#tobekilled

[runnxng]

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meme || not acceptingtobekilled

Thomas, 

     Before you see them I promise all those hickeys aren't really big so don't freak out. 

     Ps, I went to class and I'll be back later

- Minho

[notasubject-blog]

SEND ME ‘COLLEGE’ FOR AN AU: it’s pouring and my final paper is in my backpack so i guess we’re stuck under this tiny awning together. do you think they’d deliver pizza here?   &&   tobekilled

            in retrospect, the impending stormclouds should have been a signal for him not to venture outside in the interest of getting a bagel.

             well, newt thinks with great resignation. hindsight is 20/20, although it sure would've been nice for his foresight to be the same.  he leans against the doorframe of the door that houses the person  whose stoop he has decided  to take shelter  on, hoping that whoever lives here doesn't decide to suddenly open their door.

            all down the street, people are taking shelter on random people's doorsteps. newt is no different         and neither is the other person who's chosen this particular awning.   newt   GLANCES   at  him  briefly,  but  chooses  not  to  engage  him  in conversation.   trapped in the pouring rain under a small awning is the very definition of a meet-cute. he doesn't need this shite right now. 

[runnxng]

tobekilled replied to your post:tobekilled replied to your post:thomouse cause he...

idk why i didn’t see that automatically. mice tryna find the cheese.

b/c it's late ?

[runnxng]

tobekilled replied to your post:thomouse

cause he sneaky? or squeaky? or what? i don’t understand your logic

he runs in a maze built by people bigger than him 

[runnxng]

"No. They're wrong. They're wrong, okay? You're not gonna die."

meme || acceptingtobekilled

     The words Thomas says to him sound like they're      coming from a distant tunnel five hundred miles away.      All he can think about is what Rat Man said. He had     the Flare. He wasn't immune to it like everyone else.      He was d i s p o s a b l e to WICKED and everything     these trials were for. Everything he'd done leading up     to this moment was worthless -- all the fighting, the      words of encouragement ( or the lack of therefore ), the     friendships he's made -- they were all for nothing. He      was just a toy. A Control Subject. That's what they'd      called him and the few others who had been infected. 

     This explained everything -- the constant anger, the      weird thoughts. His urges to hurt someone when he      knows he shouldn't have. The itches at his fingertips      and in the back of his head, the nights he'd laid in bed      thinking long and hard about the way his head felt like      it was full of bees and the one time he'd sworn that one     had flown right out of his ear and up to the ceiling before     disappearing into the hard plaster. 

     It all made sense now. 

     Even though his knees felt weak and he wanted     nothing other than to break down right here and      now, he holds his head up, anger flaring in dark      irises. It isn't directed at Thomas or any of the      Gladers and girls from Group B around him, but      at the man who'd just told him that he was going      to slowly become insane and lose what little bit      of him that made him human. 

     "He's lying-- He's lying! None of us have the     Flare! This is a load of shucking bullshit!" The      words are coming out hard and accusing before      he can stop them and he's not really sure where      this was going to lead them. But he did know one     thing, he wanted to rip off Rat Man's head and he     wanted to do it so badly he could feel his whole body     quivering because of it. 

     Minho grits his teeth together as hard as he can, hearing     the slight squeaking noise in his ears and not even caring     about the pain that it provides him. "Say one more shuck      lie and I swear I'll rip you to shreds! This isn't funny      anymore! Tell us the truth!" But he already knows it's the     truth. It couldn't not be -- He'd known the moment he'd started      getting bad while Thomas was gone. 

     He was going to go insane and die and there was not     a single goddamn thing he could do about it.     There couldn't be a worse way to die.

[runnxng]

tobekilled

     Minho lets out a short breath of air as he looks      over to his best friend probably in the entire world.      Thomas. They've been together for as long as he      could remember-- like, birth probably. Close family      friends turned into brother practically. Without Thomas,      he was nothing. They've been glued to the hip since they      could walk and they've always been together through stupid      adventures in the woods and through out school. 

     Most boys grow up and part ways, but not them.      That's something that he respects and wouldn't      change for the world. They grew up and changed      a lot over the years leading up to this year, but they      never grew apart. Even when Minho started feeling      different about Thomas a few years ago. 

     It hadn't started out as some kind of strong pull,      but more like little tugs towards things he didn't      realize Thomas did until then. Like the certain      way his eyes lit up when he was happy, those little      moments when he stands a certain way that could      be inviting or innocent, the way his lips were shaped      and how they quirked slightly before he really was      going to smile. See, little things like that instead of      what it would probably be cliche like looking longingly      into his eyes or touching him longer than necessary      or how Thomas looked in certain clothing. He didn't      read enough teen romance books to know what was      cliche and what wasn't, though. 

     That brings him back to today, their first day      of senior year. They were almost out of here      and he knew two things for sure. They were      going to make this year great and that he was      probably in love with his best friend. 

     "So, you ready for the best year of      our high school career?" 

[notasubject-blog]

i never tire of looking at you.

why do you always stare at me so?

[notasubject-blog]

for you, i'd bleed myself dry.

the stars themselves would bow to your wonder!