Unloved (Eric x OC Divergent)

Part VII: The First Wave

-Florence POV-

What the hell am I doing?
What the hell am I getting myself in to?

I can't help myself when I see him turn around and walk away this time. Four's words are circling in my head as I don't hesitate to run after Eric, trying to stop him from walking away from me. I felt like he was getting somewhere, like he was letting go of the facade he so painstakingly built, he might think he has been fooling everyone, but not me. Definitely not me. I'm the one always picking up the pieces of him, when he so carelessly hurts himself, when he tries to cope with whatever he is holding on so hard to. It's always me, keeping his secrets, cleaning his wounds, easing his pain, saving his life.

Throughout my career as a nurse here in Dauntless, a job I proudly chose without hesitation after finishing my initiation, I have encountered a lot of reckless and stupid behavior. From stitching up wounds after bar fights, to setting fractured legs after one too many daredevil jumps off the trains, it's always lighthearted, my patients always without regrets. They choose to take the risks and suffer the consequences in silence, or well, they suffer the consequences with jokes and laughter, mostly getting laughed at by friends and even family. I love this side of Dauntless.

But then there's all of the visits Eric has payed me the past year too, increasing in volume as the months went by, his injuries increasing in severity rapidly, skyrocketing the feeling in my gut that something was fundamentally wrong.
I think it started off with a few stitches back then, he had gotten into a fight and there was a gash on his face, he came in to the infirmary with a credible story and I believed him. After that his visits became more and more frequent, broken bones, concussions, more stitches, wounds that were oddly clean-shaped, the quality of his stories kept decreasing as he kept coming in, he was probably running out of excuses. At some point I asked him to just stop lying to me, it's probably there where we started being so inexcusably rude to each other, I had enough of being treated like I didn't know what was going on and he quickly had enough of my critical questions.

Then came the alcohol incidents, him drinking himself into a black oblivion seemingly every time he got the chance to. On one too many occasions he got brought in by one of the bartenders after drinking himself unconscious, only to have me care for him until he woke up again. It seemed like he never got enough and I have always been too bright to just believe in his 'party hard' stories, but I let go of arguing with Eric, as it had absolutely no point. At some stage I gave up trying to talk to him all together, as it only lead to heated arguments and him making me feel like I was 'just a stupid nurse', even though I'm sure he knew better.

The most recent incident made my heart break, even though I didn't realize it at the moment. The moment I saw Eric lay there, unresponsive after taking too many painkillers, is now replaying in my head, it feels like someone is punching me in the heart, it feels like I can't breathe. Fuck.
I want to slow down, but I see Eric isn't letting up and I try to match his pace, practically running at this point, I try to get him to stop but he's not listening to me. There's no way I'll catch up to him if he keeps this going and I decide to try to get him to stop one more time, trying to voice the pain shooting through me right now I yell his name one more time at the top of my lungs:

"ERIC!"

Finally. He stops walking away from me, but he doesn't turn around, I slow my pace and walk past him to get him to face me. I can hear the panic he is in, trying do dodge my eyes, his breath is so fast, I don't need to feel his pulse to know his heart is racing too.
"I need to calm him down" it's the singular thought in my mind right now. Suddenly I'm not too worried about facing his moodswings anymore, I don't know where I found this new kind of confidence, but I feel like I can face whatever he throws at me, because I see right through him.

And then it hits me.
How the hell did I miss this?
All the times I took care of him, all the times I picked up his pieces to put him back together as well as I could, all the arguments in which I tried so hard to get him to be honest with me, all the hours we've spent together, all the worries, all the times I felt my heart break for him...

I care about him.