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Shaky breaths are all that can be heard as a concentrating individual attempts to make their way up the crawling greenery that covers the South wall. Thomas.
The silence continues until a scathing comment nearly breaks his concentration. “Come on Shank, don’t be such a baby, you’re barley half way up the vine!” Thomas can hear the mocking voice calling below him as he focuses his efforts on not falling off the vine thread
One would think maybe there is a strategy for doing this, perhaps to get a better vantage point in the Maze or an easier way to maneuver through it. But no. Thomas is up here because Minho challenged him to and nothing more.
“If I’m the baby then why are you still down here huh?” Thomas responds grouchily, fumbling for a better hold. He arcs his head back in an attempt to plan his next move. Not wanting to follow a vine thread that will lead to an awkward dead end.
“Don’t be an idiot, Shank. It’s because of your thicc bum, no way that vine could hold both of us.” (Yes, Minho likely would not say these exact words but I couldn’t help myself) Minho responds teasingly. Thomas rolls his eyes but can’t contain a chuckle of amusement.
“How about you climb the other vine then.” Thomas challenges, angling his head towards a second thread of greenery to his right. “That way my ‘thicc bum’ won’t be a danger to you.” He continues with another chuckle, knowing Minho's desire to protect his pride will get him on the wall.
Unable to think of another way out, Minho curses under his breath and grabs a fist full of the vines to begin climbing. “Newt owns me big time for this.” He grumbles as he slowly begins his accent.
This truth is, Minho has an ulterior motive for his suggestion of the challenge.
Minho is trying to wear Thomas out so that Newt will have an easier time ambushing him when they return. Thomas has been making a habit of teasing the blonde Glader and while Newt doesn't mind all that much, he still wants revenge.
This plan that was implemented and put into action the previous evening. Although admittedly, so far Minho is the only one getting wiped out by his efforts. Thomas is built like an Ox despite his unassuming physique.
After twenty feet, Minho felt his fingers begin to shake. They are aching from the tight grip he's holding. Minho glances up to see Thomas nearly another thirty feet above him, close to the top of the thread. The sight makes Minhos stomach clench. He isn't very fond of heights.
“You look pale, Shank.” Thomas teases as he makes it to the top with a whoop of victory. “You made it up. So it’s time for us to go down.” Minho ignores his comment as he begins inching his way back down the vines before Thomas can object. They both make it back to the ground a minute later.
“A word of advice Minho, don’t challenge someone to do something you’re not prepared to do yourself.” Thomas says with a chuckle, stretching his arm muscles on either side to alleviate the cramping that was starting to settle in. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s just start running.” Minho mutters in response, walking past his friend to gaping entrance of the South Gate.
~~~
The run went as normal, no new anomalies to report, not even a Greiver sighting. After about an hour, Minho is struck with another idea for his plan. Another ‘challenge’ so to speak.
“I bet I can make it to the dead end before you.” Minho says, stopping at the fork in the path to angle his head toward the long corridor his his left. One they both know has no other connecting pathways. “Ha! You’re on.” Thomas agrees, none the wiser to Minho’s true intentions. Not yet anyway.
Without another word, Thomas takes off, leaving Minho to curse in surprise and start running after him. The tall walls of the Maze echo with a melody of footfalls as they sprint down the corridor.
One would think think they are about to be crushed by the ever changing walls or are being chased by a Griever. But no, just another ‘challenge’.
Giggles of adrenaline and silliness spill from their lips they near the dead end they were running towards. Despite Minhos underlying intentions, it is nice to do something simply for the fun of it.
They’re neck and neck until Thomas pulls ahead at the final few yards, lunging forward with his arm outstretched to touch the wall a mere second before Minho.
A second after that they both slam into the wall with mirroring groans as their momentum reacts to meeting the solid object in its way.
“Shuck my head hurts. Hope your victory was worth it.” Minho grumbles, rubbing the side of his head that smacked against the stone wall. “Hey racing was your idea man.” Thomas responds, putting his hands up in innocence to his words.
“It was also your idea to climb the vines near the South Gate even though you complained half way up. AND yesterday it was your idea to do a workout on our day off and by the end you were barley making it through. So what’s your deal?” Thomas asks his friend, bewildered more than anything.
Minho knows Thomas was onto his physically draining suggestions of how to spend their day, but he isn't sure if Thomas is onto his intentions as to why.
“You’re so skinny we should call you plank instead of shank. I’m trying to help you out my guy.” Minho responds with a shrug. “Real clever there bud. Now what’s the actual reason, you wouldn’t put yourself through this torture just to make me more bulky.” Thomas shoots back flatly, unimpressed with his friends attempt at playing off his question.
‘Thomas will know if I’m lying anyway and I ‘technically’ only promised Newt I’d wear Thomas out. I never promised to not warn Thomas about his plot.’ Minho thinks to himself, mentally justifying his actions as he comes clean. “Alight fine, I’m doing Newt a favor. I promised the poor boy I’d tire you out so he’ll have a better chance of taking you down when you get back.” Minho says honestly after weighing his morals for a moment.
“Ha, I guess I should have known. Thanks for telling me, but I’m not worried about Newt.” Thomas says casually, his eyes confident. “Oh? And why is that.” Minho asks, intrigued by his self assuredness.
With a smile, Thomas leans in as if he was whispering a secret at a sleepover rather than conversing with his friend in a giant (apparently) unsolvable maze filled with creatures that wish them great harm. “I’m not ticklish. Not even a little.” Thomas says lightly, a shameless smile on his face.
The truth is, the other week Thomas learned that Newt is incredibly ticklish. And is having a grand old time exploiting it - Granted, Minho has gladly assisted in Thomas’ efforts against Newt as well. Part of why he is trying to do this favor for the blonde Glader.
Newt is hoping to get back at Thomas for exploiting his weakness. Knowing he isn't strong enough to take him down alone, Minho volunteered to wipe him out so Newt stands a better chance. Both plans will now fail miserably. Minho is the only one wiped out and apparently Newt is the only one who is ticklish.
Besides Minho of course.
But he wasn’t going to mention that.
Especially not to Thomas who by this point has clearly proven that he is physically superior to Minho. Thomas is barley breaking a sweat after half a day of running and doing random challenges.
“Are you serious? That’s going to break the boys heart.” Minho says, unable to contain his laughter. “I’m very serious. And deep down I don’t think he’ll mind at all honestly.” Thomas responds, turning to face the way they came before continuing.
"Race you back!” Thomas shouts over his shoulder as he starts running. “You shank, that’s not fair!” Minho calls after his friend has he takes off after him.
‘Poor Newt. But I guess Thomas may be right, I don’t think he’ll really mind all that much.’ Minho thinks to himself as he jogs after his friend, knowing there is no chance of catching up to him. He elects to save his lungs from popping out of his chest by not bothering to try.
He catches up to Thomas at the end of the pathway, who seemed to have been waiting there for quite some time. Leisurely perched against the stone wall, an amused smile on his face. “You’re really suck at your challenges.” He teases with a chuckle. Minhos ears flush red at his words, more so from embarrassment than anger.
“That’s because they’re challenges for you. Not me. Of course I’m bad at them.” Minho responds, spewing the first random sentence he could think of. It doesn't even make sense to himself once he hears it aloud but there is no taking it back now.
“So what you’re saying, is that I am the one who should thinking if challenges for you? Ones that are catered to you rather than me, what a great idea Minho.” Thomas responds brightly, Minho immediately knows that he should have just let it go.
“I actually have an idea already. This could never be a challenge for me but I have a feeling it will be for you.” Thomas continues, the mischievous look in his eyes was enough to cause Minho to start backing away.
“And what might that be?” Minho asks hesitantly, mentally mapping out the surrounding area to make a run for it if need be. “Tell me Minho, are you ticklish?”
Run. Defiantly run.
Minho doesn’t respond, he just turns and sprints the opposite direction. Grateful he had the foresight to plan his escape route. Thomas may be fast, but if Minho is efficient enough then maybe-
Minhos hopeful thought is cut off when Thomas suddenly appeared in front of him out of a corridor a few yards ahead. ‘How did I not notice Thomas was no longer behind me? And how does Thomas know the maze better than I do? Was he plotting a counter attack while I was plotting my escape?'
Minho didn’t have an answer to this.
He skids to a halt, eyeing his friend warily. “I believe you haven't given me the answer to my question.” Thomas says devilishly, taking steps toward the now trembling Glader. Minho has never wished for a Griever to show up before, but he would take just about anything else at this moment.
While he isn't as ticklish as Newt, it is still bad. Very bad. And Minho has what he considers to be an incredibly embarrassing laugh. Laden with snorts and high pitched squeals. Not the look he's going for as leader of the runners.
“Come on man, there’s no need for this.” Minho attempts to bargain his way out as he slowly backs away with his hands slightly raised in front of him. “Oh but there is. You were conspiring against me, surly this is cause for revenge?” Thomas responds with a smirk as he starts advancing slightly faster.
Minho attempts to accelerate his pace as well but he isn't as coordinated while walking backwards and quickly trips on a vine. Sending him stumbling backwards to the ground with a startled grunt.
Thomas, ever the opportunist, takes the moment to sit on his friends legs and start grabbing Minho’s wrists to pin them under his legs. Something Minho had seen Thomas do to Newt, it is game over for him if he lets that happen. But dammit Thomas is fast.
“Noho stop thihis.” Minho says, already giggling in anticipation as Thomas grabs each wrist one after the other and pins them beneath his own knees with a victorious grin. “But this challenge has only just begun.” Thomas protests as if disappointed in Minho.
“Whahat challenge?” Minho questions, still unable to suppress the giggles bubbling past his lips. “The challenge of how long you’ll last before you start begging.” Thomas says this plainly, as if it isn't a terrifying thing to hear.
Although if Thomas isn't ticklish then Minho could understand him not having a full grasp of why Minho’s blood just froze at his words. But when he meets Thomas’ gaze he can clearly see the truth, that his captor is all too aware of the effect of his statement.
Thomas doesn’t give Minho another chance to protest, he digs right in. Scribbling all ten fingers up and down his friends sides. Immediately Minho erupts into laughter, tugging at his arms where they are still securely pinned by his hips.
“St-stahap thahat yohou shuhuck head!” Minho cries out, his melodious laughter echoing up the stone walls around them. “I must not be trying hard enough if you’re insulting me.” Thomas says with a grin, which grows wider as he watches Minho attempt to take his words back. But it is already too late.
Thomas begins drilling his fingers into Minho’s hips, a weak spot he is familiar with exploiting on Newt. “EEEEAAHAHA STAHAHAP!” Minho yells as the sensation wracks his body. His horrendously squeaky and snorty laugh is echoing all around him as he squirms helplessly beneath Thomas.
Minho doesn't want to be tickled, but he doesn't want to beg either.
“Oh dear, I didn’t intend to find your tickle spot so soon.” Thomas says teasingly as he continues to dig his fingers into the sensitive muscles an inch or two above his hip bones. “SHUHUT UHUP! ITS NOHOT MY WOHORST SPOT!” Minho argues through his laughter, realizing his error too late.
His pride really is going to be the death of him.
“Oh ho. So you’re saying they’re spot that gets a better reaction than this-“ Thomas says in disbelief as he digs his thumbs into Minhos hips once more. Causing the pinned boy to cry out in high pitched and frantic laughter. The occasional snort here and there. It is quite endearing to see.
Minho doesn’t answer Thomas’ question, which was an answer in itself as it tells Thomas everything he needs to know. “Oh I am so finding that spot. Now I just have to know.” He says determinedly as he begins exploring more of Minhos upper body for weak spots.
Thomas slides his hands up Minho’s sides and ribs but it is nothing compared to the reaction he got from the hips. He even tried wiggling his hands into the pinned Glader’s armpits; it's a better reaction than the ribs and sides but was no where close to what he's looking for.
“Hmmm tell you what. If you willingly provide me with your weak spot, I will still exploit it, but it will be the end of your torture. For today at least.” Thomas offers, if it can even be called an offer, Minho wasn’t sure if it was any better than his previous deal.
“And if I refuse?” Minho asks warily, “Then I explore every inch until I find it. But I’d much rather spend than time returning to the Glade. Wouldn’t you?” Thomas responds plainly. Minho doesn’t have a retort for this.
I’m an effort to loosen his lips, Thomas begins squeezing Minhos hips again. “ALRIHIGHT ALRIHIGHT! ILL TEHELL YOHOU!” Minho shouts, desperate for this humiliation to end sooner rather than later. Thomas stops immediately, staring down at his captive expectantly.
This is even more humiliating than begging. Willingly divulging an embarrassing weakness that causes an equally embarrassing reaction? Minho can’t think of anything worse.
Except perhaps spending another night in the Maze with the Greivers.
“It’s … my knees. Top or bottom, really anything around it.” Minho mumbles, his words barley perceptible. Thomas grins from ear to ear and cracks his fingers in anticipation, and likely as a scaring tactic. It worked.
“G-go easy on me? Since I told you freely?” Minho asks hopefully, his face falls when Thomas begins laughing. “That was never in the deal my friend, sorry.” He responds gleefully as he twists around to face Minho’s legs, still careful to keep the arms contained as he repositions.
For a moment there is silence as Minho waits in dreadful anticipation. With Thomas blocking his view, Minho has no reference of when the attack will commence. The waiting is excruciating. Knowing what is to come, unable to do anything to prevent it.
It is kinda … fun?
It this why Newt enjoys it so much? Sure the tickling and teasing is borderline unbearable but even so it's nice to do something so meaningless and silly with his friend. Similar to the feeling he got while racing down the path earlier.
‘You never know, maybe I could get used-‘ Minho’s revaluation of the situation is halted as Thomas begins his assault. “AHAHAHA NAHAHAH STAHAHAHAP!” Minho cries out, the snorts coming out immediately this time causing Thomas to laugh right along with him.
“You know, Newt may be more ticklish, but your laugh is simply priceless.” Thomas says as he continues squeezing the muscles just above Minho’s knee caps. Greatly enjoying the high pitched and snorty laugher that is endlessly pouring from his friends mouth.
“SHUHUT UHUP AHAHAHA!” Minho tries to sound aggressive in his words but his hysterical cackling is making it impossible. “No thanks, I don’t think I will. I’m not quite done yet.” Thomas responds, even with the teen’s back turned towards him, Minho can hear the smile in his friends voice. This makes him both nervous and … excited?
Yes, Minho can definitely understand why Newt likes this so much.
It’s impossible to think about anything other than the fingers squeezing his sensitive thigh muscles or scribbling behind his knee at the dreadfully ticklish skin there. It is easy to forget everything else, the pressure, the fear, the uncertainty. It is nice to just laugh and trust his friend to stop when he can't take it anymore.
“WAIT WAHAIT! NOHOT THAHAT PLEAHAHASE!” Minho shouts when Thomas began tickling the very top of his knee caps. Making almost a claw position as he expands his fingers from the center, down the sides of the kneecap over and over and over again.
“And there’s the begging. Too bad that’s not the deal anymore; though it’s still nice to hear.” Thomas states smugly as he turns his head to side-eye his friend. Well aware that his teasing words were just as effective as his tickles. “OHKAY YEHES, IM BEGGING YOHOHO. PLEHAHASE! I CAHAHANT!” Any words Minho tried to say after this point is lost behind hysterical squeaky laughter, and loud snorts.
As amusing as the reaction is, Thomas knows it is time to relent his attack before Minho is too exhausted to make it back to the Glade. With one final squeeze to both knees, Thomas rises to his feet and dusts himself off. Giving Minho a few extra moments to catch his breath before offering a hand to stand up.
“You are ruthless.” Minho says between large breaths, though he has a smile on his face that seems to hint he isn't truly perturbed. “You should have known that already. Anyway, we should head back. After all, Newt is expecting me.” Thomas responds with a chuckle as he leads the way back home. Starting slow until Minho catches his breath, then speeding up the pace to make up for lost time.
“Race you!” Thomas shouts over his shoulder as they approach the final turn before the Glade. “You Shank! You always get a head start!” Minho complains as he takes off after him, well aware it wouldn’t make an inch of difference with or without the head start.
They make it back to the Glade red faced and laughing. Even Thomas seems wiped out after everything they did that day. Not that being wiped will make any difference in Newts plan once he realizes Thomas isn’t ticklish.
Minho feels a slight tinge of guilt for his friend as he see’s Newt walk up to them, his giddiness poorly concealed. The guilt quickly dissipates as Minho recalls the feeling of when Thomas was tickling him. Yes, he is certain Newt won't mind at all.
The three of them walk along the wall, conversing about the days activities. Not a care in the world between them as they banter and joke.
It surly was a most challenging day, but it was also a most rewarding day. Minho feels a light bounce in his step, even though the exhaustion.
He can definitely get used to this.