Two days later and Amar still hasn't spoken to me outside of training. He barely even looked at me yesterday. I want so bad to talk to him yet I'm not sure what I'd say if he chose to listen. Apologize for walking away from him maybe, or tell him that my feelings for him scare me for some reason and I never meant to upset or hurt him.
My eyes shift between his back and the floor as all the transfer initiates follow him past the training room to a grim hallway with a heavy door at the end of it. The first stage of training is over and whatever stage two is, it lies behind that door.
Amar tells us to sit against the wall, and then he disappears behind the door without saying anything else.
Eric sits as far away from me as he can, and I am glad for the distance. The night after I fought him, it occurred to me that he might tell everyone that I'm Marcus Eaton's son just to spite me for beating him, but he hasn't done it. I wonder if he's just waiting for the right opportunity to strike, or if he's holding back for some other reason. Whatever it is, it's probably better for me to stay away from him as much as possible.
"What do you think is in there?" Mia, the Amity transfer, asks nervously. None of the other initiates answers her. They're all casting desperate looks at each other.
I sit calmly against the wall but I do feel nervous, though not for the same reason as the others. There's nothing behind that door that can hurt me. What makes me nervous is that whatever stage two is, it requires me and Amar to be alone behind that door, so when he steps into the hallway again and calls my name first, I'm a bit hesitant to get up. Still, I do, and I follow him inside.
I look everywhere but at Amar, and I try to ignore the tension as my eyes memorize the details of the room. It's dim and grungy, with just a chair and a computer in it. The chair is reclined, like the one I sat in for my aptitude test. The computer screen is bright and running a program that amounts to lines of dark text on a white background. When I was younger, I used to volunteer at the school in the computer labs, maintaining the facilities and sometimes even fixing the computers themselves when they failed. I worked under the supervision of an Erudite woman who taught me far more than she had to, happy to share her knowledge with someone who was willing to listen. So I know, looking at that code, what kind of program I'm looking at, though I would never be able to do much with it.
"A simulation?" I say, not quite looking at Amar.
"The less you know, the better," he says flatly. "Sit down."
I sit, leaning back in the chair and setting my arms on the armrests. Every movement feels awkward and overly contemplated.
With the corner of my eyes I watch Amar as he prepares a syringe, holding it up to the light to make sure the vial is locked in place. He walks over to me and our eyes meet for a second. Then he opens his mouth as if to say something but he shakes it off and he sticks the needle into my neck without warning and presses down on the plunger. I flinch.
"Let's see which of your fears comes up first," he says. "I'm getting kind of bored of the four of them. You might want to try to show me something new." Amar smiles a little, seeming more like his old self again.
I smile back. "I'll work on it," I say. And then the simulation swallows me.
I'm sitting on the hard wooden bench at an Abnegation kitchen table, an empty plate in front of me. All the shades are drawn over the windows, so the only light comes from the bulb dangling over the table. When I lift my head, he—Marcus—is across from me. For a split second, he's just like the man I saw across the Choosing Ceremony hall not long ago, his eyes dark blue to match mine, his mouth pressed into a frown.
I see the outline of the lightbulb reflected in my empty plate. Then the light above us flickers, and he turns into the man I always see in my fear landscape, a twisted monster with pits for eyes and a wide, empty mouth. Marcus lunges across the table with both hands outstretched, and instead of fingernails he has razor blades embedded in his fingertips. He swipes at me and I lurch back, falling off the bench. I scramble on the floor for my balance, then run into the living room. There is another Marcus there, reaching for me from the wall. I search for the front door, but someone has sealed it with cinder blocks, trapping me.
Gasping, I sprint up the stairs but when I arrive at the top I trip, and I lay sprawled on the wooden floor in the hallway. A Marcus opens the closet door from the inside, another one walks out of my parents' bedroom, another one claws across the floor from the bathroom. I shrink back against the wall as the place becomes full of him.
Suddenly one of the Marcuses is right in front of me, pressing me to the wall with both hands around my throat. But then he changes. His skin begins to fade darker, his hair begins to stretch longer, his eyes begin to change colour. And not before long the person holding me by my throat isn't Marcus. It's Amar.
"Amar?" I choke out. I grab at his hand where it's wrapped around my neck but then another Amar appears and he drags his fingernails down my arms. It stings.
"Amar, please stop," I beg him, even though I know I'm in a simulation.
"Do you really think that I could ever love you? That any man could ever love you? Your own father doesn't love you," simulation Amar replies, his voice warped and deep.
His words stings more than his hands around my throat does and the pain brings tears to my eyes. I feel my pounding heart as I kick as hard as I can, hitting only air. Then Amar shoves me up the wall, so my toes drag along the floor. My limbs are limp, like a rag doll's. I can't move. I am paralyzed. I can't scream.
Then more Amars appear until the place becomes full of him. They wait below me with their arms outstretched.
I have to get away, I think. I try to send life into every one of my limbs. I imagine my blood on fire, racing through me. I slap my hand against the wall, searching for a weapon. My hands find a doorknob and I twist it, hard, and fall back into a closet. In the closet is a window, just big enough for my body. And as the Amars chase me into the darkness, I throw my shoulder against the glass and it shatters. I land hard, but I land outside and fresh air fills my lungs. I got away.
Gasping for air, I spring upright in the chair. I put my hands against my throat, on my arms, on my legs, checking for wounds that aren't there. I can still feel the cuts and the bruises from where I was hit, but my skin is intact. My breaths begin to slow down, but then I realize that Amar saw that. He was in my fear and he witnessed every second of it.
I look up and I see him sitting at the computer, hooked up to the simulation, and he's staring at me. His mouth is open and there are tears in his eyes.
As afraid as I may have been in the simulation, and as much as I may have panicked, it's nothing compared to what I feel in the moment when I see the pain in Amar's eyes. My sweating hands begin to tremble, my heart spikes again and again. And ashamed and afraid and embarrassed, I unhook myself from the chair and I run.
I burst open the door and I tear through the hallway, running past the initiates. I'm sure it only terrifies them more because they still don't know what's behind that door. But I don't care what they think of me. I don't care about anything as I race away from that place.
"Four, wait!" I hear Amar yell behind me. I run faster. I can't face him after what he just saw. I can't face him now that he knows why I'm afraid to be with him. I feel a deep twinge of shame in my stomach. I am supposed to be Dauntless. I am not supposed to be afraid of my friend abusing me the way my father did.
After four sharp turns and several dark hallways, it occurs to me that I have no idea where I'm running to. But it doesn't matter, because Amar catches up with me and grabs me by the hand, forcing me to a stop. Turning my head away from him I try to yank my arm away, but his hold on me is firm.
"Four, please stop," he says softly, his voice trembling. "Look at me," he says. I turn around to face him and when I do he presses a hand into my shoulder and says, "Come with me. Please."
I nod. I suppose it's the least I can do after I've demonized him, even if only just in my subconscious.
I follow him down a short, dark hallway and into the stone corridors that lead back to the members' dormitory. The air is cool there, and moist, from being underground. I hear our footsteps echo, and my own breaths, but nothing else.
We come to a stop at a door marked 713 and I know it to be his apartment number, though I've never been inside. Amar opens the door and he ushers me in. I walk in timidly, not sure where to step, where to stand, where to sit.
"This way," Amar says, and taking my hand he leads me to the living room and shows me to the couch. I sit down, sinking into the soft fabric, and I take a deep breath. "Wait here. I'm gonna go get you a shirt," he says, and only then do I realize than I'm drenched in sweat from fear or from trying to outrun Amar, but I'm not sure which.
I remove my shirt and dry off my chest as best as I can with it, not wiping too hard over the still sensitive skin where fresh tattoo ink lies.
Amar returns not too long after with a plain white T-shirt in his hands and handing it to me he says, "You know when I told you to show me something new… I was only kidding," and he sits gently beside me. But I never imagined that my fear would have changed any at all.
"Is that why you're afraid of being with me? You're afraid I'll hurt you?" Amar asks, but it sounds more like a statement. "All men aren't like him, you know. I'd never want to hurt you."
Desperate, I look up at him and I strongly say, "No. Amar, I know that. I don't think you would ever do that. And I'm really sorry you had to see that. I don't know what part of me that came from." I shake my head in defeat and self-disgust as I stare back at the T-shirt in my hands. Amar knows more about fear simulations than I do. Which means that it makes no sense denying that that fear, as deep as it may lie within me, it's real.
Pressing his elbows into his knees and turning his head up to look at me he asks, "Can I ask you something?" I cringe, afraid of what he might ask, but I nod anyways. He takes a breath. "Did you ever believe that you deserved it? When he hit you?"
I sit up straight and so does Amar. His eyes are pleading but strong as they pierce into mine.
"Sometimes, yeah," I say with a shrug. "Sometimes I thought that if I had just been obedient, or if I was less selfish, less of myself and more of what he wanted me to be then maybe he wouldn't hit me or lock me up in the closet. Maybe he wouldn't be ashamed of me."
"And you'd be wrong," Amar says gently, catching my attention. "I don't know much about the man, but from what I've seen, nothing you did would have ever been enough. You were never the problem, Four. He was. And what hurt me most about what I just saw is not that somewhere deep inside you you're afraid that I'll do to you what he did. It's that there's a part of you that thinks there's something wrong with you. Something that warrants being hurt like that."
He's right. Why else would his simulation self tell me that no man would ever love me if my own father doesn't?
"I don't know what else to tell you other than it's a lie," Amar goes on. "You're one of the best people that have ever fallen into that net and I hope to God you never change, Four. If there's ever a person in Dauntless who is brave when and where it matters most, it's you."
"Thank you," I say softly. "No one's ever said something like that to me before. And it means even more coming from you." Amar smiles and I see how handsome he is when he does, and I let myself accept for the first time how I really feel about him. I take his hand in mine and I say, "I'm sorry I walked away from you the other day. I just didn't understand what I was feeling. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Upset me?" Amar laughs lightly. "I was hurt yeah, but I wasn't upset. I was embarrassed more than anything."
"Why?"
"I thought maybe I went too far when I tried to kiss you and that's why you freaked out. I thought I had ruined everything. Four," he shrugs. "Even if you don't want to be with me that way, I still want you in my life… even if it's just as a friend. And I won't do anything to jeopardize that."
"And what if I want more than that?" I ask him firmly.
"Then I'll be the happiest man alive," Amar says, searching my eyes. "But only if you're sure," he adds.
I stare back into his dark eyes and in that moment it's impossible to deny that even in the deepest parts of my soul, this is what I want. He is what I want.
"I'm sure," I say softly, and taking the first step, I lean forward and envelop his lips between mine in a soft, slow kiss. Though I don't know what I'm doing, it feels amazing. Amar pulls me closer, gently exploring my neck and cheek with his hands and fingers. Then he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead on my own. I suddenly wonder if he enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.
I smile shyly against his lips. "I'm sorry if I seem a little…"
"Stiff?" Amar chuckles sweetly.
"Yeah," I blush. "It's just that I've never done something like this before."
"Be with a guy?"
"Be with… anyone." I shrug.
"It's ok, Four," Amar says. "We'll go as slow as you need to. You set the pace."
I stay quiet for a while as I let the words sink in. I've never been in control before.
I smile and say, "Ok," and Amar closes his eyes and presses another sweet kiss to my lips. When he opens his eyes, his fingers begin to gently trail down the marks on my chest. Though I want so much to enjoy his touch, the memories that lie beneath each scar take hold of my thoughts and my skin suddenly feels as though it's been set on fire.
When I tense up under his touch, Amar, with pain in his voice, asks, "Did he do this to you?"
I nod and his face falls.
"May I?" he asks softly and when I give him a slight nod of approval, though I'm not sure what for, he presses a kiss to my neck, and then to my collarbone, and then on the left side of my chest and then on the right. By the time he places the fourth kiss just over the last of my ribs, I realize that he's trailing kisses down my scars.
Tears flood my eyes because his simple gesture of affection means more to me than he will ever know. With every kiss I feel renewed. Where there was once a horrible memory now lies the promise of love and tenderness. And though he's said that I shouldn't, I can't help but feel undeserving. The one man who was supposed to love me didn't and yet here is Amar, loving me.
Filled with emotion and wanting, I grab his face between my palms, forcing his lips back up to mine in a passionate kiss. It consumes us as we fight to hold on to one another. I tug at his long, dark hair, his strong back, and as the blood rushing through my veins burns hot with love and desire, for the first time in my life I feel alive.
Our breathing is erratic as Amar pulls back, leaving no more than just enough space between us so that we can breathe.
"Wow. That fast huh?" he says, gasping for air. "You are something special, Four."
He smiles at me as he presses a palm into my cheek, and glistening in his eyes I see it; he loves me and he'd never hurt me. And Amar is bigger, stronger, faster, better. But instead of threatened, I feel safe, knowing that he will only ever stand with me and never against me. I can trust him with all that I am, with all that I feel. I can trust him with my hopes and my secrets, my nightmares and my dreams. He is my future.
I press my palm into his. "Tobias," I say. "Call me Tobias."
A/N: Well that's it for Amour's two shot. Hope you guys liked it! Fun Fact: The word Amour is not only just a combination of the names Amar and Four, but it actually means 'A love affair'. How fitting lol Anyways, thank you guys so much for your reviews of the last chapter and I can't wait to read what you thought about this one. Hope you're excited to read about Tristina :)