Different | The Maze Runner / Newt ¹ ✓

{1.7}

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but if I did and Minho was around *Evan Peters voice* I'd tap that fuckin' ass

-✼-

Newt's scream was the last thing I heard before the Doors closed for the night and everything went silent. It was such a sharp contrast to the previously deafening sound of the Doors scraping against the stone floor that my ears rang. For a few moments, Thomas and I stayed completely still as we tried to process what we'd done. Minho's ragged breathing was the only sound in the Maze.

Then a sharp cry from Alby brought us all back to our senses. Minho groaned in pain as he tried to stand, leaning against the wall for support as his knees buckled beneath him. He looked terrible; sweaty, dirty, and all scratched up. Alby, however, looked much worse. His clothes were ripped, his arms covered in cuts and bruises. I didn't need any confirmation to understand what had happened to him. Alby had been Stung.

"Greenies," Minho gasped, teeth clenched, "if you think that was brave comin' out here, listen up. You're the shuckiest shuck-faced shucks there ever were. You're as good as dead, just like us." Minho looked disappointed as he turned to me, like he was ashamed of my decision. "Sorry, Dylan. Ain't no goin' back to your lover, now."

I blinked in surprise, that being the thing I'd least expected him to say in a time like that. "What?"

"Newt," Minho said in a 'duh' tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking abou—"

"Shut up, Dylan." Minho rolled his eyes. "You obviously like him and he obviously likes you. And it's like a shucking tragedy because...well...you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. And both think the other is looking at the ground." He paused. "If you ever tell anyone I ever said anything deep like that, I'll break your necks."

I looked down at Alby and noticed how terrible he actually looked. His dark skin was dotted with perspiration, his unsteady breathing coming out quick and shallow. He'd always seemed so calm and collected that it set me on edge— our leader, on the brink of death.

"What happened to him?" Thomas asked quietly.

"Don't wanna talk about it," Minho huffed as he checked the leader's pulse and bent over to listen to his heart. "Let's just say the Grievers can play dead really well."

"He was Stung," I asserted. "No doubt about it."

Thomas looked surprised. "Is he going through the Changing?"

Minho laughed dryly. "You two have a lot to learn."

"Is he going to die?" Thomas blatantly asked, then cringed as if he hadn't meant for it to come out that blunt.

"Since we didn't make it back before sunset, probably," Minho responded honestly. "Could be dead in an hour- I don't know how long it takes if you don't get the Serum. Course, we'll be dead, too, so don't get all weepy for him. Yep, we'll all be nice and dead soon." He said it like he was oh-so-certain and that really ticked me off.

Thomas's face twisted like he had sucked on a lemon. "We're really going to die? You're telling me we have no chance?"

"None," Minho confirmed blankly.

"Minho, have a little faith," I told him. "There is a possibility we can survi—"

"No," he snapped. "No, Dylan, there isn't. No one has ever survived out here for the night, you hear me? No one. Not a single one of them. Adam, Charlie, Will, they never made it back, and we never saw them again. There's no hope for us."