Tonight, after training is over for the day, a wave of tiredness seems to set over all of us. Dinner is a quiet affair, and I can hear heavy breathing all around. Everyone is starved; Jorge conveniently forgot to give us a lunch break, even after Brenda won her fight against Teresa. After the fighting today, most of us are worn out and bruised all over - apart from me, and I feel almost guilty that I wasn't subjected to the same pain as they were today.
Oh, well. I'll have to face it tomorrow, anyway. These thoughts do little to reassure me as I continue to eat my meal - a creamy, rich pasta dish. It's vaguely familiar - we sometimes had pasta in Abnegation. Whenever Chuck and I cooked it, though, we never used such delicious ingredients; the thick sauces and crisp meats of Dauntless are strange to me.
Next to me, Frypan examines the pasta even closer than I do, using his fork to scoop up pieces of the food. He tells me what he was telling Teresa and Brenda just yesterday.
"I'd be a better cook than any of these Dauntless shanks," he insists, shaking his head at the meal.
I laugh. "When you pass Dauntless initiation, you have to become the best cook here, and show us how it's all done."
Frypan furrows his eyebrows, and drops the fork down on his plate with a clatter. "If I pass Dauntless initiation."
"I-" my voice trails off, and I don't know how to respond. I look over at the boy, his dark eyes still focused on his plate. My heart wrenches. "Fry - I'm sure you won't get cut," my voice strengthens. "You said it yourself - the Dauntless need you here, not just for your bravery, but also for your cooking skills."
Fry looks up at me and cracks a small smile, as do I. His fear seems to clench around my own heart - I don't want any of us to have to go, to suffer the life of the Factionless.
"I'd miss you if you left. Any of you," I tell Frypan gently, and I truly mean it. These six people mean an awful lot to me, I realise, as I stab a piece of pasta with my fork. I think - I think I would call them my friends, despite the fact I've known them for less than three days.
These are the first friends I've ever had, really. You can't make friends in Abnegation. Everyone's far too selfless to actually become true friends with someone. There was Jack, my neighbour, but we never really talked about anything that mattered. I doubt he misses me, now I'm here, a traitor to his faction.
But I'd miss any of us transfers, now - Frypan's kindness and cooking anecdotes, Minho's sarcasm and sass, Thomas' curiosity and stupid bravery, Brenda's sharp, yet altogether friendly attitude, and Teresa's smart remarks.
And I'd miss Newt, with his kindness and sternness and order and bravery and wisdom and loyalty and soft smiles and voice cracks and slight frown and soft blond hair and tired, worn chocolate eyes and his use of the word "bloody" and his strong accent and his limp and the way he brushes his fingers over his thin lips. I'd miss... Newt.
I look up at the boy in question, but find that my eyes can't meet his, for some reason, despite the fact that he sits across from me at the table, which has now fallen silent. I guess all of the other transfers heard the somber exchange between me and Frypan. I must have been speaking louder than I thought.
I fiddle with the pocket in my pants with embarrassment - thank goodness they can't read minds, or else I'd be utterly humiliated.
"We should do something so that none of us will ever be forgotten, even if we do have to leave," Minho pulls me out of my thoughts, in the most serious voice I've ever heard from him.
"Like what?" Thomas demands.
Minho smiles mysteriously, a light mood returning to the table as he stands. "Follow me."
•••
He leads us to the dormitory, to the stone wall at the back, close to my bunk bed. All of us stare at him, trying not to look as entranced as we feel.
"You all look exactly like Thomas," Minho says, and flashes us a wicked grin as he reaches into his pocket. He takes his time pulling something out, and I peer closer over Brenda's shoulder. The object catches the light, the metal shining bright.
A knife.
"What the hell?" Frypan asks, and I'm tempted to congratulate him for saying exactly what I'm thinking.
"Calm down, dude," Minho says, and he smiles even wider. "If I was going to murder you, I would've shucking done it by now."
"Well, that's a bloody relief," Newt says in front of me, and I can imagine him rolling his eyes sarcastically, despite the fact I can only see the back of his head.
I smile, and Minho starts up again. "So, I was thinking," he drawls, enjoying our bated breaths far too much, "that we should find a way to commemorate ourselves, even if we have to go, so that no one ever forgets that the seven of us were here. And then at dinner, (y/n) used the phrase "get cut from Dauntless" when talking to Fry, like Jorge and Mark did." He looks at us, as if waiting for someone to yell at him that they understand.
We all look back, and he looks exasperated before continuing. "And then I realised, we should, quite literally, cut our names into the wall with a knife, so that we can never be fully removed from the compound."
He stops again, as if this time, he's waiting for applause. "Pretty good, huh? But if one of us, y'know, dies or gets cut from Dauntless, we'll cross their name out. What'd'ya think?"
Brenda crosses her arms. "None of us are going to die, Minho."
The boy raises his eyebrows. "You never know."
Brenda sighs, perhaps even more exasperated than Minho himself. "It's a good idea," she admits. I nod my agreement, as do my fellow transfers. Minho's eyes brighten.
"I'll go first," he says, and spins the knife around in his hand with just his thumb and forefinger before walking closer to the wall and carving his name in clear, block letters. Brenda goes next, then Frypan, then Thomas, then Teresa, her handwriting neat and tidy. Newt's next, his scrawl slanted and small. I can feel the warmth of his hand on the blade's handle as he passes it to me.
I grip the knife with my fist and carve the name (y/n) into the stone wall, just to the right of Newt's. As I hand the dagger back to Minho, I stand back and look at all the names now carved onto the wall.
I don't want any to be crossed out.
But I fear that there will have to be, and far too soon for my liking.
YOU ARE READING
The Transfers of Dauntless | Newt x Reader
Fanfiction(y/n) (y/l/n). A girl from the selfless faction of Abnegation. She lives under the control of Abnegation with her father and younger brother Chuck. She has always imagined her future as one in her original faction, but finds she begins to doubt her...
