cunty pixie or crispy bob brenda?

Temporary title is “Not Fast Enough.” It’s subject to change because I bet there’s a ton of fics called that already.

Basically Thomas kills himself in the safe haven, unable to cope with the loss of Newt and the guilt along with everything he's been through. Minho finds him minutes before he jumps, tries to stop him, but leaps forward a second too late and he is unable to grab him. He retrieves the body from the bottom of the cliff along with Gally and probably others. People tell him he doesn't have to, but he isn't about to dishonor his best friend. He failed to save him (wasn't fast enough, he failed, he's a failure what kind of runner is he who couldn't even save his best friend he couldn't save ANYONE it's his fault why did they make him a runner when he's NEVER FAST ENOUGH--) but he wouldn't fail him again in death.

Minho withdraws into himself, hurling himself into work, working his body and mind to the point of exhaustion, never a moment's rest because if he's idle for even a minute the thoughts come creeping in. When Jorge kicks him off work ("Go relax, son, you'll keel over and die at this rate") he goes for long runs in the woods for hours at a time. His lungs feel tight, his legs burn, but it's okay because it's familiar. For a moment he can pretend he's back in the Maze again. Everything is simple, he's going to finish his run and come back to the Glade and say hi to Alby and grab a hot meal from Frypan and eat it with Newt and Ben and listen to Chuck rambling on about whatever happened that day all dead now all of them because he failed because he couldn't even do his most basic fucking job as a runner and a leader. He should have been faster. He should have been the one stepping in front of that knife, running at a Griever, should have been there to save Newt in his last moments. What kind of leader was he?

He closes his eyes, lost in the memories, and doesn't see the root. Minho goes flying, feeling his ankle give a sharp twinge of pain. He lands on the leafy forest floor with an oomph, knocking the breath out of him. Minho just lies there for a moment, feeling the twinge subside and turn into a dull ache that spread through his leg. Well. He'll have to crawl back now, he supposes. Or just lie here until someone comes along and rescues his sorry ass. As if his thoughts summoned it, a voice came down from one of the trees. "Wasn't expecting to find you out here."

Minho glares up from his spot on the ground. "What do you want, you shank?" The voice belongs to Gally, sitting on one of the larger tree branches, his back against the thick trunk. He doesn't look at Minho as he speaks.

"A quiet place to sit. But we can't have everything, can we?" Gally raises his eyebrows, obviously commenting on his less-than-stealthy entrance, and Minho huffs, annoyed.

"Didn't take you for the thinking type." Gally's demeanor becomes a bit more wistful at that. "Yeah, well...sometimes it helps. Thinking, I mean. It's not good to just bury it all. I come out here because it reminds me of them." Minho shifts uncomfortably. They both knew that burying it was precisely what Minho was doing. He gestured around at the forest, trying to change the subject.

"It's just trees. How could that remind you?" In response, Gally twisted a leaf from the branch nearest him and turned it over in his hands. "Look around. It's not direct, but they're here. They're always with us, you just have to look." Minho gazed around at the forest, the chirping birds, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees, the tiny bugs skittering away from where he dug his hands into the leaf litter. A sandy-colored lizard sunning itself on a log. Minho could almost imagine his friends here with him. He would point the lizard out to Newt. "Look, it's you." he'd say. Newt would scoff. "That's a bloody lizard, Minho. There's a difference." Minho would turn to Thomas, demand his opinion. "Come on. You cannot look at this and not see Newt's long-lost sibling." Thomas would laugh, and Minho would turn back triumphantly. "See? Thomas agrees!" "He never even said anything!" "Yes, well, it was implied." And Newt would insult him, but he wouldn't mean it because among friends, they never did. And then they would stand up and head back to the main camp and grab lunch. And they would be happy and together and alive and now they won't be because he wasn't fast enough. Minho started back to reality. The hole in his heart suddenly hurt so much that it took Minho's breath away. He registered a wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. Minho felt a surge of anger. He turned his face away from Gally, hiding his tears, refusing to cry in front of the other boy.

"Stop it. I'm not doing your little mental health exercise. I'm going back." He tried to jump to his feet, only to be stopped by a stab of pain as his ankle protested. He grabbed the trunk of the tree he was leaning against, letting out a grunt.

"Not with that, you won't." Gally responded. Minho hissed in pain and anger, limping slowly away from him. "Shut up." Gally let out a long-suffering sigh, and suddenly Minho felt an arm loop around his back, Gally's body pressed against his own. He released a yelp of surprise. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Taking you back." Gally snapped. "With that ankle, you'll sooner fall down a ravine and die." Minho growled under his breath, but he knew Gally was right. Like this, he wouldn't get back until hours past dark at the earliest. The sun was already low in the sky. "Fine." "Fine. But I'm not about to give you anything for this." Gally scoffed. "Why would I want anything? I'm headed back soon anyway, may as well take your sorry ass with me."

"Oh shut up." “If it makes you easier to drag? Gladly.”