Chapter Text
“You’re insane.”
Thomas barely glance at the man next to him, too spent to even lift his head. He can feel the adrenaline seeping out of his veins as he come down from the rush. He’s still grinning, he realize, which would most likely prompted Minho’s comment. But he can’t help it, because he’s elated. Finally, after days of being herded around like a lost sheep, he can make a choice out of his own will and damn, it feels good.
“Seriously, greenie, your brain must have lost a cog during the drop.”
If only Minho can keep his mouth shut and let Thomas enjoy his happiness.
“I just save your ass, man,” Thomas reply. “Both of you.”
Unexpectedly, Minho laughs. “Yeah, you did,” the runner say, leaning back on the wall and let his eyelids fall shut. “And kill a griever in the process. Very impressive for a greenie, I’d say.”
Thomas is just about to snap about being called greenie – the nickname still irked him to no end – but found his voice lost in his throat when he see the serene expression on Minho’s face.
“Thomas,” is all that he can say. “My name is Thomas.”
Minho open an eye, a ghost of smile playing on the corner of his lips. “I know.”
Then Minho goes back to closing his eyes and Thomas, well, he can’t help but to stare, caramel orbs trailing the sculpted face that for once, looks so relaxed. Minho right now could be the embodiment of tranquility, and Thomas find it hard to believe that this is the strongest, fastest, the most dangerous man on the Glade.
“It’s so peaceful, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
Minho opens his eyes, and Thomas try not to pay attention to the rise and fall of those broad chest, covered with a thin blue shirt that clings too tightly. “Being out here,” the runner elaborate, eyes still fixated at the clear sky. “Just you, and the silence, for once. No one telling you to go to sleep and prepare for tomorrow, no need to wake up early and run, no need to think about finding a way out, no need to worry about the future.”
“Just yourself, free from responsibilities.”
And somehow, it clicks on Thomas’ mind. He had been so raptured on getting out of the Glade, restless to do something that counts. But Minho, Minho had spent three years running, trying to find a way out and as the Keeper, he holds the weight of everyone’s expectation on his shoulder.
Only now Thomas can see how worn out the runner is.
“It is,” he found himself saying. “Ironically.”
“Oh?”
“This was supposed to be the most dangerous place. And yet we find peace here.”
“Only because you kill that griever,” Minho retort. “Good thinking, greenie. Quick on your feet too. You’d make a great runner.”
“Is that an invitation?”
Minho laughs again, louder this time and it sounds like the clinking of crystals in Thomas’ ears. “We’ll see about that. Come tomorrow, Gally will insist that you got punished for breaking the rules.”
The distaste must have shown on Thomas’ face because Minho smile, softer this time. “Don’t be so harsh on him. He just wants the best for everyone.”
“By insisting that we do nothing?”
“By insisting that we stick to the rules that had kept us alive these past three years,” Minho reply, and Thomas can hear the steel in his voice. And somehow, it managed to make Thomas feel ashamed for thinking badly of Gally.
“But let’s not worry about tomorrow.”
Thomas looks up when he feels Minho’s hand on his shoulder, giving him a light encouraging squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy the sky tonight, while we had the time.”
“Yeah,” Thomas smile back at the runner.
And for the first time since he wake up at the box, Thomas feel like he’s at home.