Chapter Text
Thomas awoke at a room at the back of the Berg – Brenda and Newt were crashed out on some soft, rundown couches in the room, while Minho was sitting next to him, a worried look etched on his striking features. Thomas winced as he tried to sit up. The launcher grenade hurt excruciatingly, enough to almost make him regret firing it at the WICKED staff. Almost. Minho had a hand on his waist as he sat up, a hand supporting his head that seemed to throb painfully.
“How are you feeling, shank?” Minho asked quietly as he gingerly ran a few fingers through Thomas’s hair in a soft and soothing way, before his hand moved down to cup Thomas’s face.
“Like klunk,” Thomas replied, while giving a shrug that hurt more than he expected it to. Minho pulled Thomas closer to him, so that Thomas had his face pressed against Minho’s chest. Listening to that steady heartbeat always calmed Thomas down. Given all that he had been through, it should have been impossible to feel a semblance of safety anymore, but that was exactly what that strong heartbeat gave him.
“Where are we heading to?” Thomas mumbled, face still planted in Minho’s chest.
“Brenda said that we were going to head to Denver. I don’t know where’s that, but apparently, it’s a city that’s safe from the Flare, with no infected people yet. Getting in shouldn’t be a problem, since we are immune to the Flare,” Minho mused, before giving a quick glance at Newt. Thomas felt a pang. The news that Newt was not a part of those who were immune still stung painfully at him, and he knew that Minho must have felt worse, since he knew him for a much longer time than Thomas did. “Anyway, we’re going there for a few reasons. Maybe we can find Teresa there, though it’s not really that important to me whether I find her or not. She doesn’t seem shucking trustworthy.”
Thomas glared at him, and Minho glared back. They had discussed Teresa a lot of times already – Teresa was like a sister to him, someone he really treated as family, but Minho could never bring himself to trust her. Thomas understood, as nobody who could survive the Trials would be someone naïve and gullible, but at the same time, why couldn’t his boyfriend just understand that Teresa meant so much to him?
“Anyway,” Minho cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. “Denver is really important for another reason – Brenda said that WICKED installed chips in our brains. That’s how they collected data for their killzone experiment, as well as how they control the experiment Variables by making people do certain things.” Like Gally being controlled to kill Chuck, Thomas thought. “We don’t want to run the risk of WICKED being able to control us anymore, so we’re going to this shank called Hans. He used to work for WICKED, is a friend of Brenda’s and he left WICKED because he couldn’t agree with their ways anymore. He’s a doctor, and will be able to remove the chips in our brain. There’s still a while before Jorge is going to fly there though, so I think we should catch some sleep, alright Tom?”
Thomas nodded. He was too exhausted to discuss anymore, and all he wanted was to fall asleep in Minho’s arms. As much as the Maze was dangerous and full of Grievers, some part of him missed it terribly. The daily runs with Minho through the maze, eating Frypan’s food at a corner of the Maze while bumping shoulders and talking easily with each other, the nights where they returned safely to the Glade and huddled up to sleep, basically every happy moment with Minho ever since that fateful night by the Cliff. Minho helped him to a particularly wide red couch before he lay down next to him, one arm protectively around his lean frame, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds. Poor guy must not have caught much sleep since he was sitting by me all the time, full of worry and fear, Thomas thought.
Unlike Minho, sleep did not come easily to Thomas. The launcher had him sleeping against his will for a few hours, and he didn’t need more. He turned slightly to look at Minho, and stifled a small chuckle at how his hair was still perfectly gravity-defying and not messy in the least after all the near-death experiences they had went through. His lips were slightly parted, his face looking more childlike in sleep – compared to the fierce fighter or laidback jock he seemed like when he was awake. Thomas gently traced a finger over his handsome features, careful not to wake him up. He had always seemed beautiful to Thomas since he first arrived in the Glade, with the muscular build, the chiselled jawline, and the eyes that seemed to curve into a line when he smiled charmingly. Things really developed between them that night on the Cliff, where he thought the both of them might never make it out, but at least he was with his closest friend in the Glade. Thomas closed his eyes and brought the happy memory back for a few moments of solace amidst all the thoughts of WICKED and their evil plans. The memory flared to life in his brain, putting a small smile on his lips.
As the last Griever tumbled over the side of the Cliff, Thomas stepped back from the edge, his heart palpitating like there was no tomorrow. Minho leaned against the wall opposite him, sweat glistening on his jawline and breathing heavily. The adrenaline in Thomas slowly faded away, replaced by the fear and terror that he had no time for when the Grievers were attacking. He sank to the ground and curled into a ball all the strength seeping out of him. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he tried to keep them from spilling out as he was worried that the Keeper would see him crying and think he was a coward – but he could not keep his emotions in check after the traumatic night he just had and soon he started sobbing. His chest heaved as he tried to calm down and breathe properly, but his lungs did not want to listen.
Minho took a few quick strides over to where Thomas was curled up. Thomas expected some kind of admonishing, or at the very least a few snarky comments about how he was a wimp, but Minho just sat down next to him, and pulled him close. The surprise stopped him from crying momentarily. Of all the things he had expected, it was not this.
“It’s normal to be afraid, to cry,” Minho said quietly, as if he could read Thomas’s mind. He had never heard Minho this gentle before. “Anyone would be afraid of four Grievers running at them. Heck, I bet some of the shuckface Gladers would klunk in their pants if they saw just one Griever running at them, not to mention four. Thomas was not sure what to do. After the nightmare of entering the Glade and being stuck in the Maze, it was like he fell into a dream, being held by Minho like this. He wasn’t sure if he should reciprocate, or hug Minho back, so all he did was continue to let Minho hold him.
“It hurts me to see you cry you know,” Minho whispered. “It hurts me even more that you’re crying and stuck here just because you tried to save my life. And Alby’s. I guess you came here for Alby – the Gladers need a leader.” Thomas wanted to tell Minho the truth, that he came in for him, but he was so exhausted that no words could seem to come out. “But thanks anyway. For saving me and Alby. Honestly, shuckface, that was really stupid. And – ” the Runner paused – “And I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you on my account. I would give my life for you, Tom.”
That was the first time Minho had called him something that wasn’t ‘shuckface’, ‘greenie’, or ‘Thomas’. He loved the way the endearing name had rolled off Minho’s tongue. The feeling of happiness blossomed within him, and his heart ached. In a good way. He didn’t know what to say to Minho, his brain filled with the excitement that Minho had feelings for him. Or at least, it seemed like he did have feelings. Did he though? The words were kind of vague.
As Thomas was lost in his thoughts. Minho pulled away before standing up and dusting his knees. The sudden lack of warmth and the coldness of the stone that replaced it quickly made Thomas’s happiness fade away. What the klunk was going on in Minho’s head? Maybe he just held Thomas as a friend, like what a best friend would do, and then decided “no homo” and shucking pulled back.
Minho cleared his throat. “I mean, I – I didn’t mean to say all that, Greenie. That must have come out weird. I – I don’t know why I said that.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I mean… I know you know the girl in the coma. The way you looked at her, concern etched over your entire face. She’s your girl, isn’t she? She’s pretty. You got a good one, bro.” He laughed, but it came out very forced to Thomas’s ears. “The sun is rising soon. I think we should get back, and get Alby as well.” He avoided Thomas’s gaze, turned around on his heels without looking back and headed into the Maze.
Oh. Minho was jealous. The cool, laidback, snarky Minho was actually jealous. Minho thought that Thomas liked Teresa, not him. Minho was utterly mistaken. Minho liked him. Minho actually had feelings for him. These thoughts raced through his head, and propelled him forward – he stumbled after Minho, grabbing on tightly to his wrist.
Minho looked back. “What are you doing?”
“Minho, do you like me? I mean, like that way?” Minho just raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know if you do, but I do. I like you that way. You’re mistaken about Teresa, I’m not into her like that. Yes, you’re right, I knew her before we entered the maze. It’s not like I have my memory fully, but I have bits and pieces that don’t really make sense. At the very least, I know for sure that she was like a sister to me. That’s all there is to it.”
“Oh,” Minho breathed. Thomas noticed a faint blush creeping up his face on his tanned complexion. He looked flustered, which he never was. Time seemed to slow down to a stop. He smiled unsurely, and the shyness of it caught Thomas by surprise. It was a good look on him, as much as Thomas loved the smirks and grins constantly imprinted on his Asian features. The awkward silence lapsed on for what seemed like an hour, and Thomas slowly slid his hand down from Minho’s wrist to lace their fingers together, before he inched closer to the Keeper. He is definitely a Keeper, Thomas thought happily. Minho’s hand was sweaty, as was the rest of him, but he smelled nice to Thomas. The scent of pine trees, wood, and sweat was somehow very pleasant. Thomas did not know if he had experienced feelings like this before he lost all his memories, but it probably couldn’t be as good as this. He wondered briefly if they should have kissed or something, but as Minho led him out of the Maze, he realised that they still had years in the Glade to love each other.
That did not happen. After Teresa woke up, the Glade and the situation pressed them to find a way out of the Maze. As runners, the sense of urgency hanging over the Gladers forced them to dig desperately for a way out before they all died to the Grievers. When breaking out of the Maze Trials, it broke Thomas’s heart when he, Chuck and Teresa left Minho and other Gladers to fight the Grievers while they went into the Hole to punch in the code. Every second he urged himself on to shut the Grievers down as flashes of Minho dying to the Grievers scared the shuck out of him.
After they were saved and brought onto the bus by their anonymous rescuers, Thomas did not feel safe until the point he was lying in the dormitory room with the pretty furniture and Minho lying above him. After communicating with Teresa for a while, he heard Minho’s breathing slow down, and he soon drifted off to sleep himself. Fitful sleeps ensued, but he felt so happy when he woke up briefly to see that Minho had gotten down from the upper bunk and crawled into bed next to him, one arm draped over his own waist. After that, the nightmares retreated for the night.
The illusion that they were finally safe was shattered quickly by the Scorch Trials and Minho’s near-death experience – but now Thomas hoped that this time, after Denver, they would really be safe and ready to lead a new life together away from WICKED. With that happy thought, he fell asleep.