∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Memories, along with pain and exhaustion, started flooding in when I felt something cold and soft on my forehead.

I jolted awake, sitting up straight. I scanned around, only to find Jeff sat across me, holding a cotton pad, his eyebrows raised at me. My eyes then drifted towards the door, where I saw two dark brown eyes staring back at me.

Newt.

He was staring at me blankly, almost cold, empty, with his arms crossed to his chest, and I know why. He had every right to be mad at me.

I was stuck on the cot, meeting Newt's glare as Jeff continued dabbing a cotton ball with some antiseptic on my forehead, sighing every now and then.

"Guys, if y'all keep on arguing like siblings in your damn minds, please do it when I'm gone," Jeff muttered, loud enough for Newt to also hear.

"Newt–" I was cut off when the door opened and closed in one swift move.

He walked out.

'Cuz he hates me now.

"Is...is he okay?" My voice was quiet, eyes still glued to the door.

"Nah, dude. That guy was worried all day for ya. Never seen him get all quiet and panicky 'n stuff." He shook his head and continued, "Newt was usually the calm and collected one, but he was so agitated earlier. He's never like that."

"And don't even get me started with Minho," he added, chuckling.

Why was he so amused?

"He couldn't stay still," he continued, shaking his head, "He held a whole ass meeting for you and covered for you from Gally. He was about to go into the maze–" He was once cut off again when the door opened.

Speak of the devil.

Minho slowly stepped in, closing the door behind him, his eyes drifting from Jeff to me. He glanced at Jeff once again and slightly jerked his head, signaling him to leave the room.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Jeff muttered, immediately shoving the cotton pad to Minho's hands before exiting the Med-hut.

Fucking perfect.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit talk, nor do I need them," I muttered quietly, avoiding his eyes. I know that if I glance at him, I would go insane on him, worse than the last time.

I was about to stand up but Minho went right in front of me, blocking the space where I was supposed to stand, making me stumble back in the cot.

He placed a chair directly in front of me. We were now on the same level, eye to eye but he was still a bit taller.

Minho wasn't saying anything. Instead, he poured some antiseptic on the cotton pad and held out his hand, looking at me with slightly raised eyebrows.

I frowned as I looked down at his hand. "What?"

"Your hands." His voice was quiet.

"It's already clean–"

"It's not."

I glanced back up at him, frowning even more.

"There's still dirt on your hands. Look, there are small rocks still stuck." He pointed at my hands. "Besides, even if it was already cleaned, I still need to make sure. But it obviously isn't, so let me."

My brows furrowed even further that I felt them almost touching, confused as to why he was being so strange. My right hand felt like a magnet, automatically placing itself on his palm when he brought it closer to mine. He gently held it in place as he started dabbing the cotton across my hand.

I sat there in silence, looking at him, observing him. He leaned closer to my hand, his eyes narrowing as he made sure he was thoroughly cleaning it. His hair was messy, sticking out everywhere and it wasn't fixed by a gel or something. He was in his usual running clothes, wearing his leather vest and backpack.

And he was being scary. Scarily gentle.

I bet his mood swings are worse than mine during my period.

We both sat there in silence, but I kept wincing once in a while from the stinging pain of the antiseptic on my wound.

"Ow," I grimaced, slightly pulling back my hand away from him.

He let in a sharp breath, his face scrunched up, "Sorry." He then took my other hand and continued to clean the scrapes on my palm.

It's ironic. He apologizes for this minor pain, but not for the hurt he caused last month, which shattered me.

"Stop frowning, it's gonna make the cut on your forehead worse," he muttered. I was too stunned to reply, my mind blanking out.

I went back to analyzing him, but not daring to start a conversation or an argument. If I start to talk, it won't even take a millisecond before I start having a meltdown in front of him, which is the last thing I would want to happen. He already saw it one time accidentally and I won't repeat that mistake.

Time went by so slowly but he was finally done with it.

I immediately took my hand away from his. "You can leave now."

He ignored me and gently took my right arm, rolling the sleeve up, revealing that ugly scar.

"What–"

"Did it heal already?" He held my arm with his left hand while the other held my sleeve upper to my arm. He brought it closer to him to examine it with furrowed eyebrows.

Taken aback, I didn't answer him, just glared at him even though he wasn't looking at me.

With furrowed brows, he looked back at me. "Does it still hurt?"

I don't trust him. It's difficult to trust someone who hurt you, because who knows if they'll do it again. They did it once, they can do it again.

"You think I buy that act of yours?"

"What?" Confusion was written all over his face.

My voice was quiet. "You don't have to act like you care, it's embarrassing." I pulled my arm back once again before turning away from him, unfolding my sleeve down to my wrist.

"What are you saying?" His voice hardened.

"That you're putting on a fake caring facade so I will trust you again, and then if you did get my trust back, it's gonna be another opportunity for you to hurt me." I shrugged, trying my best to be unbothered.

I didn't know how he reacted but he was about to respond. Though I couldn't handle it anymore. The memories of that day came rushing through me again. So I stood up, planning on exiting the room because I was on the verge of crying.

I was a few steps away from the door, my hand reaching out to the knob, and that's when I heard his voice.

"Wren," It was faint but it was filled with desperation.

My hands were trembling on the doorknob, gripping it tightly.

"Can we talk–"

"Can we not?"

"Please, Wren."

My jaw clenched, and my lips hurt from biting them constantly just so I wouldn't lash out at him. I don't want that anymore, but then again, he makes it hard not to.

And I would have left that room without any hesitation, but it was Minho. His voice was almost in a whisper, desperation consumed his voice. Hearing his voice made me think that his usual unreadable and arrogant demeanor was crumbling apart.

All of that was confirmed when I turned around once again to face him.

The sight of it made me break. The confident Keeper of the Runners was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes glistened against the warm light of the candles that lit the whole room. His shoulders were slumped, not his usual posture as he was always confident, but right now, all I was seeing was his glossy eyes staring right at me, a boy desperately wanting to be given another chance.

All these swirling emotions and feelings of anger and hatred were gone in a second, and then suddenly, I remembered what I thought about him in the maze.

I hated the pain he caused me, but I don't hate him. I'm just deeply hurt.

And I just wanted him to know that I was trying.

I wanted him to see me.

"Why?" I breathed out, a lump of pain blocking my airways, scrunching up my face to hide what I really felt, which was hoping that he knew what he did and that it really messed me up. Hoping he's gonna apologize.

But I doubt that.

I doubt he's gonna do or say anything about what he did and he'll just end up talking about himself or talk shit about me.

I stepped closer to him, "Why should we talk when you made it crystal clear that I should leave you alone?" I said quietly.

"Why do you keep on doing this, huh? Does it make you feel good hurting someone just because they're lower than you? Just because you're 'smarter' and 'better'? Or are you just cruel to me?" Tears started to well up, stinging my eyes.

"Stop–"

"Because all of those seem true," I continued. "You think you can win an argument by insulting them so they could fall apart until they can't take it anymore, leaving them to suffer inside their minds all alone, not knowing how much shit they're already having–"

"Why are you bringing this up again–"

"Because you were a jerk!" I snapped, leaving no room for him to reply. "Do you feel fulfilled now? Are you proud of this achievement?" I pointed at myself.

He went silent, continuing to stare at me, his eyebrows furrowed, irritation written on his face but his eyes bloodshot.

I continued one last time, "Did you feel good after hurting me, Minho?" My voice came out as a whisper, my chest tightening as I said those words.

A tear escaped my eyes, down to my cheeks. It felt stuffy, my face felt hot, my breaths unstable, knowing I was talking to someone who made me feel worthless.

Yet despite it all, I still want to be okay with him.

I don't know why. Because in reality, we can never be.

A/N: FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER !!! I'm so sorry for the late updates and that I'm not responding to some comments or messages :< college days have been hectic and tiring but I am actually enjoying thoo !! But yea, unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to edit some chapters but I do them bit by bit. DW GUYS, this book will never be discontinued, I'm just doing it at a slow pace :3 I also apologize if this chapter was a bit sloppy and dull huhu 

ILY GUYS ^^ have a good day/evening <3