Disclaimer: I Don't Own Divergent.
He just couldn't shake it.
It was eating him alive, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He tried distancing himself from her.
He tried ignoring her.
Avoiding eye-contact.
He'd walked out of a room completely, and into another.
He'd taken the stairs to the second or third level above his room, just so he could miss her on her way to her own room which happened to be on the same level.
But no matter what he did.
No matter how hard he tried.
He couldn't rid himself of the sickly odd feeling festering inside him.
The strange 'pang' or 'tug' he felt in his hollow chest whenever his gaze caught hers...
And to think that it started out as a stray thought.
A meaningless, stray thought.
And then grew into something far out of his control and beyond his comprehension.
It made him sick to think that he could possibly care for someone like he knew he cared for her, but here he was again; caring.
Something he didn't even think he was capable of doing anymore.
After he'd joined Dauntless, he thought all emotions involving love had been destroyed, or at least beaten into submission. And he'd done everything in his power to try to crush the vexing feeling he had for her.
He'd spent many long, sleepless nights in the vacant training room while all the other Dauntless members were asleep.
He'd pounded work-out bags until his fists bled, tossed throwing knives until his arms ached, and did as many sit-ups as he could until his abs burned.
Even though the pain inflicted on himself helped distract him for a few moments, in the long run;
Nothing worked.
Soon enough he actually found himself singling her out when training was in session.
He'd pick on her, make her feel small - which in all truth, she was. He was just pointing out the fact - push her to her limits, just to see how long she would last - or with any luck, get her kicked out of Dauntless so he wouldn't be tortured with her presence any longer - and just straight out razz her to get some sort of reaction out of her.
Nix that.
Any reaction out of her.
It made him sick to think of how many times he'd gone out of his own way to try to talk to her (despite the conflicting feelings he had inside himself), and she didn't even want to give him the time of day.
Though honestly, why would she?
Every time he caught her eye, she flinched.
Every time he brushed past her when he walked by, she gasped.
Why would she want to socialize with him if she thought - knew - he had it out for her?
He knew he wouldn't want anything to do with someone who had it out for him.
And-
Dang, it!
Now he knew; all the messed up, confusing thoughts she gave him, all the trouble she unknowingly left him with, all the pain he felt;
It was all self-inflicted.
She had nothing to do with him liking her.
She hadn't thrown herself at him, or teased him with herself.
It was all his own doing.
His own thoughts, his own - dare he say it - 'feelings' he felt for her.
It was all him.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Truth be told, he didn't even think he could at this point.
And maybe it was for the best...