Official archives of the tough series' untold stories. Set pre-Maze Runner up to Safe Haven.
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Short fic [ newt x o.c. | safe haven ] in Part VII
⚠️ Mature Warning ⚠️
violent actions, mentions of suicide
please refer to my profile for an explanation...
MINHO STAYED TRUE to his own rule and returned to the Glade thirty minutes before the Doors were supposed to close.
"Hey, Jack-Jack my boy!" he greeted Jackson playfully when he passed by the younger boy on his way towards the Map Room. Jackson didn't reply with anything other than a forlorn look, so Minho simply muttered to himself, "Rude," and continued his journey.
Nothing eventful happened to him that day. He jotted down the path —which was identical to the one he paved about two or three weeks ago— and noted: there were no disturbance on the ivies, no curious Beetle Blade, no Griever visit, nothing out of the ordinary, stony Maze.
Nothing eventful, really, until the creaky sound of rusty hinge entered his ears, followed by cautious footsteps. Minho looked up from his note briefly, "Wow, Your Majesty is paying a visit to my humble klunk hole. What's up, Nick?"
"Minho..."
"What's with the sad tone?" Minho asked with a chuckle, still busy with his duty.
"I don't know how to break this to you." Minho could feel Nick's heavy presence as the latter sat down on his right, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You promise me, you're gonna stay and listen 'til the end, good that?"
Minho's chuckle turned drier as dread began to fill his insides, "W— What happened? Did something happen? Someone got stung?"
"D'you feel... Newt's been distant lately?"
After that one sentence, everything went steeply downhill.
Nick caught Minho before he could storm out, consumed by fiery emotions, and pinned him down, saying that he promised to listen.
There were a lot of words thrown around, but conclusively, Newt tried to kill himself. People were trying to make ends meet so they could all live and leave, and he shucking tried to kill himself.
Minho could feel all sorts of feelings surging through his heavily beating heart, ebbing and flowing alternately like waves in a raging storm as he ran towards his best friend's sick bed. It was too overwhelming that he felt suffocated... something pounded against his skull like hammer. And when he finally came back to his senses, as if he just woke up from a very long nap, Minho found himself sitting on a chair beside Newt's sleeping figure.
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The room was empty, he noticed. The sky was already jet black and he hadn't showered. He smelled disgusting.
He remembered sorting through his feelings: anger, disappointment, sadness, grief, dismay, sorrow, regret...
He remembered Frankie running into the room, took a quick look, asked a quick 'how is he?' question, then ran off.
He remembered Alby, and Clint, and Nick, and lots of other Gladers trying to take a curious look.
That was all, really.
"Minho."
Minho replied with a tired hum and wiped his face, shifting in his seat. Jeff walked in and tossed him a bottle of water.
