Minho

The day winter came to the Glade began as usual. You woke before dawn to make breakfast. The note from the elevator yesterday kept popping into your head: "Freezing temperatures. Five months. Down to minus ten." Alby had told you not to panic, Newt had made a list, but the anxiety remained.

And then you walked out the door and froze.

Minho stood by the Labyrinth, looking at the walls. He was wearing a thin jacket.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked without turning around. He always knew it was you.

— I'm a cook, I have to get up early. And you?

— I checked to see if the walls had collapsed from the cold.

He turned, his eyes glittering in the light from the snow.

— Someone's completely lost their minds. Winter in the Glade…

“It’s only for five months,” you said.

He chuckled tiredly: “Okay, we’ll manage.”

His gaze slid over your thin blouse.

— Did you decide to get sick so that I could treat you?

• I'll be quick.

"Yeah, quick," he pulled off his jacket and threw it over your shoulders. It smelled of sweat and forest, and was incredibly warm.

• Minho, you'll freeze.

"I'm a runner, I'll warm up. And you heat the kitchen. Make a heartier breakfast."

You stood in the middle of the white courtyard in his jacket, feeling a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the weather.

---

You cooked all day. Minho brought firewood, came for lunch, ate two servings of soup, and stole your bread.

The council hut was crowded. Minho sat in the corner.

"What are you standing there for?" he called. "I took a seat and brought a hammock, enough for both of us."

• You…

"Let's not be snotty," he said with tired tenderness. "Climb in. I know you're cold."

He helped me get in, wrapped me in blankets, and put a hot water bottle in my hands.

“I’m warm,” you whispered.

• Go to sleep. You have to get up early tomorrow.

The wind howled outside the walls. It was quiet and warm in the hammock with Minho.

“Thank you,” you said.

His lips touched the top of your head.

• If I bother you, wake me up. I'll move over.

You closed your eyes. Even in your sleep, he held you tightly, as if he were afraid you would disappear.