Chapter 4

The "Weeks Before" thing is not about them falling in love or going on a date. Any other guesses? Good luck ;)

-(still) 12 Weeks Before-

When I get home at 5:30, I put on sweatpants and a sports bra. I walk down the hallway of my small apartment to the kitchen to get some ice, unfortunately. As much as I hate admitting it, my abdomen hurts like a bitch, and I know if I don't ice it it'll hurt even more. After I put the ice in the ziploc bag, I walk over to the couch and lie with it on my stomach.

"Oh, cold, cold, cold, cold!" I wince. It doesn't help much since it's November, too, and I have the shittiest heat ventilation system in my apartment.

I finally cave in and set it on my stomach, ignoring the frigidness.

Since I have nothing to do until Four gets here, I hastily get up, grunting and grab the remote to find the movie on Netflix.

I start sloppily braiding my long hair over the shoulder.

Just as I finish, I hear a knock on the door. Since I don't feel like getting up, I shout, "Come in!"

"Tris," Four says, "is that ice I see on your stomach?"

"What? No…" I lazily lift up the bag of ice. "This old thing? I was just, you know…." I try come up with an excuse as to why I'm actually doing what he says for once. "Fine. Whatever. Sorry for being in pain." I laugh.

He smiles and shakes his head. "I see you've dressed up for the occasion," he says as he walks toward the couch.

"I got shot!" I say as an excuse.

"You can't use that as an excuse every time you don't feel like doing something." He chuckles.

"Can too." I cross my arms like a three-year-old.

He lifts my legs and sits beneath them, so my legs are on his lap.

"So. This movie I just have to see?"

"Well, it's called Beauty & the Beast, for starters."

I click on it before he can see the cover image.

"Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is this?" he asks. "Disney?"

About an hour later, towards the end of the movie,

He throws his head back and groans. "Tris. I can't believe you made me watch some stupid—"

"Watch your mouth. This movie is a classic. I'm not typically one to watch things like this, but this is a special circumstance."

"How so?"

I smile. "My brother and I would watch a Disney movie every single weekend, and it all started with this one."

"Sounds like you two were really close," he says solemnly with a sad smile.

I nod my head. "Yeah. We were. Even though he was a really big geek." I laugh and look at the TV so he can't see the tears in my eyes.

"Tris?" he asks softly. "Hey, are you alright?"

"What?" I ask, oblivious. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Tell your best friend what's wrong."

"Christina's working, and so is Uriah." I smirk.

"Ouch," he says, despite the smile on his face. "I'm sorry if I took it too far. I don't want to push you into saying something you regret."

"No, you're fine. You didn't do anything wrong."

"According to other people, it's always my fault when something goes wrong." He chuckles.

"How do you mean?" I question.

He shrugs. "I guess I'm just used to letting people down."

I raise one eyebrow. "Buddy, join the club. Parents? Grandparents? Both?"

"Parents. I don't have grandparents," he says.

"Me either. I practically don't have parents either. So I guess I'm family-less." I dryly chuckle.

"Same here. Haven't seen my mom since I was four and my dad is an asshole. So yeah, I guess I will join the club." He smiles.

I mirror. Quickly, I get up, ignoring the stab of pain in stomach. I run to the kitchen and open the fridge to grab two beers. Walking from the kitchen, at a distance away, I toss the beer at him. He catches with ease and swiftly pops the cap, as do I.

I plop down next to him and raise my beer up. "To The Defective Kids Club."

"To The Defective Kids Club," he copies, then we clink the neck of our beers.

Once we take a sip, we smile at each other.

"Maybe this defective kids club isn't so bad," I say.

"Maybe it isn't." He smirks.

"Oh my god, you've heard 'Numb' by—" I begin.

"Linkin Park? Of course. That's my theme song to life." Four chuckles.

"I have the sudden urge to play it now." I smile. I hook up my phone to my Bluetooth loudspeaker in the living room and turn it up. I know for a fact there are no old people or little kids that'd be asleep, so I don't feel guilty whatsoever.

As the chorus comes along, we both are screaming, "I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, become so tired, so much more aware, I'm becoming this, all I want to do is be more like me, and be less like you. And I know I may end up failing too, but I know, you were just like me with someone disappointed in you."

When the song finishes, we're still on an adrenaline rush, but we soon calm, just staring at each other, smiling like idiots.

Finally I ask, "What?" Still, I find myself smiling.

"It's just… you, and… I don't know." He chuckles. "I don't fucking know. But there's something about you that makes me want to—"

"Puke?" I suggest.

He shakes his head and smiles, still not breaking eye contact. "Be a better person."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "Fairly."

After a moment of silence and staring at a very interesting black TV screen, I ask as I turn towards him, "Four?"

"Hm?" His head also turns to see me.

"Can I ask you something important?"

"Anything," he states.

"Do you like muffins?"

He laughs. "Yeah. Why?"

I shrug. "Kind of just wondering. What kind?"

"Blueberry," he says. "Definitely blueberry."

"From where?"

"Why the sudden curiosity in my muffin likings?" He chuckles.

I shrug.

"Christina's," he finally answers.

I shake my head. "Um, you should probably go. I'm getting tired."

He snaps out of his daze. "Oh. Right. Yeah, I'll just, uhm, get going," he says with a crease in his forehead. He slides on his tennis shoes and orange sweatshirt.

"Bye, Four."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

I take a deep breath and slide my back against the door so I'm leaning against it and sitting on the ground.

Muffins. I can't believe he likes the same muffins as me. I mean, sure, a lot of people like them, but it happens that Four likes those exact ones. And I happened to mention muffins are a deal-breaker.

Just then, I am met with movements reverberating down my back. Someone is knocking on the door.

I stand up and open it to see Four again.

"Did you forget something?" I ask.

He nods. His arms wrap around my small frame and squeeze me tightly.

"Tris?" he asks.

"Mhm?" I ask as I close my eyes, somewhat enjoying this moment.

"Thank you. For this. I just hope you don't leave like everybody else does."

"Four, just come in."

"Do you ever just get the feeling you can never do anything right?" he asks with his face in his hands.

"All of the time."

"I just feel like I'm never good enough for anything, or anyone, or…." He sighs.

"You're good enough for me." I smile.

"Sometimes I feel bad for lying to you about who I really am."

"I feel like I know you but you obviously don't let off as much as you should," I say.

"You don't know me at all." Four slowly shakes his head.

"I want to get to know you as a friend. Not a pity friend to feel bad for you, or whatever. I'm here to listen because I want to be an actual friend," I admit. "I can be that one person you can fully confide in, but only if you let me."

"Tris, I hope you know that might take awhile. Nobody knows my past or my present thoughts in my head. No one."

"Well I can try, right?" I smile.

"But you'd epically fail." He chuckles.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," he says.

"Well I guess I'll just have to get up and keep going, huh?"

-11 Weeks Before-

As I walk to work, I notice orange construction cones lining the road.

Then the trees. All of them are gone. Including the one I planted.

I start sprinting up to them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yell.

"We're making sidewalks. Trees have to die, hon."

"Did you not see one with two ribbons that are black and yellow?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah. So?"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe they were put there in remembrance of someone?"

"Yeah, I'm very sorry," he says, not actually caring. "We already had a guy out telling us not to chop that one down, but it was too late. Sorry," he says flatly.

I turn around an walk into the station, trying to find Uriah. He's the only one that knows.

Running, I go over to his desk, and when he sees me, his expression turns sorrowful.

"Tris," he says as he gathers me into a hug. "I tried to stop them from cutting yours down, but he said it was too late."

Tears are strolling down my eyes. I've never been a loud crier. Just subtle with them inconspicuously rolling down my face, as they are now.

"They chopped down his tree, Uri," I mumble.

"I know. I know they did." He pulls back and sets his hands on my shoulders. "Maybe we can get another one, okay?"

I nod. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just got… a little too emotional. It's just a tree."

Uriah shakes his head. "No, Tris, it's not just a tree. You have every right to be upset, alright?"'

I nod. "Okay. Okay, I'm fine."

"I thought we didn't lie to each other, Prior."

"I'm not fine. Happy?"

He smiles and nods. "Thanks."

I let out a small laugh. "Okay. I'm going to go get to work." I turn around and begin to walk away. "And Uriah?" I ask.

He turns his head and looks at me expectantly.

"Thank you." I walk away towards my desk.

"Tris, is everything alright?" Four asks, concerned. "I saw you crying and hugging Uriah."

"They cut down the tree I planted in memory of my brother with the yellow and black ribbons." I'm somewhat surprised I told him so easily. Typically I don't talk about it. Actually, Uriah and Christina are the only ones who know what happened with Caleb. They know he died, but they don't know it was because of me. I have no clue why I'd tell him such a thing I'm so sensitive to. So technically the only people who I've told about his death are Four, Uriah, and Christina.

"Oh, Tris, I'm so sorry," he says, then for a moment, he pauses. "I'm not good at this whole comfort thing, just so you know. I'm also sorry for that."

I chuckle, despite my mood. "It's okay. I'm not either."

"There was a black ribbon on it?" he asks.

I nod. "Black ribbon means mourning and yellow means you support military and police. People who risk themselves on order to save others," I say somberly.

"Tris?"

"Yeah?"

Then ever so softly he asks, "Did your brother die at your old station? Is that why you transferred?"

Slowly, I back away. "Who told you?"

He stands up from his office chair. "Nobody had to tell me, Tris."

I start to turn around and walk away. I don't know where I'm going, but I need to get out of here. Somewhere. Anywhere. So I go out back and sit in the alley with my back up against the wall.

Probably after twenty-some minutes later, I hear the large metal door creak open, but I don't look over. I don't have the energy to.

"Tris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed that so far," Four says.

I finally look at him. He has his hands behind his back, obviously hiding something.

"I got you something." He tries to smile.

In his hand, he holds a yellow paper bag with the words written on it, "For: The Defective Kids Club. From: Christina's Café."

I smile. "Is this what I think it is?" I grab the bag from his hand and look inside. I take the blueberry muffin out and smile at him. "Thank you."

He takes out his own bag and gets his muffin, raising it. "To The Defective Kids Club?"

I raise my muffin to his. "To The Defective Kids Club."