Hi! This is just a little one shot – a very, very short oneshot about a thought that goes through Tobias's head.
I REALLY recommend listening to 'Little Feet' by Old Abram Brown while reading this. I really do.
Normally when I see something like this for a story, I never really listen to the suggestion because I'm lazy, but I can promise you the music makes it go from shitty to at least bearable.
Plus the song is amazing. So please, try it out.
I also got the idea from the song.
Disclaimer: If I owned Divergent, let's just say there actually would have been a happily ever after. I don't own the song, either, unfortunately.
Little feet. Tobias hears them the same way he breathes, quiet and quick. Always there, never stopping. It comforts him, makes him smile – makes him remember never believing he'd have this, and that's a thought that he always shuts down, quickly and harshly, because his past is nothing compared to now. It's something he never realized would be the most important thing in the world to him.
The pitter patter of tiny toes and tired steps.
They're his own, and Tris's. They're life and ecstasy, sound and silence; they're the rhythmic beats of his heart and the timing to which he blinks.
They're his world, and he never wants them to grow any louder, and older. The little feet are all he has, all he needs.
And it's selfish of him to want, to plead, for them to stay this tiny.
But the way he hears them every morning on the cold hallway floor that he just knows is way too cold for bare feet, tip-toeing and gliding, fast and urgent, coupled with little squeals and calls of "Daddy" and "Mommy" - the way they sag and drag and thump against the carpet at night, when the world is quiet and the stars poke from behind the blanket of darkness that smothers them – their little feet in an insistent dance, begging to be picked up – arms raised, eyes drowsy, lips pouting.
That gives him all the reason in the world to keep wishing for time to stand still – for at least one more day, one more second, one more anything.
His little feet. His little babies.
And he knows they'll grow up, that one day he won't be needed to tie their shoes or cuddle them close and tight after a nightmare.
He knows that one day he won't be the main man for his baby girl, that one day his son will be bigger and stronger and brighter than he ever was. Tobias knows that he'll watch them grow, with a bittersweet smile – watch them leave and have families of their own.
But he'll be proud. He knows that.
Yet that doesn't stop the tightening of his throat, or the fog that swoops down over his eyes seconds before he's forced to clench them shut every time he hears a bell like chime for a laugh, or sees a sweet, toothless smile flashed at him from across the room.
Or when he hears those damn little feet.
He can't help it. Because, there once was a time when they couldn't even walk – when all he could feel was the comforting rhythm and sway of a wooden rocking chair and a bundle of warmth cradled to his chest, or the near silent sound of small palms and cloth covered knees brushing against the carpet.
But know they're walking, jumping, running – little feet stomping against the floor, and jamming little toes against tables, and kicking him in the face with smiles and giggles when he hangs them upside down – and it's then he realizes they're all he wants – them and Tris – that they're all he really needs.
Because they're his kids, his babies, his little feet.
And he loves them.
Always.
Please review, friends! Thank you so very much!