. In retrospect, it was probably WICKED's idea to get you to meet us."

"What happened?" I ask, leaning in closer to him.

Minho grins, wider and wider. "Well, I saw you and immediately knew you were the one. And no, that's not because you were the only girl that I had ever met who was my age and not Teresa." He laughs a little bit to himself, pulling his arms tighter around me. "I thought you were beautiful. Way too pretty to be in my league, but I couldn't help it. I said some stupid pick-up line. Something like, "I know they say that Immunes are gifts of God, but you're actually an angel"."

"That's so cute," I lean up and kiss his cheek.

Minho scoffs, teasingly shoving me away. "No. It was super lame. Besides, then you said you weren't immune. The rest of the memory fades, but I know that we saw each other whenever we could for the next two years until I went up. The rest is our history."

It certainly is. I lean back into him again. I let myself listen to his breath. Once it gets thicker and longer, I pull back. My lips find his forehead. I breathe the words into his skin, hoping that he will carry them forever. "I love you."

Then, I stand up and leave the room. The hallways are quiet, most likely because it is the middle of the night. Beneath me, the floor moves in waves. I stumble down them as I am trying to keep my balance. To keep myself standing, I rely on the wall.

Finally, I make it to the bathroom. It's a long room with multiple stalls. I go into the first one. That way, who ever stumbles in here will see the blood on the floor before they see my corpse.

I know how it feels to see a body with a bullet. Not that I remember who, but I remember it happening. It was gut-wrenching. It was horrific. It was with this gun.