"Psst. Thomas!"

He lets out a groan. "What? I'm trying to sleep here."

I hang over the edge of my top bunk bed so I can look at him. "How did the talk with Teresa go?"

That wakes him up. In a second, he's on my bed, beaming. "So well! It was awkward at first, but then it was just like old times. Then we recalled some memories, and I was surprised she remember all that."

I gulp. "What sort of things did she remember?"

"She spoke about my blue phase, which I got when I was nine. My walls, clothes, shoes— everything was blue. And she remembered! And she knew so much more."

One part of me wants to tell him that Teresa likes him too (she has been denying it, but it's clear), and another part feels like that's betrayal, so I don't.

When Thomas finishes telling me everything, we're both smiling. "Damnit. Now I'm too energetic to go to sleep."

I look at the clock on his nightstand. "It's five. We can already get up. How late did you say you and Minho go running in the morning?"

"Six," he explains. "You wanna come with us?"

"Nah. I'm already gonna be running with Minho the whole day, and I can't even stand him."

Then sit.

When the memory replays in my head, I shake it, and clear my throat.

"Alright." Thomas chuckles. "At least come wake him up with me? Last time, I almost tripped over Gally and Minho was so startled by me that he somewhat killed me."

And then I remember one of the firsts nights here, when Minho woke me up and I thought he was an intruder, too. And then me falling on top of him, and Lyndon and Newt coming in.

I remember his hands on my hips, both catching me from falling off him and pushing me away. His breath on my face. A smirk but also widened eyes.

"Okay. I'll help," I decide. "But let me change first."

He grins. "Dressing up for Minho, huh?"

"What?" My face falls. "No. I'm changing because first of all, I'm not planning to come back in this hut until tonight, and second of all, I'm in my pajamas."

"Not that he would mind seeing you in shorts like these and—"

I push his face away, then give him a kick. "Shut up."

With another chuckle, Thomas jumps off the bed and takes clothes out of his suitcase as I take mine.

Yesterday, we went through some running techniques, and today I'll be running with Minho. I don't like running with baggy clothes, otherwise I would've gone for sweatpants. I take shorts with the material of leggings, and a white shirt. Casual. Nothing that makes me seem like a grandma, but nothing that can make Thomas give more comments about 'dressing up for Minho'.

Thomas does seem to enjoy running in gray cargos and a blue shirt. He's already dressed when I have made my outfit decision. 

"You can go stretch," I hint, turning my back to him and basically everyone in the room. Even in the dark, and even with boys I think I trust, it's not exactly the most comfortable place to change.

"Got it." He clicks with his tongue. Halfway at the door, he stops and turns his head. "Clint, turn around, you pervert."

"I wasn't—"

"You definitely were." Thomas then closes the door behind him, and the silence takes over.

By the time I'm tying my shoes, Clint coughs. "I swear I wasn't looking."

I snicker. "You're good, Clint. Don't worry."

"Okay." He sighs in relief. "Well, I'm going to sleep for a bit longer. See ya."

"Good night." I give him a nod, then disappear outside.

☀︎︎

"At five freaking AM next to my bed," Minho grumbles. He kicks a rock into the distance. It lands in some bushes, next to Jorge.

"Was that meant to hit me?"

The boy looks up as if he hadn't seen Jorge before. "If I would've wanted it to hit you, then I wouldn't have missed. So no."

"Because it wouldn't be the first time," Jorge adds.

Add that, my eyebrows fly up. Minho rolls his eyes. "That was years ago. I'm surprised you remember."

"I don't forget stones flying to my head. How in the world would I forget?"

"One, you're old. Two, I didn't miss, so I thought I caused you some brain damage that made you forget." A pause. "I thought you had brain damage in the first place."

When a laugh escapes from my mouth, I slam a hand on it. A few kids around us attentively watch Jorge's expression change, and some laugh, too.

"You didn't just say that to me, did you? You gave ten seconds to apologize," Jorge replies.

I thought he was friends with Minho! Or whatever brotherhood they have!

But in the corner of my eye, I notice Janson watching. Maybe that's why Jorge is suddenly strict. He actually always has to be strict, but he isn't unless Janson is around. Right now, he is.

Minho looks over at Thomas with a grin. I nearly palm my face.

"One," Jorge says. "Two. Three. Four."

I see Thomas shooting Minho a warning. He nods, as in 'just do it'.

Minho's not going to do it.

"Five. Six."

"Do it," Thomas blurts out.

Jorge's voice rises by each number. Janson is taking steps closer by each number. Kids grow more silent by each number.

"Nine."

"I'm sorry," Minho says fast, as emotionless as a robot.

"I don't think you meant that. Say it with meaning, hermano."

Janson's watches, fully alert. I'm not sure, but I do think Jorge can get fired if he doesn't do his job well, so this is perfect for Jorge to give his monthly proof that he's a great instructor.

Well, great in Janson's vocabulary.

Unfortunately, it was Minho who he picked on. Not the easiest kid. On the other side, he can be even sterner and prove even more.

"Say it with meaning," Jorge repeats. "Or I'll send you right into the Shack."

The Shack? I frown. Maybe that's the misbehavior hut Newt referred to in the beginning of this journey.

Something about that tenses Minho. I know him well enough to know he's not going to humiliate himself by apologizing, though he doesn't seem happy with Jorge's new threat.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he even adds.

Minho's eyes narrow. "Fine. I'm sorry."

There's a few seconds of silence. Jorge stares at Minho, who stares back. Not full of hatred. They just... stare. Wait for something to happen.

"Very well," says Janson. I have no idea who he meant to say that to. Maybe both of them. "Get to work, everyone."

I wait until Janson is completely out of sight before stepping closer to Minho, half-grinning. "So you've been in that shack before?"

"Oh, shut up." He takes a stopwatch from Jorge, who winks. Then we turn around and make our way to the start of our run.

"What's it like? Is it a torture room or a room like in The Parent Trap?"

"It's an unstable, dirty shack with an itchy, squeaking bed. The temperature is either cold or hot. Nothing in between. And it's boring as hell."

Okay, neither of my predictions.

"What did you do that made you end up there?"

"Got caught sneaking out. By Janson." He shrugs. "Jorge and Mary would've let me go. But Janson couldn't help but to lock me up in what might actually be his house."

I chuckle a bit at that. "Alright. Noted. Be careful around Janson."

"If you didn't have that noted already, you're an idiot."

Back to the disliking each other, I see.

"I did have it noted," I snap. "Just like I'd love to have all the things you hate noted. Might as well piss you off."

"If you say so." He grins, for some reason. "I'll give you the first thing. Physical touch. Absolutely despise it."

I pull a face. "No, you don't. Thomas told me you love hugs and that you secretly love any sort of touch. Besides, why would you have wrapped your arm around me? Lay with me on that couch? Hm?"

He also pulls a face. "Can Thomas just not tell you everything?"

Instead of replying, I continue. "So sadly, I've got you. You want me to make physical contact with you, to 'piss you off'."

"What? That's not true," he defends. "I do really hate touch. From you. You're disgusting."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure I am." I give him a nasty glare. "We're literally two feet away from each other. If I would've been disgusting, you would've been way further away from me."

"Thanks for the reminder," he spits out, quickly taking some steps forward. "Now come on, Blake. We need to run. Or is this pace your sprint pace? Wouldn't surprise me."

"I recall you telling me I have nice legs," is all I tell him, and then he's silenced.

The insults he gives are the most basic ones, because he's likely not able to come up with any other ones. And the basic ones aren't even true, so that sucks for him.

I just don't really understand how sometime, I like him, and then despise him. Perhaps because his personality is remotely similar to mine. And I sometimes like myself too, before I start to despise myself again.