Fractured | Tobias Eaton ✓

40 | Anything Is Game

Four injects me with another dose of the serum after changing the computer around so it shows us his fears. I don't know if I can bear him seeing himself in mine. That'd be so awkward. He offers me the box holding the syringe and I freeze, meeting his eyes in a silent question.

"Right here," He taps his neck and I follow his directions carefully, pushing the needle with great care and plunging the serum into him even more gently. The way he doesn't flinch at all has me in awe–how would he trust me–someone, who's only just injected themself with the serum to do so with him. Four sets the box onto the counter and holds out his hand.

I'm not sure why I hesitate grabbing his hand but I do. That same shyness–I've since realized it's not awkwardness for the sake of being awkward but rather me being shy–fills my body as I push my fingers between his, our palms flush against one another.

His hand is freezing and it shocks me because of how hot mine is. A blush is lingering in my cheeks as we walk into the (now) dark room I'd just come out of. The door locks behind us and I realize that it's probably connected to the simulation so we can't run out in the middle of it.

"You mentioned having four fears–that's why they call you that, right?" He nods, "What's your real name, anyway?"

"See if you can figure that out."

There's wind rushing up below up as train tracks replace the cement floor. It's disorienting watching the changes around us take hold. Buildings erect from the pavement and the sun shines down on us brightly. It'd be beautiful if we weren't so high up in the air.

"This is so much worse than how my fear manifests." Four's chuckle is clipped–he's tense already. "What do we have to do? Climb down, run, jump?"

He nods, "Every time." I think I hear him mumble. We're still holding hands so I squeeze his.

Four turns his head to meet my eyes, "We'll do it together, yea?" I can see the apprehension in his eyes, "What?"

"How come you're so calm?"

He's right. I am strangely at ease... "I don't know–all I do know is we have to jump to move on. Let's do it." His panicking is making me calmer and it's a strange switch. Our roles are usually in reverse with him coaching me through some of the simulations.

I pull him forward, "Let's make it quick, okay?" I don't look back to see if he nods, I just run. Every muscle in my body is shouting at me to stop as we sprint toward the edge of the tracks. When we jump–I'm fearless for just a second before I get a glimpse of the ground awaiting me.

The scream that escapes me is painfully embarrassing. I wake up on the cement floor–cheeks red from the jump. Four is looking equally as panicked. His chest is heaving and I'm trying my hardest to slow my breathing as well.

"What's next?" I say through a pant. He's about to answer before I'm slid across the floor into his legs. Four falls and just barely catches himself from crushing me. "Fuck." I gasp. Shifting my body to take up as little space as possible.

As soon as I move even a little bit–the box closes in where I've left air. Four's gasping for air and it makes me realize I have to help him through this. He's pressed up against the opposite side of the small box–there isn't much room but I can tell he's making an effort not to touch me.

"I'm gonna try something, okay?" He doesn't even look at me as I take a deep breath. I know the box will eat up any space I make so I have to move quickly, "Lift your arms, I'm gonna come over there."

Four scoffs, "There is no over here." I spare him the dirty look I want to send his way. He obliges, opening his torso for me. My feet nudge against his sides as I pull myself over to him, wrapping around him like a koala bear to its mother.

I press my chest against his and place a hand against the back of his neck. Skin-on-skin usually helps soothe my anxieties. "You okay?" I ask.

"Not really, don't see how that helped."

"Oh, you know–I was just cold." I try to joke but it falls dead against him and his fear. "What made this a fear of yours?" I wonder, slowly testing out if I can stroke the hair at the base of his neck. He doesn't tense up when I do and so I take that as the green light to do so.

Four takes as deep a breath as the tight space will allow him, "You remember how fantastic I said my childhood was?" I don't react, letting him speak–all I do is continue running my hand over his neck and hair. "Childhood punishments were among that... we had a tiny closet upstairs."

My mouth moves to form some kind of response but I have none. "That's horrible. You didn't deserve that." Is what I muster up, I can only hope he doesn't think I'm pitying him. Four was just a child a few years ago–I can't imagine it though.

"I don't think I wanna talk about this anymore." I nod.

"Okay..." I move so slightly I hardly notice it but the box does and I'm pushed against Four even further. I bet he can feel how fast my heart is racing. "We can talk about me–anything is game."

I can almost hear the gears turning in his head, "Why do you always do that thing–like with my neck?"

That's an easy question, I think, "Self-soothing is what ma called it. She always tells me I've done it my entire life–since I was a baby even. I hope it's not bothering you."

"No–it's not... it's nice." I smile against the side of his head. "What about your religion–was that a choice you made or something you just grew into?"

"Easy, I grew into it."

I feel him nod, "Do you think you'd have chosen the same thing if you hadn't grown up around it?"

My shoulders move to shrug but there's not enough room, "Probably. Religion isn't common practice but it's important to my identity."

"Abnegation are pretty unreligious." He admits and I can feel his heart slowing. Mine, however, is not. The less tense he gets–the softer he feels and the more I can feel the warmth of him all over me.

I feel a bit bad for not panicking like he is–it's insensitive. I'm panicking for a much different reason.

"You okay?" I shift my head upward slightly, "Your heart is beating really fast." I gulp and there's a shaky laugh that escapes him. "Why's that?"

Part of me wants to admit my stupid attraction but there's a larger part that is painfully embarrassed by the fact that I like him so.