tough love ✔️ | pre-the maze runner minho

03

MINHO RETURNED THAT afternoon to find Frankie and tidy heaps of maps arranged all over the table.

She spent the whole day cooped up in there, straightening lines, erasing faint traces of mistakes, overlapping maps and rearranging them in hope of finding a pattern.

Not even Nick or Alby could coax her out of the room (the former couldn't help but wonder if it was her way to deal with her sadness of being brutally rejected by Newt, but he kept it to himself) so Frypan tossed her an apple and threatened to make Minho bench her again if the fruit wasn't eaten to its core.

They exchanged acknowledging nod, then proceeded with their own jobs: her cleaning up her mess and him drawing his route on a blank piece of paper.

"Heard from Alby earlier."

"What?"

"That you're being a dull-witted dude even when you're not out scouring the buggin' Maze."

"Am not."

"Are you looking for a hundred different ways to die? Stay in the Maze overnight, being squished by the shucking walls, and starvation?"

"I ate breakfast and now going to dinner. How is that dying of starvation?"

Minho glared at her menacingly, muttering, "Slinthead."

She replied, "Shuckface."

Then the day carried out as usual, as normal as a dinner of nasty casserole could be.

〰️

FRANKIE WAS ONE-OF-A-KIND. That's not news.

Even Hank, in his fourth day here, had heard of her unique character. She was a woman of few words. Independent, smart, determined. She didn't open up to a lot of people, or people in general. She spent most of her days alone, out of the Glade, and her social interactions were limited to breakfast, dinner, and late night talks to a few honored ones.

But she was observant. She knew all Gladers by name, by job, by character, and actually exchanged words with them when necessary.

Doug particularly idolized her. He told Hank of his difficult first days, when he would go to the Deadheads and cried alone at night because he was afraid of being judged if the tears came in the middle of the day. She came by one time and called him by his given name.

"She sat down next to me and I was stunned. I thought she didn't even know that I existed," Doug scrunched up his nose, "Maybe the other Keepers told her 'bout me. Anyway, she told me that we're family and we have each other's backs. That we all can come to her if we're troubled and she'll definitely listen."

"She doesn't look that approachable to me," Hank shuddered involuntarily.

"Let's try this. Mornin', Frankie!"

Frankie paused her jog and nodded towards the two boys. One was waving enthusiastically with a big grin while the other was just... grimacing.

"Morning, Doug. Hank."

(Hank's eyes widened, "Doug, Doug. She knows my name.")

"Leaving already?" Doug hollered again.

Frankie shrugged, "Not gonna let Minho bench me for one more day. You good?"

It took Hank a few seconds to realize that she was actually asking him directly. He blushed, "Oh! Um... Yeah."

"Good that."

As if on cue, the door of the Map Room swung open to reveal Minho. He had both hands on his hips and yelled, "Oi, slinthead! Get back here!"

Frankie raised her arms and made the number six with her fingers as her legs shuffled backwards, so she was approaching the South Door while facing the Keeper with a thin smile.

Minho cupped his mouth to amplify his frustrated shout, "Frankie!"

She ignored him, turned around, and sprinted towards the now-opening Door. When the gap was wide enough for her to squeeze through, she ran down the corridor and headed towards Section Six.

("Whoa."

"Whoa's alright. She's one of the few who could get away after acting towards the Keeper of Runners like that."

"Is she dating him?"

"Everything's platonic in here. Told you, she's like a dude," Doug raised his eyebrows, "Minho told everyone that he often forgets Frankie's a she once.")

The crisp morning air greeted her skin as her speed slowed down to a steady jog. She recited her steps effortlessly as she turned left and right, through a rectangular cut in a long wall, taking notes, dropping vines. Every few miles she slowed her pace but she didn't stop for breaks or snacks until she reached the last dead end. Then she turned around, made a right turn, and walked slowly towards the Cliff.

The sky was bright and the sun was shining on full force when she reached her favorite picnic spot. She remembered a playground, where she tried to balance herself over a long, thin beam of painted wood. And she did just that; placed her right foot by the dangerous edge, swung her left over the infinite sky as her body leaned to the right a little. Planted her left foot by the dangerous edge, swung her right over the stone as her body leaned to the left a little, half her torso out of the Maze. Again and again until she reached the other end of the corridor.

Then she sat down, feet hanging over the endless chasm of bright blue. She took out her lunch pack and ate.

Putting herself in danger's way was actually an act of defiance. She was just a pawn in the Creator's game of variables and experiments, and toying with her life at stake was a way of saying that she didn't want to be a mere chess piece anymore. That she had control over her own life, that she could die if or when she wanted to and mess with the result of this cruel test.

In the Maze, over the chasm, she was free. She felt like she could fly, if only she spread her arms open like wings and let the wind swept her feet away.

She wondered if that was what Newt felt when he stood at the top of the wall.

Frankie thought of waiting another half hour before returning, so she could feel the exhilarating rush of adrenaline when the Door close just as she arrive, but the thought of Minho, the Glade, and the punishment Nick referred to as benching wiped her intention away.

AN:
starting to realize that there aren't many lily collins gif but omg she's so pretty i just can't