evanescent (adj.) vanishing quickly; lasting a very short time

.

.

She was evanescent.

:::

She crashes into his life, tumbling seven stories down, clothed in gray. They see a Stiff; he sees the sparkle in her eyes, the adrenaline in her veins, the mirth in her laugh. The courage in her heart.


The initiation barely lasts three weeks, but she changes right before his eyes. Awkward limbs and unsure eyes give way to bones wrapped in firm muscle and piercing steel, blue fire lined in kohl. Her body finally fits the mold her soul is. He watches her come alive.


He finally lets her in. Vague answers and false names don't deter her, he learns. His breath is shaky, his hands are sweaty as she presses the needle into his neck. His worst nightmares spring up like clockwork as usual, the only difference is: she's by his side.

.

.

He drops like a stone, hand in hers.

.

They press flush against each other, the walls closing in on him pulling his concentration away from whatever she's saying. Her voice sounds like they're underwater, and he replies, gritting his teeth. Her words ease the monster in his chest, till it's gone, gone, and he laughs, the sound breaking away the walls.

.

She watches him as he loads the gun. Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire. He knows she isn't real, this isn't real, but the monster climbs back into him, creeping over his ribs, weighing down his lungs with guilt.

.

He's eleven years old again and Marcus is towering over him, the sight of the regulation Abnegation belt speeding up his heart till it feels like someone is banging drums inside him. He's smaller, smaller, and the lash is about to fall, and suddenly she's in front of him, and she's his personal savior, and it's foolish but he thinks she looks like an avenging angel, blonde hair flying, clothes black as she grips the belt in her hand, and the Marcuses disappear.


Tobias.

Her voice is low as she says his name; his real name, not some number and for a second, just a second, his mind zooms into overdrive – he wants to hear his name in that same breathy voice each morning till he's 80 and wrinkled and grey.


Well, you're not.

Her simple words speed his heart, and the drums are banging, but it's different. And he knows, she's it for him.

He fits his mouth to hers, and he can take on the world, he can take on the war, he can take on Marcus as long as she's with him.

She makes him feel brave. Worthy.


He slips his hand into hers. Mindless slaves surround them, war waging on. But they are Dauntless, they are brave, they are wild, they are like volcanoes, and they can't be restrained.

They'll survive this.


Enemy. Fight. Kill.

His mind is led by one-word commands, but he doesn't know.

He's Divergent, and the simulation can't control him and he lets arrogance get the better of him; he is Dauntless, after all.

He'll get through this, and he'll get back to the love of his life – the very person he's unknowingly trying to kill.

The gun is finally in his hand and he is triumphant and about to fire, when he hears the same low, breathy voice, and he breaks out of it. Tris is in front of him, bloodied and bruised, hair astray, and there is a gun in his hand, aimed at her, and the sight is so treacherous that he drops it.

She'd gotten him through another sim.


The creak of the door alerts him to her presence. She's in a long T-shirt, and he can't help running his eyes down the length of her bare legs. Tris has never been pretty, but she's beautiful to him. Her fragile appearance and the strength it holds are contradictory; polarizing.

And it's perfect.

She slips into his bed and the once-foreign Amity room now feels like home, and he knows: they'll be alright as long as they have each other, and he tells her so.

She kisses him, or maybe he kisses her, but they're tangled together and she's like a drug and he's high on her and he's wondering if this is how it feels when the Dauntless get their 'fixes', be it adrenaline or the white powder that they somehow smuggle in from outside the fence and he's sliding his hand over her skin and he can feel her muscles strung tight and then his free hand falls on her shoulder and jostles them back to reality, and they lay there, the overly sweet scent wafting over from the orchard through the open windows.


It all happens in a rush. A group of Erudite and traitor Dauntless arrive and they're in red and yellow, hoping to meld into the Amity, but of course the odds aren't in their favor, and they flee and Tris is frozen, and he doesn't know what's happened to her.

They make it out, all the while his heart thundering, hoping none of them will die, except maybe for Marcus, and her eyes are still lost.

.

"She doesn't need a break!" he shouts out when Caleb tries to defend her, and he realizes that Tris is only human, not the ever-courageous warrior he had made her out to be. Their parents had died and he was here, acting like a brat, and he does what he does best: he shuts her out, thinking it'll solve things but he doesn't know he'll be helpless later when it all comes crashing down.


I killed Will.

His brain can't wrap itself around what she's saying, and he's confused, angry, hurt, guilty and confused (he is, after all, just a teenager) all at once, and he doesn't know what to do, and he lets his monstrous side take over, and he screams at her, she screams at him, and he realizes that they are fighting, something he thought they'd never do because they're soulmates.

This is why the other boys whined so much about relationships, even Zeke, who'd known Shauna almost since he was born.

Tris and him hadn't even known each other a month.

He's angry, distrustful (she is too), and he makes deals with his mother, gives Tris an ultimatum, but all the while he wants it to stop, just stop, and he wants to be a normal kid, hanging at the Pit, beer in hand, friends by his side, and he doesn't want any of this Divergent bullshit, and he kicks himself for thinking it would all be so easy just because he can fire a gun and bend simulations.


You die, I die too.

What a fool he had been for believing her.

And that scares him, not being able to trust Tris, the one person who's shown him what love is – not his father, not his mother – but the short, blonde girl with eyes made of blue flame and icy steel.

We're both the same, he realizes.

Because if she hadn't gone, he would have. She could survive without him. He couldn't.

Maybe, just maybe, he lets himself believe, maybe she can't survive without me too.

Both selfless to core, brave at heart, deadly smart, but they were also world-class liars and if they didn't do something about that, they'd crash and burn. He'd thought kindness was the value he struggle with most. But maybe honesty was. Lies come as easy as hunger or thirst, and he knows it's the same for Tris.

It takes bravery to be honest, he knows, because he definitely needed courage when he confessed he liked her at the bottom of the chasm.

And if they both got out of this alive, he'd try to be honest.


I love you.

They're in an old Abnegation house, and for a split-second he wonders what would have happened if they hadn't transferred.

Maybe they'd have gotten married in grey. Maybe one of them would have become a council member. Maybe the war wouldn't have happened, and they'd have died after a life of servitude.

But Dauntless and the war taught them things they needed to know, things they needed to do.

He stood up to Marcus, she figured out what selflessness really was.

But really it's all the same to him if he has her, so he quirks his lips up into a smile and tells her:

Say it again.


What happens after that is a mess. They team up with others, more betrayal, the video is played, they leave the city, Tori dies, he sees Amar live, he gets told he's damaged.

He thought they'd resolve things, but Nita messes shit up, Uriah is injured, and his life is a whirlpool of tragic accidents. Speaking of tragic accidents, he's pretty sure his birth was one.

.

They're finally growing back together, and maybe his life isn't as tragic as he made it out to be.


She drags him into the room, and the only thing in there is the couch, but they have each other, and that's enough.

They're a mess, a tangle of limbs, and they're flying high, lost in the feel of each other. He places kisses on her lips, her neck and he finds she feels really good when he sucks right below her jaw. Her hands are smoothing all over him, and she drags her nails down his back, and a shiver runs through him, and he gets why the boys he knew back at Dauntless thirsted for sex.

When there are finally no barriers between them, it's way more awkward than he thought it would be. He asks her if she's sure a billion times before she hits his chest exasperatedly and asks him to get on with it.

He embarrassedly produces the metallic square Amar gave him a while back, winking, and Tris sits back, watching him, tracking his every action with those goddamn blue eyes.

When he finally sinks into her, she lets out breathy expletives. He's surrounded by something wet and warm when it's usually his hand, and that along with Tris's hands all over his back as he waits for her to get used to him are almost enough for him to get off, and he desperately wants to come with her but he knows from his drunken talks with Zeke that it's nearly impossible. He does come when he starts moving and they exchange I Love You's and that's enough for Tris, so despite his weak protests, he pulls out of her and they cuddle up under the one blanket, their brains under endorphins.

.

.

In the morning, though she's a little sore, she's content and happy, and he knows she's not lying because her baby blues are glowing, and so he's content and happy.

.

They'll make it.


He sets off to the city, his heart filled with hope. He makes amends with his mother, knows they'll save the city and on the trip back, he's daydreaming.

One day, they'll get married with the blessings of at least one of his parents, and maybe Evelyn would get to be a grandmother, maybe after a long, long time, Tris would get to be a grandmother, and he knows he'll wake up every morning to be greeted by the same low voice saying his name.


A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

Two months later, he wishes he'd never thought up all that because he's dying, he can still feel her cold hand as he tries to shake her awake through the constellation of tears blurring his vision in the morgue, and his heart is clenching. He just wants her back, oh god, he wants her back, he wishes he'd never left the Bureau.

She was like a hurricane, ripping through his life, and for a while he was in the eye, everything calm and serene, but now she's left, and she's left a path of destruction and devastation.

His brain stutters when he realizes that everything he had with her lasted less than three months, she'd appeared and vanished, destroying him completely in the process.

The tears keep falling, and seeing the world hidden by the salty drops drives his thought process to the night in his room after he'd carried her back from the chasm, when he'd asked her if she thought he knew anything about tears and he's thinking of her again, and the tears fall harder.

He's sitting on the edge of the roof of the Bureau, and he's high up, but he doesn't fucking care anymore. He's numb to fear, he's numb to everything.


A few months later, when the percentage of a day he spends crying over her is marginally less, he gets a ride into the city, and trudges to Navy Pier, to the Ferris wheel.

The memories come flooding back, and he sees Uriah's infectious grin, Marlene's carefree smile, and his Tris, her eyes fierce as she mounted the wheel.

He'll be joining them soon.

He walks over to the wheel, and he sees it all, he sees the half-rotten bar where she almost fell, where he felt her hot skin under his fingers the first time, and he pulls the pocket-knife out.

He carves TE + TP and UP + MJ into the metal the way he'd seen on the Amity tables.

Another contradiction, just how he liked, because while they lasted just a short while, they were forever on the metal, in the pages that recorded the events of Experiment Chicago.


Five minutes later, he drops like a stone, the way he'd once done with her in his landscape.

:::

She was evanescent, and now he was too.


I realize that Tobias wouldn't kill himself directly, but I needed somewhere to channel my feels. I published this on impulse, so please excuse any errors.