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He had done it. Repaid his debts the best he could. Rebuilt things he had once hopelessly shattered. All that there was left to do now was go.
Gally had planned it a while ago, but had been too scared to fully commit.
He’d even debated doing it, leaving, in the Glade.. but that hadn’t really worked out. A bugging Griever sting and a shuck ton of unwanted memories was all he was left with.
The last city too, he’d almost planted a bullet in his head. Yet Lawrence had found him, stripped him of any weapons, and forced him back out on duty.
Life was tiring, so tiring. When Minho’d stabbed him, way back in that control room in the maze, he’d been thankful. The tears he cried weren’t ones of pain or grief, well maybe grief for Chuck, but tears of relief.
Then Wicked had picked him up. Dropped him into a medical ward with no concern of his well being. He’d lost count of the amount of times he had tried to find ways to cut his life short.
However, he was here now. Feeling a bitter wind whip his face. Fighting down the bile in his stomach as he peered off of the ledge. Gushing, grey water sloshed beneath, beckoning him forwards.
Gally slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets, looking back at where Minho was still asleep with a slither of regret. A whisper crawled out from between his cracked lips, “Gleymdu mér..”
Then, he fell forwards.
Minho felt Gally leave the tent, the warmth he always carried with him slipping away as he did. Minho groaned softly, hearing the rustle of fabric and the slide of an obnoxious zipper.
His gut had started churning.
Gally was the one who initiated a camping trip, to ‘remember what the Glade felt like during the early days.’ Minho sometimes missed that time, when it was just him and his closest friends facing a weird new world together.
He obviously didn’t want to go back, he was happy where he was now, but it sometimes seemed like Gally did. This should’ve been the first red flag, but Minho was ever oblivious.
This gut feeling though, it didn’t go away. It gnawed at something lingering inside of his chest until he finally pushed himself up, head pounding.
An ever growing breeze was smacking the slightly parted tent door senseless. Minho crawled forwards and stuck his head out, “Gally?”
The guy was nowhere to be seen. Minho frowned, climbing further out of the tent, “Gal?” Still, he got no response.
Something was wrong, why was Gally out in weather like this? Small droplets of water were beginning to cascade from the sky, and Minho wiped his face a couple of times to keep his eyes clear.
His mind may as well of been sighing at him, Gally was fine. He was reasonable. For shucks sake, he was practically a full grown man now! He didn’t need someone doting on his every move.
But something only Minho’s heart had noticed was the guy’s absence. He was always there, but never really there. He’d show up to everything, help out, support people, but his smiles never reached his eyes. Not once.
He looked just like the Gally from the Glade, the one who’d been the first to survive a Griever sting, the one who had turned cold and bitter.
Initially, Minho’d thought sadly that Gally might’ve be turning angry again inside, angry at the world, angry at the people around him, angry at himself. And he wasn’t completely wrong with that answer, but there was still a gap.
He hadn’t seen how Gally bit by bit was loosing touch with the reality around him, swamped with guilt and regret which could make any veteran weep endlessly.
Maybe Minho hadn’t seen that part of Gally, because he didn’t want to believe that it existed. If he pretended Gally was okay, then Gally would get back to normal, right?
His prayers had fallen upon deaf ears apparently, as when he emerged from his tent and stormed around to a clearing, trying to get a better view of the area, he saw Gally standing on his own in the rain.
Standing in the rain by the side of the cliff. He wasn’t sure that his yells would’ve reached the guy if he tried.
Gally looked back towards the tent, maybe hesitant? He hadn’t seen Minho yet. Minho staggered forwards, freezing. What to do.. what to do..?
A flicker ignited in his memory and he saw Newt up there instead of him, devoid of all life and meaning. That propelled him into a blur of action, “Gally! Get the fuck away from there!”
His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He was running, wind stinging his entire face, but Gally didn’t react. He instead turned his head back towards the sea, and smiled.
Minho’s jaw went slack and he stumbled, eyes widening in pure horror. He was too late, why was he always too late?
That didn’t stop him from persisting. Minho leapt forwards, not giving his own safety a second thought, and propelled himself off of the edge.
Using a technique he’d been taught somewhere in his cloudy past, he stretched his arms out above his head, narrowing the impact, and straightened his legs.
The water was cold. It paralysed his body, detaching his nerves from his head. The pain hadn’t come yet, downed by adrenaline.
He broke the surface.
His arms flailed, but he was alive, he was moving. He saw Gally next and grunted, kicking his legs to push himself through the water.
He gasped for air.
Waves were rippling higher around him now, and he grabbed onto, what? Gally’s leg? His arm? Well he grabbed onto Gally, roaring with a heavy strain.
He started to swim.
The bank was muddy, slippery too, but Minho lugged Gally with him, sprawling out the taller boy’s body on the ground. He immediately grabbed Gally’s collar, shaking him aggressively, “Gally! Don’t do this you slinthead.. shit-!”
Gally’s chest was still. Minho put his hands on Gally’s face, feeling his body shaking, “You fucker! You piece of shit! What.. what the hell were you thinking?” His voice broke, torn with disbelief.
He wished that Jorge or Vince were there with him, they would know what to do. But no, Gally had been adamant they explored somewhere on the island for a couple of days.
Then Gally retched.
Minho flew backwards, watching his friends body violently convulse and tremble as he spluttered. Weakly, Gally tipped himself onto his side, throwing up litres of water and curling up into a ball.
Minho groaned with both anger and damn relief, laying flat on his back on the ground beside him.
Aching. Gally was aching from his toes all the way up to his temples. A thin blanket had been laid over him and he clawed at it, trying to pull it up to his chin.
Fractures of what had happened pierced his mind and his body slowly sunk into the mattress underneath him. He’d jumped. He had actually done it, pushed himself far enough to commit. Lawrence had always told him he didn’t have the guts.
Gally coughed out a shallow laugh. He did have the guts, he really did, but he was still alive. Still breathing. How useless was he? He’d failed at dying! That seemed like the easiest thing not to fuck up on this godforsaken planet.
“Gally? Oh crap-“
Shifting his head slightly to the right, Gally blinked sleep out of his eyes and scrunched his face up, trying to see who it was. To his disappointment, it wasn’t Minho. Then again, fuck, he was also thankful for that.
Minho must’ve found him or something for him to be in a bed, regaining his consciousness. And he knew for certain that Minho was not going to be happy with him.
“Can you hear me?” Gally saw fingers wave over his eyes.
He sighed dejectedly through his nose, “Loud and clear, Bren.”
“Thank the lord..”
Gally met his friend’s eyes, cringing slightly, “Wh-what happened? Shit, man, where am I?”
“Vince and Jorge’s spare room.”
Changing his gaze to the walls around him, Gally managed a nod. He remembered building this room now, watching how everyone congratulated one another when they finished it. He’d just stood back, watching the miniature celebrations happen.
“What happened-“
“Gal, we need to talk-“
They spoke at the same time, so Gally shut his mouth and glared at the ceiling, “Go on.”
Brenda was silent for a beat, then she grimaced, “..Why? Why did you.. do what you did?”
“Tch,” Gally shut his eyes, “why do you think?” He didn’t mean to sound so irritated, especially not towards Brenda, but he really didn’t want to talk.
“A lot of reasons then, I’m guessing.”
The blanket moved with Gally’s shoulders as he shrugged, “Just got tired of living.”
Instantly, Brenda’s face soured, “Tired of living? Seriously? Gally, you can tell me the actual reason, we’re meant to be here for each other-“
“Why does there have to be an actual reason? What if there isn’t one? Is that too hard to understand?”
“I know that there’s a reason Gally! And fuck.. I want to help you! So please let me! Do you know how scared we’ve been? You’ve been in a coma for a month!”
A month.
A month.
Gally’s mouth went dry. Why couldn’t life ever go his way? He just wanted to be out of the way, to not be a problem anymore. But instead? It seemed like he’d been nursed back to health by his friends for an entire month.
Gally rolled onto his side, facing the wall.
Brenda reached a hesitant hand out towards Gally’s back, “Gal-“
“You should’ve let me die.”
The room went quiet, the only sound being the scrape of fabric on Brenda’s jacket as she retracted her arm.
“Tell that to Minho. I dare you.”
Feeling his stomach sink, Gally squeezed his eyes shut, “..Is he okay?”
Expelling her pent up fury, Brenda looked to the small window in the room solemnly, “You missed the worst of it. That madman dragged you all the way from your camping spot back to the Haven in one night.”
Gally didn’t want to picture that.
Brenda continued, “He had a bunch of scrapes and cuts but insisted that we all helped you instead.” Her eyes flicked to Gally coldly, “He hasn’t visited you by the way. Doesn’t want to see your face apparently.”
“I don’t blame him.” Gally mumbled blankly, trying to sound normal. His body had other ideas though, and he fisted the blanket, trying to hold back his sadness.
He heard Brenda groan behind him, “Look, if you’re gonna be all grouchy then fine, but I’m playing good cop. You better prepare yourself for what Fry, Tom and your boyfriend have to say.”
“Fuck me.” Gally’s eye twitched, “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, fuck you. Anyways, I’ve gotta be off, kitchen shift. Vince is in the other room so I’ll tell him you’re awake.”
Just before Brenda properly got to her feet, Gally whipped around and grabbed her sleeve, “Wait-“
She raised an eyebrow.
“Thanks,” he swallowed, “for not.. bein’ angry with me.”
“Oh I’m angry.” Brenda chuckled, but not as dryly as Gally would’ve imagined, “But I can’t be angry at you I guess. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
Instinctively, Gally almost said, “Me too.” But he choked up. He didn’t feel it. Instead, he managed a weak smile and let Brenda on her way.
Minho came into his line of view a few days later. He wasn’t bedridden anymore, he was slowly walking his way around the Haven with Frypan’s help- after a long, awkward, then honest conversation between them.
Gally froze like a deer in headlights, Minho had seen him. Quickly, he went to turn away and leave, Frypan glancing between them worriedly, but he heard a shout, “Gally!”
Freezing, Gally groaned and stood up straighter, leaning heavily on the cane Jorge had given him, “Minho, look-“
He looked back and saw Minho angrily storming towards him, his entire body tense. Gally saw how Minho’s hands were tightened into fists and swallowed, “Minho-“
A punch struck him directly across the face, “-Shucking bastard!” Minho yelled as he swung, then glared at Frypan, who had no idea what to do.
Visibly seething, Minho then spun around and began marching off. Gally’s eyes were still plastered to the floor, in shock. His mouth was agape, “What..”
One rule. There was only one damned rule the Haven had; no harming another person. Gally laughed bitterly, feeling his cheekbone start to throb, “Are you an idiot!” He raised his head and called out after Minho, “Your shanked up arse can’t even follow one simple rule?”
Frypan shifted from foot to foot, getting increasingly anxious, “Gally-“
“Get outta here, Fry. I need a word with him,” Gally took a step forwards, “alone.”
He didn’t check if Frypan retreated or not, he just continued forwards, awkwardly chasing after Minho with his cane.
Minho knew that Gally was behind him, because he did not stop walking. And being as stubborn as he was, Gally did not stop following him. Minho eventually met a dead and and turned on Gally fiercely, “Leave me alone!”
“No!” Gally shouted back at him, “Talk to me! What the hell did I do to deserve that?”
“What the hell..” Minho’s eye twitched, “what the hell did you do? I’ll tell you what the hell you did!” He jumped forwards and grabbed Gally’s collar, making the taller boy drop his cane in a fright, “You buggin’ almost got us both killed!”
“I almost got us both killed?” Gally sneered, “I never wanted you to follow after me, but here we are.”
Looking more hurt than angry now, Minho let go of Gally and shoved him backwards, though with a lot less power than Gally had anticipated. “I don’t want to see you right now. So please,” the shorter boy slowly walked past him, “go away.”
Gally’s body tensed but he managed to move his arm and stiffly grip onto Minho’s shoulder, “I’ve already said no.” Even though Gally couldn’t see Minho’s face, he could feel the pure, unfiltered anger that was vibrating off of the boy.
He took a deep breath, eyes glued to the side of Minho’s head, hand clamped down on Minho’s shoulder, “I’m sorry. I didn’t have the energy to keep going. I don’t have the energy to keep going. But I..” he fumbled, trying to find the right words, “why are you so angry? You chose to save me but won’t even look me in the eye-?”
Minho shrugged his hand off and stared up at him. Gally paused. Minho’s eyes were red, he was definitely crying, but there was something so.. pretty, and warm in his irises.
“I told you,” Minho’s chest sucked in a spiked breath, “everything. I told you the answers to absolutely everything you asked me, about Wicked, about the Scorch, I never lied..” a fresh tear slipped out from his waterline, “but you?”
Gally swallowed a large lump in his throat. He hadn’t exactly told Minho the truth about himself, about his state of mind, but he’d never wanted to be any trouble. Gally bit his tongue, feeling guilt ridden all over again. Somehow, this conversation was worse than standing on that cliff in finality.
“You lied.”
Almost choking on air, Gally nodded curtly, lip trembling, “I-“ he didn’t have the power, the voice, the courage. Minho glared at him, looking like fury and fire and rage boiling all together in a pot. And all of that pent up grief came out in a singular action.
Minho grabbed Gally’s face and kissed him, until he couldn’t breathe, until he forgot his own name, until he had no recollection of the storm that had been brewing inside of him for years.
He clasped onto Minho’s forearms, trying to focus on the touch. When Minho pulled away, lightning prickling in his gaze, Gally didn’t let go of him and instead held on tighter, his whole body shaking, “I just didn’t want to be a burden anymore.” His voice cracked, a tidal wave of fear and adrenaline in one washing through his veins.
“Oh, oh Gally,” Minho broke out into a wobbly smile, his entire body jittery like a live wire, “you could never be a burden. Not to anyone.”
“We can go back if you want.” Minho dragged his fingernails over Gally’s scalp.
Gally numbly shook his head, “No, it’s okay.”
Twelve months.
One year.
They had only counted the days subconsciously, but they were more than accurate with their calculations. It had been three hundred and sixty five entire days since they’d last visited this spot and camped there. Fifty two weeks and one day since Gally almost took his life.
He had insisted they go back, just so he could prove to himself that it’d been a terrible idea, and Minho was obviously hesitant. Yet he still agreed, knowing that Gally would probably still go anyways even if he said no.
Minho had expected Gally to cry, or start apologising, or try and do something irrational again. He didn’t. They’d been lying in the tent for a couple of hours, Gally resting his head on Minho’s lap and being completely still and silent.
Going along with it, Minho opted to try and help or soothe or something- in the best way he could, so he was messing with Gally’s hair softly. He wasn’t sure if he was managing to keep Gally tethered to earth this way, or if he was actually helping to calm the guy, but Gally didn’t tell him to stop.
It was weird, seeing Gally in this unfamiliar state, but then again, neither one of them were ever taught properly how to regulate their emotions. Maybe this was Gally trying, after all, he’d promised to Minho that he would try and do just that.. for him.
That night, you couldn’t tell where Gally ended and Minho started. Minho had wrapped himself ever so tightly around Gally, to ensure that the guy didn’t get up and leave. Half asleep, Gally felt Minho press a kiss against his forehead. He knew that he didn’t even want to think about leaving after that.
The small campfire crackled under the early morning sky. Minho heated some fried eggs in a pan over it as Gally sat in a camp chair, a blanket swaddling him to keep out the dewy cold. “How many do you want?” Minho asked, prodding at the eggs with his spatula.
Not a sound.
He looked at Gally, perplexed, then saw that the boy’s eyes were focused on the horizon. On the partially visible cliff. Minho felt dread as chilling as the first breath of winter pulse around him.
Handling stuff like this was not his speciality, or rather, in his skill set at all. The only thing he felt was anger. Anger at himself, at Gally, at the life they used to have, at the evil thing that was still eating away inside of Gally. He stood.
Gally didn’t react. He didn’t react until Minho began moving towards the cliff. His glazed-over eyes snapped back into precise focus faster than light and he got to his feet, dropping the blanket, “Minho?”
Minho didn’t slow. Frightened, Gally hurried up to him. Minho was a few metres from the ledge when he caught up. “Min! What are you doing?” He yanked Minho backwards by his arm.
The boy turned to him, expression unreadable. “Do you still want to die?”
Gally didn’t want to answer that question, because there was one. There wasn’t one.
He wanted to stay alive and watch his friends grow. He wanted it all to be over already. He truthfully wanted to marry Minho, to stay with him for a bit longer. He didn’t want to see anyone in pain ever again.
Seeing how unclear it was for Gally, Minho moved them both away from the edge with delicate steps. He put a hand on Gally’s cheek, “What’s the matter with us? He murmured, “Why can’t I stop you from hurting?”
Pressing his mouth shut tightly, Gally cast one last, weary look at the ledge and the sea, then put a hand on Minho’s back and bustled him back to their camp. Minho halted them right by the fire and pulled at Gally’s hoodie strings, “I scared you, right?”
…
Gally nodded.
“Now,” Minho smoothed his hand down Gally’s chest, “now.. now you know how I feel.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Gally mumbled, “I was just a bit lost in thought.”
“But you’re not speaking to be much anymore, this month I’ve had to initiate every conversation, just like before. Please, please let me in, Gally. I won’t hurt you like I did back then, I swear it. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Shifting on his feet, Gally looked down at the grassy floor sadly, “It’s not like I’m trying to shut you out..”
Shushing him quietly, Minho looked up at Gally, directly in his eyes, and smiled. Gally blinked back, feeling his stomach sprout butterflies. The good kind this time, not the squirming and unsettling ones that came whenever he was having a particular bad day.
He leant forwards and kissed Minho’s smile, and Minho pressed himself against him with closed eyes, as if trying to see if he could transmit his own warmth to Gally’s heart. Or, as if he was trying to absorb all of the suffering from him and place it on his own two shoulders.
Snatching a brief breath, Gally finally let the skin around his eyes crease with a flicker of joy, and hummed under his breath, “Elskan mín..”
Minho’s eyelids squinted open, “Did you say my name?”
“No.” Gally cupped Minho’s jaw and pulled him back as tenderly as his overworked hands could manage.