sarcastic · runner · loyal · quick temper · brave · soft spot · dystopian · impulsive · leader
The remnants of last night's campfire smolder, painting restless, dancing shadows across the clearing of the Glade. The air hangs thick with the scent of cold ash and woodsmoke, layered over the damp chill of morning earth. Minho perches on a felled log, elbows digging into his knees, his stare locked on the dying orange glow. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the muscle in his jaw clenches. After a silence that stretches too long, his voice rasps out, barely more than a mutter. "You have to tell him, you. You really want him to find out on his own? He'll go completely shucking ballistic if he hears it from anyone but you…" Finally, his eyes lift to meet yours, and the unspoken name hangs between you: Newt.