CH. THIRTY - FOUR
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When Newt mentioned she had to go train with Minho in the first week, she thought it would be all fun and jokes and basically what it always is with Minho.

Ha, no.

"You're lucky," he says once she starts complaining again. "The boys I train get something heavy on their back as they do the push-ups."

She gasps. Jumps up. "Well, if they get something on their back, I want something on my back."

"You're already struggling to do twenty push-ups, Greenette!"

"I don't give a shit. They get something on their back, I get that, too."

With a sigh, he takes a block of wood. Holding it up, he raises an eyebrow. "This good for the feminist?"

She nods in satisfaction. "Yes."

"Well, I'm glad you at least stand up for yourself." Minho motions for her to start doing the push-ups again. Halfway through, he lies the heavy object on her back, which for sure adds something to the challenge.

Push-ups aren't her thing at all. Her arms burn, her heart stings when she does something her body doesn't like, and sweat's soaking her clothes already.

"What's push-ups gonna give me while we run?"

"Trust me, if you ever reunite with a Griever, you want all your muscles to be strong. Not just your legs," he says, slightly more serious. "But perhaps we should move on to the actual running now."

An automatic eye roll. "Yeah, that seems like an awesome idea."

They're been training since seven thirty, which was two hours ago, and all they did was the basic fitness exercises as Minho explained how they work inside the Maze.

"Four laps around the Glade. You've got to tap my shoulder after each round, or it won't count. Get back here as fast as you can." He holds up a stopwatch. "Let's go, Greenette!"

Alright. No count from one to three or anything.

She nods, then has vanished while thinking through a great tactic. If she goes on maximum speed now, she'll be tired before she even hit two laps. But if she doesn't, she might get a bad time.

Eventually, she the first lap a bit slower, the next one fast, the other one slow again, and the next one as fast as she can.

By the time she has reached Minho, she wants to fall down and just drown in the cool grass.

"Hm. Not bad." He looks up from the stopwatch. "Do it again."

"Sorry?"

"Do it again," he says. "The Maze isn't gonna wait for you to catch your breath. Neither are the Grievers."

She throws her hands in the air. "This is my first training! Can we take it easy?"

"No," Minho replies, now more serious than she has probably ever seen him. "You either want to be a Runner so badly that you'll push yourself to your limits, or you basically have a death wish and want to go out there just because you can. And we do expect you to draw your maps perfectly and figure out a few things on your own."

"Haven't you figured everything out already?" A groan. "I'm doing this so the others won't lose hope, not 'cause I'm so desperate to find a way out."

"Well, then you're lazy, lying piece of crap," he states. "Four laps. Right now."

❀

After a freezing shower, she's standing inside Gally's hut. Excess water is still wetting her shirt and her pants stick around her skin from how sloppily she dried off, yet she gives him a pointed look.

"I think we need to talk," she says. "Because no matter how much I don't care about anyone opinions, I do care a little bit about yours." A pause, then she adds, "Only a little bit!"

Though his lips are pursed together, there's still a tad of amusement in his eyes. "Alright."

"Alright." Another long pause in which she looks around. "Well, we're not gonna stand here as we speak! Sit down."

He, quite fast, obeys as she joins him, crossing her ankles and lying her hands on her lap. "It's good," he eventually says. "That you don't listen to me."

She frowns. "How come you like that I don't agree with you? I'd say you want me to obey to you."

"Yes— well, no, but yes— whatever." A chuckle. "Lemme explain."

An automatic smile forms on her face. There's a lot of things to say about Gally and a lot of things to cringe at, but he for sure is adorable when he's trying to explain something that makes him nervous.

"I mean," he starts. "I mean that though we're together now, you still don't give a shit about my or anyone's opinion, which is good, 'cause then you can stand up for yourself. And when we didn't like each other, you definitely disagreed with me, and I kind of liked that, so since you didn't lose that, I... still kind of like it."

She stares at him before her confused expression disappears by a laugh and squinting eyes. "I'll keep that in mind. That's so—"

"Do not call me cute, Joan."

Her eyebrows fly up. "...adorable?"

He groans. "Moving on— you wanted to talk."

"Right. Well, even though I don't really care about other's opinions, as I said, I do want us to be on one line. So I just want to make clear that you won't get angry once I'm officially a Runner."

"As long as you don't die in there."

"And you know I don't want to escape, right? I'm staying here with you, like we planned, and since there's no way out, we're definitely staying here."

"For sure."

"Also, I have a theory."

He nods. "Your theories have been correct so far. Spill."

"I think we're not even meant to escape at all," she starts. "I think the Grievers are supposed to lead us away from the Maze so we also won't try to do anything in there. We've both seen that the outside world is destroyed and in my memories, they spoke about Immunes. I wasn't one at the time, not sure if I am now, but I helped with it, at least. So I think they sent us here to continue living. Here, the world isn't burned down and there's no weird viruses or creatures."

Another attentive nod as he waits for her to continue.

"A Greenie gets sent up every month because that's when they find a new Immune. They do tests to check them before the whole Box journey. The Creators get us the supplies that are left."

"So you think we're here to be kept safe and continue living?"

"Yes," she confirms. "Otherwise, the Grievers would've come inside the Glade already."

"But if the world is destroyed, why are the Creators able to send us so many things?"

"Because they're not as young as us, and also not Immunes. Meaning that they're slowly dying. Maybe they're giving us their clothes and everything. Or they are kept safe because they've got to succeed in keeping us safe. So we can continue living."

He runs a hand down his face, frowning slightly. "Hm. Alright. It can make sense. Why would there be so many boys and one girl, though?"

"Maybe the immune system of girls is different." She shrugs. "There's less immune girls. Or maybe I was a mistake. Or perhaps... I don't know. Could be for any reason."

"Don't say that again."

"What?"

"That you're a mistake," he says sternly. "You're not."

"I didn't specifically mean that I'm a mistake— just maybe me getting sent up—" 

"Well, you getting sent up is the best thing that has happened to me so let's not," he decides. Readjusts himself on the bed. "Your theory might be right, woman. But eventually, we're all gonna grow old and die unless they never run out of Immunes to send."

"Or," she says awkwardly, "I'm here for that exact reason. If there's no other females, and I was told that I wasn't an Immune, then maybe it's just not possible for females to be immune to whatever. And I was the closest thing they could get to an Immune since I helped with a cure, so... you know."

His face falls. "That is absolutely fucking not happening."

Woah, Gally forgetting about the slang? Extraordinary!

"Would you, though?" She asks. "Not now, obviously. But in ten years, if it means saving society."

"I can't answer that. Damn, woman, you're scary with those theories and questions when you're desperate to figure them out."

"It is what I first thought I was here for, you know?" She adds. "If that's right—"

"It's not," he says. "I refuse to believe that. And I'd refuse to agree with any of it."

She decides not to ask any further. Not only is it awkward since they've been dating for only four weeks, but she also has to admit he's got a point. Even if having kids means saving society, imagine only getting kids for that. Imagine knowing, as a son or daughter, that your parents only had you because they had no choice.

Also, she hates the idea of having kids. Annoying little rats.

"Come here." Out of a sudden, his arms are wrapped around her and she's somewhat drowning in them. Yet butterflies explode everywhere, so she doesn't mind.

His voice tickles against her neck after he placed a quick kiss on it. "You should probably stop thinking this much about all of that and just focus on better things."

"Mhm," she hums. "Then I assume I can stay with you for the night?"

"Obviously."