A/N- I do not own the Divergent characters.

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September 16th

Silence clings to the bakery like an unwanted fog. My groggy morning eyes make it difficult to piece together complete sense of my surroundings, and I feel tired in a way that makes the back of my neck and throat ache. I continue to rub the sleep out of my eyes and gulp some water in hopes of making my mouth feel fresher and hydrated. Even though it's the middle of September, the weather is clammy outside and not much better in the bakery. I become frustrated with my hair which begins to cling to the sides of my face with the humidity, so I tie it up in a pony tail and slip it through my baseball cap. I walk over to stand next to the refrigerator, hoping it will make me feel fresher and more alive. Goosebumps grow on my bare legs since I'm still wearing my usual work attire of shorts and a t-shirt. I'm sure in winter I will change to trousers and a long-sleeve top, but right now the bakery gets too hot with all the ovens. I crook my head to get a look at the clock, which has only recently struck nine, even though there are still no signs of customers. A tuesday isn't necessarily the busiest day, but that doesn't mean that it remains empty like this. I never usually have this much time to sit around. "Good morning, slacker," Kyle says cheerily, as he comes out of the back carrying a box.

"I'm not a slacker," I snap. "There's no one here."

"I know," he puts the box down on the floor and comes over to stand in front of me, as I lean against the counter. "It was like this when I pulled the morning shifts last week," he places his hand on the counter next to mine. "I've never known the place to be so empty." I shift back a little uncomfortably due to how close he's standing, but I'm already as far away as I can get.

"Why aren't people coming in anymore then?"

"Beats me. I mean, this is a great place. Quality food, decent price," he leans a little closer. Perhaps too close for comfort; I can feel his breath against my skin. It makes me shiver in an unnerving way, in a way that makes me feel like I have to hold my breath and count to ten. "and pretty waitresses," he smirks.

"Kyle," I mutter, frowning.

"What? Aren't I allowed to compliment you? I'd be surprised if half the boys that came here only wanted the cake. It doesn't hurt to be served by an attractive little blonde girl." Just as he edges even closer to me, forcing me to lean my head back, the bell above the front door rings out as a customer walks in. Four. He pauses at the door for a moment, his brows knitting together. I quietly clear my throat and dip my head to look at the floor. Kyle sighs deeply, before peeling his palms away from the counter in an annoyed manner, from where they were planted either side of me. I feel my blood boiling and my heart pumping throughout my veins, my head still trained on the floor as I listen to Kyle step away and Four walk up to the counter.

"Tris? Mind serving the customers this morning? I'm on cleaning duty," Kyle says in an un-welcomly authoritative voice. I pull away from the counter and look up to see Four. However the large purple and blue bruise spreading across his cheekbone to his left temple doesn't help my state of shock.

"The usual, with-" he walks up the the glass display cabinet and points out a large croissant. "One of these please," he says. His voice is monotone and unemotional, not giving anything away. He continues to look in the counter for a while, as I continue to stare at him. At the bruise on his face. "Tris? Croissant?" He furrows his brows even further, staring deep into my eyes for a moment before I finally snap out of my daze and rush over to get his order.

"Sorry," I mutter, putting the croissant into a box and working the coffee machine. I'm vaguely aware of Kyle hovering near me, watching everything that I do. You could cut the tension with something even more blunt than a butter knife. I pour the freshly made coffee into a cup, walking over to the other end of the bakery to place a lid on it and wrap it with a napkin and stirrer.

"He's still going to have to pay for that, you know," Kyle whispers in my ear. I turn around to give him a confused, angry glare before making my way back over to the till. Four stands behind it, pulling out his wallet and handing me the necessary cash.

"Thanks Tris," he says.

"No problem," I try to smile, but it turns out tense and weird. Four chews on his cheek a little, looking at Kyle and giving him a death glare. I hear him shuffle off and make his way into the back, intimidated by the much older male.

"Are you alright?" Four asks me, his voice deep and filled with concern.

"I-I'm fine," I look at the bruise again which coating part of his face. It shouldn't be him who is asking this question. But I know Four, he'll tell me whatever it is when he's ready too. I know better than to push him.

"Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," I say. He nods and picks up his breakfast and coffee, after shoving his wallet back into his pocket.

"Want me to pick you up from work? Do you finish at three?"

"I guess, If you don't mind. I might finish a little earlier since there are barely any customers."

"That's fine. I'll text you when I'm outside." We bid our goodbyes, although he seems reluctant to leave. I take my cap off my head momentarily in order to drag my hand over my hair, as if I'm wiping away the tension and stress. I straighten out my cap again, wiping my palms on my mini black apron. I nearly jump out of my skin when the back door swings open again, Kyle springing through.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I seethe. A mischievous grin grows on his face, much to my disliking.

"What on earth are you talking about?" He picks up a rag and begins to wipe down the counters, even though they're practically untouched. There's something unsettlingly casual about the action, his nonchalant temper growing on my nerves. I've never truly been a complete fan of Kyle, but he's never annoyed me this much until now. I fear that there's a terrible side to his character that I'm only beginning to uncover.

"You. When you said that Four has to pay. Of course he has to pay. Did you think that I was giving out free food or something?"

"I just meant that we don't give out coffees to our sexual conquests. Becky would probably fire you."

"W-what? What are you implying?"

"Does he like it rough?" He asks, far too casually.

"Like it rough?" I spit, completely bewildered.

"Yeah, that was some shiner on his face," he points to his cheek bone. "I get it, some people are into that kind of thing."

"I didn't hit Four!" I exclaim, "Why would you say something like that?"

"I saw you," he says, turning to look at me and crossing his arms.

"You saw me?" I raise an eyebrow, huffing and how disgusting and out of order he's acting. I can't work around someone like this.

"I saw you coming out of Four's house on Sunday morning. I'll have to admit, you looked a little worse for wear, nearly gave my grandma a fright," he laughs in a way that seems menacing to me. I continue to stare at him in shock. "Oh sorry, did I forget to mention? I live opposite him, a few houses down." He knows what we did.

"Yeah," I swallow. "I think you forgot to mention that."

"You also might want to put your hair down. You've got bite marks all over your neck."

"What the fuck are you doing?" My eyes sting. I don't trust him. Don't trust the way that he's acting. Is he trying to use this against me? He grabs my arm and pulls me into the back. I resist, but not enough to stop him. He lets go of me when we're in the kitchen, and I back away near the door. I should have told Four I wasn't okay. I should have told him.

"Do you know how small this part of town is?" He says, whispering harshly.

"Huh?" I am dumfounded at his change of demeanour. It only makes me trust him even less.

"Everyone knows each other. Everyone lives near each other. You can't just walk around the streets half naked clearly a mess from the night before. People talk. Heck, the customers talk! If Becky found out you'd be as good as fired."

"And why would you care about what happens to me? Why would you care what I get up to in my free time?" He looks down at the floor, shaking his head, exasperated.

"You'll get a name for yourself," he steps closer to me again. "Do you want that? Do you want people talking about you? They'll whisper. They'll say 'she's the girl that got fired from the bakery for being a little slut'," he taunts and I slap him across his face. Right across his cheek, harshly. So harshly that his head whips to the side and he keeps it there for a minute. He slowly turns his head back to face me, rubbing his cheek a little, all the while his eyes darkening and a smirk growing on his lips. "Didn't like that did you?"

"Leave me alone," I command, trying to sound as deadly and intimidating as possible. To do so, I try to adopt a similar voice to Four's quiet one. However it just makes me sound like a moody teenager.

"Why? What makes him so special?"

"You're jealous," I spit. It's all so obvious now. He's insecure and jealous. An immature little boy.

"Hell no. I just figured that if you're giving it out for free then I may as well get some. It's only fair."

"You're absolutely despicable."

"Really? What about yourself, leaving your friend to rot in jail when you got off scott-free."

"Kyle, I, I don't understand," I gulp. How could he possibly know about all of that? How could he know? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Stop acting like a little princess. Everyone knows about your friend Lynn, and I know that there was more to the story. You know, she didn't get arrested on her own. I know that there's more to the story than what you're telling people. Except Four. He knows something, doesn't he?" I look down at the floor, avoiding his eye contact and he scoffs. "God, Tris. You don't owe him anything for him keeping your secrets."

"Of course I know that! He's my friend. He has a right to know about my life. Unlike you. What happened is none of your concern, it has nothing to do with you. And I'll say it one last time; You need to leave me alone." I push past him harshly, making my way out of the kitchen in a scurry, desperate to get back to the front of the bakery because I can't stand one more minute of being alone with him. So for the rest of the day, I avoid leaving the realms of the front counter, even when I'm desperate to use the bathroom. I can't work somewhere like this, where I'm afraid to be alone with my colleague. I watch the time pass on the clock, praying that each hour passes without another struggle. Thankfully as the day goes on, a few more customers start to come in, and so the bakery is never completely empty. It makes me feel better, but the occasional stares from Kyle do not. When it gets to the afternoon, I call Four and tell him that I'm ready to leave. Even though my shift doesn't technically finish for another hour, Becky isn't here and I don't care about leaving Kyle to man the place on his own. I don't think I could cope finishing up with him and being alone together whilst we're locking up. For all I know he could follow me home to do some more snooping.

My phone vibrates when Four is outside, and I quickly hang up my cap and apron and hurry out, not caring to say goodbye. I jump into the passenger seat of his car, leaning my head back against the seat, the threatening promise of tears starting to prickle my eyes. Be brave. I think to myself, he's just a stupid boy. He doesn't know anything. He wouldn't do anything. I feel like I'm being blackmailed, but I don't know what for. I haven't done anything that bad, even though I do have a couple of secrets. But the only people I would want to hide them from is my mother, in order to stay living with her at home, and Becky, in order to keep my job.

"What did that fucker do?" Four snaps.

"What are you talking about?" I say, trying to sound indifferent.

"That dip-shit blonde guy. He was all up in your personal space when I came in this morning, and you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"He didn't do anything."

"Then what's his problem? Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset," I shrug but I know he doesn't believe me.

"Tris, I know you better than that. Tell me what the hell is going on or I'll go in there right now."

"You're not going in there! He was just trying to wind me up, that's all. He knows about a couple of things and he was trying to use it against me, at least I think."

"You think?"

"I think he tried to make a move on me, implying that I was easy. That I was a slut. I, that's why I left early, he kind of scared me." Four's face is the epitome of anger and madness. He unbuckles his seatbelt and before I can argue him not to, springs out of the car. "Four!" I shout, as he slams the car door shut with so much force the vehicle shakes. "Don't you dare go in there!" I threaten, but he walks past me in a determined manner, his shoulders back and his head high. I try to pull on his arm but he shakes me off, stomping into the bakery. He casually walks behind the counter to where a speechless Kyle is stood, discreetly grabbing onto his shirt and dragging him into the back away from the few customers who are sat at the tables. That's when things get ugly. He pushes Kyle backwards, shoving him against a wall. He isn't being quiet and intimidating, he's being pretty damn terrifying. His face is red with hanger, every muscle on his body standing to attention. His hand is fisted up in Kyle's shirt collar, and Kyle looks as though he could cry for his mother at any given minute.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Four bellows. I run up to them and try to pull Four away, but he pushes me behind him and continues to pounce on Kyle. Kyle stammers, lost for words and terrified beyond belief. "What's wrong tough guy? Can't seem to find your voice now, can you?"

"Four, please," I beg. "Leave it alone."

"No, you see, boys like you need to be told. Need to be put in their place. What makes you think you can talk to people like that, huh? What makes you think you can talk to a woman like that?" Four says, his voice screaming with deadly fright. "Answer me!"

"I'm sorry," Kyle whimpers, sounding pathetic and lowly. I know I should be throwing myself between them to stop this, because threatening people is wrong, but theres a part of me that enjoys this, the part that was cowering in the kitchen earlier on in the day.

"You're sorry? That's it? You act like a psychotic dick and it takes for me to slam you against this wall for you to come up with sorry?"

"I didn't mean what I said," he says. "I promise. I was just trying to mess with her."

"Why? Why the fuck would you do that."

"I thought she was up for it, I though she'd want me," Kyle says, whimpering again. Bad choice of words, I think. Four seems to think so to. His rage takes a whole new level and he slams him against the wall again. He fists his hand and draws it back, all reason completely gone from his eyes. I must stop him. I must stop him from going back to a bad place, a place where he hasn't been in so long.

"Four you need to stop now," I shriek, blocking his fist with my own and pulling his arms away. "He's not worth it," I run my hands along his arms in a calming manner. "It's not worth it," I whisper. "You're better than this. Just leave it, let's go." His grip on Kyle starts to sag as he leans into my embrace, where my body is pressed against his back, my arms still running up and down his arms. I feel his breathing calm, and his shoulders drop as he lets go of him.

"You so much as lay a finger on her," he points to Kyle, "or even say another bad word to her, I'm coming back. And next time I won't stop." He charges away, and I chase after him out of the bakery. He stops when we're outside, taking a couple of calming strides and running his hands through his hair. I gape at him in complete dismay and hurt for a moment, angered that he let himself act in such a way. I understand that he wanted to help me, but I know, I just know, that if I weren't there he wouldn't have stopped.

"What the hell was that," I shout, my voice strangled by sadness. I stride up to him and hit his chest, continuing to do so until he looks up at me.

"He needed to be told," he says numbly, a frown upon his face.

"To be told? You did much more than tell him off, Four. You almost lost it!"

"I just got angry," his voice sounding weak and vulnerable.

"Angry?" I step even closer to him. "And what about this?" I point to the bruise coating the side of his face. "And this?" I pick up his large hand, pointing to his bruised and crusted knuckles. "Was this when you 'just got angry' too?" He stares at the floor, failing to answer me. "Tell me!" I command. Still, he doesn't answer. I slap his chest again when he continues to ignore me. "See, I'm pushing you now, yet you're still ignoring me," I shove him a little harder this time. "Violence doesn't always get you what you want, does it?" I push on his chest again, until he grabs my wrist and pulls me against him, engulfing me in his arms. As much as I love the idea of melting into him, I can't do it. I remain stiff in his grip until he gets the idea.

"Sorry," he mutters, pulling away and scratching the back of his neck.

"Lets go sit in the car," I sigh. We make our way over to the small car park, resuming the positions we had before it all kicked off. He slouches in his seat for a while, gazing into the nothingness beyond the dashboard. I evaluate him, watching how hopeless he looks, how different he looks. "Does it hurt?" I murmur, running my finger tips along his facial bruise. He shakes his head in response, continuing to stare ahead. So we continue to sit there in complete silence, both of us mulling over today's events. When I woke up this morning, I didn't expect any of this drama. I didn't expect any of this emotion or angst. I watch him calm down for a while, but there's still something that's bothering him, still something that he's failing to tell me. But I know that that's the way it is with Four, it's the way he'll always be. He has so much going on in that head of his that he can't fathom it most of the time, let alone begin to want to share it with another person. "I have to take Hector to his football game today," I say. "Would you like to come with us?" I know he used to play football, perhaps that would help take his mind off things. Whatever it is he's thinking so hard about.

"That sound good," he smiles slightly, turning the engine on and plugging his seatbelt in, the resounding click and churn breaking the silence. I watch him carefully as we drive to Lynn's house, watch as he slowly composes himself, putting himself back together and letting the mask grow. He probably knows that I'm staring at him, and he also probably doesn't even care. But neither do I, so I continue to do so. We pull up just as I see Hector bounding down the sidewalk, his backpack bouncing and thudding against his back as he engages in an eager sprint to arrive home from school. I wind the window down and call out for him, his brown curls sweeping with the wind as he trots over to us with an ever innocent smile on his face.

"You're early," he says, crooking his neck to the side so that he can look past me and glance at Four. Children are so obviously curious sometimes.

"I know, so hurry up and get your kit on, you'll have time to practice and warm up before the game today," I say, nudging him away from the car so that I can run inside and change into his gear.

"Do you always take him?" Four asks me, his voice sounding more normal.

"No, Lynn does. But since she went away, Shauna's taken up the task. She couldn't make it today so she asked if I could go."

"Oh, what about his mom?"

"She doesn't really leave the house much," I shrug, winding the window back up when I see Hector coming out of the house, his kit in hand. He scurries into the back seat of the car, Four telling him to buckle up. Thankfully this time, the eerie silence in the car is broken by Hector talking passionately about the game tonight, and how he made a bet at school that his team would win purely because Tommy from the other team plays like a girl. I chastise him, telling him that there are many woman who are amazing at sports, who could kick his ass when it comes to football, and therefore his insult was 'stupid' and invalid. Four laughs at this, warning Hector that he should be more frightened of the women in his life than the men. Hector honestly seems too confused and immature to understand any of this, as he's still at that age where girls are full of pink and glitter and he'll get burned if any of it gets on him. We arrive there a little too early, the coach is still setting things up and the field is empty. The coach tells him to get changed and to start warming up, giving him a head start against the rest. I usher Four onto the field, hinting that he should show Hector a thing or two about playing the game. He shies away at first, giving the excuse that he's too 'rusty' and hasn't played in a while, but eventually I win and he jogs onto the field with Hector. I watch from the stands as they pass a ball between each other, picking up speed and starting to get into it. Four loosens up, showing off a little and seemingly enjoying himself. He corrects Hector's stance and demonstrates a few tricks that he's learned over time. Hector seems pleased with this encouragement, as I'm sure it's something he's never had before. He's never had a dad that's had enough time to play with him, since his own works incredibly hard. He also doesn't have an older brother, just his two sisters. And Zeke isn't that great with kids, especially when it comes to football, easily beating them at the sport without actually having fun and showing them how they can improve. Eventually all the other kids start to arrive, and the coach blows his whistle to order an official warm up. Four pats Hector on the back before jogging off the field and making his way up the stands to sit next to me. "Have fun?" I smile.

"Yeah, he's actually not bad. Got pretty good coordination," he says, slightly out of breath.

"He'd be really good if he had someone like you paying attention to him. Lynn tries her best but she's never been into football."

"I wouldn't mind helping him out," he acts nonchalant but I know he enjoyed that even more than Hector did. We watch as they continue to warm up, whilst the other families arrive and sit around to watch. Since it's only an after-school club type game, the stands don't get busy and we're the only ones sat in our block. I shuffle back to lean against the concrete step behind me, pulling my feet up onto the seat. The game starts and mothers and fathers cheer for their children, laughing with each other and generally just having a good time in this relaxed atmosphere. However I remain deeply distracted by the person sat next to me, sitting pressed against his side and wanting to know more. No matter how close I've been with him, I still don't know him. He's still the mysterious man who adopted a number for a name.

"Are you going to tell me where you got the bruise?" I ask softy, not wanting to rub him up the wrong way again.

"My dad," he states, running his tongue along his teeth. He moves his arm so that it's draped behind me, and shuffles around in his seat a little, and act of discomfort.

"Your dad?"

"Yeah," he sighs.

"Why would he do something like that? Why would he hit you?"

"Because I said something terrible. I suppose I deserve it," he shrugs.

"But, no matter what you say, that doesn't mean that he should hit you."

"What can I say. Like father like son," he laughs humourlessly. I know better than to ask him what he exactly said, but knowing what Four's attitude can be like, I'd rather not know.

"Did you hit him back?"

"I shoved him. Then I hit the wall instead," he runs his fingers across his damaged knuckles. They look similar to the way mine did when I got in a fight with the television.

"Were you having an argument?"

"Yeah," he swallows, "they, uh, didn't like the fact that I brought someone home." I would feel guilty, but I know it's not my fault, he's old enough to engage in relationships like that, and his stiff parents shouldn't have a problem with it.

"Is that why you were angry today?"

"I suppose. But I've not felt this out of control in a while. I have a lot of different, feelings..lately and I guess I don't really know how to deal with all of that."

"Is that why you got annoyed with Kyle?" I say quietly, not wanting to be vein and automatically presuming his 'feelings' are about myself.

"I guess I did get a little over protective, yeah." For a moment, the cogs turn in my brain and I think about the things Sarah and Marcus must have said to him on Sunday morning. Perhaps they said something bad about me, and that's why he got angry.

"I trust you," I say, reassuring both him and myself.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I think you don't trust yourself, you have self-doubt, and that's what worries you. But I want you to know, that I trust you." He wraps his arm around my shoulders, nodding solemnly.

"Forgive me?" He says.

"Of course I forgive you," I lean my head on his shoulder. "That's the scary part. I don't think I could ever not forgive you."

I made a tumblr account: yabooklover20