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❝Our world doesn't play out like a fantasy. We aren't some carefree princesses getting handed happy endings on a silver platter-you make one wrong move, and it's game over.❞
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In a world where all control over their lives is illusory, a grou...
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—Part 1.4— Friendly Rivals
❝Nobody likes a sore loser, Em.❞ —Emiko—
It had been lingering in the back of my mind for the last six hours.
An expectation, that is.
An anticipation...just waiting for something unwarranted to occur—why was I so on edge?
Perhaps it was just a mood swing; I seemed to be having a plethora of them recently.
I shook the disturbance from my mind, blowing out a breath that shook my lips against each other. I wasn't gonna ruin this moment for myself—serenity was a sensation I rarely felt.
My eyes combed the skyline, skimming over each worn contour of the high-rises, barren and dull against the evanescent arc of the sun. With a faint sigh, I ran a half-gloved palm along the concrete rim of the academy's roof, patting away the specks of rubble and debris that blanketed its surface, and dangled my legs off the small ledge.
Class had ended a few minutes prior-not that I had even bothered to attend-and I had chosen to take sixth period off, revelling in the feeble afternoon rays that seeped through the smog-obscured sky. The final class of the day tended to cover a lot of the same twisted ideals that my faction believed in—I got enough of the harsh lectures at Dauntless every day. We were forced to endure the recitation of the hurtful words and policies repeatedly.
Besides, I was already well aware of humanity's inclination to be utterly cruel, and I didn't need history class or a textbook to confirm that fact for me.
I snaked a hand into my jacket pocket, rummaging through the mahogany leather and pulling out a slim package, the attenuated plastic case gleaming with a luminary glow. The next few actions were habitual—running a hand over my lighter and igniting a small flame, then raising the other palm to my parted lips and inhaling deeply. It was a bad habit, and I didn't enjoy it in the slightest, but it was addictive, and not to mention a momentary alleviant of stress.
"Emiko?" a familiar voice carried through the air, resounding from around the corner, "Koko? You there?"
"And the peace has been disturbed—Up here, Jaem," I replied tepidly, a crease forming along my nose bridge, "And will you stop using that damn nickname? It sounds like something you'd call a dog."
A tall figure rounded the edge of the wall below, the silken black locks draping down his cheeks coming into view, and glistening with an orange sheen. He hoisted a brow, entwining his arms as he lounged against the wall, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on me.
