The Maze Runner Imagines

Minho [36] (Happy Christmas)

[a/n: I know the holidays can be a great time for some people just as it can be a hard time for others. If you're like me, maybe reading and writing are your safe place right now, and I want you to know that's okay. You're not alone and I'm with you.]

 It had almost been a year since Y/N arrived in the Glade. A year of wondering what went on in the world outside of the maze walls, if there even was a world out there.

A chill settled over Y/N. A slight draft had been sneaking in beneath the door to the map room as of late. The Glade didn't exactly have seasons, but this time of year was certainly colder than the rest. It was a subtle difference, but any small difference was massive in the Glade where everything was painfully routine.

The girl got up and rubbed her arms, trying to warm them slightly. Ever so conveniently, hanging on the wall ahead of her, was Minho's hoodie. Shamelessly, she reached for it and thew it over her frame. He was nowhere to be seen anyways.

Footsteps thundered outside. Someone was racing towards the map room. Y/N braced herself for whoever was approaching and whatever it was they were obviously coming to get her for. If it was Minho, coming after her because he somehow knew she'd stolen his shirt, she might just finally accept that there was no explaining him or anything that happened in the Glade.

There were a few people she had it narrowed down to: First was Chuck. But, the strides sounded too far apart for how tall he was. The footsteps she heard were powerful and consistent, not a sweet little shuffle. Second, was Newt or Frypan. But Newt's gait certainly didn't sound like the one approaching due to his limp. And Frypan? Well, he didn't like to run all that much.

Last, of course, was Minho. He was one of the few who would run with such urgency when there was seemingly nothing to run so eagerly for. And of course, being his running partner, Y/N knew very well the sound of his strides. She listened to it all day, everyday.

The door to the maproom flew open. There with wide eyes and a chest rising and falling quickly, was Minho.

"Y/N!" He called out at her. Then, in his typical grandiose fashion, he jumped down the steps and towards the table. But today, he didn't stop at the table. He moved straight for Y/N with his arms reached out for her.

"Minho?" She quipped back, hoping it would stop him, but he just kept moving forwards. Her stomach flipped and she feared she was about to face his wrath for stealing his hoodie. But that wasn't quite the case.

Minho grabbed her from where she sat, got her to her feet, and began to push her towards the door.

"Uh—" Y/N didn't dare try to dig her heels into the dirt because Minho would push right through it. "What's going on?"

"No questions," Minho got her out of the maproom but then stopped pushing. He moved to her left side, threw his arm over her shoulders...and then covered her eyes with his hand. "Just keep walking."

Y/N stifled a laugh. "Yeah, well, I can't see."

"That's the point," He was no longer pushing her, but more so trying to guide her through the grass of the Glade. For as reckless as Minho could be, he was still smart and cared very deeply. He wasn't, at least today, just going to let her fall into the stream. "It wouldn't be a surprise if you could see it."

"I swear, Minho," Y/N spoke in his general direction, even though she couldn't see him. "If you made some kind of griever petting zoo—"

"Would you just trust me?!" He complained, squeezing the girl tighter against himself and playfully wrestling her. The pair laughed as they trampled through the grass tripping over their own feet.