~DANTE~

One of my favorite things about Rain is the way she's always surprising me. Just now, standing outside of her apartment, she showed me a side of her that I've never seen. I have, up until now, tried so hard to be considerate of her needs, of her hesitation to take things any further in our relationship. I have been so concerned about how people have viewed her differently since her incident with Jack that I guess I jumped to the conclusion that she was quite traumatized by it, that she was putting on a tough face for the public and only shows her true face when we are alone together.

But her declaration a moment ago makes me rethink everything. She was looking me square in the eye when she said it so I know it's not just a façade.

As soon as we walk through her apartment door- in full view of several groups of our peers- she releases Queen to begin investigating her new surroundings. As interesting as I find these dogs, I am completely distracted by Rain as she walks down the hall in front of me. In two quick strides I am right behind her, and I gather her into my arms. I can't think of anything to say that would tell her how much I admire that small act of courage she just showed- nothing that wouldn't be ruined by the words themselves- so I just draw her close to me and hold her there. Her back is against my chest, and I can feel her heart beating against mine.

So alive.

Just like the first time I saw her. I didn't understand what it was I was feeling in that moment, but it was something I'd never known before. I just wanted to watch her forever. It didn't matter what she was doing- for God's sake, all she was doing at that moment was walking to the dais in the Hub to choose a faction. She was from Amity, so I figured she would just return to them the way most people return to their faction of origin. The thought never even crossed my mind in those few moments that she would choose Dauntless. I didn't even hope that she would because I'm not that selfish. But I did enjoy watching her.

She walked up to the dais, flicked a strand of hair off her cheek, and picked up the knife that had been set before the five bowls. There was no hesitation in her movements, no evident nervousness in her at all. She stood straight, her head up, her hands steady as she make a small slice in her left palm and extended her hand…

…over the Dauntless bowl.

I was too surprised to react at all. It seemed more like a dream that I'd woken up to find was real. I didn't know what to do. Here was this girl who I had resolved myself to being able to watch for maybe two minutes at the most before she disappeared into the sea of red and yellow, now walking toward me. It dawned on me then that I'd be able to watch her, with that incredible air of confidence and every movement that screamed I am life itself, for the rest of mine… or at least as long as either of us lasted in initiation.

I didn't know how to handle it. So I did what I always do when I start feeling a connection to someone: I shut down. But when she reached us- the rest of the Dauntless initiates there at the Choosing Ceremony- and took a place right beside Erica and me, I felt compelled to communicate with her. I thought that maybe, even though I had chosen to stay with my original faction, that I could start things over and be a different person to her. But as soon as I started to say something, Erica had to add her two cents about my aloof tendencies, and I just shut right down again. It didn't mean I stopped watching her, though. I watched her run with the rest of us from the Hub to the train, watched her climb a little awkwardly into the moving car. And I kept watching her as we jumped off the train again at Dauntless headquarters. She may very well have fallen off the roof moments later if I hadn't been watching.

I knew it was a test: sort of a "survival of the fittest" thing. If initiates fail to jump off the train, or if they fall to the ground while attempting it, that's just part of the elimination process. Technically I should not have helped her. But this warred within me against what is- in my mind- the most prevalent part of the Dauntless Manifesto: We believe in ordinary acts of bravery. And as Dauntless, is it not our job to protect the citizens of our city? Would it not be a brave act to keep her from falling from the rooftop? I decided that it would be cowardice to just let her fall, so I helped her.

I saved her life, and everyone seemed shocked that I'd done it.

I started writing about her in my journal that night. I wrote about her every single day. I would see her in the corridors, or at meals, in the Pit, or by the chasm. She was everywhere, and my eyes followed her each time they found her.

The rest of me longed to do the same.

But at the same time, I knew what might happen if I did. I remember my mother, and I remember Jessie. The two prevalent females in my life: the two who were torn away from me. I didn't want that to happen with Rain, so at my first opportunity to have a conversation with her, I tried to shut her out. But she didn't back down, and that was definitely a surprise. My usual attitude usually sends everyone away in a huff, but not her. She saw right through it, and pushed me for a reason for my behavior. For the first time in my life, someone who wasn't related to me really wanted to know something about me. Even Jessie had never persisted with questions: she just accepted my introversion as part of who I was. But Rain did.

And I couldn't say no, not to her. So I decided to let her in. It was harder than I thought it would be.

When Four came to a few of the Dauntless-born initiates asking for one of us to help him with some special training of another initiate, I hoped beyond hope that it would be her so I volunteered. I was lucky. But when we were alone together, I found that I had no idea how to talk to her about anything but training. It frustrated me to the point of distraction, especially because the words I wanted so badly to say to her flowed out of me like a river when I put my pen to paper. So one night I decided to re-read what I'd written, and use some of that to tell her that I was falling for her. Hard.

But I knew that the words would never come, or I'd screw them up somehow, or I'd stumble over them and end up sounding like an idiot. That was when I decided I would just let her read what I had written about her. She deserved to know.

It happened quickly after that; probably starting when she kissed me after reading my journal in the training room that night. It felt like she had unlocked something in me, and now a door I'd always kept so tightly shut was swinging open, setting free everything I had pent up behind it.

I

Felt

Alive.

And I felt it even more when I was around her. I found that I could say things to her, to talk to her the way I'd only written before. I'd wanted to be like her, and now it was happening. Because I was falling in love with her. And it was the most freeing experience I've ever known.

When I thought I'd lost her, it was terrifying. I was more scared of having to live without her than I was of dying, or of my divergence being discovered. She knew me well enough to know this, and she played it out very well. I was convinced that I'd lost her, but not for one second did I ever stop loving her. And, it seems, she never stopped loving me. When she came back to me later and told me why she had done what she had, I understood that it must have been as painful for her as it had been for me. I couldn't reject her then. I wouldn't.

I owe her everything.

As I press a kiss to the side of her neck while her eyes follow Queen across the room, I can only hope that she understands all this. She leads me forward a few more paces until we are in her living room, and then she leans back against me. Her hands wrap gently around my forearms and her head falls back to rest on my collarbone. In the dim light of her apartment, her hair gleams like the last rays of light peeking from beneath a cloudbank at sunset on a stormy day. I could get caught up staring at it all night.

"Come on," she whispers to me at length. "Let's sit and see what she does."

I disentangle myself from Rain, but she keeps the fingers of one hand interlaced with mine. She leads me to her couch and we sit, leaning against each other shoulder to shoulder, watching Queen carefully explore the room with eyes and nose. Every now and then she glances in our direction, but I am sure she is looking at Rain and not at me. It's fascinating to watch the bond that's formed between them, and I think it's part of the reason that I have taken so quickly to Queen: I identify with her on that level. We both have something special with Rain.

At length the dog wanders over to us, and we both reach out and scratch a side of her head. She looks blissfully pleased with the attention, and after a few moments she relaxes and lies down on the couch in front of us. She lets out a deep sigh and slowly closes her eyes. Rain and I watch her, then look up and meet each other's eyes at the same time. There is a heavy, deep expression in hers: one that I have come to recognize as the one she gives me when she wants me to kiss her. But she is not leaning into me; instead she sits very still and just stares at me.

Like she's waiting for something.

It doesn't take me long to guess at what she is asking. I feel my pulse quicken, and I swallow reflexively. She reaches out and brushes her fingers across my cheek, along my jaw, down my neck. She stops at the collar of my shirt, her feather-light touches grazing my skin just beneath it. She shifts closer, eyes never leaving mine, until she's kneeling beside me on the couch. I reach for her, and she throws herself into my arms, kissing me hard. Caught off guard, I am thrown off balance and fall back onto the couch cushions.

She doesn't stop.

Stretched over me, Rain reaches for the hem of my shirt and pulls it up over my head. In the moment that our lips separate, I whisper her name.

"What?" She whispers back, but doesn't wait for an answer. She pressed her mouth back to mine.

I wrap my arms around her again, pulling her against my bare chest. Her hands are still working, and she pulls her own shirt off. I squeeze my eyes shut.

I want this, I do. I want to look at her like this. I want to feel her bare skin against mine. I want to kiss her, all over, and I want to…

But I want it to be special, not impulsive.

"Rain," I mumble against her lips. We break apart again.

"Dante, what?" Her whisper is rough, like her breathing.

"I…" I start. How do I say this to her? "Are you sure about this?" I ask her after a second's hesitation.

She also hesitates, then replies "Yes."

Her voice is steady and resolute, but it's not the answer I wanted. She leans in to kiss me again.

"Well, I'm not," I reply quickly. She freezes, the heat in her eyes fading as confusion replaces it.

"What…?" She seems at a loss.

"I just… I want this, I do. I want you. But… it's your first time. It's mine." It feels awkward to say it out loud, but it's true. "I want it to be…" I trail off. God, it sounds like such a cliché.

"Want it to be what?" She presses. I don't say anything for a moment. I have to look away.

"Dante, would you please tell me what you're thinking?" She sounds a little annoyed, or frustrated.

"I want it to be more than a spur of the moment fling on your couch, okay?" I look back into her eyes. Hurt is creeping into her expression. I reach up and cup her face in my hands, caressing her cheekbones with my thumbs. "You're too special to me for that. I want your first time- our first time- to be something we'll remember as part of our love, not raw lust getting the better of us.

"Don't get me wrong. I want this, I am ready, but I want to wait until it feels perfect. Like you."