The Maze Runner Imagines

All x Reader [11]

 Running into grievers was becoming more common. It seemed the farther they explored into the maze, the more grievers they were crossing paths with. Usually, the pair of runners could sneak away before even being noticed—but today didn't end that way.

They'd managed to fight it off, but weren't getting away unscathed. Minho got away with a few surface wounds, ones that would hardly need treating. Y/N wasn't so lucky. The griever had thrown her, leaving her with raw skin on protruding parts of her body. It caught her arm with its blade.

Y/N just wanted to get back to the Glade. She hurt all over and found it hard to run at a steady pace. Her body was exhausted from the fight but was equally as torn apart with emotion. How long could they keep doing this? One day, one of them was going to get seriously hurt or worse. Minho eyed her worriedly, seeing the blood that soaked her shirt.

"You alright?" He nudged her with his arm as they ran.

Y/N found it hard to look at him in the moment. She was trying to resolve some things in her own mind. Was she afraid of going into the maze everyday with the chance of facing the grievers? Or was what she really feared was losing Minho? "Yeah. Are you?"

Minho half shrugged. His mind was obviously clouded with something as well but wasn't willing to let it go. Their run back was quick and uncomfortable. Back in the maproom, they went about their regular end of the day routine. Checking over maps, adding new details, losing a little bit of hope. Not able to focus though, Y/N got up and threw her papers together in a lazy pile. She kicked off her shoes and discard them in a corner of the maproom along with her running pack.

"I'm going to go see if Newt or Fry needs help with dinner." The girl tried to explain as she went for the door. Minho could see right through that false confidence. Today had shaken her up.

"Ok," He lift himself from his elbows to his hands on the table. "Go check on your arm too. See you at dinner?"

The girl nod weakly and then disappeared out the door. Minho was worried. But, he wasn't just going to go chasing after her, begging she explain what was going on. As it seemed, she needed some time to get her thoughts back in line. Except, maybe following after her is what he needed to do. Minho grunt and tried to focus back on the maze.

"Woah," Newt reached out his arms carefully like he was trying to slow a raging fire. "You alright, love?"

The girl looked frantic. Y/N was a runner, she saw things in the maze some of the boys here in the Glade never would and yet she always seemed so calm. Something had happened today. "Is Minho alright?" Newt asked, seeing as Y/N wasn't going to start saying things on her own.

The girl nod, which earned a sigh of relief from Newt. Both of his runners were back safe and that was what mattered. What he didn't understand was Y/N's sudden change in demeanour. Quickly, he scanned around to see if anyone was watching. When he noticed everyone within eyesight was occupied, he pulled the girl into the edge of the deadheads.

When he released her arm gently, he saw blood on his hand. He examined where he'd held her and furrows his brows. "What the hell happened out there?"

Y/N flinched a little when Newt once again held her arm and pushed back the fabric to see the wound on her arm. It was going to have to be treated right away. Newt looked up and met her eyes.

"Grievers again." She croaked. "We got away, but—I don't know how long we can keep doing this. There's more and more every week. Someday, something is going to happen to him."

"You're worried about Minho?" Newt asked. "Where is he?"

"Maproom." Y/N said.

Newt huffed. He was a little less than impressed Minho had left his running partner in a frenzy to go off on her own after both of them had nearly died. Typical Minho. It wasn't that Minho didn't care, he just wasn't the best at acting on what he knew was right. Newt knew Minho was well aware Y/N was in just as much distress as he was, but he was afraid to say or do anything about it.