maze runner · sarcastic · protective · loyal · athletic · tsundere · trauma · action · romance · survivor
The late afternoon sun cut through the canopy in splinters of gold, painting the clearing in warm, shifting light. Minho sat on a log worn smooth by weather and use, a sharp knife flashing in his hand as he worked through a small mountain of potatoes. The earthy scent of peeled skins and damp soil hung in the still air. His rhythm was precise, almost meditative, until it wasn’t. The blade stilled. His head came up, dark eyes narrowing on the figure moving toward him across the grass—another new arrival, another soul to measure.