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All is quiet. Not even the birds are awake.
With the house silent and unmoving, small creaking noises from the light wind outside, Minho rests. Although, behind his eyes, war is raging, horror flashing harsher the longer he remains asleep. It is the sight of Newt's dead body that pushes him too far.
Lurching upwards, Minho starts another day. Sweat has collected upon his rosy skin, hair damp at the very tips. He sits completely upright, both hands bracing him on the bed and preventing him from collapsing backwards. Fingers digging into the mattress beneath him, Minho forces his eyes to blink, the dry pain they seem to have gathered receding.
Nothing reacts to his outburst. The room is still dark and cold with or without him there.
He sits motionless, heaving for air, shaking, for a while, head spinning enough to make him motion sick. It takes all the courage he has, but he tilts his head to the side, and searches for the body that fell asleep there beside him. Gally lays on his back, arms thrown over his head in a position which surely cannot be comfortable, and Minho stares at him deeply as he studies Gally for signs of life.
It was maybe a year ago now that Gally moved in. Gally had awful nightmares, and Minho was the only one of the remaining Gladers who firstly, wasn’t busy or desperately needed every hour of sleep he could get, and secondly, liked Gally enough to roommate. It’s been ten months since Minho invited Gally into his bed, and the co-sleeping has helped the both of them more than they could have ever imagined.
Yet, Minho knows deep down the builder may be here now, but there will come a day he wakes alone. Wicked intentionally coded it this cruel way, so now Minho finds himself locked in a cage of guilty uncertainty over reality, the key cast aside somewhere forgotten like it never existed at all. Minho watches Gally's blank face until his eyes grow dry and painful once more.
Are tears streaming down his face? He isn't too sure.
On most days, Minho pulls himself out of bed to change, then he goes on a run across the whole Haven before the sun has even caressed the sky, orange melting into blue. But there is something so delicate about Gally in this state on this particular morning, that twists Minho's heart one fraction too hard.
Turning onto his side, Minho wipes his shoulder over his eyes to dry them and thumps right down onto Gally, his head landing on Gally's collarbones as his bare chest presses against Gally's clothed ribs, the thin layer of fabric being the only thing protecting Gally's sunken scar from Minho's view.
The impact doesn't wake Gally, the closest Minho getting to anything short of a, "You okay?" or a, "Morning." being the breathy grunt Gally huffs out, the sound blending in with a whine. Minho throws his arm over Gally next, then his leg, curling into the taller man as he continues to calm down from his alarming wake-up.
Minho has been flying awake like this for as long as he can remember, so he tells himself he should be used to it by now, but he really isn't. After a few minutes of just sharing Gally's heat, Minho feels Gally's shoulder shift. Slow and precise, working his hand down without upsetting the cosy way his arm decided to settle during the night.
Hand pressing on the top of Minho's head, Gally measures what is resting upon him, palm sliding down Minho's neck, arms and torso until it can reach no further. Now with confirmation that he knows the body upon him, Gally makes an incomprehensible gurgling sound, his body remembering the action of greeting, "Good morning." but forgetting the words entirely.
Minho exhales as Gally envelopes him in his arms, his grip a bit too tight for someone supposed to be asleep. Locked against Gally, Minho whispers something between a hello and a morning in his ear, moving his arms to squeeze Gally back. Gally starts waking more at the touch, groaning quietly. For a moment, Minho thinks Gally is complaining about being crushed this early in the day, but he hears a sleepy, "You never hug me. What's up?" squeeze itself from Gally's mouth.
It sounds like Gally is struggling to say each word, eyes not even able to open for more than a second. Minho doesn't respond, just accepting Gally's touch. As Gally's hand starts rubbing up and down Minho's bare back, brushing over the lightning scarring like it's nothing, Minho decides that five minutes longer in bed won't hurt anybody.