Part 1: Divergent
-CHAPTER 14-
Life
Peter's words echo in my mind.
I'm in the back seat.
I have no control.
I am allowed to be scared.
In this never-ending spiral, I can't even focus when I get back to the dorm and there's Al. Big guy Al. My best friend Al. My Al.
And I never knew how much I could hate and love at the same time. Those polarizing emotions are tearing me apart. It's ruining everything.
How... could he? He attacked Tris out of desperation. He was depressed. The life got sucked out of him. Peter manipulated him. Drew is his hero. And me. I yelled at him and pushed Al over the edge.
Fuck. Fuck.
Tris and Will stand close together. She's trembling but solid. I swallow. What will she do? Condemn or accept him? She's Dauntless... I almost laugh about the answer. My words should have been cuts in the mouth. Oh my god. Oh my god.
Will reaches out, hands on Tris's shoulder. Lightly. To give her some odd sense of comfort.
Al's face is swollen from the tears and his whole body shakes. He's on his bed, the light casting shadows. He looks awful. My once lovable guy is falling apart.
His tattoos stick out from underneath his tattoo and his hair is all mussed. He contained himself enough to not cry. But many people are watching, silent. That's what these Dauntless bastards do, eh? They watch and do nothing. They don't even care about anyone but themselves.
Oh Al...
"Tris," says Al, his voice breaking. "Can I talk to you?"
"Are you kidding?" Will squeezes Tris helpfully. "You don't get to come near her ever again." he orders. In the big brother way.
"I won't hurt you. I never wanted to..." Al covers his face with both hands. He falters, not knowing what to say or where to go. "I just want to say that I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't...I don't know what's wrong with me, I...please forgive me, please..."
He reaches for Tris. He wants mercy. Forgiveness. How can someone give it to him, to Peter?
"Stay away from me," Tris says loudly but her voice is barbed and low. "Never come near me again. If you do, I swear to God I will kill you. You coward."
Al storms out of the dorm when I catch his arm. "I thought you'd keep with me, Al!" I hiss under my breath.
"I'm sorry," his eyes dart all over my face. Then he yanks his arm away. "I want to be alone."
I sigh. Al...
When I round the endless amount of corridors, I finally find Al in the hallway and we stare for a little. His eyes look to be a devoid of emotions and they're empty. I know it's dangerous but Al is my friend. And Tris is my friend too. All these loyalties push and pull me one way and another way too. I just don't want to be left abandoning either of them.
And Al is just a fool. I can't get through to him. He's right here but not. It's a lonely feel.
He's about three metres away. And I don't think I want him closer. My guy who was virtually a pillow and a laughing machine is now the opposite. He could do some real damage. To me. To Tris. To everyone.
His soft curves now look like edges. His gargantuan form isn't making him look clumsy, it makes him look intimidating. He could kill me.
"I said I wanted to be alone." Al growls.
"And I don't care. You don't get to order me around, none of you can."
He chuckles sardonically. "What if I hit you?"
"I'll hit you back. Ten times harder."
I smile cheekily but it feels more like an empty threat since he's actually willing to hit back. He knocked Will out. But I can't show weakness.
"I'll kick your ass." I finish, squaring up.
Al just squints then shakes his head. "What do you want?"
I raise my chin up and stiffen my shoulders. "Al..." I whisper. "You need some help."
"You too?" he demands. "Everyone's saying that and I don't care! I don't want help! Let me be this way!"
"You could maybe even tell someone about your problems! You aren't getting punished, no one's reported you. I haven't even reported you!" I say loftily. I clear my throat of emotions. "You know, we tell the truth and we fight for that truth so you get to fight for the truth that you aren't that bad. You belong here. That you have some Dauntless blood."
"I... I tried to kill... Tris and now. Now she doesn't want to be my friend-"
"All of this can be forgiven-" I wave frantically to his shadow eyes, his dark tattoos and his mussed hair. "If you try to help yourself, I can still be your friend! I can still keep with you!"
"You don't want that!"
"Al, don't tell me what to want! I want you to repent. I want you to live. I want... I want to keep you." I whisper.
"Really?" His whole air of depression is lifted considerably.
He lifts his large arms up and I watch in slight horror. I never knew how long his arms and limbs were. How much muscle. How hard he could punch. How fast he was. And fuck. He gives an experimental step forward and my body goes into flight mode. I flinch away and hold the wall.
"Christina-"
I realize what I've done. Fuuuuck. He turns around, glaring, his body stiff. His other muscles are clubbed and I... And I just feel so bad and cautious.
"Al!" I run up to him, all my fear forgotten.
He tilts his gaze over his shoulder.
I run up to him and in front of him. "Al, don't do this! You could still reform! You're still in the game!"
His eyes are voids and he's just a shell. I'm so confused. I'm so hurt but Al. "Al..." My saliva taste like chalk as I try to gulp air and speak at the same time. "You need help. I'm willing to help you-"
"YOU'RE AFRAID OF ME! CHRISTINA! AFRAID!" Al screams.
"I'm afraid of your anger but I'm not afraid of you!"
"LIES! ALL OF YOU WANT ME GONE! WANT ME DEAD! WANT ME SOMEPLACE ELSE AND I- and I just can't handle it. SCREW YOU-"
"NO! SCREW YOU!" I shove his chest. "Shut the fuck up! Screaming like a banshee, attacking Tris, you seem like a goddamn maniac who I can't trust, no screw you!" I shove his chest again. His hot huffs ruffle my bangs and I keep on shoving. "Fool! I just want to trust you again! That jealousy won't consume you. Your mental strain isn't too bad! I... I just need to know if I have my Al. My guy." I stomp my foot. "You can make this initiation your triumph and glory but you gotta get help and admit to your mistakes."
His expression is so angry and I didn't know I've been punching him for that entire speech. I'm out of breath and my voice croaks and I... I just want this odd feeling to go away!
"Al-" I say because he's staring at me so resolutely in the silence.
He catches my fist. I worry for a couple of milliseconds. Is he going to push me into the wall? Flip me over and make me do something? Fling me into the chasm?! The possibilities are endless.
What is he going to do? Can I react quickly enough?
Fuck.
"Al!" I say more desperately.
He just stares. And stares. His nails dig into my arm and he's. He just stares at me!
"AL!" I cry out. His hold is hurting me!
Then he pulls me into his chest.
He hugs me. It was an instinct and I tense up but he doesn't seem to notice or care. And I sigh, enveloped in heat and warmth. He's always hugged me and me hugging him. It was a natural sight. This hug felt oddly final.
"Al..." I whisper. "Get some help."
I pat him on the back, encircling my arms around his beefy body.
"I would never hurt you... Christina. Never." he sobs, horribly, instead of promising he'll help himself.
His sobs wrack his whole body, taking every breath, every action of his lungs are dedicated to letting out this anguish.
Where his nails puncture my arm... throbs with truth.
"I know... I know..." I stroke his hair and hold him for all of its worth.
It was a lie but sometimes, I learned, all people need to hear are lies.
"Peter and Drew, they made Tris sound like a bad guy and I... I didn't know if I could keep up and I... I'm just so sorry." he shudders.
His words are strung together with grief and slobbers but I just pat his back. "It's okay."
"It's not!" he pushes away and stands to his full height.
"Al... You gonna get help?"
He nods. "Yeah."
"I'm proud of you, okay?" I whisper. I smile a bit. "You're keeping up. I'll be damned if you go to the deep end without me doing something for you!"
"Deep end? Like the chasm?" he blinks.
I nod. "'Course." I shrug a bit. "Why didn't you... say why your smile was heavy?"
"'Cause I'll be weightless without my struggles in a little." He stares at me, eyes not wet and tinged with this strange calmness. "I know you'll become great and you'll do something amazing and I... I know you were a good friend. I didn't deserve it. My best friend." he turns around. "I'll see you again."
Something inside of me bends. Like it wasn't supposed to. "Yeah. Who else will slave away to give me muffins?" I joke.
"You like those way too much." he says accusingly. There's a cuteness and a slyness to his voice that gives you doubt that this man is capable of terrible things.
"Don't rag on my food choices. You eat bucket loads of meat all day." I say back.
"Mhm... Christina... Take care of yourself."
Al gives me a pleasant smile. One that was so filled with peace and optimism. His eyes aren't red and this... This is the Al I've seen before initiation. Before he fell in love. Before he became my friend.
He starts down the hallway. He's standing on the edge of himself, staring down at his shadow.
"Al?" I whisper.
He turns a bit and shines me a smile. "Yeah?"
"Fix yourself because I can't speak with you until you're stable. Okay?" I whisper, looking away.
"Yeah," he sighs, that dark cloud returning.
"And Al?" I struggle to fight the lump in my throat. "Be careful." I look at him.
He nods and I... Something in my flutters with uncertainty. A cry for attention. An odd sense of danger. Something inside of me tells me to follow him but I respect his candor side to be alone.
I don't see him again that night or again tomorrow. The next time I see him, he's surrounded by a group of Dauntless.
And Oh. God. Oh God. Oh. GOD!
Al's standing right on the ledge, balancing because of sheer will and not because he wanted to live- He didn't want to live. I was passing by the chasm and now he's going to jump.
"Al?" I choke, trying to find words but my throat doesn't allow me to do anything substantial.
A crowd of people in the odd darkness just watch with fear and pity.
Someone grips my arm and yanks me back. "What the hell are you doing?" the woman demands.
She's my hairdresser. She has bald hair and the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen.
I rip my arm away. "Saving my friend!" I hiss back with equal intensity.
I can't think properly. I can't see properly. This gives me a head ache. Fuck.
She shakes her head. "I admire your valor but all of us are exactly like you." she rolls her eyes but she's also wary of this situation too.
She's wasting my time. I don't have time for riddles, either! What the fuck- I am Candor, I'm supposed to know what she's talking about. Fuck. Fuck.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.
"Don't you think that we've tried already? He isn't fucking listening. I hope I didn't cut off any brain cells when I did your hair." she blocks me.
"Bite me. I don't have time for prissy bitches who don't know anything about anything!" I bare my teeth. "Let me be, I swear I can save him-"
"I am Dauntless, I will save those who have a chance-"
I shove her once. Al is worth saving too! She doesn't budge. I try to side step her but she mirrors my every step. Damn her. She's being a perfect wall. She has an air of unshakable determination and resistance that I can't get around.
I shove her dainty shoulders, expecting her to tumble but she's craning her neck to look at me. She has the clear advantage. But I want Al, so fuck her advantage. I'll get through.
"Al!" I call out desperately. "Al, you fucking promised! You promised!"
He doesn't hear me. Why doesn't he hear me? His back muscles clench up and I see how hard he's coiled up.
"AL!" I cried.
He never looked back. His last words ring through me. Now he won't even look at me?
"You wanna get through to him, who is going to die, you gotta get through me, alright, chopped bangs!" My hairdresser threatens.
"Really?" I whisper. I shrink, my shoulder's hunching and my body. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry- I'll stop..." I sigh and give her big, forgiving eyes. "I just care about him- s-so much..."
She softens. "Oh, honey, it's okay." she whispers then I smile graciously.
Gotcha.
Before the confusion flashes through her black eyes, I punch her in the stomach as hard as I could. It hurt my wrist.
But my pain gets shadowed by her pain. She lets out a loud, tortured cry when I hit her again, a hard knee to to hunched over stomach. I pull on her flailing arm but she grabs my wrist and intercepts me. I hadn't realized that she'd flipped me over until the air was sucked out of my throbbing ribs.
She's grinding her teeth, her cheeks. "I'm Dauntless too, bitch," My hairdresser whispers. She blinks at me. "Don't forget that."
My back makes impact with the hard rock, and the burning sensation on my elbows felt wet. Blood. Pain. But my heart, it's my heart that's the most pained.
I scream out, "Al," but my voice was a quiet sigh. "I want hi-"
"We have it under control." she snaps. "I have to keep you safe. We don't need two of our young ones going over the edge."
I stare at her ghostly white skin under the blue lights. I fight her weight. "Let me go!"
"No. I don't trust you," she whispers lowly. "Life is precious. We never say but it is precious, don't waste it."
"That's enough Beckham," A familiar voice says.
Beckham or bitchy Beckham doesn't move her weight from me, she's holding my wrists down.
Eric.
Eric's profile from the side makes me want to stop being mad at him. He isn't even... He isn't even the focus of my anger, he's subtly on the edges, floating in the soft spots of my mind. He is such a jackass, making me guilty like that.
He looms over the both of us. I hadn't noticed everyone watching us, the crowd of twenty tattooed, wild-looking folks circled around us. Giving us space. None of them would stop this madness.
They shuffle, kicking up some dirt, when they move to let Eric go through. Dust gets in my lungs, in my eyes but those might be tears.
"Al!" I cry out.
I can't see him with all the tall people blocking my view. Beckham bitch, she's still on top of me. My wrists feel like they have millions of carpet burns. My body shakes, shaking is not good, because the stone below me is cold.
Too cold.
I glare at Eric. I hate him so much and I want to cry but I can get over that because Al is on that ledge. He's on that ledge and I love him and I want him.
"Please don't make me lose any more things," I whisper. "I may not be your responsibility but Al damn sure."
Eric stares at me. He seems studious, long eyelashes poking into my heart. I just swallow hard. Everything floats when he's near. Even his pale lips distract me. He waits seventeen seconds, his metal eyes, all over my body. He waits the length of a decently dull kiss.
That we haven't shared...
"Beckham, get up," Eric says loudly.
"Eric!" gasps Beckham.
"Al is on that freaking ledge and I am under this woman. Eric, please get this bitch off of me before I KILL HER!" I yell, I scream and kick. "Please."
Eric sighs and moves away. He picks Beckham off of me, who's like a bull huffing out carbon dioxide and poison.
I finally get up, realizing that Eric already grabs my wrist and tugs gently. I slap him away. "Don't touch me," I hiss.
Eric tilts his head. "Rookie..." he says loudly. "You have to-"
I step away from him, frantically holding my arms up. "No. No. I don't have time for your games and questions, concerns, hell."
I turn and I am in between all these people and Al. I wanted him to ,uh, feel safe and like he should stay here.
"Don't try to stop me. I've made up my mind," Al says, all of his resolve in his firm tone. "I don't need to explore this realm anymore! I even brought a rock, so I could sink faster. Let this happen."
I look bewildered. When he scans the crowd, he looks at me then gives a nervous smile. With his gums peeking, with his white teeth, with his laugh being the sun and the sea.
"Bye Christina..." Al says loudly. His tone... his innocence, his brightness is almost reminiscent of the him from way back when.
We stay in the precious moment. It might have been insignificant but that is the truest smile I've ever seen from since... since math class... And that was almost a year ago.
I frame the brilliance and its surrounding glow, just to catch the moment. But I am not quick enough. I'm never quick enough. I run many miles, I cough up much blood, but I am not quick enough.
He's saying a bunch of words, his prepared suicide speech. His stuttering is throwing me off. My arms are noodles, my arms are weak, my arms are weak. My legs are weak.
I'm not fast enough.
My body runs through the crowd, being a bulldozer just so I could get to the front, where the ledge is.
I am reaching. I am reaching, straining all my muscles and lurching myself further than I am supposed to go just to catch a taste, a handful of fabric, a flimsy string of his shoe lace.
I'm... I'm... I'm fast enough- I'm fast enough!
The rushing water is nothing. The cold is nothing. The fact that I am reaching between the railing and over is nothing.
I almost have it but I am suddenly confronted with a gust of air. He jumped... And I didn't catch... him. I couldn't have done anything.
Al... is down there. And I am up here. He jumped and I stayed. He's... drowning. My heart rips in two. Physical feeling of this no. No. Dust begins to settle. He's... gone.
Before I know what I am doing, I am still reaching over the ledge-
Someone shoves me from my side, knocking me off balance. I feel the scratchy feeling of hair on my collarbone, as my arms and body get squished under this huge force.
I inhale deeply, bracing myself for the fall. I am lousy at staying afloat. I can't even keep a friend alive.
Pain tastes like blood and regrets when I feel the familiar chill of the stone floor.
Al... Al is dead. He was my friend. Now he wanted death to be his company. Ouch. Ouch. Actually, it doesn't hurt anymore. It's fading.
That's a good thing.
Then I hear a swift movement. Then another. But... why does that matter, everything gets fuzzy. I am pretty lousy. And I want to protect him longer.
But I can't.
I close my eyes and drift to someone hooking their arms under me.
I can't do anything.
I open my eyes, shocked and bleary-eyed. I'm tangled in millions of sheets. I'm cold, I'm hot, never satisfied. I look around and coffee and cigarettes are in my mouth. Well, the taste. That smell- oh, the disorientation smell and panic fades as I inhale deeply. I'm suddenly greeted by the stiff dark color of Eric's shirt.
I sigh, letting the air out of my lungs.
My heart pumps louder in my chest, blaring all of my ties to consciousness and reality.
No light comes in this time. Well, florescent lights burn my eyes. Everything is in place. Even his drooping plant he hasn't watered in a while. Should I remind him?
No.
WAIT- why am I even in his room? Why am I in his room? I feel like I'm forgetting something. I can't breathe. My head and back aches like there's no tomorrow and Eric's staring at me like I'm bad news.
He's at the head of the bed, still staring.
Heat just definitely drops into my stomach with a bloody crash. It was Eric.
I struggle with my words. They fall out of my mind. But he watches me in vain while I struggle to keep my cool.
"You know, this is how horror movies start. I would scream." I say off-handedly, through the gasp and suffering.
Shifting hurts. Why does my everything hurt? I swear, I was fine before tonight.
"Then scream..." says Eric.
Huh? I squint. "You'd let me?" I ask skeptically.
He sighs after staring at me for a long time. "You hit your head pretty hard."
"What?"
"Do you remember what happened last night?" he demands all semi-stern, semi-concerned.
"Last night? What do you mean last night?" I whisper. I hide myself behind one of his sweet-smelling pillows. Why are they so incredibly soft? Would they be soft if we... never mind.
Then it comes. In a small wave then it consumes me. Everything I feared. The look in his glassy eyes, the sorry one I've never seen him in before.
Something terrible happened.
Eric swallows painfully. His expression tells me everything I need to know. The feeling that goes through me isn't pleasant. I feel like vomiting and ripping my heart out since it hurts to be alive. It's a dry ache that settles in my stomach like hard candy that I swallowed and haven't chewed. My expression becomes watery. Al. I can't breathe.
I still can't breathe.
I give him the dullest threat with a murderous glance. "Don't say it-"
"Al died." Eric says anyway, a fact. It's a fact.
"No. No. No!" I throw pillows at him. "Al is still here. He's going to come to me in the cafeteria, hand me a granola bar with nuts and peanut butter since he knows that Molly is allergic to them and say something corny and kind even though it's early and we've both had to work out. Then it hurts to laugh and laugh but he still does it anyway. He will do that!" I throw many, many of the things on the bed. I run out of pillows with a huff. "So, you can't tell me that Albert died!" I shout.
Eric says nothing as he advances, slowly. Like a hunter approaching his prey. Or a child. Something soft and delicate. I am not soft and delicate
I shouldn't. Fuck.
I have nothing to grab so I lace my hands in my hair. "No. I refuse! I refuse-" I point to him. "And you, stop looking at me like that, I'll be damned if you do, alright?" I pound on the bed. "I don't-"
"He died. Jumped into the chasm yesterday night." Eric continues.
"Yesterday?!" I pound on the bed.
My voice is broken and I've yelled so loud that it hurts my lungs, since I can't breathe either. Why am I yelling? Why would I be so mad if he wasn't dead?
Damn it. Damn it. My tears are wild and black when I wipe them away. Damn mascara. Damn Al. FUCK!
"We couldn't find the body until recently, and you hit your head, so you were passed out until now. You are yelling-" He stops himself, still getting closer. "And I'm sorry, he's truly dead."
Dragon fire hot rage courses through me. "Don't you dare apologize! You don't care. This is a formality. You don't care about what I him or m! Or Al! You fucking threw knives-"
He finally moves onto the bed, behind me and I'm too tangled up in the sheets to really skitter away. Damn these sheets. Damn him.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I break, my voice no higher than a whisper but I still-
He pulls me to him like a puzzle piece, every warm part of him meshed with me as my heart howls with guilt. Why... why did Al have to leave things off like that? Like this? Eric holds me, in my tumultuous movements, my crying and wrenching.
He rubs his arms up and down my sides, still a prison, still being a good guy. His heartbeat is steady while he controlled every fiber of my being and the way my head processed things.
He smells nice... instead of alcohol, he smelt intoxicating.
I push away, angrily. "Don't ever do that again. Don't distract me. Don't touch me."I say, my voice weird and frog-like.
He kisses my neck,. "Don't be afraid to cry. Let those tears come. I won't go anywhere. Something is wrong."
My heart trembles and I keep on feeling cold, my face is cold, and my chest heaves with the force of someone wanting to vomit.
"It's okay. It's okay. This is a way you're being strong." he whispers, and I have no fight anymore.
I start sobbing, and sobbing, and crying. Oh god. My head feels like someone is pouring in cement only to use a jackhammer. What the fuck? Then my eyes feel like swollen melons. God.
"It hurts! It hurts, so bad, E-Eric. He's dead." I wail, loud and I'm traumatized, I'm... weak, I feel useless. "We was right there in front of me and I did noth- I did nothing!"
I shift around in the bed. My wet face is in his chest, my disgusting, snotty nose in his shirt and I'm clawing at his shirt with the grip of death on Albert. It's forceful and devastating. When I lean on him, shape myself around him, I can properly fall apart. My sobs shake my core. And I mumble things.
All he does is rub my back, kiss my cheek, and his warm words reach my ear. "Christina... you can cry. Feel it all."
Another ugly sigh racks my body. "I miss him. I miss him so bad. I hate him so much, is that even possible?!"
He nods, my tears making the space where my head is tucked underneath his chin moist. He doesn't care and I don't care. I shift but the pain inside of me tries to get out.
His skin is moonlit, pale and soft. I'm oddly at peace with myself, less guarded, now that it was just the two of us again. It was easier to tell feelings, not in front of people who thought that I was so cool. I couldn't mess it up for myself.
"It's normal."
"Why am I so weird and useless?" I demand.
I'm babbling again, like a child, but my string of incoherent words makes sense to Eric. That's endearing to me.
"I had him- I almost, him! God, the instant of Al being alive to dead is me. It's my fault." I sigh, and let in a breath through my mouth. My head hurts from so much tears. I'm choking on my runny mucous. Fuck.
He stiffens at that and kisses the top of my head, even though I sound like a sick patient with a smoking habit. "It's not your fault-" he insists.
"Don't lie to me-"
"You're Candor. I can't. He jumped. You didn't. You tried to stop him. You did what you could," he tells me with so much conviction, I decide to brood over it on my own time. Because now, I could maybe, might believe that.
"I have... I mean, I have to... I never said goodbye?" Absentmindedly, I lean my head onto his strong chest, defeated. I hear his heartbeat. And it's stopping conversation.
After a solid hour or two of that quiet, Eric shifts and I wake up from fucking crying myself mental. He is entrapping me and I just let him after a while. I am no longer a mess but a quiet subtle one. A subtle one but still a mess.
"I wonder if he's somewhere above or below. I don't know..." I whisper.
Eric keeps on breathing... and it swells and rises and falls and dips.
"Your breaths make me question life itself. When does air become breath? When do we move from living to dying? When does life stop moving?" I continue.
He lets out a sigh, sounding like a tire but feeling like one. He's taught and round and solid. "The distance between earth and space is about 62 miles... If you were to travel, spirit or whatever, it would go those miles in a flash." Eric says.
That's the distance between heaven and hell. It's so small. Anyone's ability to go to either places is so easily tipped.
"I don't think he's going to heaven..." Eric whispers. "Hell, I don't think I am either."
I smile a bit. "I don't know... Probably not me, too," I shrug.
Eric shakes his head.
"Don't say any lies, okay?" I snap.
"I wouldn't. You're pure... angry and loud, but you haven't done anything wrong." he shifts lightly. "I know you don't believe me at all but... it's true."
I ignore him. I look over, up to the ceiling. It's probably night now. "Maybe Al... could go... to the moon instead of hell or heaven, staying here." I suggest. "Maybe we could all end up in the moon, all three of us."
Would we even get there? I let out a ragged breath. Would my secrets pull me down? Would... Al make it? Would I make it there? Does anyone? Do we just crisp up and die? Because I don't want to die without knowing what happened...
"Shoot for the moon and miss, you still end up in the stars," Eric whispers to me. "You could be in the stars. Floating safely above the earth..."
"You think I'd be in a star?" I ask quietly. "I'd make it. A week in the future."
"I may have chosen you as an initiate, but you brought yourself to greatness." he responds.
"Do you think he's okay?" I ask, my mind quickly wandering back to Al.
"I think so. I hope so." Eric admits honestly.
"I thought you didn't believe in hope." I mumble against his chest. How is he so strong here? Why does the steady rhythm soothe me? My soul goes like that's music. That's simplicity. That's mine.
I feel a strong sense of embarrassment crushing my lungs.
Mine? He... isn't mine.
"Outside of love, hope is the most powerful word." Eric gives a nonchalant lift of one shoulder. The one I am not leaning on.
"Oh."
He casually pulls me closer. "I may have chosen you as an initiation, but you brought yourself to greatness." he whispers. His fingers trail the exposed skin of my loose black clothing.
"You believe in hope, the goodness that good things happen?" I say delicately. Why does my voice keep on cracking?
I wipe away the tear. Does Al need good luck? Is he eating too much? Can he eat? Why couldn't he eat earthly food? Why... why didn't he just stay?
"No. There was this weird thing people say before the end of the world; Hold on, pain ends," he whispers.
"That doesn't make sense... people get numb and then they feel again. Does it stop hurting?"
"Usually." he sighs, fingers scrabbling at the base of my neck, playing with my hair.
"Usually sounds like a no." I look at him, my pointy chin settled on his left peck.
"I've never dealt with a death that was personal to me," His heart reaffirms his words. "I did wish my parents would die, though."
I look at him then choose not to answer. "I'm still mad at you." I whisper. "Why'd you take me in?"
"Because you shouldn't grieve alone." he says, looking at me deep in my eyes.
"I wouldn't. I have Tris, and Will and Al would-" I pause then clench my fist and my voice catches a bit. "Al would have held me." I am so dumb. He's gone. He is a past tense now.
"You would've held Will and I. I didn't want that," he continues, carefully, for a man who is risky and calculated...
"Oh God! I am staying here while Al is... dead. Dead." I whisper.
I get up and Eric lets me go. I need to go. I need a morbid clarification, the slight burning in my eyes to actually see him. I need to see the body. I need to see Al and tell Will and Tris. They're welcome to see the panorama of information and grief.
It's almost night.
I scramble out of bed, realizing my elbows were bandaged. I look at him. "You didn't need to," I scrub tears away. Why am I going to cry again? Why? Fuck. He's just helping me. Why? I don't want help.
"You need to eat," he whispers.
"I don't want to," I shake my head.
"You have to do that." Eric says. "Rookie-"
"Don't call me that!" I say loudly. The air feels chilly and uncomfortable. "You don't get to call me that. Not again."
"Rookie..." he whispers, sighing.
"You can't keep me here. You don't even like me very much, so I don't want your food or help."
"I don't want to be an escape for your life. I want to be an addition to this," Eric scrubs his hands through his hair, looking at me with wide eyes that weren't empty grey plains.
I want to believe him so badly but I can't. I remember his smile when he told me I wouldn't make it in Dauntless. That I wasn't his responsibility.
"There's so much more than what you think is involved." His eyes were like the fog on a winding road, blurring my vision and muddling my sense of direction.
He gets off of the bed, my bare feet on the ground and I am just looking at him in new light. How... did he even think to bandage my hip and ankles?
My cheeks burn. Thank God I'm dark!
"Why'd you... do all that?" I whisper. "Your... I am not your responsibility."
He shifts, blowing air out of his mouth. He has this cocktail of confusion and unreadable stiffness.
Before, I voluntarily slide my arms around his torso, I don't know what to do. We just got out of a life changing talk and I need to do something to show that I care. Plus, he kept on talking about sad things. I step into a hug.
He stands there motionless, as if he didn't expect to receive such tenderness from me but he melts into the touch.
This is the last time I will... touch him, think of him, be with him.
This is the last but I break a little. A little, since I wanted to touch him, right now, right here just because he isn't mine.
He's still holding onto my arms, securing me in place.
His eyes catch mine. His gunmetal eyes still were like bullets in snow and ink- so pure. An air of menace is in his eyes. But the softness.
Eric keeps on talking about this and that but I can't just be focused on the way his lips formed words. The words slide out so gracefully as his moves were...
"Rookie-"
"Don't... call me that, okay?" I shriek.
"What can I call you? I want you to be my girlfri-"
"Shut up. Don't... Don't do it again."
"Do what?"
"The bandages, the food, promising the stars," I whisper. "Don't help me. I... I didn't want to bother you. Okay."
I shuffle away after saying my peace.
I don't get very far, for he holds me tight. He makes me quite nervous, uneasy in a way. In a way that I want to kiss him and... it's like finding a twilight center-stage in the midnight darkness.
"I want you," Eric says. His eyes darken and I can't. I can't even take it anymore. "And I'm sorry... I. I don't know what's wrong with me."
I don't know if he's truthful. He seems fine then he avoids me. He's a mood regulator. It was agonizingly torturous when he just stands there, not looking at me or acknowledging me. When he's being so aloof with me. I can't take it.
I jump up, and burst out. "Eric- that's a lie, okay- that is such a lie because you are a goddamn liar! You fucking say this then you mean this and I don't want to be confused. I am not Erudite, I can't keep up. I can't think around you. You are constantly running around in my mind and I am out of breath, and I can't keep up with you. I can't. I think I don't want to- okay?" I burst out, yelling.
"Rookie-" he shouts loudly. "Why?"
I shove him back. "Because I fucking like you! Alright. Your eyes are a dark galaxy, your piercings looks like the stars and I wouldn't mind dying in your smile. Because it looks like a moon, beautiful and distant and I... I can't feel like I like you."
"Wow." Eric blinks, smiling and wary. It's volatile and odd.
"So, read this truth from my lips, from my face, from my heart, that we can't be what I want to be because I want you so badly and that just won't do." I put my hand on his heartbeat. "I was laying on your chest after tears, and the bullshit hat is every day life, I felt alive. Being around you is- was how I knew I was alive."
But he's looking down at me, looking and I can feel my broken heart pull back together. I wanted to kiss him so badly and feel Eric's face and remember every single detail about him.
But it's wrong.
He pulls down a hand, drawing a line of affection and adoration down my cheek. I've never expected his skin to be soft and unlined.
He settles a thumb on my chin, afraid and hesitant. "I'm sorry..." he cocks his head to the side.
Rage unfurls in me like a dying flower, cribbed and cabined and angry. "That means nothing-"
"I'm sorry," he says even louder. "I'm sorry for all the shit I've done... I'm self-destruction."
Eric cups my cheek and his hand slides down to my hip, I ignore the pleasure. His hand is a soft pressure on my soul. Where my bandage is.
"So, spare me the trauma and don't do bandages, the food, promising the stars-"
"I would do it again. Even if you hate me, I'll make sure you are safe. That you had something to eat. That you'd end up on the moon." he smiles.
Eric's looking like the trouble I don't mind getting into. He... He's sleepy eyed but he's looking at me like he's never been more Candor in his life. Out of the dark mines of sadness, in the light, in the truth.
I hold his wrist. "But... I- don't. You- I don't..." My mind isn't working! I... My lips couldn't be used to speak-...
It's the relentless unforeseen was him- pulling his face closer, him roaming his eyes with accomplishment. The gravity of his lips looks inescapable...
I have nothing else to say, I'm just saying nothing.
Eric stares. "I want you... When I'm tired, in the middle of the night, and you want to throw me out of a window," he shrugs. "I want you... to be safe and happy. Run down long hallways in a mansion. Lie supine and drink lemonade."
I look down and ambient wind sound in his gray eyes. "Eric! You confuse me... So much."
Eric cut me off with a kiss. He pulls me close and he's wrapping his body around me. He holds my face in his hands, and he runs his fingers through my hair.
It's like jumping off a cliff into the rain on a windy day into the beautiful ocean. My heart races. A tremendous rush of excitement ends with a splash inside of me. That's where the salt came from.
His toothpaste and minty fresh lips...
I don't have time to be shocked or mad or relieved. He kissed me! His lips brushed over mine. His lips are warm and balmy, almost like these candies that he'd give her during those odd times when .
I've kissed a lot of guys, but my reaction was always as to be expected; astonishment.
I pull back. "Eric..." I whisper. "Why the hell-"
He leans away and of course, his hands swipes my lip after he kisses my neck and chin. "Christina Doux," Eric hums, his voice was deep and low, making my toes curl. "That's what I'll call you. It leads to happiness."
I shake my head. "Fuck off! I don't trust happiness..." I untangle myself and shake away, with no faith, and get away.
"Don't pull away." he whispers.
"Don't tell me what to do. I'm not your Christina Doux. Excuse me, I've got a dead friend to visit."
-End Chapter-
I'm sorry for disappearing but like, I forgot this existed. Lol.