A/N: THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE sorry I had to get that out. Enjoy this piece of Trobias (or Fourtris, I've heard it both ways) fluff!
Also, thank you for 50 followers! I hope to continue this into Insurgent if y'alls are still interested, so please tell me what you think!
Chapter of Divergent (the actual book): 24
Disclaimer: I don't own the Divergent trilogy or any of the characters
Still lying in my bed with my eyes closed, I hear a mysterious voice (that sounds a hell of a lot like Zeke)
"Four! Get your ass up!"
My eyes snap open and my hand lies on my gun.
"What the hell do you want?" I call to the voice outside my door.
"Another initiate jumped!" I sigh. Probably Al. I get up, pulling on my sneakers and jeans and run out the door.
#*#*#
I was right. It was Al. I wander through the crowds of initiates, searching for Tris.
When I find her, I tap her shoulder. "Tris," I say, getting her attention.
"What are you doing here?" she asks. "Shouldn't you be paying your respects?" She spits out the words like they are poison in her mouth.
"Shouldn't you?" I counter.
"Can't pay respect when you don't have any," she replies, but I see guilt flash over her eyes. "I didn't mean that," she quickly verifies.
"Ah," I say, but I don't believe her.
"This is ridiculous," she says, turning pink. "He throws himself off a ledge and Eric's calling it brave? Eric, who tried to have you throw knives at Al's head?" I've never heard Tris so worked up before. "He wasn't brave! He was depressed and a coward and he almost killed me! Is that the kind of thing we respect here?"
I take in a deep breath. "What do you want them to do? Condemn him? Al's already dead. He can't hear about it and it's too late," I say.
"It's not about Al," she snaps at me, causing me to visibly flinch, but she doesn't notice. "It's about everyone watching! Everyone who now sees hurling themselves into the chasm as a viable option. I mean, why not do it if everyone calls you a hero afterward? Why not do it if everyone will remember your name? It's… I can't…"
She shakes her head. Her cheeks have gone to a full red shade and I can hear her heartbeat from here, almost as loud as when I held her hand in the hallway. I feel a wistful sigh leave my lips. Then, she says something that would give me chills.
"This would never have happened in Abnegation!" Her voice escalates to a shout, and I start breathing a little faster. "None of it! Never. This place warped him and ruined him, and I don't care if saying that makes me a Stiff, I don't care, I don't care!"
I take in another deep breath, my eyes flicking to the camera behind the drinking fountain, that is surely containing all of Tris's dangerous rants.
"Careful, Tris," I say, not taking my eyes off the wall.
"Is that all you can say?" she exclaims. "That I should be careful? That's it?" I roll my eyes and grab her arm, pulling her away from the hidden camera.
"You're as bad as the Candor, you know that?"
She tries to resist my drag, but I'm two years older and stronger than her. I put my hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tight. Any other time, this would be electrocuting my arms, but I can't feel a thing I'm so scared for her. But I don't show it. I stick my face so close to hers that if I leaned down any further our noses would touch.
"I'm not going to say this again, so listen carefully. They are watching you. You in particular," I say quickly and quietly.
"Let go of me," she says weakly.
Softly, I remove my hands from her shoulders, feeling a weight that I was unaware on my shoulders rise.
"Are they watching you, too?" Her voice is so quiet, I wouldn't be able to hear her unless I was standing this close. Hell, I'm so close I could lean down and kiss her right now.
Then do it, the emotional side of my brain complies.
No, logic says.
Logic always wins in the end.
"I keep trying to help you," I say, drawling the words, "but you refuse to be helped."
"Oh right. Your help," she says bitterly. "Stabbing my ear with a knife and taunting me and yelling at me more than you yell at anyone else, it sure is helpful."
I sigh softly. "Taunting you? You mean when I threw the knives. I wasn't taunting you," I snap. "I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else would have to take your place."
"Why?" she asks. Why?
"Because you're from Abnegation. And it's when you're acting selflessly that you are at your bravest." I try not to let the pride slide through my voice, but it's hard to stop it. She really is extraordinary. "If I were you, I would do a better job of pretending that the selfless impulse is going away, because if the wrong people discover it… well it won't be good for you."
"Why? Why do they care about my intentions?"
"Intentions are the only thing they care about. They try to make you think they care about what you do, but they don't. They don't want you to act a certain way. They want you to think a certain way. So you're easy to understand. So you're easy to understand. So you won't pose a threat to them."
I press my hand to the wall, and I feel my shirt tighten. I shiver softly, hoping that Tris doesn't see.
"I don't understand why they care what I think, as long as I'm acting how they want me to." I sigh softly again.
"You're acting how they want you to know, but what happens when your Abnegation-wired brain tells you to do something else, something they don't want," I say softly.
"I might not need you to help me. Ever think about that? I'm not weak, you know. I can do this on my own," she says defiantly, and I smile.
"You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."
Finally, I let emotion win out. I lean in close to her face, so that my nose is nearly. I wrap my fingers around her chin, vaguely aware of the smell of gunpowder on my hands. I can feel electricity streaming through my veins.
"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press," I say, squeezing her chin softly. My breath falls short. "But I resist it."
"Why…" she takes a deep breath and swallows hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"
Now I let the pride in my voice fly. "Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." My hand loosens around her neck, grazing the three crows tattooed on her collarbone. "Sometimes I just…" my voice sounds wistful, "want to see it again." Then my voice goes quiet. "Want to see you awake."
I watch Tris's mind struggle with a decision, and then she does it. She sets her hands on my waist, stringing her thumbs loosely through the belt loops of my jeans, the tips of her fingers touching the muscles in my lower back. Every hair on my body stands up straight. I can't breathe. I touch my hand to the small of her back, pulling her against me. I run my other hand over the back of her hair, smoothing it down.
I could kiss her. I could kiss her right now. I have to remember to breathe. In and out. In and out. Wow. She's so beautiful. In and out. I don't want to be taking advantage of her, but she's just so spectacular. In and out.
I start to lean down, but then I stop. She buries her head into my shoulder, and she starts to sob. I rest my chin softly on her forehead.
"Should I be crying? Is there something wrong with me?" Her voice is muffled by my shirt.
I shake my head. "You think I know anything about tears?" I say softly.
"If I had forgiven him, do you think he would be alive now?" She lifts her face, pressing only her forehead to my shirt. She looks down at our feet, nearly intertwined. Nearly.
"I don't know," I reply. I press the palm of my hand to her cheek, gripping softly at her smooth skin and lifting up her face. She nuzzles her cheek ever so slightly, keeping her eyes closed.
"I feel like it's my fault," she says quietly.
"It isn't your fault," I say, bending my neck downward, to allow my forehead to press with hers. Every inch of my body is electric.
"But I should have. I should have forgiven him."
"Maybe," I say. "Maybe there's more well all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time."
Tris pulls back, and I curse myself inwardly. I learned that in Abnegation, and she recognizes it.
"What faction did you come from, Four?" I take a deep breath at her words.
"It doesn't matter," I respond a little too fast. "This is where I am now. Something you would do well to remember for yourself."
I look at her, my mind feeling conflicted. One, two, three, I count in my mind. Right when I hit three, I touch my lips to her forehead, before I can stop myself. Her hands are still on my waist, slightly under my black shirt. There is only one way to describe how I feel.
I feel on fire.