thomas is now 32 and minho is 34. they spend their time at the safe haven mostly lounging around, making up for the years that they couldn’t.
: MINHO
when pent up, minho runs around the perimeter of the island for hours at a time. he even has his “run days” sometimes, where he’ll be gone all day and just runs. he imagines the soft sand he’s running on is still the hard concrete of the maze. he still remembers the various repeating layouts pretty well, but he’s lost them as time has gone on.
he helps gally build the homes and buildings they need occasionally as well. hes a real physical health nut and takes any chance he gets to exert himself. he’s not one for eating healthily though, so whenever they find a bag of chips in a random crate he’s the first one on them. he’s gained a little bit of a weight and more belly, but he, nor thomas, minds.
minho is constantly stealing clothes from everyone he knows. he’s even accidentally stolen a shirt from someone he didn’t know and had a really awkward confrontation. he mostly steals gally’s clothes since he wears short sleeves, slightly cropped tops (for hot weather of course), and sleeveless tops. he steals thomas’ clothes aswell but really only to sleep in since he gets weirdly cold at night, and thomas wears long sleeves.
: THOMAS
thomas runs with minho sometimes. never on the run days (he has no idea how he can still go for so long after all these years), but when he’s just itching to get his legs moving again he’ll join him or even ask to go for a run. he prefers to work his arms though most days.
he actually doesn’t pay as much attention to his physical health as minho, and cares far more about his mental health. he asked around multiple times if people would want him to start a mental wellness group and people didn’t seem to care until he started a more one-on-one therapy kind of thing and he had appointments twice a week. he strays from the therapy speak those at WICKED used on him and keeps it real with the others, even if it may hurt. he truly just wants the best for others and knows his advice is helpful and wants to put it to use.
he confides in brenda when he can’t confide in minho. he advocates talking about how you’re feeling constantly but is bad at it himself, and no matter how many times minho tells him he can talk to him, he feels like he can’t. he thinks minho won't understand for how much of a "jock" he is. when he eventually does open up, minho responds perfectly and thomas mentally scolds himself for not doing this sooner.
: THOMINHO
thomas really likes minho’s lightning scars. thomas catches himself feeling them when they lay together and just feeling the bumps. its not even fully an attraction thing, he just really likes the way they feel. it soothes minho too so its a perfect combination.
minho is very big on physical touch. not sexual, he just really enjoys feeling thomas’s hair and gripping his shoulders and holding his waist. thomas nor minho are very good at showing their love, but minho is much more physical with it than verbal.
minho follows thomas everywhere. thomas has to tell minho multiple times that he can’t sit in his room during an appointment. minho says he “wont even listen” and he’ll “file stuff, i dont know” but thomas let him stay once and he immediately tried gossiping to thomas afterwards. he had to shut it down immediately.
they didn’t get together until their late 20’s. thomas hadn’t realized he was in love with him and minho was not going to lose his best friend, one of the only surviving gladers and the one who made it through the night in that maze with him all those years back. he would’ve lived his whole life without ever telling thomas how he felt if thomas didnt confess on a run one day, to which they made out under the sunset.
minho doesn't do the "lovey dovey" stuff since he says it makes him cringe, but every time thomas talks sweet to him he's a mess. it shockd and flusters minho every time thomas says such romantic or vulgar things so casually, and thomas knows.
shorter/simpler hc’s time..
minho calls thomas “thumb”. thomas hates it and minho never tells him why he calls him that. there is no reason.
thomas is OBSESSED with minho with his hair down.
minho is OBSESSED with thomas’s facial hair
thomas just stops talking at times and minho is the only one who still understands him
thomas's body isnt fairing as well as minho's has with age, but he's still fairly active
thomas's voice got SIGNIFICANTLY deeper, while minho's didnt really change. he loves it.
thomas has internalized homophobia due to WICKED setting up teresa and him from the start, while minho has never cared that he's "supposed" to like women.
minho got a buzz for practicality once and they both hated it
OKAY THATS IT ive already written too much. if you read to this part i love you and Yes
Thomas spent many nights remembering. Remembering everything they had been through. Both the good and the bad. Primarily, he remembered Newt.
He spent agonising nights laid awake, staring at the canopy above him, remembering the blond haired Brit and how he made Thomas feel. Thomas’ heart would lurch every time Newt so much as glanced at him, never mind when he lips would perk up in that heart melting smile, a glimmer in his deep brown eyes that gave Thomas hope. A world in which this beautiful boy (both inside and out mind that) exists can’t be all bad, can it?
Of course, some nights he would remember different moments. Like the anger Newt held in his eyes when Thomas showed up at the crank palace. Or the absolute desperation in those final haunting words. The three words Thomas could never bear to think of but could never escape.
“Please Tommy, please.”
Thomas awoke yet again drenched in a cold sweat, salty taste of tears in his mouth as he shook silently, unable to escape the memory that plagued him. It had been one month since they took down WICKED. One month of freedom. Supposedly. Thomas guessed that none of them would ever truly be free, the terror of WICKED’s torture too deeply ingrained to ever really be gone. Some of the immunes, the younger and newer kids that had only just begun to be part of WICKED’s games had adapted seemingly well. Fitting in with friends and roles with an ease that seemed to come naturally. Many of the Gladers, however, were still working on that.
Not outwardly, of course. They all put on a brave face out in the Haven. This was paradise after all. Frypan had slipped back into his role as cook easily enough, seeming at peace behind the cookers, though any close observer would see the occasional tremble of his hands and the sadness in his eyes if a moment were left just quiet enough to dwell. Minho ran. Of course he ran. It’s what he did and what he was good at. He’d spend his time making sarcastic jokes and teasing the others into his humorous little conflicts. But his eyes never quite committed to the role.
Thomas, on the other hand, hadn’t quite adapted. He had, of course, been all too happy to escape the previous responsibility he carried, letting others step up and take over as he slunk back into his memories and his regrets. Except the responsibility he felt for Newt’s death. For Teresa. For Alby. For Chuck. For everyone they had lost and would never see again. He held onto that responsibility with a grip like death. Day by day he made it though. He would work in the fields or help Gally out with building. He’d do his part, remembering one of the Glade rules he’d always remember. But everyone knew he was not the same. His eyes would never light up they way only Newt could make them. He smiled occasionally, but never managed to laugh. The grief weighing just enough of him down to keep its hold.
And so it continued. Thomas would work, he would eat, he would sleep, and he would wake up shaking with silent tears, no matter the memory. They all hurt the same. It always hurt to imagine Newt and the love they had shared while knowing he would never experience it again. Not like that. Not with anyone like him.
This pattern continued for; god Thomas couldn’t say. Time meant nothing anymore. Whether a day or a week or an hour passed he could hardly tell. It was just one moment of grief to another. Newt’s soft eyes filled with love to Newt’s eyes filled with rage and desperation and -
He couldn’t handle this anymore
But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to
One day, on one random morning Thomas couldn’t name if he tried, he awoke to a different atmosphere. There was a kind of urgency as people were running past the windows. Minho, bursting through the door with barely a breath to spare, insisting that Thomas had to come and had to come now.
So he was out of bed with a new feeling, one he couldn’t place, but one that for once wasn’t grief. Anticipation maybe? And he ran alongside Minho for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.
And then they’re at the gate (it had been built more for peace of mind than anything else, they didn’t really need walls and gates in the Safe Haven), and people are moving to let Thomas and Minho through. And Frypan is crying. And Gally is stood with his mouth agape. And Brenda is looking at him with a look he can’t understand, one of joy and hope and excitement.
And Thomas all but stops breathing. Because he must be dreaming. Or perhaps its more of a nightmare. And reality will take him soon. Because this cannot be happening.
And then the lips he always loved quirk up into that shy smile that always made him weak.
“Hi, Tommy.”
Okay okay okay I wrote this thing years ago and then I reread it and basically rewrote it and here it is. Kinda glad haven’t written in years
Day 2: Rare Pair Appreciation Day – Newt and Teresa (platonic)
**A/N: Based off this post. Thank you guys for that post, it gave me feels. Hope you don’t mind that I ran with it. @asrasjulian @overglorified-trash @agent-sapphire @00250
Angst ahead. I never see any mention of Newt and Teresa interacting with each other. I realized I needed it.
***
Teresa slowly lifted herself on weak arms, a harsh dry cough sputtering from her. She gasped a breath, then another. When she was finally able to take a full breath she opened her eyes, steadied her breathing.
Sand. That’s what she was on, her hands - scarred - and knees sunken at different levels trying to steady her shaking body. Another cough, a swallow, a blink, a breath. She lifted her head, looking forward.
The sand stretched on for miles ahead of her, and in the distance there was laughter, there was music. Tom.. she thought, or perhaps breathed. She blinked, she remembered.
No, Tom won’t be here. No one would.
On shaking limbs and an empty head, she stood. Balance, right foot sinking deeper in the sand. A stumble forward, an arm outstretched. A blink. Focus, Teresa, focus.
Another deep breath.
And then.
A step forward, another shaking step, another arm tossed out for balance as the beach lurched sideways. Steady, Teresa.
As her boots found their steadied place in the sand, her arms finally relaxing - albeit shakily - at her sides, her breathing a bit calmed, she made her way closer and closer. The laugher louder, the music growing, movements and figures taking shapes. People, there are people.
A quicker step, a half jog - no, just walk, Teresa. You don’t have to rush anymore. Just walk.
“Hey there.”
Teresa blinked her eyes at the girl next to her. Dark skin, curled black hair, a kind face sprinkled with freckles. “Welcome to the Safe Haven.”
“What?” Teresa breathed out shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
The girl clapped a small hand on her shoulder. “Let me rephrase. Our safe haven. Looks like you didn’t luck out the first time around, eh?” the girl laughed out.
Teresa blinked at her. “Is this... is this the afterli-?”
“Sorta. We don’t like to make it that dramatic. Paradise, works.” A toothy smile and then, “let me show you arou-.”
“Teresa?”
Teresa turned toward the low voice, a hint of a rasp to it. She recognized that face. Memories swirled just out of reach.
“It’s Teresa, right?” the boy slowly stepped forward, reaching out with a thin dark hand. “Do you remember me? The Glade? It’s Jeff.”
Teresa emptily lifted a hand as the memories slowly dripped back in.
“First time we met you were getting out of a coma, too. Looks like time has a funny way of repeating itself, huh?” the boy laughed, dropping her hand. “Sorry to see you here.”
Teresa scanned his face, a long scratch deep across his right cheek. “Are the others all here?”
Jeff shrugged. “More than I’d have hoped, to be honest. But yeah, they’re here.” He looked over his shoulder and back to her. “Come on.” He turned to the girl, then. “Thanks, Rachel. I’ll take it from here.”
The other girl nodded and walked off. Teresa swallowed, blinked, stepped forward in Jeff’s footprints. “We could get you cleaned up as much as possible, but you’ll still have those scars. Not much to do about them,” he chuckled, gesturing to his face. “Here we are.”
Teresa tore her eyes from the water to look forward. Face after familiar face, memory after familiar memory.
“Hey! Look who made it!” The music slowed to a stop as the boy on drums stood nodding at her.
“Alby...” she started, but stopped abruptly.
“Welcome to the Safe Haven,” the boy continued somewhere to the right of her vision. “A bunch of us are here so you should...” his voice faded, everyone silencing.
Teresa’s eyes stayed locked on the black eyes across the circle.
The lanky boy stood still as a familiar, younger boy slid off his shoulders, slowly backing a step away. She knew Chuck’s face, but couldn’t focus on him, could only stare at the black plated eyes, the black veined face ahead.
“You...” came from scarred lips, stained with venom that had been scrubbed off, but never fully gone. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Newt,” Alby’s voice came. “Newt, easy. We talked about this.”
The lanky boy took slow, tilted steps forward toward her.
Teresa stared ahead, gaping, until words finally came. “No, no you were supposed to make it. You were supposed to be on the berg.”
In a blink, those black eyes were inches from hers. “Why are you here?”
“Newt, we saved you. Tom is alive. He saved you!”
The unblinking eyes stared back at her, a slight tilt of the boy’s head.
“Doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
“We saved you,” Teresa shook her head. A stuttered step back. “I got him on the Berg for you.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” A step forward.
“Newt.”
“Tommy loved you. You were supposed to be with him!”
“Newt, take it easy!” Voices called out around them, others slowly taking steps forward to the pair.
“Why did you leave him?” Black venom landed somewhere on her neck, on her shirt, on her hands.
Suddenly a hand was at Newt’s chest and Alby was between them. “Newt, buddy. Take a walk, we talked about this.”
Those black eyes stayed on hers for another minute before he turned, walking off.
“What...What happened? I thought I was fast enough? I thought we made it?” Teresa stuttered out, heat from the fire licking at her burns. No pain came. Not anymore.
“It’s not your fault,” Alby spoke quietly from her side. “You didn’t do it.”
“He didn’t make it,” she breathed. “He was supposed to make it.”
“I like to think we all were,” Alby shrugged. “Can’t help fate. It had other things in store for us. We’ve just gotta make do.”
“Is he still...?” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Alby exhaled next to her. “Sometimes. I guess it doesn’t fully go away when you get here. He’s better, he can’t completely gone here. But it comes and goes. Winston, too. Ben. Others.”
Teresa shook her head. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
“Well, it is. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can start to accept this place for what it is.”
She looked over to him, past him to the younger boy next to him. A small smile appeared on her face. “Hey, Chuck.”
The boy’s round face turned to hers with a smile. “Hey Teresa. Sorry to see you here, but no offense, I’d rather it you than Thomas.”
She laughed, for the first time since she could remember. “Me too, Chuck.”
Silence settled between the three before Teresa finally stood. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Boots pressed in the sand, a soft crunch beneath them echoed by the waves on her left. The water blended in with the dark sky. Ahead, a barely visible silhouette of a boy, head turned down, a lock of hair hanging from his forehead.
“He loved you too, you know?”
The back of the boy’s sandy blonde hair stayed still, facing the dark waves.
Teresa waited. Slowly, the boy turned, hand rubbing a small spot on his chest. Though his eyes were plated black, there was a sadness to them, a realness, something human in them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time, Newt.” Teresa exhaled shakily. “I thought...” she cut her words off. There was no use in saying what she thought. She’d thought wrong.
“You were supposed to be with him.”
She looked up when the boy spoke. Stilled, waited, listened.
“I knew I could never. Not the way I was.” His veined hand dropped. “Not the way I am.”
A swallow. A burning behind her eyes.
“Minho?”
She blinked, and nodded for him to continue.
“Is Minho with him?”
She nodded slowly, recalling the boy grabbing Tom onto the berg. “Yes, he’s there. And Brenda. Gally. Frypan.”
Newt nodded. “Good. Good. I never want to see any of them again.” His voice broke on the last words, “I never want to see To-,” he stopped. A choked breath, and then he buckled.
In a moment Teresa’s knees were in the sand, inches from the boy’s. Newt was hunched over, body arched forward where he knelt. She put arms around his neck, felt a shudder beneath her hands.
He pulled himself back from her arms, sitting back on his knees. The plated black eyes faded, almost to a too dark brown, almost to his original color - though glassy, filmed over, tears dripping their way down faded black veins. “I couldn’t do it, Teresa. I couldn’t do it.” The words spilled out of him as Teresa clutched his shoulders in front of her.
“I know.”
“I couldn’t let him see me like that. I thought he’d have you. I thought he’d have you.”
“He’s not alone, Newt. He’s not alone.” She squeezed his shoulders. “He has Minho. He has all of them.”
Newt’s heaving breaths slowed to a steady rhythm again, his eyes clearing from the tears.
“Hey,” Teresa smiled, dropping her hands into her lap. “Remember that time, a while back, when we had just escaped WICKED? Aris jammed the lock on that door and Tom had just made it under?”
A small smile appeared on Newt’s scarred mouth.
A breath. She continued. “Remember how he flipped Janson off before running?”
“Yeah,” a choked, crack of a laugh came from Newt. “He did it again when we jumped out of that window.”
“Out of a window?” Teresa raised her brows.
“Yeah,” Newt smiled, staring at a spot in the dark sand. “We had just rescued Minho - or rather, he’d rescued us - and Tommy’s brilliant idea was to jump out of a thirty story window into freezing cold water below.” A sniffled laugh.
Teresa exhaled on a laugh of her own. “That sounds like him.”
“He flipped Janson off then, too.”
“Seems like a signature move.”
“Yeah.”
A breath.
A memory.
A laugh.
Teresa tilted her head. “Remember in the Scorch? Walking up those sand dunes toward those mountains?”
“Those damned mountains,” Newt laughed.
“You hated that idea.”
“I did,” Newt looked up now, any trace of tears gone. “I thought it was the dumbest idea I’d heard and this is after Tommy dragged us into a maze with Grievers.”
“Tom had a knack for dumb ideas.”
“He did,” Newt nodded. “But we always followed through on them.”
Teresa shrugged, pulling her legs from beneath her and repositioning herself a bit more comfortably. “That’s because we always knew he’d get us out in the end.”
Newt nodded and then stopped, tilting his head, brows coming together in a question over his black eyes. “Did we, though?”
They shared another loud bark of a laugh, letting it echo across the waves, back to camp on the other side of the beach.
“I suppose not,” Teresa smiled.
“I guess you agree to some bloody stupid plans when you love someone,” Newt’s laugh faded, his eyes darkening a tint.
“I guess you do.”
A breath.
Another memory.
Another breath.
“He loved you, too, you know.” Teresa repeated. “With everything he had.”
Newt only nodded, eyes locked on the sand between them.
“Even if he never said it.”
His eyes shifted to her’s now. His head tilted up, looking at her straight on. “I know he did.” A look of confusion came over his face. “He told me every day.”
Teresa tilted her head.
“Just like he told you every day,” Newt nodded to her. “He told me when he thanked me for making him a runner. When he kept his eyes on me as we ran though the maze, making sure I kept up with my stupid leg,” he laughed.
Teresa smiled at the way the boy’s eyes started to lighten, the faded darkened veins softening in the moonlight.
He continued. “He told me when he helped me climb up those stupid dunes, and then, of course, back down them.”
“He told me,” Teresa smiled at her memory, “when you all came in to rescue me. Before the Scorch, I mean. When he pulled me out of that testing room. And when he sent me down that zip line before him, do you remember that?”
Newt laughed. “We were so worried when he didn’t come after you.”
“I really thought he was still in that building.”
“Nah, I knew he wasn’t.” Newt shook his head. “He was just being a hero, as usual.”
“How about when we found him at that party?”
“Yeah! How about that?” Newt tosses his hands in the air, before leaning back on them. “We’re out here running around the desert, fighting off cranks and he’s out here partying it up with them.”
Teresa barked out another laugh, curling over her knees where she sat. She lifted her head back up, wiping her eyes. “I swear, every time I reunited with him, one of us was unconscious.”
“Do you remember that time Jorge stole that truck - Bertha?”
“You fought so hard for shotgun, I thought you were going to take a swing at Minho.”
“I almost did,” he laughed. “Since that day any time I’ve called shotgun nobody’s argued. Not once.”
Teresa threw her head back in a laugh, basking in it.
A breath.
Silence.
Teresa opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. “I’m sorry, for the way I did things.”
Newt stayed still, black eyes focused on his hands.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You were,” he offered. “In one way or another.”
An inhale.
An exhale.
“Thank you,” Newt’s eyes found hers, “for saving him. For getting him out.”
Teresa nodded.
“I know you loved him, too."
Teresa swallowed. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”
Newt shrugged. A sniffle. His head tilted back to look at the stars, and Teresa found herself doing the same. “Tommy saved me every day. Even in the end.”
Teresa smiled at the stars. “Yeah, I guess he saved us all. Even in the end.”
He sat on the edge of the shore. He could still hear their laughter in his memories, even over the sounds of the waves, coming toward him but never quite reaching him.
He tilted his head back looking at the stars, grateful for every moment with them, every laugh, every hand grasped in darkness, names whispered, eyes locked. They had both saved him. Even in the end.
"should we... You know... Climb the stairs and see what's on the other side?" Gally wrote, a slightly worried look on his face as minho read the message. They walked next to the wall for 2 days, every now and then stairs would appear next to an always closed door but they never climbed them.
" I don't know. "minho breathed out. " what if we find something we don't like behind...? What of is still wicked. What of we're not as free as we thought?"
" well. There's a wall. We're not exactly free." Gally tried to make the words sound ironic, raised an eyebrow and nodded at the wall. "anyway. The symbol. - he kept writing- you think the animals are so strange because of it? Or was it the flare? We ate them. And drank water... Are we going to die?" Gally almost threw the paper at him in panic. Minho stopped next to a new set of stairs, looked up and then at gally.
" maybe we should find out what's behind. Find out what we're fighting. " he resolved starting to climb. Unconvinced, Gally followed him.
Leaving the camp had been way easier than both of them thought would be, they grab a few things and leave.
Things were fine at first, the cross the forest starting at east of the camp, find small covered places to rest and sleep under the starry sky, the hunt for food and even find a small river. The island is way bigger then they imagined and, if gally had to be completely honest, he also has doubt it's really an island.
They slowly map out the forest, its a bit harder then the maze but at least trees don't move from their position. ("I'm pretty sure we've already went this way, Min... I recognize the tree." "they're all the same gally." "maybe... But how many trees have you seen with a lightning shaped root?" "I don't know. I look ahead not at roots." "believe me... We've already passed here." they get lost too, plenty of times, mapping is a lot harder then the maze in the end.)
Almost a week after they left animals start to change, they're harder to hunt, more strong, big and aggressive. And mutated. A rabbit with six legs and pointed teeth, hummingbirds with eagles claws trying to tear apart their skin, a fox the size of a wolf. Both boys start to regret leaving the camp, leaving their safe haven, but they go on until they leave the forest behind them. What they find ahead is even worse then mutated animals.
A huge wall running for miles with sometimes some stairs leading them up and doors, always locked.
And a symbol minho noticed during one of their inspections. A nuclear symbol.
[is that something slightly related to the future in safe haven during finding you again? Maybe.
Do I have an answer for the wall and the symbol and what it's behind it? Most definitely NOT YET.... I just made it up. I'm sorry... I'll find an answer I swear...
"Gally..." Minho's voice was low and soft, a breath of wind carried far away on the waves, he walked close to the edge of the cliff stopping to stand next to the boy. "what are you doing here?" kindness was something gally never knew how to react to, anger was easy, he could deal with Thomas growling at him under his breath, whispering how much he didn't deserved to be there or to write chuck's name on the stone, newt, fry and everyone else were kind enough, Minho was something else. Minho was... Gentle. A quiet kindness and soft voice.
"looking." he simply answered nodding at the camp below, people were setting everything for that night bonfire, he sneaked out before they could say anything.
"well...it's a nice view I have to admit it." minho hummed with a smile. They stayed silent for a few minutes, side by side looking down at their friends before gally spoke.
"I was thinking... - minho suppressed the urge to make a comment on that, it didn't felt like the right time for a joke - I think I'll leave." Gally didn't turned to him, stared out at the sea, scared of how minho would react.
"what?" the boy looked stunned, he couldn't believe what he just heard. "what are you talking about?"
"I will leave." he repeated, like minho had not understood.
"You... You can't!" Gally finally turned, eyes dark, he smiled sadly and shook his head.
"no one would notice. It would be better for everyone."
"I would!" Minho's voice echoed around them, he reached out and grabbed his arm standing right in front of him. "I noticed you weren't around now... You really think I wouldn't notice you disappeared?" he hold tight, so tight it almost hurt.
"you would stop notice after a while."
"NO!" minho yelled letting the arm go and grabbing his shoulder shaking him. "stop talking bullshit like this!" he almost sent him falling on the ground.
"minho..."
"shut up. Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup!" he pushed him back, both of them tumbling on the grass, Minho on top of him. "I would always notice, you dumb slinthead." he put his head against gally's chest, holding the front of his shirt and trying so hard not to break down crying. Gally awkwardly put an arm around his shoulders, holding minho close, suddenly the thought of leaving seemed so stupid.
"if you really want to leave - Minho's voice caught him off guard for a moment - then you'll have to take me too. We can leave together. Wherever you were planning to go. Just take me with you." he almost begged and Gally found himself nodding slightly holding him closer.
"a race." said minho, voice maybe a little to enthusiastic as he left the shoes under the tree.
"for what? It's like 5 meters, we can easily walk to the sea, Min." replied a lot less enthusiastically Gally, sighing deeply as he realized that it was a lost battle.
"the one who lose - minho waved his hands - goes to fry and take back here dinner."
"5 meters just to see whose going to get dinner? Look Min, I'll go directly there, ok? I volunteer." minho laughed, and Gally would be damned if that wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, it would make up almost for everything.
"scared of a little run, Captain?" he joked cupping his face and kissing him lightly on the lips.
Gally wanted to tell him, he had wanted to do so for months, since they arrived, hell he would have told him on the Berg but then Thomas got shot and it wasn't the right time. By then everytime he tried to tell him something was in the way, a work here, a work over there, Beth kindly grabbing the log he was carrying and shooting him a smile. "we surely don't want you to drop dead just because you're too stubborn to sit still." and "what part of light work you don't get? Or did you forgot about this?" and poked at his chest, of course he didn't forgot, a bit hard to forget, but as she said he couldn't just stay still as the others worked, he had to help.
So he ended up not telling minho, and of course he had to propose a race after one of the hottest days they had since arriving. Sure there was also the fact tgat he didn't wanted minho to feel even more guilty but hiding wasn't exactly the best solution for that.
In the end he accepted. 5 meters weren't too much, and he run for a lot longer barely six months before. He, too, left the shoes by the tree feeling the cool sand under his feet. Not a big deal, he decided, and minho would easily win, they both knew. How wrong he was thinking things would be easy.
Minho sprinted toward the sea and Gally tried, he really tried to keep up with him, a bit slower maybe but he tried. He was half way through their race when he tripped, or, well, that was what minho thought hearing the thud on the sand.
"ehy, tripped over your feet?" Minho turned smiling, calm waves touching his feet. The smile died immediately from his face, he run back falling on his knees next to him and turning him on his back.
"Gally... Gal come on... Ehy..." he held him up against himself, briefly checking his head and looking around to see if someone was coming their way. It was surreal, it was supposed to be a small run, a few meters, not even fast, and yet now gally was unconscious in his arms, barely breathing. It was wrong, not supposed to happen, Minho couldn't understand why something like this was happening. Why gally?
It was after a few more seconds, that for Minho felt like ages, before Gally took a shuddering breath followed by a weak cough as he opened his eyes a little.
"Gally!" minho didn't let go of him, if possible he squeezed a bit harder, a hand caressing his face and eyes still clouded by fear. It was that what gally noticed first. The fear. He groaned slightly at the sight resting his head against Minho's chest.
"damn... Knew it was a bad idea." he murmured tiredly trying to regain some control over his breathing, still short and somehow painful, he still felt dizzy part of him knew that if he dared to close his eyes in that moment he would faint again.
"bad idea?!" Minho's tone was panicked in a way he heard maybe twice in his life, and always because of him. "you... You fell! You shucking fainted! I thought you were--" he stopped short eyes filling with tears he couldn't stop not even if he wanted.
"Min... Min stop... It's not... I'm ok, see?" he looked at him trying to wipe away the tears.
"you're not shucking ok gally! You... You..." he let his head fall against his chest feeling the heart beating still too fast. "why didn't you told me something was wrong? Did you got hurt in the city? Or maybe even here. Or is it because it's too hot today... Damn gally tell me!"
And he wanted to, he really did but seeing him crying over him in that way was too painful for words to come out. So he took minho hand and placed it on his chest, on the scar under the shirt, he closed his eyes resting the head against his shoulder to not see Minho's eyes getting wide in horror.
"it's OK. I forgave you long ago." he said holding him as he cried and apologized, sitting on the beach as night fell upon them.
(it wasn't supposed to end good... Or, at least not yesterday when I wrote it. It was pure angst but ehy... It was 3am so... Fluff ending is better, right? *still plans of writing the other version, sorry*)
