Chapter 36
I don't own Divergent!
[Tobias]
"You kissed her? What the hell, you piece of crap, why was I not the first to know!" Zeke roars, his voice nothing short of excited.
And possibly angry—I can't be sure because my head is swimming.
It's only been six hours since the second round of the competition and instead of finding solace in much needed rest, I told Zeke about Tris. This was an obvious mistake on my part. Yet, a grin finds its way to my lips at my mind's mentioning of her name; curling and twisting until I attempt to rid of it willingly, consciously.
"I was going to, Zeke, I've just been..." My eyebrows crease as I struggle to find the correct word. "Preoccupied?"
I wince when it comes out as a question. He'll be sure to take the unintentional bait—hook, line, and sinker.
And I'm correct.
He snorts while drinking a bottle of water. The first thing I notice before the water from his mouth makes contact with my face is that the label of the bottle reads "Dauntless."
"Jesus, did you just say preoccupied? With what?" His eyebrows lift suggestively. "I am so open for a story. Do former Abnegation kiss as well as us Dauntless? Or is it toned down? Please tell me it's not toned down. God, I so want it not to be toned down."
I almost choke on the air. And it only makes Zeke more rapt at my reply. I wipe at the water and spit mixture on my face.
Damn Dauntless.
"I am not going to tell you if the Abnegation are 'toned down' you pervert," I say, a smirk gracing my lips at his let down expression.
He opens his mouth with something in reply but is cut off when there is a knock at the door.
We freeze. I wait several seconds until I move to open it.
Nobody comes to my room excluding Zeke when he wanted to torment me so the suspicion brings almost a welcome feeling—more in the sense that it is something I've become accustomed to.
A coldness seeps into the veins threading in my hands.
After news of the eliminations occurring this morning, I'm not sure if I want to reveal the intruder. To risk somebody I care for to be required to leave. Leave how? I'm not entirely sure due to the rule changing. To leave for a manic Erudite's enjoyment, for Mrs. Matthews own subjective desires.
But when I open the door it's even worse. It's not Chef Tori or Max, not a figure of authority, not even Mrs. Matthews who is a sketchy silhouette to be wary of... It's Tris.
Tris whose hands look red and fleshy and terribly raw; the girl who I kissed earlier whose face is streaked with tears and repeats three words. Three words, a mantra, almost a phrase to find comfort in.
"I'm so sorry."
"Will, don't," I attempt to fight the laughter in me but it only comes out in unmeasured spurts.
Will continues to nudge my ribs which are unpredictably ticklish. I hadn't known I was ticklish in Abnegation.
The room is cool, quiet—save Uriah's challenging banter—and Will appears content.
As content as one can be when eliminated from a competition that shows one's culinary ability.
"So, Tris, how is our instructor working out for you?" Uriah asks quirking his brows.
I feel the heat in my neck before I have a chance to respond.
"What? Tris?" Will stops stirring his bundle of uncooked angel hair pasta. His hair is unkempt, thin pieces the shade of blonde sticking up. The celery hue of his eyes is duller; the haggard look he regards the pot with does nothing to ease my worry.
Will. Eliminated. What does that even mean?
"Or is this a secret?" Uriah's mouth opens for laughter.
"Uriah! Nothing, Will, nothing! He doesn't know what he's talking about," my words are frantic and this only makes the younger Pedrad's laughter more poignant. "Where's Christina anyway? Why isn't Marlene here? For the love of God, where is Lynn? Or a girl? Or anybody remotely feminine?"
I'm flushing because the only thing that runs through my mind is Tobias's kisses and that does nothing to ease the heat in my cheeks.
"Feminine? Tris, my dear friend, Uriah is right in front of you? Why do you need anything else that's utterly feminine?" Will questions. The amusement in his eyes makes me become quiet.
He mirrors my actions when he realizes. Uriah becomes silent, not even defending his masculinity.
"Help me why don't you, Prior," Will says softly. He gestures to the empty pot and I retrieve the filtered water used for boiling.
Mrs. Mathews almost asks to be hated in how she's affected my life.
"So, Will, what do you think it means?" Uriah asks after the quiet drags on.
I freeze.
"Being eliminated along with half of the other sophomore initiates? I think it means this school has finally gone insane," Will states not turning to make eye contact.
He turns on the oven's burner. The flame burns blue.
"I think it means I should've never come."
It takes several long minutes to get a coherent phrase from Tris who sits dissolved in tears. Threateningly scary tears that neither Zeke nor I know what to do about.
"Jesus Christ, please Tris, I'll do anything," Zeke pleads squirming at the tears. He sits one arm around her shoulders, eyes wide. He simultaneously glances at me.
She still hasn't voiced anything that speaks of her reasoning of appearance.
"I didn't mean to."
The hush of the silence is broken with her words and re-welcomed when Zeke and I absorb them.
Seconds linger into minutes.
I take a seat on the edge of my bed. Tris turns towards me her eyes oddly vacant.
"Tris-o, c'mon," Zeke tries again gently shaking her shoulder.
Her eyes stay on mine.
"It's Will..." Her voice is a breath of a whisper. "I didn't mean to."
We visit him in the hospital. It resides only a step's distance away from the Amity compound and the brisk weather suggests incoming storms yet Tris pays no attention to the wind; her arms are bare. Zeke attempts to console her but is only brushed away by her quick strides.
I find myself in a jog.
"Tris? Nothing that happened could have been your fault," I say, walking angled so I can see her expression.
What the hell happened?
She closes her eyes to inhale only to have her voice catch slightly in the wind on the exhale.
"I-I can't... He can't..." She's on the verge of gasping, for words, for something of comfort. "Tobias."
The moon seems to burn brighter in the darkness.
Zeke's exhale is almost nonexistent, but I still hear it. Because she knows me. Then she's in my arms—no longer crying—but refusing to see the world.
The remainder of the walk is brisk.
The room regards the silence rudely, becoming awkward and tight with tension.
"You know what? Screw them! Screw the whole fucking Faction School of fucking Culinary Arts! Why can't anything be set in stone with this place!" He roars, pulling at the coriander and throwing the glass container to the floor.
His demeanor was contained before, but now he lets out his anger without a thought of repercussions.
"Will—" Uriah tries to intervene when another container of mixed spices is thrown.
It hits the wall nearest to the ovens.
"Don't even Uriah!" Will continues on his rampage finding the kitchen utensils with a chef's expertise, only to create projectiles out of each one. "You're set with your brother here."
A ladle nears dangerously close to the glass case containing cravats from the earliest years of the school.
"Will, please..." I try to calm him but my hands are only shaken off of his shoulders.
"You two are only here because you think I'm a fucking time bomb!" He shouts. "If you say something Tris, I swear. You and your little Abnegation perfection and easy natural ability—"
Uriah tenses at the same time as I do the same word ringing in our ears: Divergent.
"You don't even see how hard it is for me. I was in the same place as you Tris! And you know what—I just... I just don't want to leave. I c-can't..." He collapses into the nearest desk, head down, hair damp from his angry outburst.
I let several moments pass before I move and wrap my arms around a lump of head and shoulders that is Will.
It doesn't feel odd to comfort a friend like this anymore.
Uriah makes the moment a group hug and eventually Will lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot.
"Are you—we'll figure this out, Will," I say. He nods curtly at me before moving back to his place by the stove. I situate myself by him in front of the pot of water.
Beep. Beep. Beeep—Beep.
"How did it happen?"
The question comes from Christina—the Candor loudmouth—yet her tone is soft. Soft and barely there and utterly disgusted by something so gruesome. Candors' don't hide the truth of their emotions.
I've never understood how that works.
"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave the room. Only family is allowed at this time," a nurse states. I tug at Tris's shirt when I see her knuckles turning white as she clutches the sides of Will's hospital bed.
His family isn't here. She's silent as we exit the room.
"He was burned." Tris's voice breaks the stagnant hush.
"No, Tris c'mon don't—" Uriah attempts to reason with her.
"No, Uriah, he was burned," her tone is sharp, poignant to the point that we all wince. "And I didn't mean to, but it happened so quickly and I shouldn't have put the pot there, I shouldn't have asked him that question and I didn't mean to but it just happened and I can't—I can't…" Her head slumps, a shield of blonde covering her face.
"W-What do you mean?" Christina asks. Her eyes are red from tears and she does nothing to rectify her frazzled state.
"I mean, he was burned. And it was my fault."
Uriah and I are silently prepared to stay the night in the Training Room as Will cooks away his despairs.
So far, he's recreated Round One of the competition's dish twice, and begins to frost a cake with a Dauntless flame in orange.
"You know, my sister, she's in Erudite right now. She's probably wondering why the hell I'm here in Dauntless. Visiting day is in a couple of days. Do you think...? Do you think I'll be here for it?" Will asks, gently spreading the frosting atop the center of the baked good.
"Will, we don't even know what eliminated means. For all we know it could just mean you're out of the competition, not actual faction eliminations," Uriah states running a hand through his hair. "And, why the hell should that even be legal? I mean, we paid money for this school."
Will contemplates Uriah's words for a moment. I turn up the heat for the pot of water. It's only just beginning to boil.
"Don't you remember Testing Day? That was a main component too. Who knows, maybe they'll just say I'm not good enough and kick me out."
Testing Day was back in September. Mom took Caleb and me for the written portion at our freshman school.
I nudge Will out the way of the cake he's beginning to massacre. Grabbing a knife, I cut a thick slice and put it on a plate.
The cake is layered, the color of the factions beginning with chocolate black for Dauntless and ending with red velvet for Amity. The outside is thinly frosted with a hazelnut chocolate hued coating. The Dauntless symbol is curved and emphasized with precision.
I take a bite.
"Will." He gazes at me. "How do you think you're not good enough? This cake is amazing."
Passing the plate to Uriah, he agrees enthusiastically while slicing himself another piece.
"We'll talk to chef tomorrow, mate. Just try and relax right now."
Will, who was beginning to smile in the slightest way, frowns, freezing up at Uriah's words. He turns down the temperature for the pot which begins to rise with the incessant heat.
"Relax?" Will asks. "God, Uriah, I thought you understood what I meant."
My stomach tightens, seeing the way this conversation is turning to. I shoot Uriah a deathly look.
"Will, he's stupid. We just want you to—" I don't get to finish my sentence.
Another assortment of utensils is strewn across the ground from his quick strides to the oven. He doesn't look back to pick them up.
Uriah looks as if he's going throw something also.
"Damn it, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it!" Uriah tells him rolling his eyes when Will shoots him an incredulous look.
I wince, attempting to push Will away from the counter where more utensils are situated.
"Will, come help me with the water," I say trying to distract him.
I glance back at the pot and my eyes widen. Turning the nob to turn the stove off, I begin to panic. The water will overflow in several seconds and the nob refuses to move. The large bubbles forming in the steam rise higher. "Will, come help me!"
Uriah has stormed out to the hallway after his last comment.
"What the hell is it, Tris? Can't you both just leave me alone to do—" He turns, turns too close the pot and he loses balance when he attempts to avoid falling towards the stove. His hands fly out to steady himself, and they simultaneously grab blindly at the pot. His hands singe the blue flame.
The pot topples over.
The contents spill.
Will screams.
[Tris]
My feet refuse to move. The sinking feeling that takes hold of my stomach threatens to consume me. The sharp scent of the hospital unit urges me to empty any contents my stomach possesses.
"Tris, come on, we're going to go back to the compound." It's Tobias. His words are soft, gentle, but I don't see pity in his eyes.
"I can't Tobias," my voice falters, "I have to see him."
My friends are relayed my story by Uriah who looks as grief-stricken as I am. Who blames himself as much I do.
I'm crumbling, my body is slowly falling.
I can only think it is Tobias who catches me along the way. The reassuring beat of a heart welcomes me in the darkness.
I wake in a room that is not mine.
A scratching, almost sizzling sound reverberates somewhere in the darkness. I stand, pushing away the sheets that cocoon my body to find the ground scalding and slick.
My feet begin to burn and my surroundings change. I am in the Training Room, Will lies on the ground diagonal to me, his flesh burning. The sizzling sound comes from him, the pallor of his skin burning red.
"Why Tris?" His question is a scream.
And then I awaken.
An arm cradles my body. Sheets and blankets entwine me but the arm draws me closer, and a voice whispers words that sooth, though there meaning is lost to me. I lift my head to see where I am, my breathing still ragged.
"Don't, Tris."
It's Tobias. The length of his body is pressed to me, transferring heat as he speaks. Though panic fills me I don't move. I like Tobias. I trust Tobias.
I wiggle my fingers only to find them wrapped tightly. I pull them out quickly to see my hands cinched securely in white bandages.
"They wrapped them with ointment because of the burns," Tobias says softly. His breath brushes my ear, solid and reassuring.
"Will, how is Will? What did they say?" I don't notice the tears running down my cheeks until Tobias's thumb brushes them away.
He regards me for several moments before exhaling deeply. "It would've been simpler if he just had burns, but they were third-degree," my body shakes from his words, "and he got a major concussion from falling with the pot."
Tobias's fingers are rubbing at the blanket lightly, thumb and forefinger keeping a soothing pace.
"Tobias, how is he?"
He gazes at me, eyes sad with a sheen bordering them.
"He's gone."
"Uriah! Uriah come back, please," I scream.
Will's cries become louder, pleading for me to help. The pot makes a burning sound against the flat of his forehead. Without thinking I lift it, throwing it to the side. I barely feel the burns it gives me in the process. Tears are streaking down my face, blurring my vision.
Uriah bursts through the door gasping when he sees Will's condition. He sounds the intercom that is present in each room to the head office. The nurse answers back. I don't hear the words exchanged.
"Please, make it stop! Please!" Will's voice is waning.
I try not to look. Try not to look at how the burns reach so far I can imagine his bones visible if I gazed any longer, at how his skin puckers. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing in a situation like this. Run it under cool water? But the burns are so bad, so gruesomely disgusting that I would think the water would pass right through his bones.
When Will is said to be rushed to the hospital near Amity, Uriah and I slump to the ground. He holds me as our gasps are the only sound in the room.
Like magic, the stove is free from any flames.
A/N: HI GUYS. How do ye fare? It's finally finally finally summer! Which means utter relaxation, reading, and more fanfiction chapters. I've been in this mood for a while where I'll write half a chapter and be stumped for about a month until the rest presents itself… so I apologize for that disgusting inconvenience. Truthfully, I just hope people still have a drive to read this 'fic, because my seldom updates have not been kind…
Read & Review! It sucks when I write and the result is no reviews so please, take a second to say if you liked the chapter or if you have any constructive criticism—I will naturally attempt to take it in stride.
Update: This is the 10 more chapter mark. This fanfiction has always been planned to end on Chapter 46 (for obvious fandom related reasons) so enjoy the ride guys!
If you haven't heard either, Veronica Roth will be coming out with a new book in 2017 so maybe our fandom will explode from happiness. We most likely will.
A disclosure on cursing in the chapter: I was debating on how I would use the f word but I think it was necessary in his rage so there it is.
P.S.— What would you like to happen in the incoming chapters pertaining to the competition? Truthfully, this plot can diverge in multiple places but I'm curious to know what you think! Review and tell me & ALSO VROTH IS DOING A POLL FOR ALLEGIANT COLLECTOR'S EDITION FOR DELETED SCENES SO CHECK THAT OUT STAT!
—TFW