He's the only Erudite transfer in our initiate class.
In all, there's only ten of us total and Amar makes it known that it's the lowest number of transfers they've received in a while.
His royal blue clothes contrast the dull colors of the Candor's black and white and my own grey clothing.
His name is Eric
I approach him curiously after our first training session with Amar, he looks irritated with my presence but there is a faint ghost of a smirk playing across his lips. "Eric, right? I'm Four," I say boldly. He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously and disregards me after a brief appraisal.
Sweat sticks my training shirt to my chest and back, the room is humid with the energy of ten exhausted teenagers. I relax against the cool metal wall, chugging back a few swallows of the water I'd brought with me. The bottle leaves my lips as I bring it down and I spot him, his black hair making him stick out like a sore thumb among the brown-headed majority of the room. He's watching me intently, almost curiously, but looks away blankly when he realizes I've noticed him. He doesn't seem the least bit sheepish about it, though.
I'm sitting in the canteen by myself. I had never cared much before but watching everyone talk freely with their friends makes me feel as if a knife is being wrenched slowly from my gut, a dull ache resonating in the aftermath. Someone slides into the bench next to me and I look up to meet dark eyes. "Hey," he says lightly, "what are you doing by yourself?" I shrug and look down at my tray, "I'm used to it." He makes a displeased noise but doesn't say anything more.
Black hair is all I can see as I come to, my vision heavily blurred. It takes me a moment to notice the white ceiling in the background. I'm in the hospital. "What happened?" I ask groggily, his dark eyes soon come into view. "You were knocked unconscious during training," he murmurs his reply quietly. There's something behind his words that I can't quite put my finger on. If it were anyone other than Eric I'd say that he was concerned.
The room smells of sweat and metal, I find myself oddly drawn to it. I stand with my fellow initiates as we watch two others go at it on the mat, mercilessly breaking one another's appendages. Someone sidles up to me and I'm not surprised when I look up to see Eric. I am surprised, however, when a cold hand snakes it's way into my own and laces our fingers together. He turns his focus to the fight as if he's unaware of his own actions, but a small, smug smile is tugging at the corners of his lips.
The initiate dorm is empty other than myself. I've taken to changing when I'm the only one in here, not just because of my modest upbringing but because of the scars lining my body. I hear the door creak open and I quickly turn to see Eric stepping inside, his eyes flicker to me and a bemused expression briefly crosses his face. "What are you doing in here?" I ask hurriedly, holding my shirt up to cover myself. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, "I left my wallet by mistake and the shops won't accept my points without a form of ID. Why are you hiding?" His question is clipped as he eyes the shirt in my hands. He strolls toward me, keeping his gaze fixed on it and pulls it from my grip with ease. His eyes widen imperceptibly at the many scars and old bruises. He reaches out a hand and gently traces the damaged skin on my ribs with his long, cold fingers.
It's a particularly cold night, my entire body trembles and it takes all of my self-control to keep my teeth from chattering. I can't allow anyone in here to catch even the vaguest sign of weakness from me. I already have a target on my head as the only Abnegation transfer and I don't need anything else dragging me down. I hear Eric slip out of his bed and moments later my own bed weighs down as he slides in next to me. "You cold, stiff?" His hot breath tickles my nape and he shifts himself until he's under my blankets, his chest pressed flush against my back.
The hot water cascades down my back, I'm in the communal shower alone. I can't bring myself to use this bathroom with any of the other initiates around- remnants of my old faction. I've taken to planning my trips for when they're eating in the canteen.
A cold hand gently touches my shoulder blade and I whip around to be met with a familiar smile. "Eric," I gasp, a little embarrassed and self-conscious about my nudity. He doesn't seem to mind. "Haven't seen you at lunch lately," he mumbles, his dark eyes lazily scrutinize my body before swiftly adding, "I missed you." My breath hitches in my throat when he leans forward and steals my lips with his own. They're surprisingly warmer than I thought they'd be.
We lay quietly on his bed, wrapped in the arms and tangled in the legs of each other. The deep, even breathing of the other initiates lulling us to sleep as we bask in the silence, content to spend the quiet night together.
"I love you," he whispers into the empty space between us. His voice is strangled and lust-filled as he rocks his hips into mine, pushing himself further into me. Warm, thick arms wrap around me and he pulls me close to himself. "I love you too," I manage to whisper back. I press a wanting kiss to his neck.
The training sessions become more exerting as we move deeper into our initiation, Our time together has become less frequent as a result. The new distance hurts but I try to remind myself that we'll both be official Dauntless members soon and free to do as we please. For the most part.
He hasn't spoken to me since our fight in the arena. Amar had pitted us against one another and I had shamelessly beaten him unconscious. I had hurt his pride in front of the other initiates, something he had worked so long to accumulate into a sense of identity. I had torn it from him and now he can't even so much as look at me.
Eric has managed to creep his way out of my life, but it doesn't slip my notice when he looks at me with a pained expression when he thinks I can't see him. The way his eyes soften slightly and his lips turn down.
He's been made into a leader. I rarely see him around the compound anymore but when I do he throws me hard, unnerving stares and cruel remarks.
There's an Abnegation girl among my group of initiates.
His dark eyes flit to me whenever she's around, almost pleading with me not to take my relationship with her to where he knows it's going to lead.
The night air is crisp and stings at my exposed skin. Eric looks at me with anger and defeat, the way he had when we fought as initiates. When I single-handedly killed whatever it was that we had. He pulls the neuro-stim darts from his chest and leg, baring his teeth at the pain. Old instincts kick in and I rush forward to help him up. He resists my efforts at first, pushing me back with his large hands on my chest but he eventually relents. "Eric?" I say, my warm breath puffing across his irate features. He briefly flashes his eyes up at me, the only sign he'd acknowledged I'd said anything. "Do you still love me?" The question had been wracking my brain lately, I needed to know once and for all so that I could feel comfortable with taking my relationship with Tris to the next step. His shoulders immediately tensed at my question, a question that's probably kept him awake at night since our falling out. The moonlight catches the piercings on his face and they twinkle idly, occasionally catching my eye. He takes in a sharp breath and averts his gaze from me, unwilling to answer.
He sits in a chair before me and what's left of the loyal Dauntless members. He looks pale and tired, still recovering from the stab wound in his abdomen. His long black hair is sticking to his face at odd places from the sweat induced by his fever. My feelings for him have long since diminished but a throbbing ache in my chest reminds me of what we once had.
He had specifically asked for me to carry out his execution and now he's narrowing his dark eyes at me, eyes that had once looked down at me, half-lidded as he whispered his endearment. There's something that flashes through them that I can't read but it pains me to hold the gaze any longer.
"Eric," I say coolly. I notice his hands tremble as he places them over his stomach. He's afraid. I grit my teeth as I pull back the hammer of the cold gun in my hand, clicking a bullet into place.
This wasn't how I had imagined we would end up- on those nights when we would spend countless hours tangled into each other's arms, enjoying the simplicity of the silence.
"Be brave."
I look at him for the last time, down the barrel of my gun. I will myself to memorize every detail of his body, the body I had once held close to me as I slept.
I squeeze the trigger.