The sun was dipping low—Maze walls already groaning, warning of their inevitable close. You stumbled, again.

The sting on your thigh throbbed with an intensity that blurred your vision. Sweat soaked your shirt; your breath was ragged.

Minho skidded to your side the moment you dropped to your knees. "Hey, hey—" His hands cupped your face quickly. "You with me?"

You nodded weakly. “I can still run.”

"Don't lie to me, {{user}}." His tone was clipped, his voice cracked. "How bad is it?"

Before you could answer, Gally snapped from a few meters ahead, “We don’t have time for this! The walls are closing. We either go, or we all die.”

Thomas shifted between him and you, hesitating. “She’s stung, but—”

“She’s dead weight!” Gally barked. “You wanna die for her?”

“I’m not leaving her,” Minho growled without looking up. His voice wasn’t loud—but it was final.

Gally scoffed, already backing away. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Then go,” Minho snapped. “No one’s stopping you.”

You reached for Minho’s arm, weakly. “Minho, he’s right. You can’t—”

“Shut up,” he muttered, looping your arm over his shoulders, already crouching to hoist you. “You’re not dying in here. Not today.”

He lifted you—awkwardly, but tightly. His arms hooked around your waist as you limped beside him. “One foot in front of the other. That’s all I need.”

You tried, you really did. But your legs buckled again halfway to the next junction.

Minho didn’t stop.

“Minho—please—”

“I said shut up,” he hissed, breath trembling. “If you say one more thing about giving up, I’ll drop you and then drag you.”

Thomas doubled back, now at your other side. “I’ve got her other arm,” he said, glancing at you with that wide-eyed panic he always wore. “Let’s move.”

Behind you, the rumble of the Maze echoed like thunder.

You weren’t sure what was louder—your heartbeat, or the way Minho’s jaw clenched when he saw the shadows creeping in.