Chasm

Chapter 10

TRIS POV

The gentle brush of a hand up and down my arm and the pressure of lips in my hair wake me.

I hum, content, and burrow myself deeper into his shoulder. The world beyond my eyelids is bright with the morning sun, but in this safe place of mine—with my face hidden in his neck—I can pretend that it isn't.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his low voice vibrating through his chest, where my hand is placed.

"No," I groan and struggle closer to him, unwilling to get up anytime soon. With a sigh, I dig my fingers into the cotton of his shirt.

His chuckle displaces me because of the movement, but the noise is rare and uplifting enough that I don't mind. The groggy feeling clouding my head keeps me in place while I attempt to drift back to sleep. If I concentrate hard enough, I can block out the red color of my eyelids, the distant sound of a train horn in the city, the stroke of his thumb on my cheek.

"Come on," he whispers. "Time to wake up."

"Tobias," I whine in defiance.

"Wake up, Tris."

Wake up.

I sit up on my cot when I awake and rub my eyes, disoriented, until I can make out the sight of the subject of my dream standing in the entrance of the dormitory.

"Good. Now that your lazy asses are up, I wanted to remind you all that it is Visiting Day," Four barks. "Your families may or may not show up, but if you are lucky enough that they do, I would advise that you keep them at arm's length." With a wry smile, he adds, "We are training you to be soldiers, and not depending on your mother anymore is useful in the matter."

As he stalks out of the room, I am left to deal with the thoughts about my dream, too occupied with it to worry about Visiting Day at the moment. Since the last time we saw each other last year, I hadn't dreamt about him in positive ways. Actually, I hadn't dreamt positively, period. And now I am foolishly hoping that I can somehow transport myself back into my dream, into a time past. I cling to the memory of his hands on me, of being curled up in his bed, of his playful mood, of happiness.

I press a hand to my forehead and fall back onto my cot. What is wrong with me? All thoughts of him should be locked away in my mind—he is my ex, after all—and yet I am desiring the safety and warmth that only he could ever offer. In the real world, I wouldn't have these thoughts, but it is a feat to ignore them now when I have the leftover feeling of peace from my dream, something uncommon since I first transferred to this hectic faction.

Four is not the same person as the one in my dream, and I will have to get over it. My lingering attachment will only hurt me in the end, when I am focused on matters unrelated to initiation. Matters that don't return my childish emotions from forever ago, which were only aroused because of a dumb dream.

"Don't look too happy for a little break," Christina says pointedly from her bunk.

I turn my head and offer a glare. She has no idea why my mood is foul.

"You're allowed to not be stiff anymore, Tris! Hello, you're in Dauntless! You're supposed to live it up on your day off." After a pause, she adds, "Although I guess I would be cynical too if my traitor brother was coming to visit me today."

In response to her teasing, I chuck my pillow at her and lie back down with my arms folded. She deflects it and laughs.

"He's not a traitor anymore," I correct her, and my own words get me to grin too. What odd situations I have had to deal with. Sometimes they seem so strange that I can't help but see the humor in them, like now.