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Minho had only ever wanted Thomas's love. The second he laid eyes on Greenie, he felt something spark in his chest, his heart filling with admiration in a way he never thought possible. His soft brown eyes were so curious, so full of love, something Minho wanted to see every morning and every night. Thomas haunted him long before he even considered it, showing up in his dreams and distracting him in his day to day life, even in the Maze.
He had to have him. He had to win his love.
Thomas didn't notice him though. The Maze? Yes. The Keeper of it? Not as himself. Not as sarcastic Minho who could be so closed off but had so much to give if the right person found him.
He only wanted to speed up the process, to cheat the system. After years of being trapped, didn't he deserve it? Hadn't he earned the right to something good? Something as hypnotizing as Thomas?
He had done everything correctly. He had gathered the supplies no matter how unethical and read every word no matter how hard to pronounce. He was up all night performing one of the only spells he had to stay away from.
Love.
Thomas would love him.
Thomas woke up that morning with this tingly feeling in his body, head woozy, and mouth dry as if he’d been deprived of water. His vision didn't seem quite right, the colors being too dull to even bother waking up for.
When Minho approached him though, hands tightly clinging to his Runners harness to stop the shaking, everything changed. His eyes were flooded with things he didn't know he could see, colors not visible on the rainbow. His lips were cool, the taste of fresh spring water filling his cheeks. The Glade seemed so small, so meaningless, so empty. All that mattered was Minho. Minho, Minho, Minho.
It was nice at first. Having Thomas all to himself, holding his hand, kissing him, telling him he loved him.
He could never explain why though. He couldn't just say that the world hurt when Minho left his side, turning an unbearable gray. There was no reasonable way to explain he was like a cure, saving his mind from insanity.
He left though. Constantly. He was always gone in the Maze, leaving Thomas alone, letting him suffer. He was growing antsy, scratching at his hands until they bled. Minho noticed the callouses and nail marks. It was impossible not to. Just like how it was impossible not to notice him shaking when he stood, staying frozen as his heart was racing too fast for his body.
He was losing himself. He couldn't eat unless Minho was there, couldn't sleep unless Minho was asleep, couldn't exist unless Minho was beside him. He was angry, snapping at everyone who spoke to him, even getting physical with them over something that wasn't even close to a big deal. He would pull his hair out as he found himself going mad.
There wasn't enough Minho for him. Soon, not even their hours together cured the insatiable hunger. He was still always ready to lose it, hating everyone and everything, even himself.
Thomas didn't remember hiding them. The knives in his hammock. He didn't know how the box of matches got in Minho’s. He didn't have a reason for the red stains on his clothes and missing animals. His mind was blank. It was full of nothing, not one real thought, except for Minho. Minho was his only actual reality.
Minho didn't want to kill him. He never meant to hurt him. There just wasn't another choice. If he didn't do something, Thomas was going to do worse than anything his mind could think of. It was mercy in a way, murdering him gentler than his lover would have. It wasn't malicious, never malicious.
His grave was flourishing with flowers now, colorful petals sprouting out of the dirt. The Gladers would remark about it sometimes when they had to go in there, pointing out the beauty of life.
Only Minho knew the truth. It wasn't just the ground growing those flowers. It was Thomas's decomposing body becoming nutrients to the Earth, becoming one with nature. It was his gravestone, the one he never got to have.
It was the spot he performed the forbidden spell and the spot he had buried his love.