Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I don't own The Divergent Trilogy or any reference made to The Divergent Trilogy. All work is purely fanmade and all credit goes to its rightful owners. I am not a member of Little Mix or any of the songwritter's/producers etc. meaning I do not own "Mr Loverboy" all work goes to its rightful owners.
Tris
That's what he was. Mr. Loverboy. Every girl in school wanted him, they wanted him for his looks. They wanted his hooked nose, his spare upper lip and full lower one. They wanted to be that girl that his dark blue eyes stared into, pouring unspoken words into their soul.
But that never happened.
Because he wasn't stupid. He knew what they wanted, and he hated that. He hated that no one wanted him for him. For the real Four, to get to know the person behind the emotionless façade.
So that's why he never went out with any of them.
They were persistent, that's for sure. But he was insistent. His friends began pushing him to date, but he always blew them off, saying that he didn't want to date someone because they were only interested in his looks.
I guess that's where I came in.
I was new to school, transferring in the middle of the school year with an A average. I wasn't picked on because of it, just ignored. It was as if I was a ghost, invisible to the human eye but yet you knew I was there. He knew I was there.
He says I had always caught his eye, but I think I only caught his eye when I tripped over my shoelace and he grabbed onto my elbow and caught me. He asked if I was ok and I told him I was fine and gave him a polite thank you before heading to class.
I didn't notice that I had that class with him.
Not until I heard muttering and turned around and saw that his façade had dropped and that he was staring at the paper in pure, utter confusion. It was at that moment that our math teacher told us to partner up and work on the assignment. Immediately, I jumped out of my seat and sat down next to him. "Let me help you," I say gently, slowly pulling the paper towards me.
I remember that look he gave me. He must have thought it was some way to pay him back for helping me in the hallway because he spat the words out of his mouth like it was poisonous. As if he didn't want to be pitied. "No thanks, I don't want help if it's only payback,"
"I don't care if you don't want help, I'm going to help you." I narrowed my eyes at him, challenging him that day. "I want to help you because I want too. Not because you helped me in the hallway."
His eyes had softened and he let me explain to him the lesson. We didn't finish and we got a late grade but he aced his test, and that's what was important.
He hugged me that day.
I had never felt more alive.
At the time.
After that, things were awkward. We didn't talk to each other anymore because we both felt something. Some would call it a spark, others would call it finding your significant other. Whatever you want to call it, it was there.
And it was burning with a passion.
And it gave me butterflies.
I never get butterflies. Ever.
It wasn't the kind of butterflies you get when your teacher is passing out your tests and you're waiting to find out your grade, or moving to a new school in the middle of the school year. But it wasn't like those petty school girl crushes where your crush would accidentally brush your hand when you reached into the same bucket to grab a marker.
It certainly wasn't that.
No. It was more like… I don't know. Maybe because I never had a serious relationship, or any relationship for that matter.
Maybe that's what scared me.
Maybe it scared him too.
But I tripped again (curtsey of Peter, a boy who needs a slap in the face), and the same thing happened.
He caught me.
This time, we walked to class together. We talked about silly little things, passed notes during the lesson (which sucks for the both of us because we both didn't pay attention and failed both the classwork and the test) and ate together during lunch.
In the corner.
Where I normally sit.
He sat down at my table and we talked, about whatever there was to talk about. It was as if all past awkwardness had vanished into thin air, vanishing to somewhere far away.
We talked and laughed, and soon it became a regular thing. It was our thing, but overtime, I saw the longing in his eyes as he watched his old friends talk and laugh at his usual spot. "Go on," I nodded my head in their direction slightly, "I've eaten alone before I can do it again."
He was hesitant but I nodded again. He had grabbed his tray and walked across the room and sat down in his chair. They carried on as if he hadn't left to sit with a nobody.
It didn't pain me how it would most girls. But what pained me was that he sat their everyday after that. I guess it was partially my fault, I had encouraged him to sit with his old friends. He's just trying to make up for lost time, don't take it personally, I told myself as I would dig in my bag for a book to read.
But I always did.
I mean, he lead me on into believing that we could form a friendship, that someone actually wanted to get to know the transfer. Who wouldn't take that personally?
Then there was that day where a tray plopped down across from me and several others did as well. Confused, I looked up from my book and saw him along with his group of friends, making themselves comfortable where I sat. He wore a small grin as he leaned back into the chair. "Guys, this is Tris,"
That's how I got the nickname "Tris".
We quickly acquainted but I was never fully comfortable with them. Especially when they made me go to a small fair that the town was hosting. He knew this of course, so he did his best to make me comfortable.
It worked until he refused to go on The Ferris Wheel. He shook his head and walked away, leaving me standing there with his friends. I looked at the group of teenagers as they silently debated what to do.
It was as if I didn't exist anymore.
I guess he saw it became he came back, and laced our fingers together as they started walking away, leaving me standing their like an idiot. I looked up at him, a sad smile spread across my face. "It's ok, I'm used to it. You don't have to pretend to do anything,"
"But that's the thing," he said in my ear, his breath hot against my cool skin. "I'm not pretending." He was hesitant at first but he quickly added, "You look good Tris,"
I gave him a sad smile as he tugged me to the line for The Ferris Wheel. We gave the guy two tickets each and climbed into one of the carts, a group of giggling girls behind us.
The Ferris Wheel came to life and a look of panic crossed his face. A pang of guilt ran throughout my being but I ignored it as I grasped his hands in mine. I leaned in closer to him and told him that it's going to be ok. Nothing is going to happen. "Tris," he wheezed, his eyes full of fear. "I'm scared," his voice was so soft, so innocent. I felt like gathering him in my arms and protecting him like my mother does for me.
I gave him a small smile. "That's ok," I told him, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles as we came to a stop to enjoy the view.
"Really?"
"Everyone is afraid of something," I told him quietly, meeting his eyes.
I don't know what happened after that though.
One minute I was staring into his eyes, the next my lips were against his. I was still for a moment, as was he.
It was as if he was unsure of his decision and pulled away slightly.
But he changed his mind.
He kissed me harder. And this time, I kissed him back just as hard, if not harder.
It was here, on The Ferris Wheel where my nerves were hyped up because of this man. It was here on The Ferris Wheel, where I had my first kiss. My first real kiss.
Not like the small peck I had given Robert when we were younger. No, not like that. And it wasn't like the one my brother gave to Cara before she became an alcoholic because of the death of her brother. Or the one my father gave to my mother after he returned home from work.
No, this was our kiss.
Not my brothers, not my parents. Ours.
We began moving again when he pulled away, breathless and a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. I felt the heat spread across my own as he looked down at me with a look I can't describe. He chuckles as he sat back down in his seat before the operator saw him. Our hands rested joined together onto of the metal structure in front of us as we slowly moved to the ground.
We were let off and our hands were still laced together.
After that he didn't hang out with his friends.
It was just us.
Four and Tris.
Eventually though, we grew more serious and he took me to The Ferris Wheel where he told me about his father. About how he was abused, how his mother faked a funeral because she had an affair with someone else and didn't want to disown the Eaton name.
And it was that day that I realized how strong Four really was.
He brought me to his mothers' house that day. I met his little sister, Gracelynn and we became buddies. I had helped her with her homework and helped her paint her nails a lavender color.
His mother, Evelyn, insisted that I stayed over for dinner.
We had chicken and peas.
The same thing my family eats for dinner on Tuesday's.
All was well until I mentioned I was a Prior. Apparently her ex-husband was my fathers' partner. She claimed he did nothing to stop the abuse her and her son had endured. "We didn't know about any abuse," was all I said, maybe to sharply but no one, no one accuses my family of something we didn't know was going on. "Not until-"
"Well then you believed his mask-"
"Mom, let it go." Four said under his breath, looking up from his plate. "She didn't know. And neither did the rest of the Prior's." he added after she opened her mouth again.
I thanked her for dinner after that and headed home, kissing Four's cheek quickly before walking out of his house.
He walked me to school the next morning. Things were tense between us, no one saying anything afraid it might lead to an argument. It wasn't until we neared the fair when he had pushed me up against a tree.
His lips were on mine in an instant, kissing me as if he might lose me. I kissed him back, just as hard. I knew what I was doing. I was trying to memorize the taste of lips, the soft texture of them. I was trying to commit what I could to memory because I knew what was coming, I've read enough romance novels and seen enough chick flicks to know that after this kiss, we were nothing.
And we were.
For two days.
I was craving him, I was craving the sense of security he gave me, I was craving his scent, his kiss, his soft whispers in my ear…I craved him.
Maybe he did too, because on that second day we were broken up he kissed me. Right in front of the student body. There was a smile on my lips as he kissed my forehead and sat down across from me. "Here's the thing," he said, pointing his finger at me. "I think I'm in love with you but that makes no sense because I've only known you for about two months and we're only sixteen."
"Well we should find some pen and paper so you can make a list,"
"Well wouldn't that be nice," I smiled at him and shook my head.
But secretly, I was doing my best to stop the stupid girlish grin that was working its way onto my face. He thinks he's in love with me, I was replaying that thought over in my head while he stared at me.
"Yeah, I'm definitely in love with you." He smiled at me, grasping our hands together.
I didn't say anything, I just leaned over and kissed him. Hard.
And in that moment, I knew I loved him too.
So he was my Mr. Loverboy. Loving him felt right. I really couldn't lie, he made it seem as if we were the only thing right in the world. The butterflies, yeah, they never went away. And there was always something new.
He kept blowing my mind.
And I didn't mind, in fact, it made me weak in the knees.
The way he makes me feel inside, yeah, it comes back every second of the day. He never lets me forget his feelings for me.
And I never let him forget mine for him.
Mr. Loverboy did earn his title though.
I mean, I always knew there was a reason why they called him that, but I never really thought about it. But now I know.
Because when he loves, he loves with all of him, all of his being, all of his heart, mind and soul. Maybe even more than that.
And I was the girl who learned what was behind that façade. I was the girl who he stared at, love and desire clouding his vision. There'd be times where I'd doubt my worth, and then I would see him and it would all go away.
I learned his real name, Tobias, and why he's called "Four". It was on our fourth date when he told me. "Don't call me that,"
"What do I call you then?"
"Tobias."
I had given him a gentle smile. "Don't call me 'Four' anymore. I want to hear someone outside of my family say my name again."
"Ok Tobias. I won't call you 'Four'." The name "Tobias" didn't feel foreign on my tongue, in fact it rolled off my tongue the way my brothers' name would.
It felt right to call him that.
It was quiet for a moment before he spoke, "They call me 'Four' because I was four when I told my teacher about the abuse. I was four when Marcus left,"
I grasped his hand under the table, and whispered to him, "I love you,"
"Say it again,"
"Tobias, I love you,"
So he was mine. And I was his. He was Mr. Loverboy and I was a nobody, overlooked because of my grades. He the man who was chased down because of his looks. It was typical love story, but it was ours.
Not something you read in a book, or watched in a movie.
It was ours.
I chose him.
And he chose me.
AN: So being the crazy Little Mix fan I am, I was listening to Mr Loverboy and bam! This is the finished product. And please listen to the song to understand a little more where Tris is coming from. Yes I know Tobias tells Tris that everyone is afraid of something but I like what I wrote better. And yes I know this is different from the books but in a way it isn't. And yes, I know I didn't copy the lines word for words but it makes the fanifc original and unique. So yes, if you read this, please review. And listen to Mr Loverboy and the rest of Little Mix's songs.
