In my Blood

CHAPTER 62 - Hope

I hear three loud knocks on the back of the door. 

Sitting on an uncomfortable chair beside Newt's bed as he sleeps, I relocate my gaze from his serene face towards the other side of the room, seeing Minho enter slowly. 

"How's he doing?"

"He's okay, I think," I reply. "I mean he's been asleep for the past five hours. I guess all that sedative finally caught up to him."

Minho chuckles. "So... you and Newt?"

I blush, unable to contain my smile. 

"Never would've guessed," Minho grins, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "When did that happen?"

"Uh, the day before we found you, actually. It was when Newt told me he was Infected."

Minho raises his eyebrows, grinning. "He always has been the romantic type."

I let out a loud laugh, causing Minho to laugh. We continue laughing for a few seconds, letting it die out after a while. Minho grabs a chair from the other side of the room and places it next to me and Newt. 

"Do you actually think the memories are real?" Minho asks, genuinely curiously. "Could just be WICKED's little way of messing with your head. Make you do stuff you wouldn't normally do, like what Teresa did."

My heart sinks ever so slightly hearing her name. I'm reminded of Thomas, all alone, in his room, unconscious. Probably with a million thoughts of grievance running havoc around his mind. I  sigh, furrowing my brows in concentrated thought. "I used to think that. I used to be kinda scared of the memories too. Until... I dunno, I guess I just started embracing them a bit more. That's kinda why I think these memories are real." I pause, pondering, before continuing slowly, thoughtfully, "if WICKED wanted to fabricate memories that would make me swear allegiance to them, they did the opposite. The memories just give me more reason to hate them."

Minho nods, thinking. "You know, I can see it. You and Thomas, being related..."

"You can see it?"

"I mean, maybe not your appearances as much... but your mannerisms. And your attitudes. Both of you, always seemed to just be different to the rest of us. Connected by something greater than the Glade."

I nod. "Yeah, I felt that way too. Always just assumed because we arrived together in the Maze, that explained it. But maybe not." 

We sit in silence for a while, just looking at Newt. His eyelids keep flickering every so often and I wonder what he's dreaming about. He moves ever so slightly on his side, facing us more, his arm falling out of the bed. I cautiously lift it up, placing it back on his stomach over the duvet. I linger my hand on his cold fingers for a few seconds.

"Newt told me about what happened in the Maze," I say quietly. Minho perks his head up, looking directly to me. I turn to him. "And how you helped him."

Minho smiles sadly. "I'm glad he told you. He must really trust you; only me and Alby ever knew what really happened."

"I'm glad he told me too."

Newt murmurs in his sleep. I look to him, smiling at his face. His lips are parted with a slight pout, his expression almost questioning. Minho lets out breath from his nostrils, suggesting laughter. 

"I hope Thomas wakes up soon..." I mutter, resting my head on Minho's shoulder. He rests his head on top of mine. 

"Me too..." Minho pauses, lifting his head up again. "(y/n), about your memory... well, if it's true, and you and Thomas are related... could there be, like, the smallest chance that your blood may work as well? I mean, just an idea."