#instructortobias

Present Time

My head is fucking pounding. I can hear only the persistent throbbing echoing throughout my brain. But it's what I deserve.

Uriah invited me to a “small” gathering happening among him and his two fellow Dauntless-Born companions. What I didn’t expect was the mass amount of alcohol that we were going to consume that night.

But I didn’t exactly say no. 

I will never deny an opportunity to have fun. When I lived with the Abnegation, there was zero tolerance for fun. It’s the one regulation I will never miss. There were aspects that I loved, like the simplicity and generosity of the people, but the negative aspect of this faction is that they were far too rigid.

In that, Dauntless is the complete opposite. And it’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with how at ease life is here. There are zero regulations (which is.. concerning), but to me that only indicates freedom.

Which is why last night, I drank. I consumed every shot that was handed to me, which if I remember correctly was eight. I’d never drank an ounce of alcohol before yesterday, which should have steered me into complacency but it didn’t.

–––

Uriah’s Dormitory - The Day Before

My face is slightly red as I feel the warmth of the liquor pulsing through me, and I’m trying desperately to contain the giggle slipping by.

We’re in Uriah’s dormitory. There’s six of us: Myself, Uriah, Lynn, Christina, Marlene, and Will. Christina and Will are desperately attempting to sing a chosen song, a microphone in each hand and while everyone is laughing and enjoying the euphoric sensation rolling through them, I feel the entire weight of my figure get heavy.

Uriah laughs at my expression, “Are you okay!”

And before I can even respond, I’m shaking my head with an erupting laugh, “No! No! I can’t stop laughing”.

I feel Uriah plop beside me, and I let my back hit the mattress as I see him lay across it. We’re a chaotic mess of laughing and bloodshot eyes. I blink at him slowly and see the lazy grin on his face.

“I am so fucking drunk right now”.

His grin stretches, “I feel complete. I’ve managed to intoxicate a girl from Abnegation. I never thought I would see the day”.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and let out a laugh as I say, “This is the first and the last time. I swear it”.

I don’t, actually.

I’m having far too much fun. Christina and Will are doing Karaoke, Lynn and Marlene are holding onto each-other for balance as they laugh so hard that they’re wheezing, and Uriah and I are laying across his mattress trying to gather our bearing’s. 

I can do this for the rest of my life. This faction is so liberating in spite of its faults.

Before I’m able to register it, Uriah is gripping onto my two wrists and using them as leverage to pull me upright. I’m still a pile of limbs, my body incoherent almost, but I grin as I see him pulling me to my feet.

Once I’m standing I hear a quick, “Our turn!” and my eyes widen dramatically. I can’t sing.

“No, Uriah! I can’t!”

But he’s smiling and I relent as he directs us to the stand that’s hosting the microphones. I pick one up, and as soon as I recognize the song that’s playing I turn to Uriah excitedly and exclaim, “How do you know this song!”

–––

Present Time

When I manage to open my eyes, I’m groggy. Beside me is Uriah, and beside him is Lynn as well as Marlene. We all fell asleep at his dormitory. I use the knuckle of my finger to get completely free of the drowsiness that is looming over me.

I groan as I force myself to sit up. I push myself toward the opposite side of the mattress, softly tying my laces and straightening my clothing. I laugh a little when I see Christina and Will on the couch beside the microphone post. Regardless of how close they’ve managed to become, they swear that they aren’t romantic. Yeah right.

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at 4 in the morning given my training session with Four. In spite of the fact that the first stage is complete, he’s prolonged our training. I didn’t ask him, he simply did. I’d expected him to stop the session, but he never opened the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to propose it.

I enjoyed our time together.

In the last six week’s, Four and I have built upon our relationship. Our dynamic is.. fairly complicated. There are moments where I feel the tension dissipate and it often indicates the beginning of a friendship, but then he can quickly revert to the distant instructor I see so often.

I can admit that it hurts. I don’t know where I stand when I’m with him and it’s by far the most confusing relationship I’ve ever had. He’s gentle and patient one moment, and the next he’s curt and stern.

This pattern of inconsistency is only intensifying my doubt. I have no clue as to whether or not he thinks I’m attractive. Or if he even likes me. And it’s only served to irritate me. When I see him, I remain indifferent. 

It’s for the absolute best is what I tell myself. He’s clearly not interested in me. He had six entire week’s to give me even an inkling that he likes me, and he hasn’t. I can’t help the disappointment that I feel, I’d thought given the tension within our first session that there was more, but I can’t force him to find me appealing, can I?

I make my way into Uriah’s restroom, searching through the cabinet until I find what I was in need of. A new toothbrush. There’s no way I’m going to train with my insanely hot instructor without brushing my teeth. It’s like asking him to stop training me, when in reality I want to improve. I want to succeed here.

I wash my face, and even manage to brush my hair with a new comb I found stashed beside his toothbrush. I slip out of his dormitory as quietly as I can manage, trying to let them rest. I can’t have them discovering where I go so early in the morning. It wasn’t explicitly said that my training with Four is going against a protocol, but I don’t want to involve him if it is. So I maintain this secret for myself.

It’s 4:47 when I stroll into the training center, and I thank myself internally when I see that I’m alone. He isn’t here yet. I go toward the fountain, and sip on the fresh water pouring through as I wait for him to arrive.

I walk onto the platform, and begin to stretch softly, knowing that I’ll love the open range of motion it’ll give me when I’m fighting against Four. He doesn’t train me easily, not like he started throughout our first session. I’ve landed on my spine so many times, albeit softly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he is rough enough to get his lesson through. 

I have my arm in front of me as I do a stretch when I hear the unmistakable latch of the front door. I peer over my shoulder and see the set of his face; cold.

He isn’t happy.

I carefully watch as he steps onto the platform and before I can register it I’m blurting out, “Nice night?”, with the intention of lightening the atmosphere.

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even meet my eye when he curtly says, “For some”.

This has my eyes widening slightly, as I’m a bit stunned. His body language is telling me that, unfortunately, he was not as fortunate. He’s tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are prominent. I put my arm down from my stretch and tilt my head, as I mutter to myself, “Okay, then”.

My attention snaps to him when I hear him say in an almost dull tone, “You look exhausted”. I frown wondering why he would point that out, but regardless I respond reluctantly, “We went to Uriah’s dormitory last night”.

All I get in response is an indifferent, “We?”. He’s not even looking at me, which confuses me. He’s untying his laces in order to get into position. Why is he being so adamant on evading me?

I shift from one foot to the other, ease in my voice, “Yep. Uriah, Will, Christina, Marlene, and Lynn. We were.. just learning how to play a card game”. It’s silly to not be honest about this but I don’t know if telling your initiation instructor that you got obliterated the night before is appropriate.

He meets my eye. Finally, but he’s looking at me without amusement as he fires in response, “Guzzling alcohol must be synonymous with learning a card game”.

I’m astounded by how affected he is at learning that his initiates are drinking. It’s entirely normal, but it’s not like I’m going to advertise it too. I furrow my eyebrow at the bite in his tone and feel irritation bubbling within me.

“How do you know what we were doing?”, I respond indignantly.

I watch as his shoulders tense, and it would have been entirely unrecognizable if not for the fact that I’m constantly observing him. I can’t help it, I want to understand him. How he thinks, what he’s feeling, and it goes beyond attraction. There’s a magnetic pull that I feel when I’m with him. 

He’s seamless in his response, “It isn’t exactly difficult to figure out. You're pale and dehydrated”.

I tilt my head and slightly narrow my vision, “There’s no way for you to know that I’m dehydrated, Four”. I’ve caught him; he’s a liar. I stare at him intently as I analyze his carefully crafted expression. I think about last night, attempting to recall a memory that could help me decipher how he’s in the loop of what I did in Uriah’s dormitory. 

And I do. 

It was Zeke. He came to Uriah’s dormitory to tell him about a family dinner.. and in return he helped us all consume as much water as possible. And he forced us all to swallow an Acetaminophen Tablet to prevent the headache that all of us would surely have the following morning.

He must’ve told Four when he left. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s the only possibility that I can think of. Zeke and Four have a friendship and because of that Four is going to hear about Uriah’s antics. Zeke likely mentioned to Four that his entire group of initiates is going to be fucking hungover for the session today.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

Four doesn’t react, simply getting into position and motioning for me to replicate it. But I don’t. I glance at the clock and read the time as 4:54, muttering, “It’s not 5 o'clock yet. We have time”. 

–––

Four’s Point of View

I narrow my gaze at her and try to prevent my body language from giving away just how much irritation is coursing through me.

I’ve felt this gnawing sense of discomfort fill me since the moment Zeke entered my apartment last night, divulging how Uriah and three of my initiates are getting “hammered” in his dormitory.

It isn’t the alcohol that has me tensing my shoulders, or narrowing my gaze at her, it's the disturbing thought that she was with him. I’ve noticed how close they’ve become.. they eat together, I see them in the pit together, and apparently Zeke placed her to sleep beside Uriah last night as well. Granted there were two extra people on the mattress with them.

In spite of the fact that logically, I’m aware nothing could have occurred, there’s a persistent ache of discomfort in my chest that I can’t identify properly. This can’t be jealousy. I can’t like her.

And yet, when I flick my gaze to her, and locate the determination in her eyes to find out what I’m hiding, I find my throat going dry in appeal. 

“I didn’t agree to having a conversation with you, I agreed to train you so that you can improve your fighting” I respond curtly.

There’s a flicker of hurt that catches on her expression and it immediately has me wanting to retract my response. But I don’t, because I can’t. If I tell her the truth, about what I know, I’ll have to explain why I’ve reacted the way that I have. And that will open a conversation that can’t be opened until she isn’t my initiate. Until I can tell her how I feel without putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to return my affection.

It isn’t fair to her. And if I’m going to pursue this.. It has to be done correctly.

So I persist, “Position yourself”.

But she doesn’t. She’s hesitating, and it frustrates me. She grits out in irritation, “Tell me how you know what we were doing”.

I’m almost stunned by the way she’s spoken to me. Y/N has always maintained that line of respect even through the telling of a joke, or when we’re in a session. But now she’s wary, and she’s considering the truth as a possibility; that I like her. 

The thought that Y/N might discover my affection for her has reverted me to the default personality that I’ve adopted since the moment that I chose this faction; cold. I cannot let her figure it out before she’s designated an official member.

I pause, tilting my head in an almost sadistic way as I stalk toward her as intimidatingly as I can. My demeanor is insulting, and I’m aware that the next thing I say may ruin the small connection that we’ve developed. But what choice do I have?

“I advise that you learn how to address your superior. I only agreed to this to help you learn how to fight. If you aren’t going to comply, then get out”, his tone is menacingly calm, but there is an undercurrent of condescension. He’s speaking to her in a manner that would resemble a conversation he’s having with an imbecile.

And it’s enough to hurt her feelings. He sees the flicker of emotion on her face before she decidedly takes a step away from him. 

She can’t help how her thoughts drift toward the moment his fingers brushed her abdomen. How goosebumps exploded across her skin, and how they easily engulfed her entire midsection.

His voice was low, and deep, right against her ear as he positioned her in a way that would allow her to actually hurt her opponents.

That was yesterday and she can't stop the incessant place that her mind runs to as soon as it's given a moment to think. The attraction she felt for him was so insanely inappropriate. And yet.. the possibility of him reciprocating lulled her into a false sense of security.

That it’s okay.

It won’t end as awfully as she’s imagined.

Y/N’s attention is redirected when she sees the initiates begin to disperse, and her instructor walk toward the knives that they had launched only minutes before she began to fantasize about a 2 minute interaction she had with a boy. 

He must’ve dismissed the session.

Christina and Will turn to look at Y/N in anticipation of what they’ll be doing with the allotted time that they were given.

She half listens as Will discusses going to the parlor to get his first tattoo, but eventually says with a small smile, “Actually, I-uh I’m going to talk to Four. You two can go and I’ll catch up?”.

Christina tilts her head, slightly suspicious, but Y/N gives away absolutely nothing, that perfected smile of innocence she learned in Abnegation carefully placed on her face.

Four’s back is facing her, and once Will and Christina have left, Y/N reluctantly travels from her spot in the training center toward the steel table that holds an abnormally large amount of knives in any other situation. But this is Dauntless, and weapons are normal.

Her heart is pounding and before she can utter a single word he’s anticipated her arrival and muttered, “What is it?”. It isn’t particularly unkind, or malicious in any way. It’s him, and the way that he addresses all of his initiates.

But it has her pausing. Was she insane? Should she just leave?

In spite of the fact that she’s attracted to him, she really could learn from him. And god knows she needs all of the practice that she can get. 

Her arms rest by her side, but the fingers of her right hand are fidgeting as she nervously says, “I don’t know if this is against the rules, but I was wondering if you would help me improve my fighting”.

He still isn’t facing her. He’s diligently organizing the weapons by type. Y/N’s hoping to God he doesn’t refuse her. The mortification would be enough to simply volunteer to become factionless. 

She fills the silence, “If you can’t, that’s okay too! I understand you're busy–and you know what? Just–it’s okay! Forget about it..” She begins to scramble for an appropriate exit, when his voice suddenly rings out.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow at 5. We’ll practice in the morning before your normal sessions and then a second time when dinner is no longer being served”.

Y/N can’t help the smile that fills her face but she almost instinctively kills it. She’s giddy on the inside though. He’s really going to help her. She might actually be able to stay in this faction. 

And spending time with her instructor isn’t exactly a hardship.

She gives a “Thank you” in response and begins to leave the training center, her footsteps light and the only trace of her exit being the sound of the entrance clicking shut.

–––

I stifle the groan I want to let out as my alarm blares beneath my pillow. I shoved it underneath the two pillows that I’d managed to acquire throughout my initiation to try and muffle the noise. Thankfully it worked and the only noise, or rather the only feeling that is escaping is a relentless buzz.

I use two fingers to press against the mirroring sides of the machine simultaneously in order to turn it off. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d awoken the entire dormitory.

I drag myself out of my mattress and begin to clothe myself, my matching black fitted long-sleeve sweater and black workout pants being an absolute pain to put on. I internally curse myself as I have to haul this on. Who told me it was going to be practical to buy this?

Once I’ve deemed myself presentable and not like I’ve just awoken from the pits of hell, I begin my trek to the training center, the clock on the wall reading 4:52 in the morning. As I enter I’m startled when my eyes land on Four. 

But then I’m not. Of course he’s already here. I almost want to roll my eyes.

It’s ridiculous that everything about him is so.. neat. He’s poised, well-balanced, and punctual. He’s never lost his temper. I’ve never once seen this man so much as stumble. And, annoyingly, has never run late for a session. 

Regardless I approach him with a small, “Hi” as I step onto the platform carefully, now standing in front of him.

His intense eyes reach mine and despite what I expected, which was a change of subject, he says in response, “Hi. You’re a bit early”.

I’m a little bit confused given that it’s now 4:56, which means I’m only about 4 minutes ‘early’. But I laugh and quickly take the opportunity to further our conversation. “I didn’t want to be late. You’re doing me a huge favor”.

“Did you think I was going to leave if you weren’t here on time?” His voice is.. amused. His tone is full of dry sarcasm and it has my eyebrow’s shoot up in surprise. He’s actually engaging in genuine conversation; albeit I haven’t managed to pull a smile out of him. Still, it’s far more progress than I thought I was going to get.

I grin, my eyes bright at the possibility that we might become familiar, “Well, I don’t know if I’d exactly put it past you”.

I wonder if I’m hallucinating when I see a flicker of excitement roll through his eyes. But I quickly deny it to myself. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I can’t ruin this opportunity; I need to pass this stage.

There’s a smile on his lips, but it's tilted down, almost as if to prove my accusation. But I get the sense that he’s lying; he wouldn’t have left me here alone if I was late. He’s amused, possibly impressed.

But the smile is quickly wiped off my face when his smile slips off his expression and he becomes Four again. I don’t know who I was talking to just seconds before.. but I like that version of him. Easy going. 

As he talks, he positions me.

He begins a slow drawl of words, “I’ve noticed for you in particular, because of your height and weight, you’d do well in offense. You’re light, and can escape the grip of your opponent rather easily if you learn how”.

I straighten my posture and shiver when he reaches for my two wrists, the words still slipping past his lips, “You need to practice maintaining your space. Don’t let your limbs flail. It’ll stop an opponent from being able to keep a grip on you, understand?”

It’s hard to focus with the way his body is so close to mine. He’s at a respectable distance, but still closer than we’ve encountered before. My eyes flit between his as we make eye contact. I nod slowly to demonstrate my understanding. When his grip loosens he remarks, “Okay. I’m going to charge at you. I’m not going to hit you, but I want you to try and maneuver yourself in a way that will allow you to hit me, and not kill yourself in the process”.

I almost want to laugh at the way he’s phrased that, but I bite my tongue and instead focus on mentally preparing for this. How is that even a possibility? Is there a way for me to hit him while still being out of his reach?

We stand in position, my back straight and my limbs as close to me as possible. My arms are at my side and I’m not in a wide stance in order to evade being slammed onto the platform if he manages to catch a foot.

His stance is much more intimidating. It’s perfected. He could kill me if he wanted too.

I wait for him to approach me, and it’s difficult to resist the temptation to simply bolt out of the way. But I think I’ve come up with a solid plan. I can move at the last second, which will allow me to strike him because his momentum from charging at me will be far too high. 

In this case, his weight is a disadvantage. And for once, mine is at an advantage. Or maybe it’s always at an advantage. I just needed his perspective.

It’s when I’m slightly distracted that he charges at me. I never pegged him for a cheater.

Regardless of my thoughtlessness, I manage to step to the side, only I’m a split second too late. He grips my wrist, which I failed to maintain close to myself in my haste to step away from him. 

He uses his hold on my wrist to pull me close to him, and given how quickly the entire situation is happening, I collide with him, my chest pressed to his. And my palm instinctively presses to his chest in order to maintain a distance, but it only inadvertently has me closer to him. I’m panting a bit as I try to process everything that just happened.

He caught me off guard!

I lift my eyes to his and he’s speaking before I can slip a word in, “You need to focus. Remember to have your limbs as close to you as possible” I nod in agreement and he adds, “That was a very clever strategy. Quick thinking”.

I’m still breathing a bit heavily, as is he, though I don’t know if it’s from the exertion of charging at me.. or because of how closely intertwined we are.

“Thank you”, I mutter with a small smile as I slowly pull my hand away from his chest and he releases my wrist.

He doesn’t reveal a single thought about what just occurred. His breathing is the only possible indication of how he might feel. But as he motions for me to get into my original position again he follows with, “When you’re within an appropriately close distance to your opponent, remember that you have small limbs. Shorter arms, shorter legs. You can use this to help you”.

I don’t quite understand his logic. He recognizes this and begins in my direction. When he starts to get as close as we just were, my eyes widen in surprise but he only says, “Try to knee me”.

I hesitate but I instantly lift my knee to do as he says, I don’t do it hard, only to simulate the motion he’s trying to show me and grin in excitement when I understand what he’s insinuating. At this distance, I can hit him, and it will hurt. But if he attempts to do as I did, it wouldn’t work. His limbs are far too long, and with the small distance between him and I, he can’t even lift his knee.

When I lift my head to meet his eyes, my breath hitches as I realize his head is tilted down to look at me. Which means.. We’re at an incredibly inappropriate distance. I could kiss him if I lifted myself up onto my toes. 

My eyes find his lips briefly, before I snap them back toward his eyes, trying to not trace every detail I can in order to not give myself away. But I’m not the only one who’s feeling affected by this. The words he was about to utter don’t come as they get lodged in his throat.

He’s so close to me, and we’re simply staring at one another as the tension rolls through us.. through the entire training center. Waiting to see who will break it first. I desperately want to stay in this moment, despite how horrible it is to feel attraction for him. He’s my instructor.. there’s no universe where he reciprocates. 

But the way his breathing has increased and his eyes are flitting to my lips says otherwise.

Did I imagine that?

He clears his throat and breaks our eye contact. Turning his attention to my legs, and saying, “Do you understand what I was trying to say?”

I hesitate, still briefly stunned by the moment just there, but I hoarsely respond, “Yes, thank you”.

He goes to his original mark, in position again. I regain control of myself and heavily exhale as I concentrate.

This time, when he charges at me I move in the exact direction I did the first time, knowing that he will have expected me to go the opposite way. 

Reverse psychology. If he can cheat, so can I.

I grin when I see the delayed movement of him coming to the realization that I actually did as he said and managed to evade his grip. And I take this opportunity to strike him, swiping his feet out so that his back slams against the platform.

I almost feel pitiful, but when I see the grin on his face, my pity evaporates. He’s proud of me. He quickly resumes his position and says, “Great. Now try and do it again”.

Though this time his eyes are narrowed, and I frown nervously, contrary to the bubbling pit of excitement running through me as well, when I realize he was being kind. And now he’s going to actually train me.

–––

That's it! I love this so please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to see more! And to @remussbitch who asked to be tagged, here it is. I hope you enjoy.