[ Minho watched as Thomas lost himself in thought for a moment, just staring at the floor, and couldn't help letting his mind backtrack to what little time they'd had in the Glade. It seemed like a completely different world. At the same time, what was true then was just as true now, the Gladers were family, were the only people they could trust and count on. Just that now, there were no walls and no maze, and no choice about dealing with the dangers of the world anymore.
Minho moved, glancing around the room once. They'd gone through it methodically as ever, picked it clean of anything they could use, time for the next one. He made for the stairs first, but found that part of what had supported them must have collapsed, bringing down debris from above. Going over the mess with his flashlight revealed there might've been a downstairs too. If they really wanted to clear this mess out, perhaps it might've been worth exploring, but there were people waiting for them to return. ]
Think we're done here.
[ It seemed there was something growing out from whatever was in the basement. Like vines, or roots, that had begun to overtake some of the larger chunks of concrete at the bottom of the heap. Minho couldn't have said if he'd seen a plant like that before, but he wasn't going to start questioning the vegetation now.
[It was daunting, in a way. How big the world was. How things were outside. The dangers that had been waiting for them. Yet, Thomas knew that this was a line of thought he couldn't dwell on for very long. He was feeling better than before, mainly so after having managed to escape the Scorch with his friends, finding them again after fearing the worst. But it was still a dangerous topic for him to think too deeply about. Once they made it to the Right Arm, the safe-haven, maybe then he could allow himself to relax enough in order to really put things in perspective.
Following Minho was easy. Thomas kept looking from one side to the other of the room they were leaving, making sure they hadn't overlooked any spots. Once they made it to the stairs, he sighed, seeing all the debris. He had been hoping that they could explore the building a bit more; though the lower levels were usually wiped clean, the higher floors tended to still have things for them to take.
Thomas didn't intend to go back right away, though. They should try to explore the buildings on the other side of the street. If for nothing else, they would hopefully be able to find some alcohol and sheets, perhaps some canned food and some sort of clean oil for Minho's back.
He nodded at his words.]
Yea-- [But then his eyes caught the vine-root like thing growing from the basement, taking over the debris, once Minho passed the flashlight there, and his heart almost stopped.
His eyes began to widen and he took a step back, out of instinct, before one of his hands went immediately to Minho's arm, pulling him back.]
Quiet. [He whispered, in a rushed tone, eyes never leaving the general direction where he knew the vines were coming from, though only seeing dark, now that the light wasn't on them.]
Come on, we need to go. [And he took another step back, tugging on Minho's arm again, for him to move as well.] Come on, Minho, we need to leave right now.
[ In the split second of Thomas stepping back, the whole air seemed to shift from ease to tension. Minho's attention snapped to him in an instant. It didn't take any tugging, even though he shone the flashlight over the debris again just to try and see what it was that brought this on. He narrowed his eyes, confused, but didn't stall any further, making quietly but quickly for the exit and back into daylight, checking every dark corner on the way out.
He slowed once they were out, clicking off the flashlight and glancing over at Thomas to see if he thought they should be running. Report back to camp, or full on sprint for a good distance?
As far as Minho could tell, there wasn't anything following them, be it human, Crank, animal, or otherwise, but that didn't mean he doubted his friend's judgement. ]
[It was a relief, once they finally set foot outside. Though Thomas made his way out behind Minho, he kept looking back, into the darkness, ears sharp for any sounds following. Thankfully, it didn't seem like they had woken up what was certainly asleep in that basement.
With his eyes at the entrance of the store still, Thomas walked back towards Minho, eyes adjusting to the light outside. The sun was setting, but it was still not down enough that they would run out of light for the next hour or so.]
Whenever you see those things, on the ground or ceiling, [Thomas started, once he was close enough for Minho to hear him.] You move slowly away. [He turned his head then, to look at Minho, meet his eyes, before looking back at the coffee shop's entrance.] And if you hear a sound, you run out of there as fast as you can. [As it was, though, it seemed that they were safe.
He let some time pass, to allow his heart to slow down, before looking at their surroundings again. He moved a hand up, to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked at it too and then bit his bottom lip.
He knew that they should probably go back to the others soon, but he really wanted to go explore the other building and try to find some food and something oily, at least.]
[ Minho nodded at the explanation and decided to keep walking. There were other buildings, other doors yawning open like caves. Possibilities. Chances. Even if they were out of the maze now, the drive to explore had never left him, so he merely cocked his head for Thomas to follow him. ]
What, the vines? What are they?
[ Another one of those things Thomas had seen and lived to talk about, apparently. It turned out, the Runners' code served him just as well out here, only there were more chances to stop once in a while. ]
[He couldn't help the small (relieved) smile as Minho made the decision for him, as to what to do next. He nodded as Minho beckoned him to follow him, and he did so, without further question.
Even though scavenging wasn't one of Minho's favorite things to do, when it came to these divided duties, it was one of Thomas'. He likes to explore, as well, get new things, see new things, find answers to questions he didn't even know he had. Of course, there was always the (more likely than not) possibility of running into trouble, too, but well. They were sort of used to that by now, weren't they?
He waited to catch up with Minho, before answering.]
Yeah. [A nod.] I don't know what they are, exactly. But, apparently, when the Cranks reach later stages of the disease, those things start to grow out of them, and stretch over the floor and the ceiling, keeping them in place. They seem to be asleep but they really aren't.
[At all.]
They will break those things easily and they will attack like the rest. [Maybe even more viciously so.]
[ Oh. ... wow. Did he want the story about how Thomas (and, probably, Brenda) found out about that? Maybe another time. Or never. He shook his head. ]
Here I thought those shuck things couldn't get much creepier.
[ Sure showed him, hadn't they? But then, he wasn't really afraid of Cranks. Only of numbers. Was it easier to forget that they had been human once, seeing the later stages? Not that it had stopped him from picking up a nearby object and bludgeoning one even without that, so he dismissed the thought as pointless.
It was difficult not to think of Winston, sickly pale and with his lips stained black with vomit. Difficult, but they needed to focus on the task at hand. ]
Should we tell the others?
[ How sure could they be that the things would stay put unless disturbed? Minho didn't look back to ask, heading instead toward the next building over that was still standing. Another storefront, though the glass windows were long gone, and it was hard to guess what it might have once been. ]
[And they had seen them being pretty damn creepy, mainly back at the mall.
Thomas wouldn't go as far as saying that he wasn't afraid of Cranks. He saw what they could do. And every time he had had an encounter with them, someone had ended up hurt. Winston, Brenda... He was afraid of thinking 'who's next'. As for them having been once human, the thought didn't seem to haunt Thomas as much. He was far more worried (and focused) on the fact that they could hurt his friends. Also, there was the Brenda issue, too. He had promised that he wouldn't tell anyone, but he was growing increasingly worried by the hour. She still wasn't showing any major signs of change, not like Winston had, but still.
For now, it was probably best not to think too much about it.]
Yeah. [He answered, nodding. They should probably tell everyone. After all, if one of them found those things without them being nearby, they should know what to do.
Hell, Thomas felt suddenly really damn stupid that he hadn't even thought of or remembered to share that information with them before.] Remind me to, when we get back.
[Following Minho close to the new building, he waited for him to point the light inside, making sure it was safe, before going in.]
[ They should all know. Nobody needed to trip over some Cranks taking an extended nap whereever. Now, or in the future.
Clicking his light back on, a first glance at the inside of the shop wasn't promising, empty shelves coated thickly in dust. First glances rarely were, though. Finding no further unpleasant infected surprises, the rest of their supply run went smoothly enough, picking up a can here, some water there, odds and ends people had forgotten or overlooked on previous, probably similar outings. Even so, dark had fallen before they returned to camp, and Minho at least felt at least a little relieved for the distraction and the noise of other human beings. It was nothing like the Glade, but at the same time, it wasn't nothing either. ]
[The next day, they ended up setting camp in an abandoned, isolated house in the middle of a prairie. It didn't have any major structures around it, or trees, which made it the perfect place to settle in, any threats easily visible, should they approach.
However, the lack of any buildings around also meant that there was a lack of supplies for them to scavenge for, and with the nearest known village quite a few kilometers away, it made no sense to try and go for it by foot.
As such, this time, the duties were changed.
Everyone agreed that it was Thomas and Minho's turn to lay low, given that they had done most of the runs in the previous days. The both of them were to stay at the house, keep it safe, prepare the sleeping places (and blanket piles) and get a good fire going, some food, too, once it started getting darker. Everyone else would go with Jorge in the car, to gather what they could from the village. And so it was.
Thomas had been spreading blankets around the room in different (yet still somewhat close) places, making sure there were enough for everyone while Minho tended to the fire. The house had an actual fireplace, too, which made it easier to work with, and they were lucky enough that the chimney was still fully functional. Once he was done, he brought some cans of food close to the fireplace and left them there, for when the sun finally fully set. It was when they should start cooking something for everyone.
For now, though, they still had quite a bit of time, so Thomas went back to his own bag and grabbed something he had found the day before, on the last building they had visited. It wasn't ideal, like something used specifically for this sort of thing, but it was oil, and it was clean, and it didn't really have any smell, so he figured it would do better than nothing at all. With it, he grabbed some bandages too, that he had made the night before out of some sheets they had found, and he approached Minho.
Without a word, he sat down behind him and moved his hands to his chest in order to grab both sides of his jacket, which he started to pull back.]
[ Minho preferred being out there, all things considered. Scavenging wasn't his favorite task, because he had no specific thing to look for, no particular goal, but at least it let him move and look around, stretch his legs after too many hours in a car. All the sitting made him feel like he was losing his edge. ... Perhaps he'd never have to spend an entire day running as fast as he possibly could, ever again. A strange thought, even now, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. At least the silence was comfortable, the both of them tending their tasks without needing a lot of words between them.
He'd heard Thomas approach where he was crouching before the fire, but this wasn't what he'd expected. Maybe he could mask the shiver down his spine as simply tensing, but then he dropped the iron poker he'd been holding and shrugged out of his jacket with a quiet laugh. Of course. ]
You get straight to the point.
[ Looking over his shoulder at Thomas, he wasn't sure if he would've been more or less surprised to see him holding something to draw with, instead of bandages. Document the pattern before it healed. Thomas never seemed to let anything go.
He'd have been lying if he'd claimed he wasn't glad for it. Even after they'd moved on, he hadn't been able to shake the thought of hands ghosting over his skin for hours. ]
[Thomas understood the feeling completely. And he wasn't in the Glade nowhere near as much as Minho had been. When he started to get too nervous, or anxious, he just couldn't stand or sit still. He had to move, walk, run if he could. If nothing else, it would help him clear his mind a little, having to stay focused on the ground.
Yet, as it was... He was glad for this, too. He had nothing that was worrying him too much, at the moment. Their friends were on schedule, the house was safe, they had food and blankets, and they were closer to their destination. Everyone was safe and sound and, well. This was just nice. It had been a while since he had had time to just relax. Or as much as one could relax out here, anyway. As much as his head would allow.
Once the jacket was off, Thomas set it aside, and his hands were back on Minho's waist right after, moving under the hem of his shirt and carefully pulling it up. At the words, he snorted (though he liked the sound of Minho's laugh), looking up (but not moving his head) to meet Minho's eyes.]
You make it sound like you only met me yesterday.
[There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, though, letting Minho know that that was a tease back, that his words hadn't gone completely over his head.
As for the pattern, he didn't need to draw it-- The shape was well engraved in his mind. A lightning tree of sorts, covering up a good portion of Minho's torso. Yet, in spite of knowing how it was, as soon as the shirt was high enough that he could see it again, Thomas' eyes widened, once more, in mild-fascination.
It really was very pretty.
Pulling the shirt fully away, Thomas took a moment to just look, again, lips parting slightly as he did so. The room had much more light, this time, allowing him to see everything better.
It took him a good minute or two to realize he had been staring. Blinking, he licked his lips, completely on instinct, and brought the bottle of oil to his lap, hands working on getting it open.]
[ He liked seeing that smile, and the humor in his tone as well. An easy back and forth. The only reason to look up was to pull his shirt off entirely, more for practical reasons than anything else, but he'd have had difficulty not noticing Thomas staring. Now that made him feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the fire in front of them. He'd never been self-conscious, at least, and it was interesting to see Thomas so absorbed in something, quiet and still as if all his energy and intent was already occupied.
How was he supposed to stay sensible like this? He wasn't, no dice. Now, with the both of them alone in a place as safe as it could be, the others miles away, something stupid was bound to happen. But maybe he'd be able to wait until Thomas had patched him up. For now he sat down as instructed, feet planted and arms resting on his knees. ]
[Once he finally managed to open the bottle, Thomas squeezed some of the oil into his cupped hand, putting the bottle aside before focusing on Minho's back again. Feeling a pull, inside his chest, Thomas decided to ignore it to the best of his ability and just moved his hand over the wound, spreading the oil as best as he could.
Soon enough, his other hand joined the first, and he began to carefully cover the mark everywhere, from Minho's neck, down his back and on his side.]
You feel tense.
[It wasn't a question and not even an affirmation, per se. More like an observation, a thought that had crossed Thomas' mind and that, for some reason, he had ended up saying out-loud.
He went to the bottle again, after, getting more oil before returning his long fingers to Minho's skin, massaging softly, mainly where the wound was darker. It was unsettling, how hard it was to look away. He was completely taken by it, by how beautiful it looked.]
It's like your own maze map. [Again, a thought made out-loud.] A map of your system, underneath your skin. [His fingers stilled where they were, a frown coming to his expression. He realized that maybe he wasn't making much sense.] The mark, I mean.
[ Minho closed his eyes as Thomas spread the oil over his skin. He wasn't sure if Thomas' talking made it more or less difficult to relax, but it was definitely making him think about how to shut him up. For now, he was content to just roll his shoulders, sigh, and attempt to make himself less tense. At least this was easier to bear than the light touch from the day before, surer somehow, more solid, but that didn't mean it wasn't still distracting. But when he stopped, trailing off like that? All bets were off.
Minho looked over his shoulder before very quickly shifting from sitting with his back to Thomas to facing him, one knee planted on the ground as he reached out. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, Minho tugged him close enough to kiss him roughly. Just shut up for two seconds. ]
[He should be really offended. That not only he didn't get an answer to anything he had just said, but that his words went seemingly completely ignored. He should be really offended. But he wasn't. Because whatever else he had wanted to say, whatever else he was thinking about, whatever else he wanted to point out-- It was gone the moment Minho kissed him.
He only had time to blink when he turned around, hands lifting. He gasped out of surprise when he was suddenly tugged close, lips parting, eyes widening and then everything just went completely and utterly silent. Still, for about half a second, soon Thomas' eyes were closing, one hand moving to the back of Minho's neck, the other digging into the back of his hair, fingers entwining with it and tugging, ever-so-slightly. Sorry (not sorry) about the oil. He kissed him back just as roughly as he had but also somewhat needy, hungry. A new thought finally formed in his head, taking over everything else in there, filling the sudden quiet. It was possibly the simplest, easiest thing to understand that had been on his mind for weeks, now. Minho.]
[ This? This was easier than words, clearer. He'd almost worried for that half second it took Thomas to figure out how to react, but that was all lost to just tugging hands and a rough, hungry kiss that didn't leave room for thinking. Even having it returned at all made Minho grin into it, any doubts and second-guessing going right out the window. Finally. The fact that he was getting oil smeared into his hair didn't even enter his mind.
The only reason he pulled back was to give himself time for a hurried gasp of breath, and to sit back down before he kissed him again, lips parted and still as hurried, as urgent as before. He'd thought about this more than once since that moment in the maze. One hand still fisted in the other's shirt, he brought the free one up to return the favor and tug at Thomas' hair. ]
[It sent a jolt up his spine to feel that grin into their kiss. It was a feeling that he had only felt once before, that one time in the maze, and that he too had thought about more than once since. It was electrifying and it carried Thomas on, as he pressed deeper into the kiss.
It was only when Minho pulled back that Thomas realized just how fast his breathing had gotten. The air was coming in and out in quick, harsh gasps, all against Minho's lips, forehead resting against his. He had to move back a little, in order to give him room to sit down again, eyes opening in the process.
He didn't give himself time to think. He moved, as well, planting his feet on the floor and straddling his legs in order to sit more comfortably in front of the other, a leg on each side of him. Then, he met his eyes again just before closing them in time with his approach.
He met his lips readily this time, eagerly. He kissed him once, twice, sucking softly on his bottom lip before allowing his tongue to come out, in an attempt to deepen the kiss even further. All rolling on sheer instinct, just like that one time before. When that tug to his hair came, though, Thomas couldn't help but let out a muffled sound against Minho's lips, back arching and body pressing a bit more against his. The hand on his neck lowered down, moving all over his naked back, unashamedly, long fingers curling into almost-claws as if he was trying to hold on, clinging for dear life.]
[ Sorting out this tangle of limbs took way too much time, he felt, but where they ended up made it worthwhile. Even though this essentially trapped him, Minho found he liked Thomas straddling him, both the feel and the sight of it, looking him over intently before their eyes met.
Hearing that one sound just made Minho want more of them, and he finally let go of the other's shirt, his hand sliding down instead to find the hem, push it up, his hand splaying over Thomas' side before his fingers dug in. The hand moving over his back made him moan in turn, a feeling like sparks dancing down his spine while his hold loosened just for the barest instant. But then he just pushed back harder, kissing Thomas open-mouthed and hungry, running his tongue over the other's as he went to deepen it. Instinct carried him, allowed him to listen to what he wanted, what they both wanted. Not at all that complicated. ]
[Oh God, was the second coherent thought he managed to have. Or well, as close to coherent as it could get, really, given the circumstances. For someone who was constantly thinking (and over-thinking) things, it was amazing how quickly Minho managed to just shut the voice in his mind, communication coming in motion rather than thought.
It was hard to describe what that intense look did to him, but it did things, things that only made Thomas cling to Minho that much harder, kisses coming hungrier, rougher.
Their new position was better for comfort and space, though the fact that they were both sitting down was still a little bit weird. Normally, if his mind wasn't as dizzy, Thomas would have tugged Minho along, tried to get him on his knees instead, but, as it was, he was far too focused on his lips, his mouth, his tongue, to really be able to do much more than try to keep up.
That is, until that hand came to rest on his side, over his skin, making Thomas feel hot all over. And as if that wasn't enough, Minho was gracing him with a moan of his own, over something he did and - God - if that didn't send all sorts of shivers everywhere down his body. He definitely wanted more of it, too.
He pressed further against him, meeting his tongue with his, allowing the kiss to go as deep as they could possibly make it. Hand tugging on his hair again, he only stopped to be able to breathe a bit better for a few seconds before going at it once more. Eventually, he did start to breach out, kissing Minho's cheek instead, his jaw, his neck, nose trailing his chin before he caught his lips again.]
[ As far as Minho could tell, Thomas was keeping up just fine. No reservations or awkwardness or shameful hesitation. Every time he renewed his hold on Minho's back, every time his fingers dug into his healing injury even by accident it sent a shiver through him, making him gasp and arch his back. It wasn't painful, but damn if it wasn't still sensitive enough to make it difficult to keep track of what his hands were supposed to be doing.
What were they supposed to be doing? Well, one shifted along Thomas' lower back under his shirt (which, really, was beginning to annoy him just being there). The other travelled from his hair to his neck, calloused fingers moving over the soft skin of his throat before pushing at, the under the collar, digging into his shoulder.
Perhaps surprisingly, Minho moved with him easily when the other decided to scatter kisses elsewhere, tilting his head to accomodate him as Thomas kissed his jaw and neck. This also meant that any noise he made went unchecked, but that just proved to be another thing he wasn't shy about. He didn't want to stop himself, not now, especially not when the feeling of lips on the side of his neck came together with a tug at his hair. There was no reason to stifle the breathy sound rising from his chest in response. But it was a relief to be able to kiss back again, to be able to do more again, and now he wanted to return the favor.
Without thinking about it much, his lips followed the trail of his hand, down Thomas' neck to his throat just to see what would happen. ]
[There was no room for those things when it came to being with Minho, like this. He gave what he got and there was something in Minho, something safe and secure enough but also confident that, somehow, just made it easy for Thomas to go with the flow.
His head was so lost in what they were doing that he sometimes forgot where his fingers were digging, the gasps Minho made the only reminder that he should move his fingers somewhere else, which he did, most of the time, hand slowly lowering down his back.
He swallowed when that hand covered his throat and then dug into his shoulder. It crossed his mind that maybe he should take his shirt off-- If they kept this up, he could very well end up without a shirt to tell the story and, really, he couldn't exactly afford that, right now.
Yet, the thought (his third) about moving a little back in order to remove the thing off was quickly erased, mind instead focusing on the sounds Minho was making. They made his breathing hitch, slowly driving him completely insane, for lack of a better way to describe it. It was like his senses were more alive than ever. Every touch sent shivers all over his body, every sound intensively more obscene, from Minho's moans to the sloppy sounds of the way their tongues came together, the way theirs lips touched lips and skin. He could taste him in ways he hadn't before, not near as consciously as he could now; salty and burnt and addicting. And his scent was taking over him in ways that Thomas didn't even know was possible, breathing him in with every gasp of air, wanting more of it, too, surrounding him, and--
Wherever he was going with that, it all came to radio silence again, once he felt Minho's lips on his neck and throat. His breath halted, at first, and then he let out a soft moan, fingers digging into and dragging on Minho's skin, both up his back and down his hair and neck. He wanted more, and he even tilted his head a little, for that, but then...]
Wait, [He whispered, taking two deep breaths against Minho's hair before moving only slightly back.] Wait. [He repeated, eyes opening, to look at him. His own cheeks were beginning to flush with color, lips swollen and parted.] I should...
[Get this off.
But it was better doing than saying, so Thomas moved his hands to his own jacket, which he clumsily tried to shrug off, before going for his shirt, after.
[ Wait... ? At the first prompt he stilled, at the second he sat back, reluctant, his hands slow to leave the other's skin. Just looking at his face, Minho took stock of every change and detail, his heart racing and his mouth dry. Thought was such a distant thing that he didn't guess the meaning of the half-finished sentence until Thomas was shrugging off his jacket, but then all he could do was swallow thickly and nod. ] Yeah. [ It comes out breathless, quiet.
His turn to stare. Not that he hadn't seen Thomas shirtless before, but that one shower had been a completely different situation, neither of them really in any kind of shape to appreciate the view. Minho met his eyes and gave him a smirk, reaching out to set just his fingertips against the sides of Thomas ribcage, his touch light. Slowly, he moved them down his sides, never breaking eye contact. His voice was low, quiet. ] You really drove me nuts yesterday, you know that?
[ He'd never be able to keep that up, that kind of self-control. Not now that he didn't have to. But breaking the hurried pace up even for a moment seemed like an idea. ]
[He whimpered, softly, when Minho moved his hands away. It hadn't been his intention for him to actually move away, just for them to slow down the kissing a little so he could remove those layers of clothing. But well, it was done, and Thomas should probably hurry up with it.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt with both hands, he moved it up and removed it completely through his head, placing it next to his jacket on the floor. He met Minho's eyes again, then, smiling back at the smirk he was given. The touch made him shiver-- The contradiction of contradictions, given how hot it actually made him feel. He reached out, too, one hand resting, spread open, over Minho's chest, the other settling at the side of his neck.
He swallowed at the words, tongue coming out to lick his own lips.]
I might have realized. [He started, eyes going from Minho's own to his lips and back.] Midway through.
[He used the thumb of the hand resting on Minho's neck to trail over his jawline.]
[ Hearing that protesting whimper made Minho doubletake. To be wanted this much was not only new, but its own kind of thrill, and he licked his lips just waiting to get his hands back on him.
Luckily he didn't have to wait long. The shiver he could feel under his fingertips felt a little like sweet revenge. At the same time he wondered if Thomas could tell his heart was racing, with one hand placed over it like that. Under most any other circumstances he would've answered with an insult, plain and simple, but it was difficult to focus enough to make words happen. He kept getting distracted just watching Thomas' lips move. So he chuckled instead, giving the barest shake of his head in response. There was no point in asking why he hadn't said anything, or tried to do anything else. It didn't matter anyway.
Once his fingers had trailed down Thomas' sides, coming to rest at his hips, Minho leaned in again, figuring he'd start where he'd been interrupted before. He left a line of kisses down the other's neck to his collarbone, this time with no need to tug any fabric out of the way. Much better. ]
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no subject
Minho moved, glancing around the room once. They'd gone through it methodically as ever, picked it clean of anything they could use, time for the next one. He made for the stairs first, but found that part of what had supported them must have collapsed, bringing down debris from above. Going over the mess with his flashlight revealed there might've been a downstairs too. If they really wanted to clear this mess out, perhaps it might've been worth exploring, but there were people waiting for them to return. ]
Think we're done here.
[ It seemed there was something growing out from whatever was in the basement. Like vines, or roots, that had begun to overtake some of the larger chunks of concrete at the bottom of the heap. Minho couldn't have said if he'd seen a plant like that before, but he wasn't going to start questioning the vegetation now.
Maybe they'd have better luck elsewhere. ]
no subject
Following Minho was easy. Thomas kept looking from one side to the other of the room they were leaving, making sure they hadn't overlooked any spots. Once they made it to the stairs, he sighed, seeing all the debris. He had been hoping that they could explore the building a bit more; though the lower levels were usually wiped clean, the higher floors tended to still have things for them to take.
Thomas didn't intend to go back right away, though. They should try to explore the buildings on the other side of the street. If for nothing else, they would hopefully be able to find some alcohol and sheets, perhaps some canned food and some sort of clean oil for Minho's back.
He nodded at his words.]
Yea-- [But then his eyes caught the vine-root like thing growing from the basement, taking over the debris, once Minho passed the flashlight there, and his heart almost stopped.
His eyes began to widen and he took a step back, out of instinct, before one of his hands went immediately to Minho's arm, pulling him back.]
Quiet. [He whispered, in a rushed tone, eyes never leaving the general direction where he knew the vines were coming from, though only seeing dark, now that the light wasn't on them.]
Come on, we need to go. [And he took another step back, tugging on Minho's arm again, for him to move as well.] Come on, Minho, we need to leave right now.
no subject
He slowed once they were out, clicking off the flashlight and glancing over at Thomas to see if he thought they should be running. Report back to camp, or full on sprint for a good distance?
As far as Minho could tell, there wasn't anything following them, be it human, Crank, animal, or otherwise, but that didn't mean he doubted his friend's judgement. ]
no subject
With his eyes at the entrance of the store still, Thomas walked back towards Minho, eyes adjusting to the light outside. The sun was setting, but it was still not down enough that they would run out of light for the next hour or so.]
Whenever you see those things, on the ground or ceiling, [Thomas started, once he was close enough for Minho to hear him.] You move slowly away. [He turned his head then, to look at Minho, meet his eyes, before looking back at the coffee shop's entrance.] And if you hear a sound, you run out of there as fast as you can. [As it was, though, it seemed that they were safe.
He let some time pass, to allow his heart to slow down, before looking at their surroundings again. He moved a hand up, to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked at it too and then bit his bottom lip.
He knew that they should probably go back to the others soon, but he really wanted to go explore the other building and try to find some food and something oily, at least.]
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What, the vines? What are they?
[ Another one of those things Thomas had seen and lived to talk about, apparently. It turned out, the Runners' code served him just as well out here, only there were more chances to stop once in a while. ]
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Even though scavenging wasn't one of Minho's favorite things to do, when it came to these divided duties, it was one of Thomas'. He likes to explore, as well, get new things, see new things, find answers to questions he didn't even know he had. Of course, there was always the (more likely than not) possibility of running into trouble, too, but well. They were sort of used to that by now, weren't they?
He waited to catch up with Minho, before answering.]
Yeah. [A nod.] I don't know what they are, exactly. But, apparently, when the Cranks reach later stages of the disease, those things start to grow out of them, and stretch over the floor and the ceiling, keeping them in place. They seem to be asleep but they really aren't.
[At all.]
They will break those things easily and they will attack like the rest. [Maybe even more viciously so.]
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Here I thought those shuck things couldn't get much creepier.
[ Sure showed him, hadn't they? But then, he wasn't really afraid of Cranks. Only of numbers. Was it easier to forget that they had been human once, seeing the later stages? Not that it had stopped him from picking up a nearby object and bludgeoning one even without that, so he dismissed the thought as pointless.
It was difficult not to think of Winston, sickly pale and with his lips stained black with vomit. Difficult, but they needed to focus on the task at hand. ]
Should we tell the others?
[ How sure could they be that the things would stay put unless disturbed? Minho didn't look back to ask, heading instead toward the next building over that was still standing. Another storefront, though the glass windows were long gone, and it was hard to guess what it might have once been. ]
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[And they had seen them being pretty damn creepy, mainly back at the mall.
Thomas wouldn't go as far as saying that he wasn't afraid of Cranks. He saw what they could do. And every time he had had an encounter with them, someone had ended up hurt. Winston, Brenda... He was afraid of thinking 'who's next'. As for them having been once human, the thought didn't seem to haunt Thomas as much. He was far more worried (and focused) on the fact that they could hurt his friends. Also, there was the Brenda issue, too. He had promised that he wouldn't tell anyone, but he was growing increasingly worried by the hour. She still wasn't showing any major signs of change, not like Winston had, but still.
For now, it was probably best not to think too much about it.]
Yeah. [He answered, nodding. They should probably tell everyone. After all, if one of them found those things without them being nearby, they should know what to do.
Hell, Thomas felt suddenly really damn stupid that he hadn't even thought of or remembered to share that information with them before.] Remind me to, when we get back.
[Following Minho close to the new building, he waited for him to point the light inside, making sure it was safe, before going in.]
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[ They should all know. Nobody needed to trip over some Cranks taking an extended nap whereever. Now, or in the future.
Clicking his light back on, a first glance at the inside of the shop wasn't promising, empty shelves coated thickly in dust. First glances rarely were, though. Finding no further unpleasant infected surprises, the rest of their supply run went smoothly enough, picking up a can here, some water there, odds and ends people had forgotten or overlooked on previous, probably similar outings. Even so, dark had fallen before they returned to camp, and Minho at least felt at least a little relieved for the distraction and the noise of other human beings. It was nothing like the Glade, but at the same time, it wasn't nothing either. ]
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However, the lack of any buildings around also meant that there was a lack of supplies for them to scavenge for, and with the nearest known village quite a few kilometers away, it made no sense to try and go for it by foot.
As such, this time, the duties were changed.
Everyone agreed that it was Thomas and Minho's turn to lay low, given that they had done most of the runs in the previous days. The both of them were to stay at the house, keep it safe, prepare the sleeping places (and blanket piles) and get a good fire going, some food, too, once it started getting darker. Everyone else would go with Jorge in the car, to gather what they could from the village. And so it was.
Thomas had been spreading blankets around the room in different (yet still somewhat close) places, making sure there were enough for everyone while Minho tended to the fire. The house had an actual fireplace, too, which made it easier to work with, and they were lucky enough that the chimney was still fully functional. Once he was done, he brought some cans of food close to the fireplace and left them there, for when the sun finally fully set. It was when they should start cooking something for everyone.
For now, though, they still had quite a bit of time, so Thomas went back to his own bag and grabbed something he had found the day before, on the last building they had visited. It wasn't ideal, like something used specifically for this sort of thing, but it was oil, and it was clean, and it didn't really have any smell, so he figured it would do better than nothing at all. With it, he grabbed some bandages too, that he had made the night before out of some sheets they had found, and he approached Minho.
Without a word, he sat down behind him and moved his hands to his chest in order to grab both sides of his jacket, which he started to pull back.]
Help me get this off.
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... Perhaps he'd never have to spend an entire day running as fast as he possibly could, ever again. A strange thought, even now, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. At least the silence was comfortable, the both of them tending their tasks without needing a lot of words between them.
He'd heard Thomas approach where he was crouching before the fire, but this wasn't what he'd expected. Maybe he could mask the shiver down his spine as simply tensing, but then he dropped the iron poker he'd been holding and shrugged out of his jacket with a quiet laugh. Of course. ]
You get straight to the point.
[ Looking over his shoulder at Thomas, he wasn't sure if he would've been more or less surprised to see him holding something to draw with, instead of bandages. Document the pattern before it healed. Thomas never seemed to let anything go.
He'd have been lying if he'd claimed he wasn't glad for it. Even after they'd moved on, he hadn't been able to shake the thought of hands ghosting over his skin for hours. ]
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Yet, as it was... He was glad for this, too. He had nothing that was worrying him too much, at the moment. Their friends were on schedule, the house was safe, they had food and blankets, and they were closer to their destination. Everyone was safe and sound and, well. This was just nice. It had been a while since he had had time to just relax. Or as much as one could relax out here, anyway. As much as his head would allow.
Once the jacket was off, Thomas set it aside, and his hands were back on Minho's waist right after, moving under the hem of his shirt and carefully pulling it up. At the words, he snorted (though he liked the sound of Minho's laugh), looking up (but not moving his head) to meet Minho's eyes.]
You make it sound like you only met me yesterday.
[There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, though, letting Minho know that that was a tease back, that his words hadn't gone completely over his head.
As for the pattern, he didn't need to draw it-- The shape was well engraved in his mind. A lightning tree of sorts, covering up a good portion of Minho's torso. Yet, in spite of knowing how it was, as soon as the shirt was high enough that he could see it again, Thomas' eyes widened, once more, in mild-fascination.
It really was very pretty.
Pulling the shirt fully away, Thomas took a moment to just look, again, lips parting slightly as he did so. The room had much more light, this time, allowing him to see everything better.
It took him a good minute or two to realize he had been staring. Blinking, he licked his lips, completely on instinct, and brought the bottle of oil to his lap, hands working on getting it open.]
Sit down. It will be easier that way.
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How was he supposed to stay sensible like this? He wasn't, no dice. Now, with the both of them alone in a place as safe as it could be, the others miles away, something stupid was bound to happen. But maybe he'd be able to wait until Thomas had patched him up. For now he sat down as instructed, feet planted and arms resting on his knees. ]
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Soon enough, his other hand joined the first, and he began to carefully cover the mark everywhere, from Minho's neck, down his back and on his side.]
You feel tense.
[It wasn't a question and not even an affirmation, per se. More like an observation, a thought that had crossed Thomas' mind and that, for some reason, he had ended up saying out-loud.
He went to the bottle again, after, getting more oil before returning his long fingers to Minho's skin, massaging softly, mainly where the wound was darker. It was unsettling, how hard it was to look away. He was completely taken by it, by how beautiful it looked.]
It's like your own maze map. [Again, a thought made out-loud.] A map of your system, underneath your skin. [His fingers stilled where they were, a frown coming to his expression. He realized that maybe he wasn't making much sense.] The mark, I mean.
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Minho looked over his shoulder before very quickly shifting from sitting with his back to Thomas to facing him, one knee planted on the ground as he reached out. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, Minho tugged him close enough to kiss him roughly. Just shut up for two seconds. ]
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He only had time to blink when he turned around, hands lifting. He gasped out of surprise when he was suddenly tugged close, lips parting, eyes widening and then everything just went completely and utterly silent. Still, for about half a second, soon Thomas' eyes were closing, one hand moving to the back of Minho's neck, the other digging into the back of his hair, fingers entwining with it and tugging, ever-so-slightly. Sorry (not sorry) about the oil. He kissed him back just as roughly as he had but also somewhat needy, hungry. A new thought finally formed in his head, taking over everything else in there, filling the sudden quiet. It was possibly the simplest, easiest thing to understand that had been on his mind for weeks, now. Minho.]
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The only reason he pulled back was to give himself time for a hurried gasp of breath, and to sit back down before he kissed him again, lips parted and still as hurried, as urgent as before. He'd thought about this more than once since that moment in the maze.
One hand still fisted in the other's shirt, he brought the free one up to return the favor and tug at Thomas' hair. ]
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It was only when Minho pulled back that Thomas realized just how fast his breathing had gotten. The air was coming in and out in quick, harsh gasps, all against Minho's lips, forehead resting against his. He had to move back a little, in order to give him room to sit down again, eyes opening in the process.
He didn't give himself time to think. He moved, as well, planting his feet on the floor and straddling his legs in order to sit more comfortably in front of the other, a leg on each side of him. Then, he met his eyes again just before closing them in time with his approach.
He met his lips readily this time, eagerly. He kissed him once, twice, sucking softly on his bottom lip before allowing his tongue to come out, in an attempt to deepen the kiss even further. All rolling on sheer instinct, just like that one time before. When that tug to his hair came, though, Thomas couldn't help but let out a muffled sound against Minho's lips, back arching and body pressing a bit more against his. The hand on his neck lowered down, moving all over his naked back, unashamedly, long fingers curling into almost-claws as if he was trying to hold on, clinging for dear life.]
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Hearing that one sound just made Minho want more of them, and he finally let go of the other's shirt, his hand sliding down instead to find the hem, push it up, his hand splaying over Thomas' side before his fingers dug in. The hand moving over his back made him moan in turn, a feeling like sparks dancing down his spine while his hold loosened just for the barest instant. But then he just pushed back harder, kissing Thomas open-mouthed and hungry, running his tongue over the other's as he went to deepen it. Instinct carried him, allowed him to listen to what he wanted, what they both wanted. Not at all that complicated. ]
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It was hard to describe what that intense look did to him, but it did things, things that only made Thomas cling to Minho that much harder, kisses coming hungrier, rougher.
Their new position was better for comfort and space, though the fact that they were both sitting down was still a little bit weird. Normally, if his mind wasn't as dizzy, Thomas would have tugged Minho along, tried to get him on his knees instead, but, as it was, he was far too focused on his lips, his mouth, his tongue, to really be able to do much more than try to keep up.
That is, until that hand came to rest on his side, over his skin, making Thomas feel hot all over. And as if that wasn't enough, Minho was gracing him with a moan of his own, over something he did and - God - if that didn't send all sorts of shivers everywhere down his body. He definitely wanted more of it, too.
He pressed further against him, meeting his tongue with his, allowing the kiss to go as deep as they could possibly make it. Hand tugging on his hair again, he only stopped to be able to breathe a bit better for a few seconds before going at it once more. Eventually, he did start to breach out, kissing Minho's cheek instead, his jaw, his neck, nose trailing his chin before he caught his lips again.]
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What were they supposed to be doing? Well, one shifted along Thomas' lower back under his shirt (which, really, was beginning to annoy him just being there). The other travelled from his hair to his neck, calloused fingers moving over the soft skin of his throat before pushing at, the under the collar, digging into his shoulder.
Perhaps surprisingly, Minho moved with him easily when the other decided to scatter kisses elsewhere, tilting his head to accomodate him as Thomas kissed his jaw and neck. This also meant that any noise he made went unchecked, but that just proved to be another thing he wasn't shy about. He didn't want to stop himself, not now, especially not when the feeling of lips on the side of his neck came together with a tug at his hair. There was no reason to stifle the breathy sound rising from his chest in response. But it was a relief to be able to kiss back again, to be able to do more again, and now he wanted to return the favor.
Without thinking about it much, his lips followed the trail of his hand, down Thomas' neck to his throat just to see what would happen. ]
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His head was so lost in what they were doing that he sometimes forgot where his fingers were digging, the gasps Minho made the only reminder that he should move his fingers somewhere else, which he did, most of the time, hand slowly lowering down his back.
He swallowed when that hand covered his throat and then dug into his shoulder. It crossed his mind that maybe he should take his shirt off-- If they kept this up, he could very well end up without a shirt to tell the story and, really, he couldn't exactly afford that, right now.
Yet, the thought (his third) about moving a little back in order to remove the thing off was quickly erased, mind instead focusing on the sounds Minho was making. They made his breathing hitch, slowly driving him completely insane, for lack of a better way to describe it. It was like his senses were more alive than ever. Every touch sent shivers all over his body, every sound intensively more obscene, from Minho's moans to the sloppy sounds of the way their tongues came together, the way theirs lips touched lips and skin. He could taste him in ways he hadn't before, not near as consciously as he could now; salty and burnt and addicting. And his scent was taking over him in ways that Thomas didn't even know was possible, breathing him in with every gasp of air, wanting more of it, too, surrounding him, and--
Wherever he was going with that, it all came to radio silence again, once he felt Minho's lips on his neck and throat. His breath halted, at first, and then he let out a soft moan, fingers digging into and dragging on Minho's skin, both up his back and down his hair and neck. He wanted more, and he even tilted his head a little, for that, but then...]
Wait, [He whispered, taking two deep breaths against Minho's hair before moving only slightly back.] Wait. [He repeated, eyes opening, to look at him. His own cheeks were beginning to flush with color, lips swollen and parted.] I should...
[Get this off.
But it was better doing than saying, so Thomas moved his hands to his own jacket, which he clumsily tried to shrug off, before going for his shirt, after.
It was better this way, right?]
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His turn to stare. Not that he hadn't seen Thomas shirtless before, but that one shower had been a completely different situation, neither of them really in any kind of shape to appreciate the view. Minho met his eyes and gave him a smirk, reaching out to set just his fingertips against the sides of Thomas ribcage, his touch light. Slowly, he moved them down his sides, never breaking eye contact. His voice was low, quiet. ] You really drove me nuts yesterday, you know that?
[ He'd never be able to keep that up, that kind of self-control. Not now that he didn't have to. But breaking the hurried pace up even for a moment seemed like an idea. ]
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Grabbing the hem of his shirt with both hands, he moved it up and removed it completely through his head, placing it next to his jacket on the floor. He met Minho's eyes again, then, smiling back at the smirk he was given. The touch made him shiver-- The contradiction of contradictions, given how hot it actually made him feel. He reached out, too, one hand resting, spread open, over Minho's chest, the other settling at the side of his neck.
He swallowed at the words, tongue coming out to lick his own lips.]
I might have realized. [He started, eyes going from Minho's own to his lips and back.] Midway through.
[He used the thumb of the hand resting on Minho's neck to trail over his jawline.]
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Luckily he didn't have to wait long. The shiver he could feel under his fingertips felt a little like sweet revenge. At the same time he wondered if Thomas could tell his heart was racing, with one hand placed over it like that. Under most any other circumstances he would've answered with an insult, plain and simple, but it was difficult to focus enough to make words happen. He kept getting distracted just watching Thomas' lips move. So he chuckled instead, giving the barest shake of his head in response. There was no point in asking why he hadn't said anything, or tried to do anything else. It didn't matter anyway.
Once his fingers had trailed down Thomas' sides, coming to rest at his hips, Minho leaned in again, figuring he'd start where he'd been interrupted before. He left a line of kisses down the other's neck to his collarbone, this time with no need to tug any fabric out of the way. Much better. ]
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