Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: Her Tears

The training grounds were eerily silent after hours. Most of the initiates had long since retired to their quarters, leaving Y/N alone in the dimly lit space. She stood with her back against one of the cold stone walls, her body trembling slightly from the exhaustion and pain that had been building up for weeks. The weight of everything—her injury, the betrayal, the endless pressure to keep proving herself—was suffocating.

Her fingers dug into her palms as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes, trying to steady herself. I won't break, she told herself, though the tightness in her chest made it feel like she already had. But the truth was, she was on the verge of breaking, and no matter how strong she tried to be, the cracks were beginning to show.

She didn't hear him approach, but the familiar sound of heavy boots echoed in the silence, making her open her eyes. Eric stood a few feet away, his usual cold smirk firmly in place, though there was something darker in his expression tonight. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, watching her.

Y/N quickly wiped at her face, though she hadn't even realized the tears had started to fall. *No. Not in front of him.* She wasn't going to let him see her like this. Not now.

"Crying?" Eric's voice cut through the silence, sharp and mocking. "That's not very Dauntless of you."

Y/N bit back the sob that threatened to escape, her jaw clenching as she fought to regain control. She didn't look at him, didn't respond. Maybe if she stayed silent, he'd walk away.

But Eric didn't leave.

Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, the coldness in his gaze hardening further. "You're supposed to be stronger than this," he continued, his tone sharp. "What, you finally reach your limit?"

Y/N didn't answer. She couldn't. Her chest felt too tight, and the more she tried to force the tears back, the harder they seemed to fall. It was like the dam had broken, and no matter how much she willed herself to stop, she couldn't.

Eric took another step, his voice dropping lower, colder. "This is pathetic," he muttered, though there was an edge to his voice that wasn't quite anger. "All this time, acting like you can handle anything, and here you are, crying like a child."

Y/N finally looked up at him, her vision blurred with tears. "What do you want me to say, Eric?" she snapped, her voice hoarse. "That I'm fine? That I'm strong? That nothing gets to me?"

Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for it. The vulnerability in her tone felt like a betrayal of everything she'd worked to become, everything she'd tried to prove.

Eric's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered with something—something dark and conflicted. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to seeing her like this.

Y/N pushed herself off the wall, wiping furiously at her face as she tried to steady herself. "You don't get it. You don't get how hard it is. You never do." Her voice was shaking now, the frustration and pain of weeks spilling out before she could stop it. "You think I'm weak because I cry? You think I'm weak because I feel? Fine. Think whatever you want. But don't stand there and act like you know anything about what I'm going through."

For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Eric's smirk had faded, his expression unreadable as he took in her words. He wasn't used to being challenged like this, wasn't used to seeing her so... vulnerable.

He took another step forward, and before Y/N could react, he reached out and gripped her arm, pulling her closer. His grip wasn't gentle, but it wasn't cruel either. It was firm, like he was trying to keep her from collapsing.

"You think I care about your feelings?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't. You're not supposed to let this happen. You're supposed to be stronger. You're supposed to keep going, no matter how much it hurts."

His words were biting, but there was something underneath them—something raw and unspoken. He wasn't just angry at her. He was angry at himself, at the way she was affecting him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for her.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying, but there was something defiant in her gaze. "I'm not you, Eric," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't be like you."

The vulnerability in her words hit harder than Eric expected, and for a moment, something shifted in him. He tightened his grip on her arm, his eyes narrowing as he tried to suppress the unfamiliar feeling creeping in. He wasn't supposed to care. He wasn't supposed to feel... anything.

But there it was, staring him in the face—her pain, her weakness—and despite everything, it made him feel something.

"You don't have to be like me," Eric said, his voice low, almost a growl. "But you need to stop being weak."

Y/N's breath hitched, her body trembling under the weight of his words, and before she could stop herself, a sob escaped her lips. She tried to pull away, but Eric didn't let go. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand moving from her arm to the back of her neck, gripping her tightly, holding her in place.

"Stop it," he muttered, his voice strained. "Stop making this harder than it has to be."

But Y/N couldn't stop. The tears kept falling, and her body shook as the weight of everything finally came crashing down. For the first time in weeks, she let herself feel it all—the fear, the pain, the exhaustion—and it overwhelmed her.

Eric's grip tightened, his hand still resting against the back of her neck. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to handle this. He had never been in this position before, had never cared enough about anyone to deal with this kind of vulnerability.

But he couldn't walk away. He couldn't leave her like this.

With a frustrated sigh, Eric pulled her closer, pressing her head against his chest. It was a strange, awkward gesture, but it was all he could manage. He didn't say anything, didn't offer any words of comfort, but he stayed.

Y/N didn't know how long they stood like that, but eventually, the sobs quieted, and she was left leaning against him, too exhausted to move. She didn't understand why he hadn't pushed her away yet, why he was still holding her.

Eric didn't understand it either.

He could feel her breathing slow, the tension in her body easing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax, just enough to acknowledge that maybe—just maybe—he cared more than he wanted to admit.

But he wasn't going to say it. Not now. Not ever.

"I don't know why I bother with you," Eric muttered, his voice rough as he finally pulled away, though his grip lingered for just a second too long.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still glassy from the tears, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

Eric's expression hardened again, his cold mask slipping back into place. "You're not supposed to be weak," he said, his voice sharp. "Remember that."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone in the empty training grounds, her heart still pounding in her chest. But this time, she wasn't sure if it was from the crying or from the strange, unspoken connection they had just shared.