𝟢𝟣𝟧，𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
Newt will be okay. 
I've repeated that in my mind for the past weeks, as it's been a few. 
Physically, he'll be okay, at least.
Mentally, he won't be. Clint explained that he's already allowed to walk around with crutches, but Newt refuses to do it. Says that he will never show his face again. 
Minho's... well, he says he's okay, but he's not. He does everything he can to talk to Newt. And Newt gets angry every time, yelling for him to leave. It breaks Minho, even though he won't admit it. 
"Chin up," I say. "Someday, he'll appear outside."
He casts a look at me. "Why are you always so cheerful?"
"I'm not."
"Yeah, you are."
"Just because I act like it doesn't mean I am. All I want is to cheer everyone else up, which will then also cheer me up. Get that?"
"I think so," he murmurs. 
Fry hands us our food. We thank him, turn around, and take the picnic tables in.
"Let's sit with Winston," I decide. "By the way, can you believe I've been a Slicer for over three months?"
He stops walking. "It's been three? I swear it was yesterday when you and I made our deal."
"Speaking of our deal—"
Minho slams a hand on my mouth.
I lick it. "Speaking of our deal—"
"Ew!" He interrupts, wiping his hand on my shoulder. "Disgusting."
Leaning closer, I whisper, "Your mouth was literally on mine a few weeks ago, you can't say shit about this." 
His mouth falls open. "Shh, quiet about that."
"It was your idea. Don't be ashamed."
"I'm not ashamed. I just don't want everyone to know, as it was just an experiment." 
"Just an experiment," I repeat, slightly questioning. 
"Right?" 
"Did you get butterflies?"
"...maybe," he admits below his breath. "Why?"
"We wouldn't have gotten butterflies had it been just an experiment."
"It was an experiment to get butterflies, which we got," Minho states.
"Yes, but that means something. Getting butterflies from someone means something," I state back.
"Alright, go ahead, explain."
"I can't. It's too hard. Let's just go eat."
Thing is, even though Minho is my best friend, I sometimes love him as much as I despise him. Well, not truly despise, but it's not hard for him to make me lose my temper. 
Maybe that's the point of being true best friends, though. He perfectly knows how to make me feel everything.
We join Winston, Stan, and Jeff. I prepare for the drama already, shooting Minho a look as we settle. 
"You liar," I tell Jeff. "I hate you."
I still haven't confronted him about trying to make me think I imagined kissing Minho, and never actually did it.
He shrugs, a satisfied smile on his lips. "You believed me."
"Because you did everything to make me believe it!"
"What are we talking about?" Minho asks.
My eyes wide. "Nothing—"
"I made Zee believe she didn't actually kiss you." 
Minho's eyebrows furrow. "How do you know that we kissed?" 
"Everyone at this table does," Jeff says. "Stan and I saw it, and Zee told Winston."
"What?" He looks over at me. "Why?"
"We didn't have anything interesting to talk about!"
"Look, what is said in the Blood House, stays in the Blood House," Winston promises.
"Exactly. We just need gossip sessions."
"As you slaughter animals?"
"Yeah, it's kind of therapeutic," we say.
All three other boys shake their heads. "Y'all are insane."
★
Another week later, Newt steps outside.
I told Minho that maybe instead of begging him to stay, he had to try acting normal. To act how he normally would around Newt.
And it worked. 
He receives a few stares as he makes his way to Fry to get his food, slightly struggling with the crutches. He no longer has eye bags, though. He looks cleaner than he has done in weeks. 
Minho walks right by Newt's side, his glare shooting daggers at anyone who dares to say something inappropriate. Together, they get their food.
I watch from a short distance as they approach me. Since the moment I saw Newt would finally be joining us with breakfast, I assumed he'd sit with Minho, meaning he automatically sits with me, but now that he's comer closer, my stomach is full of nerves. I don't want to upset him in any way but neither do I want to act like he's a softie. 
Just act normal. "Hi, Newt. It's good to see you."
"Hi. Good to see you too," he says, his voice a little hoarse from the bare amount of speaking he has done the past weeks. "And good to have the breakfast still warm." He points at the scrambled eggs.
Chuckling, I nod. For once, I am grateful that Minho tends to carry the conversation all by himself; he leads it perfectly— looks like he does it without effort, too.
It takes a long time until we finish our plates and finish... talking. It has now become an awkward silence.
"Minho?" Newt lightly nudges him in the side. "Can we talk?"
"Dang, I just remembered I have a very important meeting with Nick and Alby about... which Glader to... slaughter... since we're running out of... pigs." I jump off the bench. "Yes, alright, bye. Have a good talk."
Quickly, I run over to Nick. Because whatever it is Newt wants to talk about, is unhappy and very private, both things I am not interested in. 
"So, Nick," I put a hand on my side, "which Glader will it be?"