AN: Hi guys! It's been a really really really long time since I've published anything to FF, but! Hopefully that is beginning to change! I finished reading the Divergent series last night and just felt this story clawing at the back of my mind. I do apologize in advance as I know this isn't my best writing, but I did it at 4am (I know full of excuses). I might try coming back to this later too. I'm also new at writing more mature themes, which I'm trying to do since I'm older now than when I first began writing FF. It's funny how different your writing style/overall life changes over the years. Anyways, I'm babbling so let's get on with this!

WARNING: The following contains hints of sexual content, please be mature about it, if you don't like it don't read it.

"Tobias"

Tobias woke with a start.

He pressed the heels of his sweaty palms to his forehead, choking back the sobs that threatened to break free from his mouth, instead forcing them back into his hollow chest. His skin felt clammy from sweat as he took shaky, uneven breaths to try and steady himself.

Once he was able to calm down, he gingerly laid himself back on his now cool sheets. He breathed deeply trying, and failing not to remember every perfectly false moment of his dream. Or was it a nightmare? He couldn't tell the difference. It didn't really matter. All he knew was that waking up to the hell he lived in was worse than any fear simulation he could ever go through, he was already living through one it seemed.

Every night was the same. When, if, he was able to finally succumb to sleep his dreams would always be plagued of her. Bittersweet memories or desires that were impossible because he couldn't reach her left him in a melancholic state until he awoke. And when he did, when he realized it was, after all, just a dream, all he wanted was to go back. After living without her for, what had it been now? Days? Weeks? Months? He couldn't remember. Trying not to think of her with every breath he took, he couldn't escape her in sleep, in his dreams. He didn't know if he hated it or loved it. He didn't know how to stop it, and he didn't know if he wanted to.

Maybe he was a masochist.

He sighed but noticed, as his anxiety slowly started to fade, he began to feel something else.

He groaned in frustration, throwing the covers back and stared at the body that betrayed him. They had made love only one time, and even to one who was raised to live selflessly, it was not enough for him. He didn't have enough time to memorize her body the way he wanted, he couldn't hold her long enough before the unfairness of the world ripped away his opportunity. All he wanted was just one more touch, one more smile, one more kiss that would never come. But still, he relived his slowly fleeting memories in his dreams, always having a moment of bliss before reality crushed him again. She is gone forever.

But his body failed to realize that.

Because he is truly selfish.

This had happened on multiple occasions, and he hated himself for it. It just felt so wrong for him to want that from her. But even so, many times he would wake with an ache for her that only he himself could relieve because she wasn't there. She would never be there. He threw one of his arms over his eyes, he couldn't watch himself do this, as he slid his hand down slowly, tentatively to touch himself. This had become one of his coping mechanisms, if you could call it that. He still felt the crushing grief and the guilt of his actions accompany it, but he didn't know what else to do when his body was still playing catch up.

And he tried. Tried so damn hard not to think of her as he did it. Tried not to remember the sighs she made, the way she had whispered his name like a promise that she didn't keep. He tried not to think of the nervous giggles or the "I love you's" that they shared and would never do so again. He tried not to think of how right it had felt within her or how her face contorted to perfection as he moved over her, as she bared her body to him and him only. He tried not to think of how her hands felt better than his own ever could.

But he did.

And the guilt was almost as consuming as the grief.

When he was finished he was finally able to drift into a fitful, but dreamless sleep which was his only justification for his actions. His selfish, selfish actions. He had to stop doing this to himself. He had to stop living like this. Had to stop letting this control him, had to stop letting her control him. He had to let her go.

But he didn't know how to.

He didn't know if he could.

He didn't know if he wanted to.

AN: Sigh, such a sad series this was. The reason this concept came to me is I always wondered how people cope with the lose of their significant other physically. If they feel guilt or even more grief in succumbing to one's natural desires. Hmm... Also this might not end up being just a one shot (Yes I have ideas for more) I might be doing a series of how Tobias copes, or maybe doing more characters view points. If you have any suggestions please contact me, I'd be happy to hear from you.