Disclaimer:I don't own Divergent.

POTENTIALLY TRIGGERS for some.

Story based on "Gangsta" by Kehlani. Of course I DO NOT condone smoking but for the sake of this one shot, I portray it as cool because it helps shape the stories characters. Enjoy!

MATURE:Themes(Suicide,Smoking,Illness), Explicit Language, Suggestive Language

He was addictingly poisonous. He suffocated me with danger, and I loved every second of it. I relished in it. It's how I survived.

Apparently I down spiraled after my break up with Four. My "friends" ditched me, I considered myself persona non grata. I made it into a leadership position, and I chose to rule with fear instead of respect. I heard the things people said as I walked past, junkie, murderer, addict, psycho. That is why Eric and I are so compatible for each other. We both have to deal with the same shit.

It first started a week after my breakup, I started smoking by the chasm, thinking about diving head first, it wouldn't be bad. I don't fear death. Death just doesn't want to be alone, so it befriends as many people as possible, every single day. No my sweet abyss, I will volunteer to be with you. I was halfway over the railing when he yanked me back. It wasn't a caring yank, I banged my shin and forearm on tumbling to the cold wet stone. Those would bruise up late.

"I'm sorry," I seeth," I don't think you understand the concept of suicide, I actually have to stop breathing to succeed." I say harshly trying to once again climb over.

He wraps one arm around my waist and harshly pulls me into his chest. His other hand grabs my face and forces me to look into his eyes.

His eyes are not soft or compassionate, but hard and emotionless.

"Don't be so fucking thick, you are not proving anything but your weakness," he says. His eyes flit between the lip I am biting and my eyes.

I throw caution to the wind and kiss him, he responds just as aggressively and harsh. We both taste of smoke and anger, despair, and longing. We battled for dominance, teeth clashing, and tongues sloppy. We were both out of practice, but who cares? One thing led to another and I was being carried back to his place.

We came to arrangement, we agreed, we would be each other's drug. He kept me alive and I kept him sane. It was like this for months, as far as I knew I was the only one Eric talked to other than when he wasn't forced to socialize,, and he was definitely the only person I hung around.

Everyday we would grab food from the dining hall and take it back to either place. It would lay forgotten on the nightstand and we would instead replace solid foods out for smoke and intoxicating substances. There were times when he would leave or I would leave for meetings in other factions, and the other would be waiting with a lit cigarette and a health libido.

There was one time when he was gone for a whole week.I don't remember most of that week, it was a blur of suicidal thoughts and hunger pains, my stomach always begged for actually food, but it was stronger when there was no one to starve with. Christina cornered me the day his was coming back.

"I have been looking for you for the past week, I knew that man would be gone so I am trying to talk to you before he comes back to brainwash you," She found me by the chasm in the middle of heightening my risk for lung cancer. I stared at her blankly, my brain only catching on to half on the words she was saying, working hard to form them into sentences through my foggy haze.

"Are you even listening?!" she says, snatching the cigarette out of my mouth and throwing it into the chasm. I pull out another one and light it.

"Really? Tris look at yourself! When was the last time you had a proper meal?" she asks.

"This is a proper meal, it has got everything I need to keep me alive," I drawl.

"Those things will kill you in the next year," she says. I hummed in agreement.

"What's your point?" I ask chuckling humorlessly. " I know exactly what I am doing,".

"My point is you look awful, I was mad at you but I still care," she pleads. She is right, my skin is graying compared to her healthy chocolate glow, my hair is lifeless and frail compared to her voluminous curls, and I look anorexic compared to her toned arms and abs . But the only person who's opinion matters to me doesn't seem to care how damaged I am. I found someone who I can be myself with.

"You shouldn't care, caring gets you killed," I say. "I am done with this conversation,". I take a drag.

"Well I'm not finished talking to you," she tries again.

"Yes, you are," Eric says with a glare, coming up behind me. He brings his lips down to mine steals the smoke from my lungs in a shotgun kiss. Christina stiffens.

"Let's go," I say intertwining my hand with the one on my shoulder.

When we got to his apartment after lunch one day we were laying on the bed, his back against the headboard, my legs straddled his waist as my upper body rested against his bent knees. His hand drew circles up my sides as his eyes watched the cigarette in my mouth. My head was bent back, resting on his knees as I watched the smoke blow up into the air. We weren't speaking nothing out of the ordinary, but today was unusually quiet. When we met up he didn't say anything just kissed me and gave me a look to be quiet, I abided by his rules without question.

"Tris," he says looking down, he rubbed his black bedsheet between his index finger and thumb. That is the first time he has said my name since we started this-whatever you call what we are. His tone is indecipherable and slightly detached.

"Eric," I say monotonous. I don't know what he is going to say. Most of the time he will just study me and not say anything. I don't mind it, I study him too.

He is quiet for a few more moments until I look up and find him waiting for my gaze.

"You know I don't love you, right?" he says to me looking directly in my eyes. I study him, really study him this time, something is off. It's his eyes, they are different from when he stopped me from killing myself. His eyes are not longer hard and emotionless, they hold curiosity, if only the tiniest bit. Our eyes stay locked until I understand what he is trying to say. I chuckle, really truly chuckle, not sarcastically, or humorlessly, but a genuine laugh.

"Well, I would hope not because I don't love you either." I say hoping he understands my message, before kissing him once more. His hand finds a home in my hair pulling me closer, if that's possible. This is our language, we are the closest thing to love that each other have, we a destructive and toxic, but we like it that way. What he said was practically a marriage proposal in our screwed up smoke filled heads. I don't know where i would be if I didn't have Eric. That's a lie I do know where I would be, at the bottom of the chasm.

I laugh,it is a hoarse sound,lighting a cigarette that we share while it last.

This is our celebration.

This is our love.

Switching gears from all the angst into a more sentimental and lighter author's note, so get out of that zone(jk do what you want). This is the first time I have written something this angsty and I am extremely proud of it, I have never done a Tris/Eric relationship fic before, so this is just a bundle of firsts. Please let me know what you guys think, should I keep doing these more serious shots because I really enjoy them. I am also willing to do more song-fics no matter the genre, so let me know if you guys would like for me to write that. Thanks!