This is a slight Petris One-Shot, though I might be willing to continue it. It's just a drab, and if you don't like it then that's fine. I love all of the Divergent characters (yes, even the bad ones) and Tris could really be paired with anyone. But enjoy.
It was like a normal morning for us, well, as normal as we could get after what we'd seen and gone through. Tobias was sitting on the couch, head in his hands covering his bloodshot eyes. He had left my side somewhere around 3, I'm assuming because he had another nightmare. By the looks of it he hadn't gotten any sleep, though he hadn't been getting sleep for months now. Either he was stuck in fatigue and remembrance, or he didn't want to put in the effort to notice me standing in the doorway. With a silent sigh I walked over to him, kneeling in front of him. His hair was tousled and unwashed, but I didn't mind. "Tobias?" I whispered, it was always me that got him out of his daze. His body moved but his mind didn't, "Tobias, it's me, Tris," I soothe, wanting to touch him, but knowing he won't allow it I refrain from doing so. "Tris," He grumbles, his voice gravel in his throat, "What are you doing out here?" He lowers his hands, so his fingertips touch his jaw. His blue eyes are sad, pleading. I know he wants to forget, I do too, but I won't. "Tobias, it's 6 in the morning," He nods slowly, I stand and walk to the kitchen. Pulling out ingredients for breakfast.
"You have to go to work soon," He says making me pause. He's right, I'll be late if I make breakfast right now, but that's not what alarms me. The fact that he's paid attention to me while he's not really there is what confuses me. "Yes," I say slowly, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm, sort of here," I bite my lip and listen to him, "But I think we need to talk," I taste blood then. A huff out a short curse and run my tongue along my bottom lip, feeling the raw skin and liquid blood. I must have been focused because I feel his body next to mine, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his heat. I turn in surprise and look at him, but his hand is light on my arm and his other touches my chin, his thumb brushing my lip. I feel my body freeze and eyes widen, he hasn't touched me for a month, at all. His fingers are fire against my skin and I melt against his touch. But as quickly as it was there it was gone.
His hands now at his sides, I look at him with a sort of sorrow that I struggle to suppress, "Don't look at me like that, I can't be what you need anymore Tris," He huffs out, a look of pain crosses his face. "I know, I can't recover, I don't see the need to pull through Tris. I want to touch you, I want to be normal again, but every time I try, just, Uriah, and, everything," He gets frustrated the more he talks, pausing more, to push down his anger. I cut the burners and avoid looking at him, "Do you want me to leave? Is that what you're asking?" I struggle to speak. He doesn't even try to, and I suppose thats my answer. I straighten and lock down everything, my gaze meets his, "I need to get myself together, when I do, I'll come and find you," I give him a curt nod and walk back to our-no, his, room. Packing my things and changing, my mind screaming to put up a fight against leaving but, I can't do anything for him as he's said.
At the door with everything of mine packed, he looks at me. "I'm sorry Tris,"
"Are you sure of this?"
"I'm soft! Tris! I can't get over any of this because I'm weak! I can't even stand you being next to me let alone watch you go through the motions! I can't have you around me anymore Tris so just leave!" He snaps like a stick of TNT. Fully aware of the tears down my cheeks I nod curtly, looking away from him and walk out the door. Not bothering to look back because after that I know he's not coming after me.
That was eight months ago. Now it's been about a year since the war, I haven't gotten word from Four, then again, I didn't expect to.
I moved to the far end of the city, quitting my old job and getting a part time as a waitress by day, and a bartender by night. Amazed that these positions still existed because most of the buildings were destroyed. Another amazing thing was that Christina lived near me, though she still had a hard time getting over Will, she could talk to me finally. We had gotten over some of the things we'd said and done to each other and in the past and were friends again. I explained to her why I was alone and she officially declared me single. She gave me moments to smile at.
It was about a month that I was working as a waitress when another familiar face walked in. To say that it was a shock would be an understatement, because upon seeing him I dropped a plate full of food and coffee. His hair as black as the coffee I had spilled, was nicely combed though it was short. His green eyes dark as a lush jungle and his face clean shaven. To say that he looked much better would also be an understatement. Peter Hayes looked like perfection in my drab world. He turned in my direction and I quickly took to avoiding his gaze, and cleaning up the mess I made. He got a table for one and I apologized to my customers. After being yelled at by the cook and being scolded by my boss, I was assigned to his table.
In hopes that he won't recognize me I clear my throat and switch my accent to that of a woman from Great Britain. "What can I do for you?" I ask, pen and pad in my hands. He overlooks the menu for a moment, his dark brows furrowing. "Id like a ham and cheese omelet and your work hours," I pause and look at him, seeing him with a familiar smirk, but instead of malicious it's relatively friendly. "Hey Tris," He says,
"Hey, Peter," I say back, dropping the accent, "You look well,"
"So do you," I'm about to ask him what he's doing here but my boss interrupts me,
"Tris, I pay you to work, not socialize," I bite my lip and send a glare her way, my cheeks blushing furiously, "I'll be right back with your order."
It's an hour or maybe a little more before I get my break, to which he accompanied me on. His hand resting at the small of my back after I changed out of my work clothes. We weren't really heading anywhere so we just walked down the street and talked, the first few minutes filled with silence that was difficult to carry but was comfortable all the same. His touch on me was light and gentle, something foreign considering our past. Another thing I noticed was how his face was always struggling to hold back a smile, his lips perfect for a smirk or grin.
I won't deny that I had an attraction for him before Four and I got serious, before he tried to kill me. Peter was that bad boy in my life, the one that everyone told you to stay away from because they were nothing but trouble. I went over to him for a little while, alone, Peter wasn't such a bad person, and during my captivity with Jeannie he and I talked a little. Okay, talked a lot, and I noticed the side glances he would give me. He made me feel warm when I had cold concrete walls around me, he took some of the warmth that Four gave me and made it his own. I didn't mind that, "What are you doing here?" I ask him, keeping my tone light,
"I'm looking for you," I feel my cheeks get warm.
"Why?" I ask, being direct is the surest path I could take right now, understanding this he smiles and chuckles. It's soft and deep. "How've you been Tris?" I notice he used my name again, over with the 'Stiff' nickname I guess. I give him a little shrug, attempting to keep all of this short because I haven't had an actual conversation with anyone else but Christina. He looks at me, his lush eyes boring into mine, "C'mon Tris, how's Four, or Tobias?" The name sounding alien on his tongue I frown a bit, "I haven't heard from Four in eight months," I tell him. He pauses in his tracks, "What?" He whispers, though it sounds more aggressive than what I had initially expected. I think him to say something negative or scoff and badmouth him, but again he surprises me, "Are you okay?" I look at him funny, Peter looks genuinely concerned, his eyes are trailing along my face, down to my lips, then my eyes and paying attention to my messy ponytail. I nod, wetting my lips, aware of his eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine," His brows furrow again, "Are you sure?" He asks, and he's looking to see if I'm lying, my ice eyes lock with his, which swim with warmth. I notice both his hands cup my face and mine rest on his forearms, the heat of his body spreading through me and dripping down like honey to all my cracks that I've tried so desperately to repair and hide.
I hear my name being called and I open my eyes, not realizing that I closed them. His face screams worry, "Yes, I'm okay," I manage a small smile, reveling in the warmth of him. My past attraction for this man crawling up my legs and clawing at my heart, tickling an emotion in me that I haven't felt for about eight months. Then for the first time in a long time, I wonder what it would feel like for his soft looking lips to be on mine. His eyes search mine and I almost wish he could see that want, but I don't think he does, because he notices the way he's touching me.
I miss his warmth as soon as he removes his hands, he looks down, struggling to hide the embarrassed blush that quickly spreads across his face. We start walking again, in silence, though I can tell he's deciding what to ask because his lips move in a silent debate with himself. He looks at me after a while and takes a breath, staring at me with something in his eyes that I saw in Fours for a while. Adoration. "I came to apologize to you," I feel my head tilt and my brows furrow in confusion, "I've done some bad things in my 19 years of life and I can't tell you how much I regret doing them, I've hurt a lot of people, including you, and I'd enjoyed it too, but at the end of the day I always questioned what was wrong with me," I watch him and the way he holds himself, fear is something I smell on him, like spice and the crackle of ashes and a burning fire, but maybe thats the anger evident on his face as well. Is he afraid of my reaction to this confession? Or is it something else?
However knowing him it could be something else because he wouldn't care about what I think of him, but I might be wrong there too because why else would he be here, wasting his time with me, struggling to find the right words of an explanation, if he didn't care for my opinion of him? He continues, his deep warm voice wavering, "I wanted to tell you that I've been working with a lot of professionals since the war. Learning how to control myself and my anger, I've been taking disciplinary classes to lock down the side of me that everyone hates. I don't want to be like I was, I wanted to start over, so I did, and I'm working on it. I'm not the same, Peter, you went through initiation with, I'm not the same kid who tried to throw you over the chasm. I'm sorry I ever hurt you Tris, and I'm doing whatever I can to make sure I don't do it again," I stare at him, my mouth slightly agape, shocked and pleasantly surprised at his hard work. "I guess, I'm also asking if we could start over?" I blink, happiness welling up inside me and tears surfacing, I battle internally to hold it all back. Since the beginning of initiation, I had hoped he would stop being such a post pubescent hormonal fiend and snap to the young gentleman he always had potential to be. I had hoped that he would also be my friend, and seen as things went the way they did, the fact that Peter is proposing this, thrills me beyond belief.
A smile forms and a giggle escapes my lips, his eyes light up and I nod. Walking over and warranting an interaction I never had expected to exchange with him. We embraced each other, him smiling into my hair as my face was securely nuzzled into his collar and neck. "I forgive you," I mumble into him, I feel him squeeze me tighter, but it's a good, close, warm feeling. His heart beat is erratic against my body and I don't stop the tears from falling. For a boy who is now a man, for someone that I've been infatuated with behind closed doors. Who now has changed for the greater good and sought me out on his own time, the feeling of him wrapped protectively around me, while a first, is something that I never want to lose.
Meanwhile a flicker of hope chimes inside me like soft music turning upbeat, saying 'Maybe now you can love him,' I smile more at the thought, gripping the back of his shirt. 'Maybe now he can know that you do,' I quite like the notion of that.
Then his voice is soft in my ear, "It's a pleasure to meet you Tris."