Candor or Dauntless

Chapter Tobias

I linked in a video of Jeremy Jordan partly because emotionally this chapter should be as angsty but also because everyone deserves to watch this video.

We also have a trigger warning this chapter (I think but I really don't want to trigger anyone so let's be cautious): abuse.

That's all.

-

The rankings came out.

He watches Tris as the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile. And it must hurt- because of the cut on her lip - but it widens into a beautiful grin.

Everything good seemed possible, likely even.

It is his most brave, and selfless, and smart, and kind, and honest self that leant in. The kiss was bold and natural, silent and deafening; everything. But then it ended.

"Wait. You and- wait, Tris? You didn't tell me?"  Christina said, eyes glossy, "But I told you about Will?" She shifted, leaning into Will who's icy eyes narrowed, "I... Well, to be honest, I thought we were closer than this."

"We are close!"

"Right," Will snapped, "Let's go, Christy," he slipped his hand into hers, "See you around?"

"Okay," Four said stiffly.

"Tris." I say interrupting them "I'll go if you do.
We can host it in my apartment you guys don't get your until tomorrow."

God I'd go anywhere Tris went now we're public. I just want to spend time with her.

Later that night we walked across into our apartment (Tris moved in) and sat in a circle shape.

"So I'll go first." Says Will calmly "Four?"

"Dauntless" He looks disappointed but I'd only even slightly consider picking Candor with Uriah- certainly not a curious Erudite.

"I dare you to go into the pit and say that you need to talk to the first person you see."

"Okay." Well that sounds easy.

"I can witness" says Tris. Christina looks from me to Tris and mouths to Tris to "get a room"
but let's us leave.

When I walk into the corridor all the warmth and happiness drained out of the room as if a dementor were present (the most obvious referring ever). It's Marcus.

x

His throat was dry. His feet stuck. He felt waterlogged, and not from the excessive sweaty clothing; time didn't progress for a moment. And then that moment passed everything was frantic as if trying to catch up.

"Tris," he said, nudging her side adamantly. His eyes burned into the grey, formless clothing, trying to refuse it. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not ever. The sandy hair was grey and thinning now, but he was anything but frail. He'd put on weight, which only made his warped shadow stretch further along the grey concrete. The sight of him spurred a churning through his back. God.

She hummed an affirming noise to show she was listening, completely nonchalant.

"Marcus Eaton?" Four asked, half-brusque, half-drawn out. This was hopeless, "Sir, what's wrong?"