I know I've said this already, but with every chapter I crank out I'm more and more confident I'll be able to finish this by the deadline I've set. Thanks for all the reviews! Next chapter begins the march on Abnegation!

Breaking The Habit
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Blackout
Eric

The music makes my ears ring and drunkenness dulls my tongue as I slouch in the corner of the courtyard where Asher used to hold her raves. For longer than I've been here, the previous class of initiates have held a party for the newly initiated. I remember my own party quite vividly—getting ridiculously drunk, shooting up, fucking Asher in an overgrown corner like the classy Dauntless leader I was going to become. Exactly two years ago I was only a budding addict, barely able to handle half a syringe of undiluted Instigate. Now, I feel as if every drop of it in the world wouldn't be able to satisfy the craving that's worked its way into every cell of my body. Not just a craving for the drug, though, but for liquor and sex and attention—preferably from Christina.

But she won't even talk to me. I saw her after I turned away from the other leaders, kissing Will. It sent the weight crashing back down on my chest, even though I should've expected it. I did, however, get to witness a very interesting and public display of affection between Four and the Stiff. No matter how upset I've been, I can't help but feel vindicated that my anger-driven accusation turned out to be correct.

I can see Christina now, over the head of the girl who's currently trying to rip my clothes off. This is the only day of the year that anyone ever recognizes me as a real Dauntless leader, with all the position's social perks. Last year I would have taken full advantage of this, most likely bringing a string of girls back to my apartment one after the other. Now the feeling of a stranger kissing my neck is unpleasant, to the point where I am beginning to feel nauseated. Over her, I see Christina dancing with Will. I can't take my eyes off her swaying hips, which is probably why this girl—whoever she is—thinks I'm actually enjoying being pinned to the wall by her overzealousness.

My entire body aches, driven mad by lust and longing. There's a gaping hole in my chest drilled in by loss, and I wonder if it will ever be filled. I wonder if, after tonight, there will even be anyone left to fill it, or if everyone I love will be dead. As long as she is alive, I will hold on to the stubborn hope that Christina will come to love me back. The small, sensible part of my mind knows it is unlikely, that she will marry Will and have little Dauntless babies and train initiates like she wanted to. We'll have to work together, I realize, if she takes Four's job, and the thought puts a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. If she's not going to be mine, I'd rather not see her at all.

"Eric?" I start, but it's just the girl on my chest, who has straightened up and is looking at me with an expression I can only describe as unbridled drunken rage. "You're fucking staring at another girl!"

I shrug, which in hindsight was a terrible idea, and she straightens up haughtily. "You don't deserve to be a leader," she snaps, and before I know what is fully happening she's thrown her drink in my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and use the bottom of my shirt to rub the alcohol out of them, and by the time I open them she is gone. I lick my lips and let my hands drop to my sides. There's no point in trying to clean myself off, I think, since I'm probably going to spend the rest of the night brooding in this corner. David and Ivoree aren't here and no one else actually enjoys or even tolerates my company. I might as well leave, but I can't bring myself to face the reality of tonight. The last thing I want to do is help my insane mother kill a bunch of Abnegation.

Try as I might, I can't keep my eyes off Christina for more than a few minutes at a time. My attempts to avoid looking at Will fail miserably as well. The sight of them dancing together, his hands on her hips, sends a red hot current of rage and jealousy through me. I want to go over there and punch him, wipe that smug little grin right off his mouth, but I refrain for her. The only thing holding me back from telling my mother to go fuck herself is the knowledge that if I do, Christina will become first on her hit list.

They've stopped dancing now, I realize. It looks like Will is going…somewhere. To get drinks, probably, because he's a "gentleman" like that. In the back of my mind, I know that he is what she deserves: someone who will treat her the way she should be treated and not just get her addicted to illegal drugs. Maybe if I could keep that in mind, I could find peace in the fact that she didn't choose me. I will watch and adore her form a distance, like I am now—except now, she is staring straight at me.

I blink a few times, sure that the liquor has made its way to my eyes and I am hallucinating. But no, she is looking at me, still in the center of what barely passes as a dance floor. It's difficult to move under her gaze, but I have to get out of here. She's no doubt unhappy to see me. I break my stare and duck through one of the many holes in the steadily crumbling brick wall. For a moment, I think I hear her call out "Wait!" behind me, but I'm probably just hearing things.

The Spire is only a few yards away. If I hurry, I can avoid any awkward encounters and get where I'm actually supposed to be, with the other leaders preparing for the march on Abnegation. But just as I lay my hand on the door handle, I hear my name.

I turn around and there she is, running to catch up with me. She's wearing a skintight black dress and holding a pair of heels, looking far too much like Asher for my liking. (In my mind, the two of them do not mesh.) Her bare feet slap on the pavement as she tries to stop me before I go inside. I am frozen at the door and she skids to a halt barely inches away from me, breathing heavily. I can smell her perfume and it's its own drug, intoxicating me just as much as the bottle of liquor had.

"Hey," she says breathlessly. I don't reply verbally, just raise an eyebrow, trying to act like the leader she met on day one. The last thing I want to do is reveal how the mere sight of her makes my knees weak in a way that no drug in the world ever could.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she murmurs, like she doesn't want to admit it. "For…well, for everything."

Silence. I am stunned. In my mind she has nothing to apologize for. It was all my fault. Well, mine and hers. And Instigate's.

"I know you saw what was in my landscape." She leans down, slipping her shoes back on one at a time. "I want you to know it's not you I'm afraid of."

"Then what is it?" I ask. Now I'm the one who can't breathe. The melodramatic eighteen-year-old in me feels like his entire existence hinges on her answer.

"This," she says, and then she's kissing me and her hands are on my neck. All rational thought escapes me and I pull her in, stifling a moan in her mouth. Her lips are soft and full, and biting down on the bottom one elicits a groan from somewhere deep in her throat. My hands roam the small of her back and drift down her thighs, gathering the hem of her tight dress in my palms. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private," she gasps as I move my lips to her neck.

"That would probably be—"

"What the hell?"

We break apart and I see a shadow over her shoulder with two drinks and a familiar voice. Will. As soon as he realizes it's me that's kissing her, he turns around and stalks off. Christina, predictable as she is, hurries after him, pausing only once to look back at me and mouth one of her useless apologies. Then she rounds the corner and, just like every other moment of my useless fucking life, I am alone.

Well, I think to myself. I suppose it's time to march.