Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
────── 〔✿〕──────
Harvey's account of what he had seen wasn't helpful whatsoever. Not that it was his fault; it was just that we had already heard everything from Gally. So, that was how Minho and I ended up slumped on a couch together in the back of the Homestead. The room was one that we basically never used- in fact, I had almost forgotten it existed. In the beginning, it was meant to provide a place of relaxation, but now it only accumulated dust.
Minho sneezed for the eighth time since we had sat down. My nose twitched at the dust floating around. We were both feeling pretty low since we couldn't think of anything else to do to find out why Alex had gone into the Maze.
"You should move into this room," Minho spoke up suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence between us.
"Why?" I asked. He had confused me by this random suggestion. Why would I move in here when I already had a room?
He shifted so he was facing me on the couch, one arm on the back of the couch, propping up his head. "Because you struggle getting up the stairs every time you need to get to your room. Don't think I haven't noticed. And, as your babysitter, I would recommend this. It'll make it easier and faster."
"Okay, yeah, I see where you're coming from," I sighed and picked at a loose thread on the couch. "Maybe we could clean up this room and turn it into a livable space."
Minho nodded, standing up from the couch with a righteous expression. "I will present the proposition to Nick." And he was out of the room before I could blink.
Groaning, I rested my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes for a second. I grabbed my bad leg with both hands, cringing at the slightly damp feel of the brace as I lifted it up onto the cushions beside me. My muscles tightened in protest as I stretched out my leg so it was straight. Ever since the brace got wet, it had been taking its toll on my poor leg- it was hurting quite a bit more than it had before, as if I should still be in crutches. It occurred to me that maybe I should switch back to them for the meantime, but I had no idea where Clint had put them, and he wasn't letting anyone talk to him as he dealt with Newt and Theo.
Everyone was still in their exposed and completely vulnerable states. Walls were down, people didn't try to cover up their feelings, and a stifling sense of despondence still hung in the air like a thick fog. Frypan's meals weren't as flawless as usual, most of the Keepers weren't getting much sleep - if any at all - and there was so much going on that nobody knew what to do as waited out the storm.
For the first time in what had to be forever, I closed my eyes and let myself delve into my own mind. Thoughts grabbed at my brain almost immediately. My constant fear of having to live with my injured leg, the sadness I felt when Luke had practically slapped me in the face with his harsh words, and about a million other things that I had to ignore at every waking moment. They clawed at my nerves, making me flinch as flashes of images from getting stuck in the Door stabbed at me. My own scream rang in my ears like a distant echo.
