TOBIAS POV
The wound is an angry, festering purple now. The stitches are pulled taut but seem to be struggling to hold the skin together. At every breath she takes in, I am afraid that they will tear apart.
"That's...disgusting," Uriah remarks.
Tris is loopy from the pain-killers that I have been supplying her, so all she does is stare at him, displeased. Although I have only given her three over the last twenty-four hours, they have helped her cope immensely. Unfortunately, there are only two left, so we will have to stretch them thin over the next couple days.
A groan leaves her when I wrap a fresh bandage around her swollen waist. She shivers when my fingers brush up against her skin, so I press my palm to her forehead.
"You're burning up," I say with a sigh.
"I need to go to the bathroom..." she mumbles.
"Okay."
Since she is still unable to walk with the hole in her side, I slide my arms underneath her and pick her up. It has become a routine for her to get around this way in the last day we have been here.
Carrying her upstairs and into the bathroom, I gently set her on the toilet before exiting to give her privacy. The panel covering the mirror across the hallway catches my eye, and I frown at it, remembering how I used to dart my eyes away on the chance that I was allowed to look at myself. Marcus used to scold me even when it was allowed, or smack his palm against my ear to make it ring.
Next to the mirror is Tris's bedroom, the only difference between our old houses. She has vehemently told me that she wants nothing to do with it—for reasons unknown—so Christina has been sleeping there instead. The rest of us, excluding Caleb, have spent the last two nights crammed in the living room. I have opted to take the floor both times. Needless to say, my back aches.
Zeke stumbles into the hallway rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and I stop him.
"It's occupied," I state.
He shakes his head. "Man, we need to leave this house. It is way too small," he says.
He has a point. Abnegation houses never seemed small to me growing up, but now that I have lived in Dauntless, my perspective has changed; they are rather cramped. It doesn't help that there are six of us.
"Yeah, we need to talk about that."
Tris calls my name, so I go to retrieve her from the restroom. The way she presses her face into my shoulder reminds me of the night when I saved her from Peter and Drew and Al at the chasm. Those injuries I could handle, but my hands are tied with this gunshot wound, and I can only watch her grow more miserable as she crawls to recovery.
When I set her on the couch, she shakily reaches for a blanket.
"It's cold," she complains.
I cover her in the blanket and head to the kitchen for a cool washcloth. With the telltale signs of a fever approaching, I am beginning to wonder when the right time to give her antibiotics is. Caleb advised me to wait because if she did not acquire an infection, then it would be more harmful to take the pills.
I pass her brother in the kitchen, where he awkwardly avoids my gaze as he carries food to the living room. Even though I snapped at him the other night, I am thankful that he is hosting four extra Dauntless members for the time being in spite of the possible consequences.
Returning to the living room with a wet cloth, I find everyone gathered around and enjoying the Abnegation breakfast to some degree. Tris blinks at everyone with a woozy gaze, and I press the cloth to her forehead despite her flinching.
"Okay, we need to decide where we are going," Christina says to break the ice. "We can't stay here for much longer because people will start to get suspicious."
"I also don't like that the Abnegation are sitting ducks," Zeke adds. "The factionless must be planning to take them over sometime. I can't imagine it will be much longer now."
I nod along to their input. "Okay. Any suggestions?" I ask.
It is not a simple question. All of us would unanimously return to Dauntless, but there is a long journey through the threatening factionless sector that we would have to take into account. If Tris could make it, I would vote yes on that option. But she is unable to walk right now, and it would hinder us.
"We could stay somewhere abandoned," Uriah says.
It is a reasonable answer, yet not practical. All five of us would need supplies that we do not have, depending on how long we stayed.
"It could work," Zeke agrees.
"I don't know," I say.
Caleb jumps in for the first time. "You could take food with you. If it were only for a couple days, you would be fine," he suggests.
We turn toward him incredulously. Why is he so eager to help? I know he wants us out of here, but I don't see why he should give up all of his necessities.
"I want to come with you though."
Oh, well there is the motive.
"Why?" Christina snarks, watching him distrustfully.
"You said it yourselves, the Abnegation are sitting ducks," he reminds us with a shrug. "And I have harbored all of you. The least you could do is let me escape with you."
Eyes glance around the circle to make a decision. With no objections, we come to an agreement to let Caleb tag along.
"When should we leave?" Uriah asks.
Nobody has a preference at first. Then Christina says, "We could go at night? There would be more cover."
Zeke grimaces. "I don't know...I don't like the idea of us bounding around in the dark. The most factionless attacks on people happen at night, you know."
I scratch the back of my neck, leaning toward his point-of-view. "That's fine. If we can get packed, we can leave as early as noon," I say.
"But where exactly?" Caleb inquires anxiously.
An idea occurs to me. "I know a place. It is possible that the factionless occupy it now, but it isn't likely. And last time I was there, it had running water."
Before I decided to stay in Dauntless—before I met Tris—I began seeking out a home in the factionless. It had to be something out of my mother's reach but just close enough to be able to live off the scraps of society. I came upon an abandoned building while riding the train one day: a hotel, or an apartment building maybe. It managed to emerge from a hundred years of war mostly unscathed compared to the rest of the city. It was where I planned to live.
"Let's plan on that, then," Uriah says cheerfully, clapping his hands together once before digging in to breakfast.
I am about to do the same when Tris whines, "Bathroom."
I turn to her, puzzled. "You just went to the bathroom," I remind her.
"Tobias," she bites back irritably, stretching out her arms.
"It doesn't make sense, that's all," I reply as I push myself to my feet, narrowing my eyes at her.
My gaze shifts over to Caleb for an explanation. His eyes light up in realization when he comes to a conclusion.
"Kidney infection," he tells me. "That has to be it. It makes sense too, considering she was shot not far from there."
Well, at least we have some idea of what is going on. Hauling Tris up into my arms, I ask, "So, what do we do?"
"Start her on the antibiotics. If we caught it fast enough, it should only last a couple days."
I nod before taking her upstairs.
The next few hours are spent gathering the necessary supplies within the Abnegation house. Once we pack all of the food we can find, Caleb goes out for more. We stuff water bottles into several bags just in case. It is a mad rush to get out without leaving a trace of us dwelling here.
It is when we are about to head out that we run into trouble.
In between our frenzied packing, a harsh knock echoes through the small house. Everybody freezes in place as we make careful glances over at the front door.
My heart pounds in my chest. I stare at Caleb questioningly, and he shakes his head. He was not expecting anyone.
"Everyone get upstairs," I whisper. "Quietly."
Zeke and Christina tiptoe over to the stairs. Uriah takes the initiative to carry Tris up after them, and I stay behind.
Another knock. I click the safety off my gun and stand between the wall and the space where the door will swing open.
I nod at Caleb, and he gulps.
When he opens the door, he transforms into the Caleb Prior I witnessed from a distance at a younger age. He is meek and friendly, upholding his selfless Abnegation standards. He is the mask he hid behind for years as he pretended not to be the hungry Erudite that bubbled inside him.
"Hello," he greets. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can. Have you noticed any suspicious activity here lately?" a raspy voice asks demandingly. My grip tightens around my gun, my finger hovering over the trigger.
I cannot see Caleb because of the door, but he does not seem to stutter at the question. "Suspicious activity? No, sir," he says. "It has been rather quiet around here lately."
"Nothing?" a woman prods. "No Dauntless rebels or anything of that sort?"
"No. Is there danger?" Caleb panics. "If so, I should warn the leaders immediately—"
The other factionless lackey cuts him off. "No, that won't be necessary. We were just checking."
Without another word, they step away from the door. Caleb closes it silently before wiping excess sweat from his pale forehead.
"I hope they didn't notice that you're drenched," I snap quietly. Daring to peek out the blinds, I find them stepping on the shoveled sidewalks toward the next house. "We need to leave now."
The factionless influence is stretching farther than we believed. They used to agitate people in groups at night, but now they are patrolling the streets in broad daylight. The short leash around their necks has been lengthened thanks to our lenient leaders; now it is threatening to choke us.
The last of our belongings are thrown together in between each of us taking turns to glance out the window. The two have not made an appearance again, but I still do not appreciate the fact that we will have to walk through Abnegation streets to get out of here.
Tris is dressed warmer than all of us, with a layer of fleece underneath her jacket, yet her teeth chatter before we even get outside. She looks miserable and pale, and if it were my choice, I would not be moving her anywhere.
"How far are we going?" she asks.
"Not too far, although it is a couple miles away," I explain. Hesitating to pick her up, I try to weigh the ways to carry her there. None of the options seem comfortable or manageable. "How do you want to do this?"
She pushes herself up with a pained whimper that makes me stop her out of concern. She shoos me away and orders me to sit on the couch. Then, as if it does not faze her, she wraps her arms around my neck and climbs onto my back.
Of all things, it reminds me of when I broke free in Erudite to tell her to hold on for longer, to fight the simulations and Jeanine despite her exhaustion. She was shattered then, and I had to piece her back together with only seconds to spare.
I suppose it isn't much different from now, even though we were different people then. I wonder if Tris is thinking the same.
"That works," I say with a gulp. And when I stand, I prop her up higher.
The whole group walks out onto the icy Abnegation sidewalks. Unbelievably, a few people in gray are mingling down the block, and I realize just how dangerous this is. We could easily be spotted in this faction, and I am not sure we can trust these people to lie for us.
A corner up ahead catches my attention. It is one of the alleys I used to take to school so that I would not be seen with marks from the night before. It leads between houses and out to a narrow street.
"This way," I whisper over my shoulder.
We take the stealthy path of my childhood without being noticed by anybody. The street is clear too, so we cross that quickly. Once we are across, I poke my head out to make sure we were not followed.
"Okay, I think we are safe," I say, continuing on. Thankfully, this alley has managed to stay untouched by the snow.
"Maybe someone else should carry Tris," Christina says from behind me.
I throw a glare over my shoulder. "Not happening."
"I don't know..." Uriah speaks up next to her. "You are the best shot here, Four. I mean, what is Caleb going to do when it comes down to it?"
I glance back at Caleb, who is currently armed with the rifle I acquired in Erudite. He is only really carrying it for me, not himself. And speaking of, he is struggling under the weight of the weapon, so I imagine he would have a rough time if it was Tris in his arms.
"If we run into trouble," I say, "then Caleb and I will switch. Until then, I'm carrying her."
If these last few days' experience has taught me anything, it is that I need to be as close to Tris as I can manage. When she was arrested, she had a panic episode. When she was shot, we were momentarily split up, if only by several feet. When I was robbing the factionless, she told me that Marcus antagonized her. I am not taking any chances going forward.
Tris rests her head on my shoulder as we walk and does not speak unless spoken to. But the rest of the group is talkative, like we didn't spend the last day catching up.
"So, when is the wedding?" I ask Zeke as he falls into stride beside me. The word feels foreign on my tongue.
He shrugs and kicks a pebble out of his way. "I dunno. It was going to be soon after I asked, but Shauna doesn't want to get married in a time like this," he answers. "We'll see."
I nod. War tends to damper one's plans. "That's understandable."
"I expect you to be there though, no matter when it is," he says with a playful grin.
"Wouldn't miss it," I reply.
He moves into Tris's line of sight. "And that goes for you too. How are you holding up?"
She tightens her arms around me. "Well, I don't have a bullet in my head, do I?" she remarks breathily. I think she said something similar to me once, and I find myself laughing softly.
Zeke glares at both of us. "Get control of your girlfriend, please."
"Trust me, I would if I could," I joke.
I receive a weak hit on my shoulder.
The banter comes to an end when we approach a very wide street layered with snow. The building I had in mind is not far now, but this open space that we must cross makes me uneasy. Everything is eerily noiseless too, with the crumbling buildings along the alley ahead not serving as a reassurance.
"Let's stop here for a second."
I set Tris down onto her good leg, and she leans against the brick wall for support. Her face is almost as white as the sky now.
"Are you feeling okay?" I ask, pressing my hand to her forehead for the tenth time today. It is no use, my fingers are too numb from the cold to tell her temperature.
She winces and slides down against the wall, and I help lower her to the ground. "I'm fine," she insists.
"You really don't look fine," Uriah points out.
"Let's just go," she pleads with a shiver. "I want to lie down."
Although I want to stop and let her rest, I know that the best thing for her now is to get her inside. To speed this process up, I announce, "I'm going to take a look."
Nobody objects until I am about to step out into the road. "Tobias, don't."
Tris's voice beckons me back, but I step forward instead. Glancing around the street, it seems that we are in the clear.
"Tobias—" she panics, pushing herself up in my peripheral vision with a loud whine.
"Tris, no—" Uriah tries to stop her.
A light bounces off of some kind of glass at the top of the building at the end of the street.
A sniper.
Without thinking, I dive back into the alleyway, knocking Tris down underneath me just as a loud shot cracks through the city. It whizzes right past where I was standing.
Breathing heavily, I push myself up onto my hands. Tris coughs beneath me, struggling to catch her own breath since I did just shove her to the gravel. I watch in horror as she rolls onto her side with her hand clutching her waist, gasping in agony. My jittery hands hover over her, trying to find some way to fix her, but there is no time and I—
"We need to get out of here," Zeke states the obvious.
I nod and shut my eyes for a full second to change gears. Tris lets out an airy groan as I force her to sit up.
"Caleb, switch me," I order. He gives me the rifle with unsteady hands. "We have to get across that street, so if you have any bright ideas, say them now."
Christina bursts out, "Absolutely not! We are going to get shot out there!"
A bullet hits the snowy pavement with a high-pitched clang, sending a cloud of it our way.
"We don't have a choice, smart-ass!" I fire back. "This is the only way to get where we need to go, and if you haven't noticed, Tris is halfway to death over here!"
"I have an idea," Zeke interrupts enthusiastically. He unzips his bag and pulls out the gas masks we stole a couple of nights ago. "Everyone put these on."
Uriah grumbles, "This better be good."
"I stole some suicide serum when we were in Erudite. Remember how much gas there was when it went off in Dauntless?" He meets my eyes.
It is brilliant. A smoke screen should give us enough cover to get across at least part of the way.
"Okay, here is the plan," I bark. "We will throw the smoke, and then I will run out and start firing at him. When I tell you, run all the way across."
Once we all have a mask strapped on, we pull the pins and throw two of the smoke bombs. They fill the air with a light blue, toxic gas, and I dart out into the street. Another bullet narrowly misses me before I shoot back at the rooftop. When he ducks, I shout, "Go!"
Zeke and Uriah come out first, each taking their own shots at the rooftop. Christina runs all the way across with Caleb carrying Tris not far behind. The rest of us in the street keep the sniper pinned down as we walk sideways.
We all make it unharmed, collapsing in the alley.
The adrenaline wears off eventually. Then there is the dire task of keeping Tris alive for the time being.
I settle her in on a bed after her latest bathroom trip, tucked underneath the covers and nursing a water bottle. With a grimace, she pleads for another pain pill.
"No," I tell her from the bathroom. The cool water from the sink pools over the cloth, soaking it through. "You had one a few hours ago."
"I wouldn't need it if I hadn't been body-slammed," she snaps in between shallow breaths.
Ignoring her pain-induced attitude, I step over to the side of the bed. "I was protecting you. Would you like another hole in your stomach?"
Clearly losing this battle, she continues to wear the same agonized expression, aiming it at the wall instead. I lean over and press my lips to her blistering forehead.
"Rest," I demand, placing the cloth on her skin. "You need it."
Returning to the main room of the suite, I come upon the rest of the group bickering about rooming arrangements. We decided that this abandoned building must be some kind of hotel, since it is well-kept; plus, it does not seem like anyone left here in a hurry, like some parts of the city do. In fact, this building has managed to remain mostly unscathed from war compared to the rest of the city. It is slightly dusty, but it will do.
"How are we going to split up?" Uriah asks me when my presence is known.
There are a total of three bedrooms in this suite, and I do not see any reason for us to split up among another room. I don't think anybody else does either.
"Tris obviously needs a bed," I say. My statement is met with nods and hums of agreement. "And I can stay with her."
Caleb rises from a couch, his face slightly reddened. "Absolutely not," he denies. Ah, the old Abnegation ties...
Uriah beats me to a response. "No offense, Caleb, but I don't think they're about to get hot and heavy when Tris can't even sit up properly," he points out with a teasing grin.
A part of me is amused, but I cannot find it in me to show it.
"They're not about to ever," Caleb retorts.
Uncomfortable about discussing this topic in front of people and irritated by the waste of time, I interrupt their banter.
"All right, that leaves two rooms," I state.
"Ladies first," Christina blurts out before carrying her belongings into one of the bedrooms.
I raise my eyebrows at the stragglers.
Zeke sighs. "Fine. Caleb can take the bed because he is soft," he declares. "Uriah and I will take the couches."
Caleb does not try to fight the remark. Instead, he silently disappears into the other room just as Christina emerges.
"I'm going to go check downstairs again to make sure nobody is here," she announces.
It isn't that I don't trust her, but I would rather do the job right. Plus, I feel like I owe her an apology for yelling earlier.
"I'll go with you," I offer, picking up one of the rifles leaning against the wall.
She seems indifferent about it yet says nothing. So we head out of the suite together, taking the many flights of stairs since there is no working elevator.
"This is honestly a step up from Abnegation," she comments to make conversation. "Though I don't like that we are several floors up."
I nod in agreement. "It's not bad."
"How long are we going to stay here?"
"A few days probably. Just until the factionless forget about Tris and I for the time being."
This makes me uneasy, the careful and simple conversations. I have never been able to talk to girls; the most experience I have ever had with that was with Shauna, and even then I couldn't shake off my Stiff habits. And Tris, well, she isn't just some girl to me, so. It doesn't aid matters when Christina and I are brash opposites.
"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier," I say awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "It was a stressful situation, and I know you were just trying to help."
She purses her lips as she keeps her pace on the stairs in front of me. Once again, I wonder if I have said the wrong thing. I compare the conversation with how I would talk to Tris, but I do not think I would be apologizing for something so trivial in the first place.
"It's okay, I understand," Christina returns cordially, glancing back up at me.
When we hit the last landing, she stops completely for rest. With her hands on her knees, she says, "I also meant to thank you. You know, for putting Bryce in his place. I haven't gotten a chance with you and Tris running all over the city."
I huff out a half-laugh. "Yes, we tend to do that a lot."
My knuckles tingle at the harsh reminder. I run my fingers over my dominant hand, feeling the bumps and crevices from years of beating either a leather bag or an actual human.
She shakes her head. "I never would have gotten the sense to leave him. So I'm glad someone else stepped up."
And as the usual culpability threatens to swallow me from the inside, I decide to force it down. I always judged the Dauntless for their brutality, for using their fists to solve every disagreement. Now I realize that there are times to not give into the urge to fight, and there are times to let the raging animal inside of us out.
It is what keeps us human. I can allow myself some leniency for that.
TRIS POV
Water pools at my feet. I stare at it until it hits my calves, at which point I look up.
In the glass, I see the reflection of a miniature version of myself, an awkward, wide-eyed girl.
But she is not me.
The water rises higher. I am strangely calm, with my heart beating steadily as I am engulfed up to my waist. I am trapped in this box, and I should be afraid of drowning, but I relax my body and allow myself to float.
There is something that tells me that this will work out. Someone will be there at the end to eliminate my building panic.
I settle my face under the small waves and close my eyes.
When I blink into the water, I realize how I will be saved. This has happened before, and that was when my mother saved me.
Her face is blurry on the other side of the glass, but it is there. My father is alongside her in his Abnegation suit. Watching them approach, I become calm again in the peacefully still water.
My lungs are tight from the pressure of holding air in. The surrounding water feels hot. I expect them to understand and break me free.
My mother presses her hand to the glass. And turns away.
No longer naive to what is happening, I bang my fists into the glass pane. She and my father hold hands as they walk away.
I am drowning. And my parents left me.
"Mom!" I scream, gargling the water. My motions are slowed as I slam my feet and my hands into the confines of the tank. A muffled sob makes bubbles around me. "Dad!"
The exhaustion comes swiftly. The dark colors in the world around me mesh together.
And I give up.
I gasp in air when I come to the realization that I am not, in fact, breathing.
The next thing I know is how hot it is in here. I flick my eyes open to discover that I do not recognize where here is.
I wince at the sudden, encroaching chill in between the flashes of heat. The room is dim, but there are hushed voices conversing nearby. Attempting to turn toward them for help, I am hit by a bursting pain that cripples me momentarily.
I breathe shallowly and stay perfectly still. After a while, I decide that my efforts are useless, and I settle back into the bed, feverish and weary.
"Beatrice?"
I crack open my eyes and stare out the window across from me. The bed dips, and I know my mother is sitting there, but I can't turn toward her. Not now, when I am so ashamed.
I don't even remember what I did that got me sentenced to my room for the evening, but it makes my eyes tear up when I think of it.
"Beatrice..."
"I'm sorry, Mom," I sniffle.
"Honey, it's okay," she reassures me, reaching over to play with the loose ends of my hair. "Everyone makes mistakes."
I shake my head. "All I do is make mistakes. I'm not good enough for Abnegation. I'm not good enough for this family."
It is simple for her—for everyone. Thinking of others first does not come naturally to my personality. I will never fit in, neither here nor out anywhere in the world.
"One mistake does not make you a bad person. Neither does being selfish sometimes," she explains calmly.
Confusion stirs inside of me. How could she say that, when it goes directly against her factional values?
Even more perplexing, at first this seemed like a childhood memory, but now I am putting this talk into perspective. Instead of dwelling on my choices where I fail to help out around the house or aid a neighbor, I see the memory where I shot a man to save Tobias. But he is alive, and my mother is not.
I shake my head.
I see the blood dotting Tobias's neck from the spray. I see the man's face morphed into a grotesque, empty one. I see the hole in his forehead that caused it all. The one I put there.
I killed him twice.
And even worse, I would do it again without remorse if I were in that situation.
"When does it, huh?" I demand. "At what point do I make so many mistakes that I am unredeemable? What makes me any better than Jeanine or Eric or anyone else?"
Frustrated, I flip around to see my mother. She is exactly how I remember her, from her flowing, brunette hair to her soothing voice to her shy yet radiant smile. Suddenly, violence is the last thing on my mind.
"You can't be perfect. Nobody can," she says. "You just have to let the guilt remind you to do better."
They are my father's words, but it does not change the message. A pain of nostalgia stabs at my chest as she fades into the hazy gray room.
"Yeah," I say softly. "It's that easy."
"Tris."
I stir slightly as I am pulled from sleep. Clinging to my dream, I beg to be left alone with my parents.
"Tris, wake up."
Tobias clearly does not take the hint. He lifts me into the freezing air uncaringly, and I moan, still groggy. The jostling disturbs my side, and I wince out.
"Sorry."
I am set down on a seat, but I do not bother to open my eyes at the sound of running water. I am not even curious about the scenery of where I am. All I can think about is how much my body aches and how much I wish my mother was here.
"Your fever has gotten a lot worse. Your skin is too hot, honestly I was not sure you would wake up for a minute."
My eyebrows pull in, and I am totally puzzled when I feel my shirt being lifted and my pants being pulled off my legs. The next thing I know, he sets me down in a tub of what seems like ice water.
Gasping out of shock, my eyes fling open. The water only laps at my legs, yet the temperature is unbearable. I shiver and glance around the dark bathroom, searching for an escape.
"I'm not letting you out until you cool down," Tobias says from behind me. "Sorry, you don't get to die on me."
Initially, I am embarrassed to be bare in front of him, especially in this vulnerable state. But I have been bare in front of him in more ways than one, and I begin to forget all about it. The shuddering continues as he uses a shower head to spray my back and shoulder, avoiding my bad side. Everywhere he touches feels like it is being pricked by needles at first. The temperature soon becomes lukewarm when my body is accustomed to it.
It reminds me of when he washed the cuts in my feet and hands in his old house after we escaped from Erudite. That was when I first told him I loved him to his face, a bittersweet moment. I am so tired of everything we share having to be bittersweet instead of endearing. I am tired of running and hiding, and I am tired of war. And most of all, I am tired of constantly living in fear of losing the people I love; we were all infinitely fortunate to emerge from that gunfight earlier with no more than a few bruises between us.
Tobias continues to let the water run down my side. It is somewhat relaxing until it is not. Then I am irritated with the powerless state I am in and too weak from the brutal fever to do anything about it.
"Tris?"
I do not realize that I am crying until he calls my name. My mind drifts, and in this fuzzy state I don't even know what I am upset about. I wander back to the strangely deep dreams I have had tonight. I do not know how they came about, whether it be from taking shelter in my old home or listening to Marcus's griping. But I do know that they emerged with one common concept connecting them:
"I miss my parents," I snivel.
An ugly, held-back sob burns my throat on the way out. I try to explain myself to him, though it all comes out incoherent. He must think I am pathetic.
Tobias moves after a few seconds of my breakdown, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind and tucking his face into my neck. Trembling, I reach up to hold his hand. He is warm in contrast to the water, and it does more to comfort me than he knows. Although his unsympathetic and placid attitude attracted me to him in the first place, sometimes I need his tender side to show.
I tilt my head to the side until it leans against his. My crying dissipates when my body cannot support it anymore. "You're the only reason I didn't completely want to die," I whisper.
When my parents' lives were stolen, I was dropped into a raging sea of grief. I faced my own capacity to murder and dodged bullets throughout a war-torn city. Then I was flippant, throwing myself underwater just to be swallowed whole once and for all.
The only reason I kept resurfacing was him.
"I thought I was one of the reasons you wanted to die," Tobias's low voice rumbles.
I shake my head. I regret telling him that, even if it was in a moment of warranted outrage.
"We were so stupid then, Tobias." All of the bickering and denial seems especially trivial now, while I am on the verge of death. "Sometimes we forget what really matters."
My head throbs in tune with the wound in my side. I am beginning to make no sense. Maybe this infection really is killing me...
He kisses my temple in response. I shut my eyes and let myself get swept away.