Disclaimer: I was nine when Titanic was released, and I can 100% assure that I am not a prodigy.


The One with the Beginning

.

I knew when we collided

You're the one I have decided

Who's one of my kind

(Train – Hey, Soul Sister)

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(September 2006)

The note on the door of the Drama Club room announced that they'd be meeting at the auditorium that afternoon – because Tris clearly wasn't late enough, already.

As she made her way through a maze of hallways and stairwells, she could almost hear Mrs. Calloway scolding her for the lack of punctuality, telling her that everyone else had managed to get there on time, even with the location change, so, why couldn't she?

Which explained why she was so surprised when she reached her destination to find the doors wide open and – the best part – no teacher in sight.

She sat on the first aisle seat she could find, on the fifth row down from the doors, next to a group of senior girls whom she'd never seen in Drama Club before. She'd barely settled on her seat when a male voice greeted them from the back of the room, making all the students turn on their seats to look at the tall, dark-skinned man who was standing at the doorway.

He strutted down the aisle like he owned the place, stopping right in front of Tris. After a brief moment of appraisal of the students scattered in front of him, he smiled, clasping his hands together as he said, "I'm David Smith. I'd tell you to call me 'David', or even 'Dave', but it's been brought to my attention that this is, well, lame." A wave of giggles filled the room, and something about him suggested that he was doing his best not to laugh along. "Before we move on to introductions and other equally cringeworthy, first-day-of-school things, why don't we all move closer to the stage?"

The auditorium remained completely silent at first, as the students processed the fact that that man they'd never seen before was their new teacher. Then, someone got up and started following him down the aisle, which seemed to be enough to break the daze of the rest of the class.

A flurry of movement followed, with textbooks being snapped shut and conversations resuming as everyone made their way towards the first rows. Just as she'd expected, given the 'cool teacher' vibe he was giving off, Mr. Smith chose to sit on the edge of the stage, looking at his pupils with the same amount of interest as they stared at him – except that he seemed to see them as a new Lego set, while they were more concerned about what circle of hell he'd put them through that year.

"Okay. Let's tackle the elephant in the room first, shall we? Mrs. Calloway had to step back from Drama Club for entirely personal reasons, that aren't in any way relevant to us." He smiled knowingly, and Tris could have sworn that he was looking at the exact girls who'd been gossiping about their old teacher only a few seconds earlier. "As for me, I went to school here, not that many years ago, and after I graduated, I went on to study my ass off – and then I worked my ass off – because I wanted to become a director. Which I did. So, when Principal Kelly needed someone to take over Drama Club, he gave me a call, and I couldn't say no to that offer, could I?"

Nervous giggling and hushed whispers followed. Even Tris, who didn't absolutely hate school, doubted she'd be this eager to come back after she'd graduated – much less to come back as a teacher.

"Now, if we're gonna be working together for the next year, I'll need to get to know you all a bit. So why don't we start with names, and we'll work from there?"

Tris was sure that every single student in the room rolled their eyes in response, but that didn't stop Mr. Smith from making them all get up from their seat and say their name and for how long they'd been in Drama Club. After they'd all introduced themselves, the teacher announced that they were going to do a quick exercise, explaining that he had some ambitious plans for them, but first, he needed to see if they'd be able to pull it off.

The rules were simple enough: he'd call a few people over to the stage and give them one of the many scenes he'd prepared for the class. After being assigned the roles, they'd have a minute or so to read the script, and then, they'd have to perform it in front of everyone.

As it turned out, the repertoire ranged from The Breakfast Club to Mean Girls; from The Lion King to King Lear. Large groups, performing scenes from Friends or School of Rock, were followed by love declarations from Pride and Prejudice and Gilmore Girls. Sarah B. and Sarah C. got called in for a scene from Heathers, and the actual Heather had to perform the opening from Breakfast at Tiffany's. Eric stunned students and teacher alike with his raw rendition of Hamlet's monologue, while Jake and Hannah butchered the ending of Casablanca, until finally, Mr. Smith announced he'd be calling the last two names of the day, and Tris froze on her seat when he called her onto the stage.

She'd been quite lucky thus far, only getting called in for scenes where she didn't have to pretend to be in love with someone she barely knew, but something in the way her teacher was going through his notes told her that she wouldn't be getting a 'get out of jail free' card.

"Mr. Coulter, care to join us?"

Tris took a deep breath, trying to pretend she wasn't unhappy with her teacher's choice. Eric Coulter was one of the people who'd been in Drama Club last year, but he was so closed-off that sometimes she thought he was a complete jerk. She couldn't imagine herself interacting with him, much less falling in love with him, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous every girl in school seemed to think he was.

"I have some pretty big shoes for you to fill," Mr. Smith said, handing them a sheet of paper. "But from what I've seen today, I'm sure you can do it justice."

She heard Eric curse under his breath when he looked at the script in his hands – and she'd have sworn, too, if she was that type of girl, because the title on the header claimed that they'd be performing a scene from Titanic.

And as much as she liked that movie, she knew that nothing good could possibly come from it.

They both skimmed over the script – Tris knew that scene by heart, because it was her favourite in the whole movie, and Eric seemed to be more concerned about how to use their limited resources to create the appropriate setting. When Mr. Smith told them to get set, the boy just dragged her to the wings, telling her to follow his lead before he walked onstage, and she could only hope he knew what he was doing.

"Action!"

She took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. Eric remained frozen in place, and although she could only see the back of his head, she was sure that he was staring thoughtfully into the imaginary ocean, just like the script said he should be.

"Hello, Jack," she said, her voice trembling as if she'd never set foot on a stage before. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but some of that feeling dissipated when he turned back to look at her, his whole face lighting up when their eyes met.

They were in this together – and he was a damned good actor, if she'd ever seen one.

"I changed my mind." She walked up to him, not daring to break eye contact. She'd watched that particular scene so many times that she could almost hear the wind and the ocean and the intro to My Heart Will Go On, and she could almost picture herself walking across the deck of the ship. "They said you might be up-"

Right on cue, Eric shushed her, reaching out for her. "Give me your hand," he said, pulling her a little bit closer to him than he probably should have – but unlike what she'd expected, the proximity didn't feel awkward. He smiled at her, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in a reassuring gesture she didn't expect from him. "Now, close your eyes." He paused for just enough time to give her a chance to hesitate before insisting, "Go on."

She glanced over at the end of the stage, less than a foot away from them, and as she closed her eyes and let him guide her forward, she thought that all the trust falls in the world couldn't compare to what she was doing at that moment.

"Now, hold on to the railing," he said, letting go of her hands so that she could grab the invisible railing in front of her, while he placed his hands on her waist. She'd never been this close to a boy before, and she wasn't sure if she liked the way his touch made her feel – because it made her crave for more, when she knew that she shouldn't.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and she desperately wanted to say no, to open her eyes and run out of the auditorium and never come back.

But she wasn't Tris; she was Rose, and despite Tris' feelings towards Eric, Rose was in love with Jack. So, she brushed her own urges aside, and gave him the answer that Rose would have given.

"I trust you."

His breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine as he took her hands again, stretching their arms at their sides – thank god, she wasn't standing on an actual railing, where she'd probably have to lean on him. His fingers travelled up her arm and down her back before he grabbed her waist again, resting his chin on her shoulder and telling her to open her eyes.

She pushed back the whirlwind of feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her, doing her best to convey the awe that the scene required. "I'm flying!" She didn't even need to fake being breathless, and she couldn't help but wonder if Kate Winslet also felt this giddy during filming. "Jack!"

The script they'd received ended there, but she knew what came next, so it was with actual relief that she heard Mr. Smith yell, "Cut!". Eric's hands let go of her in what felt like less than a second, and before she even knew what was going on, he'd already jumped down from the stage and got back to his seat.


Eric had lived in the same building for his whole life, yet the girl who was waiting for the elevator when he came back from the gym was an entirely unexpected new face – but she wasn't a complete stranger to him, either. In fact, he could place her in a very specific setting, which involved that painfully corny scene from Titanic - a memory so vivid that he could almost describe the smell of her shampoo or the way he'd felt the muscles in her stomach tense up when he wrapped his arms around her waist, or even the burning need to kiss her right before Mr. Smith yelled 'cut'.

If it was anyone else he knew from school, he'd just pretend not to recognize her – or even go to extremes like taking the stairs, just to dodge the uncomfortable small talk that was sure to follow. But after that excruciatingly intimate scene they'd performed only three days earlier, he felt like avoiding her wasn't an option, so he paused his music, even bothering to take out both of his earplugs before he approached her.

"I know you from school, don't I?"

The girl looked at him, her face going through so many emotions all at once that he found it hard to tell what, exactly, went through her mind just then.

Not that it was hard to notice the way her cheeks her cheeks turned pink when he spoke. In fact, it was much harder to explain why the word 'adorable' crossed his mind at that sight.

"Eric, right?" she asked, daring to look him in the face, and it was his turn to feel embarrassed, because in spite of all the unspeakable things he'd imagined doing to her, he had absolutely no idea what her name was.

"I'm sorry, I'm horrible with names," he said, trying his best to sound appropriately apologetic. "I do remember you're not called Rose."

She laughed, and he had to stop himself from sighing in relief at the fact that she didn't seem to think he was a complete asshole for not remembering her name.

"I'm Beatrice." She paused, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "But you can call me Tris."

"Tris," he repeated. "I'll try to remember that."


When Tris walked into the auditorium, Mr. Smith was perched on the stage, having the most enthusiastic conversation with Eric. After their unexpected meeting last Saturday, she knew he was more than capable of being friendly, but still, the interest written all over his face was such a weird sight that she was almost curious to know what they were talking about.

But she wasn't curious enough to pause Nirvana, nor was she the nosey type of girl, so she just picked a seat on the third row and opened her US History textbook, determined to get rid of at least part of her homework while she waited for the Drama club meeting to start.

Her concentration was disrupted when someone tugged on her earplug, and she looked up from her assignment to see Eric plop down on the seat next to hers.

"How're you doing, Tris?"

She felt a strange rush go through her body at the thought that she liked how her name sounded when he said it, and she'd barely had the chance to recollect herself and tell him she was fine, thank you, before Mr. Smith jumped down from the stage, greeting his students in the overly enthusiastic fashion that seemed to be his normal way of speaking. Eric's smile faded as soon as the teacher started talking, and by the time he finished explaining the first exercise of the day, the boy looked like he was about to die from boredom.

She'd never noticed it before, but the sudden shift in his mood made her think of the dark and brooding male leads from what seemed to be every high school movie ever made, and she wondered if his perpetually uninterested demeanour was just for show. As a result, she found herself stealing glances at him for the rest of the day, telling herself, time and time again, that she was just trying to understand the handsome boy who seemed to think he was above all that, and yet never failed to give his heart and soul at every exercise Mr. Smith threw at them, no matter how silly or absurd it seemed.

When the class ended, Mr. Smith gathered his students on the stage, announcing that the exercise from the previous week had been a huge success, and he was delighted to inform that they'd be doing Romeo and Juliet that year.

Just as Tris expected, the girls behind her exploded in giggles, but even that wasn't enough to drown out the groan that came from Eric – who'd somehow ended up standing right next to her.

She looked at him, almost surprised that he'd chosen that moment to express an emotion, and when their eyes met, he muttered, "I fucking hate Shakespeare."

Tris was about to jump in the writer's defence when Mr. Smith piped in, "Good thing no one's forcing you to audition, Mr. Coulter." He gave the boy a stern look that didn't quite suit his light-hearted tone, then added, "Although I do strongly advise you to."

The reactions from the people all around them were enough to make Tris want to hide in a hole in the ground, but Eric just kept staring defiantly at the teacher, his clenched jaw being the only thing that indicated that he wasn't as unaffected as he looked.

"On that note-" Mr. Smith spoke up, and the students fell mostly silent again. "Auditions. Last week's exercise gave me a pretty good idea of what the cast should look like, but who knows? Theatre is full of surprises, and it wouldn't be the first time an intended cast differs from the perfect cast. So here's what we're gonna do: I've left the scripts for the auditions in the back row. Take them home, study them, and bring your A game next Wednesday."

With that, he dismissed his class, and they all rushed offstage to gather their belongings. Tris had barely managed to get past Erich to get to her things when Mr. Smith called out, "Mr. Coulter, a word? You too, Miss Prior."

They looked at each other and, with a dramatic sigh, Eric sat back down on his seat, throwing his backpack on the floor by his feet. The students trickled out of the auditorium, and after the last one had left, Mr. Smith motioned for Eric and Tris to follow him, as he walked up the aisle and closed the doors.

"I'm sure you both know why I asked to talk to you in private." He smiled. "So let's cut to the chase. You two have the kind of chemistry that directors would kill for, and I'll be damned if I let this go to waste by casting you as anything but Romeo and Juliet."

Tris was vaguely aware that her jaw had - quite literally - dropped, but she was too shocked to move the muscles required to close her mouth. Being offered a role without ever auditioning for it was a huge deal - it was one of the things that separated the regular actresses from the superstars, in her book -, and the fact that said role was one that people would go their entire careers without landing only made the offer feel sweeter.

"There's just one little problem," he warned. "All that chemistry was more than enough for Jack and Rose and a scene that ended before you had to kiss, but if I cast you as Romeo and Juliet, kissing onstage will be the easiest part of your jobs." He sighed, looking at them like that was the hardest conversation he'd ever had in his entire career. "We're talking about two characters who kill themselves in the end, because they can't imagine living a life without one another, and unless you're comfortable around each other, you won't be able to pull that off."

"And what do you expect us to do?" Eric asked, as if he was offended by the very idea of having to put any kind of effort into getting that role. Mr. Smith smiled at him, in a way that suggested that he'd love to put his most belligerent student through as much hell as he could get away with.

"Same thing I expect from everyone else - wow me to the point that I'd never forgive myself for casting anyone else."


Tris was lying on her bed, trying to read her mom's old copy of Romeo and Juliet while an old episode of Friends was on her TV, when a knock on her window startled her, and she put down her book to see Eric, standing in the fire escape and waving at her like there was absolutely nothing absurd in that whole situation.

"What the heck are you doing here?" she asked, cracking her window open just enough that he could hear her.

"I came outside for a smoke – you see, my parents don't know about that – and I was thinking about what Mr. Smith said earlier, y'know, about us needing to get to know each other-"

"That's not what he said," she protested.

"Wow, no offense, but you suck at reading between the lines." He laughed. "Anyway, as I was saying, I really need to get that role, and I figured, if I'll have to make out with someone in front of the entire school, I'd rather make out with you than with one of the Psycho Killers."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, no offense, but for someone like you, you do suck at being flattering."

"You only say that, 'cause you've never seen me try." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "And what the fuck is 'someone like you' supposed to mean?"

Tris could feel her entire face burning. Talking about boys was embarrassing enough when she was surrounded by other girls talking about their own crushes, and she'd rather die than tell a boy that she'd noticed how all the girls in school fell at his feet.

Especially when, as he'd pointed out, she'd be expected make out with said boy in front of all of her friends – or worse yet, her parents.

"You know what I mean, Eric," she replied, hoping that he'd fill in the blanks and leave her alone.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and insisted, "No. I don't."

She sighed and looked away from him, deciding that if she refused to answer for long enough, he'd have no choice but to give up and go on about his life. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped away from the window, looking almost wounded.

"Fine, then. Since you don't want to cooperate, I'm going back home to prepare for my audition. If you change your mind, my place is right up there. Two floors up." He pointed up, towards his bedroom window. "If not, then I'll see you in school tomorrow."


Eric had returned to his bedroom exactly forty-two minutes earlier - not that he'd been counting, of course. He'd almost given up on expecting her to change her mind and show up on his doorstep, convinced that he'd read her all wrong, when he heard a hesitant tapping on his window, and he spun around on his chair to see her, standing in the fire escape, looking like she regretted every single one of her decisions that led her to that moment.

"When you said, 'get to know each other', you meant...-"

"In a purely platonic way, of course." He smiled. Truth be told, he refused to believe he was the only one who'd felt the overwhelming sexual tension between them, and he wouldn't mind exploring any other possibilities, if she was up for it. But he'd seen enough of her to know that she was the shy, uptight type, and he knew better than to try anything that might offend the girl he hoped to share a stage with for the rest of the school year.

"Wanna come in?"

Eric stepped back, taking her hand to help her jump over the windowsill. He'd lost count of how many times he'd done that - way before smoking on the fire escape ever became a part of the picture, ever since he and Maddie realized that, if they got in and out of their bedrooms through the window instead of using the front door, they'd be able to see each other after curfew.

That discovery opened up a world of possibilities, which grew less innocent as they aged. Every single Harry Potter book since Prisoner of Azkaban had been read, debated, dissected under the shelter of her blanket shoved into the gap between her door and the floor. His bedroom held the movie nights where they watched the creepiest horror movies they could get their hands on, followed by meaningless conversations until sunrise, because they were both too scared to sleep. An excursion to the roof on a summer afternoon resulted in them sharing their first kiss, and years later, they lost their virginities on the night before the moving truck arrived, ready to take her and her things to Wisconsin.

He thought he'd never get to do this again, and yet here he was, welcoming into his life the new Girl from Two Floors Down.

And he knew – although he'd never be able to explain why or how, but he knew – that they would be nothing short of epic.


AN: Look who's back after nine months!

I'm so sorry I've been away for this long. One year ago I was going through so much (emotionally), and it all caught up with me eventually. It took me a while to get my shit back together and all, but. Now. I. Am. Back.

Anyway, I never actually planned on writing about how they first met, but here we are. Before I wrote this, I hadn't watched Titanic in eighteen years, but the idea of Eric and Tris performing that scene popped up in my head one day and refused to leave until I'd written it (and watched the movie again, just to make sure that I was doing it properly).

Please don't forget to leave a review telling me if you love it, hate it, are angry with me because I should be writing Dissident (wink, wink, Boyfriend). Oh, and ideas for things these two can go through are also welcome!

Thank you all so much for your support! I'll see you in the next chapter!