The Maze Runner: One-Shots

New Hairstyles (Minho?)

"You sure you're ready for this, Y/N?" Mjnho quirks an eyebrow at you with his hands on his hips as you stretch your legs.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?"

To be honest, you weren't sure at all, no matter how much confidence you fiend.  Your first time out as a Runner, in the maze, no less, was a little nerve wracking to say the least. What if, for the first time ever, a Griever was out during the day and you became Griever stew? It was almost too much to think about.

As you and Minho made pointless, silly jabs at each other, the Maze doors creaked open painfully slow; the concrete grinding sound was as familiar as your own voice. But this time, you got to enter the Maze itself. Into the heart of the beast itself.

The Maze was exactly how you expected it. Confusing, twisting, and utterly, terrifyingly, beautiful. Vines twisted their way up the walls like hands reaching for the sky. The cracks in the wall pulled against themselves, only ripping a bigger gap in the walls thick concrete.

"Okay Y/N, this is where we part," Minho says over his shoulder to you, stopping at the end of a wide two way split. Your hearts rhythm picks up; whether out of excitement or fear you didn't know, though you were leaning more towards fear.

Minho continues. "Be back here at least five minutes before the doors close. They won't wait for you."

You nod, your throat tight. You could do this, you could. Or at least that's what you were telling yourself.

Minho notices your discomfort and steps up to you, relaxing his arms. "Hey if you're not ready we can wait another week," he says surprisingly gently.

"No!" you blurt. You had to do this for yourself, and you were ready. You hadn't prepared for months just to chicken out. "I'll be okay."

Minho nods and backs up a little, giving you a small wave before he turned to run down his side of the Maze. You watched until his figure retreated and then you were on your own. Great.

You start running down the confusing Maze corridors. While you were running, it seemed more about not getting lost than it did about finding a way out of the Glade. How did Minho do both so easily?

Your half of the Maze was one that you'd studied over and over on the maps. This would've been a good thing if you had realized to pay more attention to the paths that wandered into Minhos side. One wrong turn and you were lost.

"Okay I know this," you whispered to yourself. "Right, left. Straight, um...Right."

The image in your mind of the map became a little more fuzzy as the seconds went by and as you ran on. Soon enough, it was gone completely. You let out a heavy sigh and slowed to a walk. Resting your hands on your knees, you tried not to think about the consequences of not getting back on track. Grievers. Ultimate death. Hooray.

So you kept running. And running. And running. Soon enough you were sure you were more lost than you were before. Great. A creeping panic started to inch its way up to your throat, ready to strangle you with its greedy hands.

"Breathe, Y/N," you told yourself in a gasp. You sucked in an unsteady breath and let out a short exhale. Apparently your breathing wasn't working very well either.

After hours of screaming for Minho, knowing it was beyond useless because of the sheer size of the Maze, you gave up and slid your back down the wall. This was it. Stuck in the middle of the Maze and the sun was going to set soon. Meaning the doors were going to close. And that the Grievers would come out to play.