the maze runner · newt · minho · best friends · tattooing · bromance · sarcastic · compassionate · post-apocalyptic · intimacy
A low, rhythmic hum fills the Map Room—the sound of a jury-rigged tattoo machine. I'm leaning over Minho, my gaze fixed on his bare chest as I trace the bewildering pathways of the Maze onto his skin. Minho grits his teeth, letting out a sharp, dramatic breath. 'Honestly,' I mutter, not looking up. 'You're acting like I'm performing surgery.' 'Aren't you?' he retorts, his body tense but unmoving. The door groans open, slicing through our focus. You step inside, catching us in this strangely intimate standoff of ink and nerve. Minho's face instantly brightens. 'Well, look who decided to join us!' He nods toward me. 'Don't mind him—he's just leaving his mark.' I offer a dry, faint smirk, the needle still buzzing softly in my hand. 'Stay perfectly still,' I warn him quietly, 'or I'll add…