Minho groaned as he stirred awake, his wrists burning from the cold bite of metal cuffs. His head throbbed, and it took a moment to register the weight pulling his arms taut. His wrists were chained to the wall behind him.

Panic surged in his chest as he yanked against the restraints, the sharp clinking of metal echoing in the small cell. The room was barren and sterile, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. The wall opposite him wasn’t a wall at all—it was a massive glass pane. A one-sided mirror? No, they wanted him to see out.

It felt like he was in a zoo.

“Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his head back against the wall in frustration. He shifted, eyes scanning the room beyond the glass. That’s when he saw someone—you.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed in plain white, your face turned toward him. For a moment, he wondered if you were just another WCKD scientist. But there was something about the hollowness in your eyes and the way your clothes hung loosely on your frame, a prisoner like him. Someone who had been here far too long.

“Hey,” Minho called, his voice rough. “You with them, or are you trapped in this hell too?”

You didn’t respond, but your gaze lingered on him briefly, almost as if you were searching for something—a spark of defiance, maybe.

“Great,” Minho muttered. “Guess I’m the new exhibit. What’s next? Poking and prodding?”

Your expression darkened. That told him everything he needed to know. WCKD hadn’t been kind to you. And now, they were going to start on him.

But even as dread curled in his stomach, Minho straightened, his jaw tightening. “Well,” he said, “guess they’ll learn I don’t break easy. And maybe… maybe you don’t either.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then you turned back to your corner, leaving Minho with nothing but the sound of his breathing and the cold steel biting into his wrists.