#trisy

-Tris drives over to Tracy's house and takes a deep breath before exiting his truck and approaching her door, knocking once before letting himself in- Trace? It's me.

For the first time in a year, Tris genuinely felt happy. His heart was warmed inside his chest and his mind buzzed with inner conflicts and unanswered questions. But there was one question he had the answer to and that was all he cared about. Tracy loved him and he loved her. Even after his change, after all the fights, the insults, the torturing, the arguments, and the heartbreak, she was still his Trace, and she always would be. Holding her hand tightly in his, Tristan helped her out of his truck and into his house, immediately pressing her against the door and capturing her lips in a passionate, longing kiss. It felt as if no time had passed between them and he lifted her up, never breaking the kiss as he carried her to his bedroom, placing her gently on his bed and hovering over her, pulling away briefly. "This is okay, right? I don't want to pressure you, Trace." Tris asked before, eagerly, he leaned in again and started trailing kisses down her neck and collar bone, his hands rubbing up and down her thighs slowly.

"What the fuck was I thinking? Why the hell am I taking her on another fucking date? I'm a goddamn shit for brains, that's what I am. Stupid, stupid stupid." Tris kicked his dresser, ignoring the lamp that managed to topple off of it and shatter into pieces across his floor. Any second now, he was going to lie down on the shards of broken glass just to feel pain to distract him from the emotional torture he was feeling over Tracy. "It's not fucking right!" He yelled out, kicking his bed post and flinching a bit at the throbbing pain that shot up his leg. "Fuck." Muttering to himself, Tristan glared at his reflection in the full length mirror that hung from his closet, examining the black jeans and gray thermal he was dresses in. Clean, for the first time in months, after Tris had finally decided to do a load of laundry. "I must be going mad." He muttered aloud, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, let's go you fucking twat." He yelled at his reflection, turning on his heel and storming out of his house towards his truck. When he climbed in, Tristan deliberated even showing up for a good five minutes before cursing again and pulling out of his driveway, speeding down the street towards Tracy's house. Sooner that he would've liked, he ended up in front of her house and parked the car, stepping out to take a couple breaths of the cool, winter air. "Fucking hell." Grumbling several more profanities under his breath, Tristan slowly walked up to her door and knocked hesitantly, shoving his hands in his pockets while he waited for her.