A blanket of snow covered the graves, another layer between the mourners and the bodies. As winter came, flowers died rapidly in the graveyard hanging their discolored heads in a droopy sigh. But there was one grave that was perfect, with black roses perfectly alined embracing the cobblestone that spelled out "Beatrice 'Tris' Prior". A young man, no older than twenty one lay on her grave, perched on his side genteelly smoothing out the footprints in the snow. His skin was going slightly discolored from the cold and his eyes were so stern but beautiful, like someone had melted chocolate into his iris. In an empty slot next to her grave he began writing his name "Tobias 'Four' Eaton"
"Remember that time" his voice was broken, like he had been crying "when you kept putting your life at risk. It annoyed me so much because I didn't want to loose you" tears welled in his eyes making them go salmon pink and puffy. He hated to cry. Underneath his name he wrote "Born September 10th 3130" he had to force the words out now, it felt like there was a cork in his throat
"and then I made a promise. I said 'you die, I die too'"
with a trembling finger he wrote "Died December 1st 3151" and reached into his leather jacket to reveal a gun. Its silver surface reflected shimmers of light onto Tobias' damp face. He put the gun to his stomach, where Tris was said to be shot and with a shaking finger he pulled the cold, hard trigger.
There she was. Laying next to him on the snow, the bullet wounds in her stomach still bleeding as were his, staining the snow with a deep claret dye. He reached for her face and as their skin touched, his heart stopped. They where dead.