𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐏𝐀𝐇 - TMR, Minho

𝟢𝟤𝟪，𝐨𝐦𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬

The bonfire burns bright, crackling and casting shadows across the Glade. The sounds of laughter and music fill the air. I try to let it wash over me, try to act like I belong in it, like I'm not a stranger in my own skin.

My head feels heavy tonight, and the faces around me blur, some familiar, some not.

I sit on a log as I stare into the fire. The flames lick upward, the heat stinging my eyes, or maybe it's the drink. I've had a few sips of Gally's moonshine.

My shoulders tense before I even turn to look when I hear a voice.

"The sun is yellow and the sky is blue and if you mix that, you get green, AKA the grass, which for some reason doesn't reflect to the sky but it's probably the sea that does and the sun is yellow because— I don't know. Does that make sense? Grass can also be yellow and if you mix that will yellow you get yellow and yellow is the color of stars and that is also the sky so it does kind of make sense. Minho promised me he'd make me see stars one day, you know? Maybe he now hates me so much that he will actually beat me up to do it."

Mental.

I watch her from the corner of my eye as she talks to Newt and Nick, clutching one of the jars like it's the last lifeline she has. Her braids swing as she talks. They look old and frayed, like she hasn't taken care of them.

I don't know why I notice that. I don't know why it bothers me. She gets my full allowance to look as ugly as possible.

I turn back to the fire, my hands tightening into fists. The strange things she's saying do not interest me.

And sooner or later, she will start with the "Minho, remember when... Minho, we used to..."

Leave me alone, I don't remember.

It makes my blood boil. She's clinging to this version of me that doesn't exist. She's trying to drag me back to a past I can't see, to a person I don't know how to be.

Of course I realize that there might be something about our past. Maybe she isn't manipulating me into thinking she's a good person. Maybe she's telling the truth.

But after all, once again, I can't be a person I don't know how to be. I can't remember things without memories. I can't imagine, not even a little bit, what it was like before.

I take another swig of the moonshine. She starts walking toward me, so I quickly brace myself. Newt and Nick watch her with worry in their eyes.

She's almost here when Nick tries to stop her, his hand on her shoulder. I can't hear what he says, but I know he's trying to pull her back, trying to tell her to leave me alone. She's stubborn, though, and she shrugs him off, shaking her head. The look on her face is desperate.

I hate that she's always looking at me like I'm the answer to something, like I'm the only one who can fix whatever the hell's wrong with her mind. Like I'm someone she can rely on. Or like I'm a weak little thing.