Auther;

It was damn near impossible not to relentlessly compare yourself to the new girl, who had just recently came out of her coma: Teresa. Even things she had no control over, like how pale skin was stretched across her slim physique, made your blood boil in your veins. She was far from undesirable-looking, already having multiple Gladers wrapped around her long, feminine fingers. You cringed ever since you became aware of this; which didn’t take long at all.

Looking in the mirror that the boys had stuck in your hut when you came up in the box, you picked yourself apart, thinking of Teresa and how much better she appeared than yourself did. It took less than two minutes of that before a tear made it’s way down your cheek; not as chiseled as Teresa’s, of course.

Becoming angry, you sucked in your tears and changed quickly into your sleeping attire, pulling your sheets over your shoulders.

Although it was stupid of you to critique every characteristic of your body, and even parts your own personality; you happened to be one of many who was doing the same thing. The Gladers never shut their traps during the day, listing off the similarities and differences between you and Teresa; even going as far as conversing about the pros and cons of sleeping with her and sleeping with you.

The words made your jaw clench so hard that you were suprised it hadn’t snapped yet everytime you walked past some boys who hadn’t gotten action in a while. But, unfortunately for you, that was the case for all of them.

Sure, there were exceptions. Chuck was the most prominent one; he was about twelve and cared so little about her arrival that you held onto that relief for dear life, hanging around him whenever you had the chance. Chuck didn’t understand the issues much, but he listened, and he didn’t give input — which was enough for you.

Others that didn’t care about her arrival from a personal standpoint included Alby, his second-in-command, Newt, and most of the Keepers. Most.

Some of the Keepers, such as Winston, goggled at her whenever she waltzed by him, swinging her skinny hips in the process and moving some of her black locks that cascaded down her frontside to tucking them behind her ear. A simple movement, one that she probably did mindlessly, made you anguish.

Then, to add salt to the wound, your mind wandered to think of how kind she was, and how she, impossibly, managed to be a force to be reckoned with in a grassy patch in the middle of four, inescapable walls, where egotistical boys were scattered left and right. You never thought yourself out to be as impressive.

Reflecting on the comparisons as you laid in your bed, finally, your body gave you the ‘okay’ that getting some shut-eye was possible. For sure, though, because of how late you had stayed up racking your brain with negativity, you would awake with slight bags under your eyes. Just what you needed.

Pulling at your under-eyes in the morning, you grasped dangerously onto the tiny bits of self-esteem that were scattered behind. You were nice. Right? Weren’t you? Helpful. No way to know for sure. Attractive? Teresa had stolen any thunder you could have possibly had.

Mopily throwing on your clothes, you set off to Gardening, aiming your eyes on your work. Pulling out weeds was, oddly, your favorite part, it was like removing the weak from the strong. Then, Teresa walked by you, and you realized exactly why you liked it so much. The thought hurt you, just as she did, but you were attatched to the misery. You better get used to it, anyway, since as far as you know, Teresa isn’t going anywhere. Neither were any of you, for that matter, but now you had a more prominent issue — that was much more vain.

You took your break alone, sitting in the grass and munching on a sandwhich. The sandwhich was the apple of your eye at this moment; Usually you liked to observe the Glade and it’s nature-filled glory, but that was out of the question.

Finishing up and dusting your hands off to berid any bread crumbs, you continued working until your back ached. Oh, the sweet joy of a long day’s work. In your uncomfortable kneeling position, you wished you were sitting down in a cozy chair; as if that had an existence in the Glade. It seemed as though all good in your life was primarily taken away because of…

Accidentally, your eyes trailed up, and none other than Teresa was in front of you.

“What’s going on,” she said casually, her apparent attempt to start a conversation that you didn’t want to have.

“Not much,” you curtly replied, to which she cocked her head to the side and turned on her heel, hair briskly flowing.

You grunted, continuing to work. Could dinner come any sooner? All you wanted to do was eat and go to bed, curling up under your covers so that no one would see you.

Finally, it was time for you to drown your sorrow in another one of Frypan’s beyond mediocre meals and a glass of stale-tasting water that lingered on your tastebuds. You ate quietly, sitting alongside Minho, Thomas, Ben, and Chuck, but stayed silent.

Thomas mumbled some things about Teresa that you were too defeated to listen to, but decided to tune back into the conversation when Minho jumped in with a comeback to whatever words Thomas had spoke.

“She’s cute, Thomas, just go for it.”

For some reason, your thighs clenched hearing that. She’s cute. Well, were you supposed to be suprised? Everybody in the Glade saw her as attractive in one form or another; you could take that; but this felt different.

“Go for what?” You asked, head turning up to move your eyes between the two pairs that met yours.

Minho pointed to the girl who rocked the Glade since her upcoming. “Go for Teresa. The shank likes her. He isn’t the only one, I mean, but he thinks he’s got a chance somehow,” he stated, to which Thomas nudged him jokingly. Your throat tightened.

“I deem it so.”

Minho eyed you, as did Chuck and Ben. Thomas was too busy looking at the girl. “What’s up with you?” Minho asked.

“Nothing. How’s Teresa, Thomas?” You asked with a fake smile.

Minho bursted out in a short laugh, and you almost sacked him. “Wait, do you like Thomas?”

You grit your teeth, but not too visibly that Thomas would be offended when you told the truth (as if he would be bothered). “No. Do you like Teresa?”

If there was anything Minho liked, it was the opportunity to be snarky. “Maybe I do,” he quickly replied. You were instantly dejected.

“W-well, if you like her so much, why don’t you go talk to her; Make my shucking night.”

Minho’s brows were furrowed now, but he had a grin on his face. “Okay, shuckface. I’ll go talk to Teresa, then. Way more laidback, I gotta say, that girl,” he said. It was then that something in you snapped; you could only take so many digs, from others — and yourself, included.

“Do it, then! Why are you talking to me in the first place?” You shouted, ablazed, pushing your empty plate towards him with a clattering sound replacing the newfound silence among everyone. You could feel the heat in your face, but you no longer cared, getting up and retreating fiercely to your hut.

Minho brought his hand up to graze his fingers against his own cheek, since you might as well have slapped him. He crossed you; worse, he hurt you, and, much to what would be your disbelief, he couldn’t take that.

Trapped in his thoughts, he barely felt the weight of the bench he sat on shift slightly to the right. He turned his head to see Teresa, sitting beside him, thighs brushing against each other, with her famous Teresa-smile painted onto her face.

“What was that about?” She laughed, gazing at the Runner.

For once, Minho was dumbfounded into utter quietness. It made him even more maddened than before that he so much as joked about the girl being anything near superior to you.

“Cat got your tongue?” She began to tease, going back to eating her meal, opening her mouth to dispense a spoonful of soup down her gullet as cutely as she could.

“Griever got your brain?” It was rare when Minho made jokes about the dangers of his job, since he happened to be so serious about it, but he knew he deserved it anyway.

Confusion crossed Teresa’s face, but Minho slapped his hands on the table with a loud sound that made her twitch back, and he pushed himself out of his seat. It was then that he realized that Teresa might not be as great as she seemed to everybody else. He, now more than ever, wanted that to be nothing less than apparent.

He set off to your hut, his knuckles gently pressing against the wooden door. You stayed silent.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there…” He began.

You audibly sighed. “Aren’t you the smartest?” You asked sarcastically. Pausing between your next sentence, you wiped the remainder of your tears away and sat on the edge of your bed. “Come in.”

He opened it and you saw him, a look of guilt washed over his face.

“Oh, honey,” he forced a smile, but there was a visible crack in his ego now. He had hurt you, and there was nothing worse than it. He searched you to make sure you were okay enough to talk before stepping towards you. The mattress shifted on after he sat beside you.

In a second, your head was pressed against his chest, along with the rest of your smaller figure, and he held you in his arms as he slightly rocked on his feet. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sniffled into his muscular frame, nodding. A part of you knew how he thought about you, never focusing on it, though, because of how much it would (clearly) affect you.

Then, he smiled, and you had a whole new standard for beauty. Forget Teresa. Minho’s dashing features enticed you to the point of never giving her any thought ever again.

“I only said that stuff ‘cause I like you.” He whispered, “dumb shank,” after the words, but it didn’t wipe the grin off your face. Not even close. Instead, your forehead fell onto his shoulder and you felt engulfed in his tan, muscular arms.

“I like you, too.”

He kissed your jaw warmly, leaving a few wet kisses in the area. “You’re not second to Teresa. It’s the other way around. Literally and figuratively, babe.”

You captured his lips to quiet him. A small moan admitted from his mouth and he smiled against you. “I. Like. You,” he murmured between kisses. “A. Lot.”