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“You like him, don’t you?” Minho snickered as Newt approached him. He had been waiting by the doors of the Maze for Thomas to return. Why Thomas had taken off after being taken to see the sleeping girl — Teresa, apparently — Minho couldn’t say. But after he saved Minho’s life the night before, Minho figured he should at least make sure Thomas got back through the Doors before they closed.
Newt scowled, the dark circles from the strain of the past few days making him look truly fearsome. “That’s what I came here to say, you obnoxious bloody shank.”
Minho smirked. “Are you telling me I’m wrong? Talking about how half the Glade wants his hand in marriage? I know which half you’re in.”
“You want him to be a bloody Keeper after going in the Maze with him once,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. “You have it bad.”
Minho looked at him for a moment, before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Okay, baby. Let’s say I do. Just admit I’m not the only one.”
Newt scowled and shot a glance around, as he always did when Minho called him a pet name. But no one was in earshot. Everyone else was busy doing their assigned jobs at the Homestead, the Blood House, and the Gardens, far away from the Maze Doors.
“I don’t know if I have room in me for liking him. I mostly just want to throttle him right now,” Newt said half-heartedly.
“He’ll come back,” Minho said. He did feel a twinge of unease at the thought of Thomas alone in the Maze for only the second time ever, but did his best to suppress it.
“Sure.”
Minho raised his eyebrows at Newt, who finally came over and stood close enough that Minho could hug him. Newt could be prickly, and rarely initiated these things, but Minho could tell he was hoping for it. Minho held Newt until the tension in his shoulders relaxed a fraction, then brusquely kissed his cheek before letting go.
“What do we do if I do like him, anyway?” Newt said, leaning up against the Maze wall to take the weight off his leg.
“What do you mean?”
“This has never happened before. That we both like someone at the same time.”
Minho and Newt had been together for over a year, an astronomically long time in Glader terms. Without an outside society to judge them for who they loved and how, the Gladers had developed their own culture surrounding relationships, just like they had with everything else. Casual and poly-amorous relationships were the norm. Every Glader knew how fragile their lives truly were, and most wanted to live as much as they could in case they didn’t end up living long. And with such a limited population, constant romantic infighting would’ve been disastrous to the community’s stability. It was better to just let romance and sex not be a big deal.
Though they had been together for a while, Minho and Newt had long ago agreed to do as the other Gladers and avoid jealousy to the best of their ability. In the time they were together, Minho had had a few flings and so had Newt. Minho had sort of expected that Newt might find someone to pass the time with during the day, now that he wasn’t a Runner anymore, but after his injury he seemed more reluctant to approach anyone. Minho wondered if that new insecurity was a factor in the situation now.
After thinking for a while, Minho said, “Do you want to ask him which one of us he likes better and see who he picks?”
Newt made a choked sound which broke off into spluttering. “Sometimes I wonder what the shuck goes on in your buggin’ brain, I really do.”
“What does that mean?” Minho said indignantly.
“That’s a terrible plan. Look. Why don’t we ask him which one of use he likes better, and hope he can’t pick?”
“You mean, see if he’ll be in the relationship with both of us? That would be awesome. Something different. I’m getting kinda tired of just making out with some dude and then forgetting about him. It’ll be fun. He can be our new toy.” Minho smirked, but Newt just rolled his eyes at the purposefully obnoxious remark.
“And what if he’s not interested? He just got here; he might think it’s weird. Honestly, I doubt he’s noticed everyone is shacking up. I suspect the giant bloody Maze has been a bit of a distraction.”
“Flirt as much as possible, obviously.” Minho winked and blew Newt a kiss.
“Gross.” Newt smacked him half-heartedly on the shoulder. “My money’s on him being interested in only one of us, at best. I mean, what are the odds he already wants to be in some weird trio with us?”
“Throuple,” Minho said, the corner of his mouth twitching, and Newt laughed.
Minho continued, “My money’s on him being completely oblivious. He seems the type. We could have a lot of fun with him.”
Newt groaned. “Do not buggin’ screw this up for us, Minho.”
“I’ll be a good boy,” Minho said with a dismissive wave, though he was serious.
He had pushed his worries about Newt to the back of his mind for months, believing that the fastest way to improve Newt’s mental health and get him out of danger was to solve the Maze. Minho wouldn’t be much use to anyone if he stayed at the Glade to watch out for Newt every day, so he had to grit his teeth and go on. Meanwhile, the rest of the Gladers seemed oblivious to the fact that Newt was barely keeping it together half the time. Alby seemed to have an inkling, and care, but his duties as Leader occupied so much of his attention. It would be a weight off Minho’s mind if he knew someone else was thinking about Newt and caring about him as much as Minho did. Even if Thomas did end up being a Runner permanently.
Newt sighed, suddenly looking stressed again. “I just hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”
“Why would it?”
Newt glanced at Minho, who immediately saw the insecurity in his eyes.
“Never mind,” Minho said quickly. “Don’t be a shuck idiot. You and me were together first. I don’t have to be worried you’ll leave me for him, right?”
“Obviously not,” Newt snorted.
“Yeah, so you shut up about that.”
Newt hesitated for a moment. Then he sighed, slumping slightly in a way which told Minho he had capitulated. “Fine. We’ll talk to him when he comes back from the Maze. Or maybe tomorrow when he’s in the Slammer. I don’t know.”
“About that.” Minho looked pointedly at the still-empty corridor on the other side of the Door. “Who knows how long it could take him to show up. How are we ever gonna pass the time?”
Newt glanced back towards the Gardens, where normally he’d be working if he had nothing else to do. Then his eyes flicked to Minho’s mouth. “Oh, fine.”
Minho smirked. But his cocky smile soon melted to something more tender as he and Newt began exchanging kisses.
⁂
After Alby let Thomas out of the Slammer the next day, he made a beeline for Frypan’s kitchen. Frypan had known Thomas would be coming late, so he’d left a plate full of roast beef and potatoes, as well as a note announcing there were cookies in the cupboard. Minho showed up, and then Newt. Minho asked Thomas if he was ready to start running tomorrow, while Newt ate some of the extra cookies.
Thomas didn’t think anything of their presence until Minho said, without any preamble: “Which of us is hotter: me or Newt?”
The rhythm of Thomas’s chewing halted, and then he continued more slowly, trying to buy time to figure out what to say. His first thought was that Minho and Newt had some kind of bet or competition between them, and whoever he picked would win it. Then he wondered if this was some kind of hazing or test, and if whoever he didn’t pick would be angry with him.
But then again, it was Minho asking him. That meant there was a good chance this was just a prank. Although it was weird that Newt was strategically hiding his face behind the open cupboard door.
“I don’t know,” Thomas said hesitantly. “Both of you are hot.”
“Oh, really?” Minho said, smirking. “What makes us hot?”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind. Newt is way hotter than you because he doesn’t mess with me all the time.”
Newt set the cookies on the counter, closed the cupboard, and said, “I regret to inform you he is dead serious.”
Thomas stared at him. “You mean it. Do you guys have a bet or something?”
Newt sighed, leaning up against the counter and folding his arms. “We’re trying to settle something between us, yes. But this isn’t a trick. We’d just like to know.”
“And I guess you’re asking me instead of anyone else here, because I’m too much of a newbie to know not to put up with your klunk?”
“Would you believe me if I said we actually care about your shuck opinion?” Minho said. He sounded… almost nervous. Newt just looked tired.
After eating and thinking it over for another moment, Thomas relented. Maybe they were just having a joke at his expense. But, well, they were also his friends. He could go along with it for now.
“You both have nice arms,” Thomas volunteered after a moment. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about both of them. Strong build, strong arms. When they didn’t respond, seemingly waiting for him to continue, Thomas said, “Your shirtsleeves are always so tight, and Newt’s arms have these veins in them?”
“I know, they do! Aren’t they great?” Minho said excitedly. Newt let out a suspicious wheeze of laughter, but he was looking at Minho.
“Yes?” Thomas said.
“Go on,” Minho said, waving a hand.
Thomas sighed and said awkwardly, “You, uh… you both have good hair and good eyes. I… like Newt’s jaw?” He paused, feeling stupid. Minho was nodding, though — as if pleased Thomas had correctly identified one of Newt’s good features. What in the world was going on?
“Is anyone gonna explain this to me?”
“Just keep going,” Minho said, waving his hand again.
Seeing Thomas’s expression, Newt added pointedly, “Please.”
But Thomas shook his head. “No. I feel like Chuck or someone is going to pop out from one of these cupboards and laugh at me. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Minho and Newt exchanged an indecipherable look. Then, Minho shrugged. Newt turned back to Thomas and said, “Look… you haven’t been here very long, so you might find this strange.”
“On top of everything else?” Thomas said. Suddenly he was unaccountably nervous. Though he wasn’t done eating, he pushed his plate aside.
“Probably,” Minho said, which earnt him a momentary eye roll from Newt.
“Yes,” Newt corrected. “The reason we’re asking is because both of us like you a whole awful lot.”
“You do want me to pick between you,” Thomas said accusingly. But Newt shook his head.
“No. Rather the opposite. We’re hoping you won’t want to.”
Thomas still did not know what Newt meant. He replayed Newt’s words in his mind. “Are you… trying to invite me to some kind of… threesome?” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. Although he didn't mean to, he immediately imagined it. The thought was pleasant, in a terrifying sort of way. Thomas’s stomach swooped.
Newt frowned. “No. That would imply we just want sex.”
“What do you want?” Thomas said again, weakly.
Newt looked at Minho. After another moment of silent communication via glances, Minho said, “The two of us have been a couple for over a year. We’ve had flings with other people, but those are bo-ring. What Newt is trying to do —”
“Hey!”
“— is ask you out on behalf of both of us. We do that here in the Glade. If you don’t like it, aren’t interested, that’s whatever. Just say no. Otherwise, come have some fun with us!” Minho looked pleased with himself as he finished his short speech.
After a moment of stunned silence, Thomas finally said, “So you’re already together, but you also want to be together with me at the same time?”
“Yup.”
“And that’s normal here?”
“Yes.”
“And you decided that after… a week?”
“It’s only been a week? That night you two spent in the Maze felt like a year of my buggin’ life,” Newt said in a put-upon tone.
“Decided it yesterday afternoon, actually,” Minho added.
Thomas felt like he was living in an alternate reality. And that was saying something, given that he had already been whisked away from a presumably normal life into a giant Maze. But there was no way he could believe his ears. Minho and Newt really were attractive, but more than that, they were both well-liked. If what they were saying was true, surely they could be with anyone here if they wanted to. Why would they pick Thomas?
“And what, exactly, do you like about me?”
“Your bravery,” Minho said, at the same time as Newt said, deadpan, “Your stupidity.”
They both stopped.
“Your beauty marks?” Newt tried again, gesturing at his own face as if to indicate the locations of Thomas’s moles.
“You’re sort of skinny in a hot way?” Minho added. “Ah, shuck it. We didn’t think about that part. We just saw you run off into the Maze and thought, we can’t not try to date him.”
Thomas spluttered a laugh, beginning to feel like he finally understood. “Then didn’t you ask me the wrong question? I like Newt because you’re observant and witty and care even though you pretend not to. I like Minho because you’re confident and funny and stand up for what you think is right. If those things are hot, you guys don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Oh klunk! We did ask the wrong question!” Minho exclaimed, and Newt burst out laughing. “Oh, shut up,” Minho said, but he was grinning. Thomas snorted, and soon the three of them were laughing together. The tension bled out of the room, and Thomas pulled his plate back towards himself.
“You guys didn’t really explain how dating works here, like, at all. But fine, I guess I’d be willing to try it,” Thomas said, and though he was nervous at the thought, he was also excited.
“Don’t sweat the details,” Minho advised. “We can explain them as we go along, now that we know no one else is gonna snap you up.”
“Of course you can make out with whoever you want, just as long as you let us know about it,” Newt added.
“I’m not "making out" with anyone,” Thomas said, his stomach doing flips at the thought.
“That’s alright. Sorry. Take things at your own pace,” Newt said quickly.
“You good?” Minho said.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Minho hesitated, then gave Thomas a quick and slightly awkward side hug. Thomas faintly blushed.
After that, Minho changed the subject back to Thomas’s upcoming first day of running officially. Since he’d been doing nothing in the Slammer all day, Thomas was wide awake, though Minho and Newt were starting to look tired. But they both seemed reluctant to leave his side.
As Thomas finished eating, he pushed his plate back and looked up.
Newt was wearing a sheepish expression. “Erm… Tommy, I’m sorry to tell you this, but while we were talking I stress ate all the biscuits.”
⁂
After they cleaned up the kitchen as best they could, the trio made their way to the Deadheads. Newt didn’t know why Thomas liked it there so much. He had no idea what they were looking for in terms of a place to sleep that met Thomas’s mysterious standards. By the glances Minho was giving him, he could tell Minho didn’t either. But if Thomas was happy, they would be happy. They'd slept in weirder places. The Glade seemed huge — until you were trying to get some privacy.
Both of them waited until Thomas found the blanket Newt had put over him the night before. It was in a corner between the Maze wall and a soft swathe of ivy. Finally Thomas seemed satisfied, and sat down on the ground. Newt and Minho sighed with relief and began preparing for sleep.
The three of them lay down together, Minho automatically cuddling up to Newt’s side. Newt held out an arm and gestured at Thomas to get closer.
But Thomas hesitated. “Um… what if someone comes looking for you guys?”
Minho shrugged and yawned. Newt said, “Don’t worry about it, Tommy. The only person who’ll care is Gally, and only ‘cause he can use it to accuse me of favouritism towards you.”
“Not your problem. Alby’s back in action,” Minho said, and Newt brightened.
“Right, so who cares?”
Thomas hesitated a moment longer, but ultimately leaned in to Newt’s side and put an arm over him. His motions were tentative and uncertain, but after a moment he settled against Newt with a soft sigh.
Snuggled up that way, the blanket just fit over the three of them, though with the shared body heat they would've been warm and comfortable regardless. Cocooned between his boys, Newt finally relaxed. It felt good to be in their arms. It felt right.
Despite the turmoil of the past week and all the unknowns yet to unfold, Newt fell asleep happy.