I'VE ALWAYS HATED the fact that I have slight sleep-apnea. To be put more simply, I've been told that although quite lightly, I do, in fact, snore. Because of this not only is my mouth dry but a rancid taste accumulated overnight. Stupid bacteria. I can feel the early morning sun gently peeking in through the glass windows, illuminating the otherwise dim room with light golden rays. I lie on my side with my eyes still closed, until I decide to muster up the strength to let them flutter open. Even though I'm at least a metre or two away, the first thing that stands out amongst the homely aesthetic are Peter's features pressed against his pillow looking back at me. I send him a small smile from where I am, which he returns instantly. His eyebrows are genuinely turned up and his freckled cheekbones are more prominent with the lighting, even though he has slight bags under his eyes.
"Hey," he says.
"Good morning."
"Feeling better?"
"Oh yeah," I reply enthusiastically. "I so needed that sleep. But you! Your injury was way worse than mine – Is your arm feeling any better?"
He laughs a little. "Well." I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not bleeding, and there's no longer a bullet in my arm. Yet, I'm in need of that raspberry salve they were giving us. Speaking of which, you should go reapply some to your hand."
"That's second on my to-do list. First is brushing my teeth."
"Go then," he instructs dramatically. "I can't really go anywhere anyways." I roll my eyes and leave for the bathroom.
A few minutes later, I return with fresh breath and a slightly achy hand. Aside from Peter, who is still lying on the cot, the only other person I recognize is the sandy-haired nurse that took care of me yesterday. His shadow casts on the ground, an silhouette of his frame amongst everything else in the room, displayed through the slightly less golden yet equally enchanting light of the sun.
"You're back," Peter says with a crooked grin. This causes Jackson to swivel around and meet my gaze. He smiles with his blueish-greenish eyes at me and steps aside so I can sit on my cot.
"Hi Peter," I respond, before following with a "Hey Jackson."
Jackson sets a fresh glass of water on the table next to my bed before picking up and shaking the bottle of my antibiotic capsules.
"Have you taken your morning dose yet?"
"Er..." I trail off. "No?"
Jackson rolls his eyes. "So. Take 'em now," he laughs, tossing me the small bottle. I unscrew the lid and pop a pill in my mouth, quickly washing it down my throat with a wave of water. "Anyways," Jackson continues. "The reason I'm here is not only to check up on you, but to 1, tell you that you'll be meeting with Johanna and the rest of Amity in an hour and a half, and 2, let you know breakfast is ready in the caf. If you feel up to it, you can follow me."
I look at Peter. He raises his eyebrows at me, like he's asking if I'm hungry. Obviously. I roll my eyes with enough sarcasm that I don't even need to speak, and nod.
"Um... do you, by any chance, know if there are blueberry muffins?"
"Baked fresh with our own produce. Nice and warm too, from when I last checked."
At the sound of my all-time favourite load of carbs, I immediately spring up from where I was sitting and look Jackson dead in the eye.
"Take me to the muffins, male nurse."
Jackson just laughs at my antics as he goes to help Peter up and out of the cot before leading us to the abundance of baked goods and breakfast foods.
• • •
NEEDLESS TO SAY, the cafeteria is gorgeous even without the load of glorious muffins praying to be eaten. Luckily for the muffins, their prayers are answered the moment I set foot within the building. Like all the other structures in the Amity sector, the materials used are mainly wood and glass, which contribute to a homey yet rustic aesthetic. Although the other buildings can be pretty as well, the scenery here was rather extraordinary. The roof was made of glass, which allowed natural sunlight to shoot inside at just the right angles, while the wood make the structure feel calming but stable and secure simultaneously.
My eyes linger on the clear view of flowers with fresh dew and leaves on trees dancing lightly in the slight breeze. The Amity compound is the exact opposite of the Dauntless compound; the roar of the chasm replaced by the serene streams, the harshly sculpted rock walls as opposed to wood and glass. To my surprise, though, is that both places make me calm and feel secure. I could spend forever here. If it weren't for the constant bubbliness everywhere and excessive cheer. I swear they drug the water or the bread or something.
"Alas, Miss Dauntless soldier," Jackson says jokingly in a formal tone, "your muffins are awaiting you. Right over there." I immediately sprint in the direction my nurse points in, which happens to be all the way on the other side of the building. I only have two things on my mind; one, how hungry I am; and two, how I can smell the muffins from metres away, which brings me back to point one.
"Take it easy, princess." I abruptly slow my pace to a speed walk and turn around to face whoever is talking to me. "I get that you're hungry, I really do, but I'm tired. At least you grabbed onto my good arm," Peter smirks. My eyes travel down to where my fingers are entwined with his before I meet his sparkling green eyes again.
"If I'm a princess... aren't you just a peasant?"
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far..."
"P-E-A-S-A-N-T. What does that spell? Peasant. Of course, you wouldn't know that, 'cause you're a peasant."
"You're such a Nose."
"You're a pansycake." I start dragging Peter to the muffins again as soon as my stomach makes its presence known. If I don't hurry up, they'll all be gone. Then I'll be angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry AND muffin deprived.
"Pansycake?" Peter laughs. "You must be really getting hungry."
"No," I tease, "it's Dauntless slang. 'Cause I'm a gangsta."
"I thought you were a princess. Plus, haven't you heard of Aladdin? He was a peasant and ended up with a beautiful princess. Hmm, I wonder what that reminds me of?"
I roll my eyes and laugh as we get to the muffins. I immediately snatch one and bite into the top. Something in it makes it taste artisan and wonderful – almost as good as Dauntless muffins. There's something different about them, something good, but I can't put my finger on it. Instead, I close my eyes and chew.
"Mmmmm."
Peter tries to let go of my hand. I don't think so, peasant. My grip tightens as my fingers wrap more tightly around his.
"As much as I love holding your hand, and believe me, I do," Peter says. My heart uncharacteristically flutters at the word love. "My other hand is in a sling and my stomach is going to start eating itself if I don't get food in my mouth within the next minute." A little aggravated at having to let go, I comply, muttering "damn you, Tris," under my breath.
"You know, you'd actually start living off any excess fat."
"And I don't have any. I'm pure muscle."
"That's not healthy, you imb–"
"Shhh," he says, pressing his index finger to my lips, which soon curl up into a smile. "You get the point." His hand gravitates towards the plates as he grabs one for each of us. I smile and take one from him, immediately loading it with another two muffins. They're soon joined by heaps of other breakfast foods including eggs, sausages, pancakes, and such. A wide smile situates itself on my face after I take a few bites from assorted things while waiting for Peter to finish. My eyes settle on him as he reaches across me to get some toast. As he brings the toast back to his plate, he glances up at me curiously.
"What's got you in such a good mood?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's a little hard to describe – oh, look, there's a table – you just seem happier than you normally are." I follow Peter to whichever table he spotted. We take a seat at a vacant pretty wooden table with perfect lighting. I'm surprised nobody is sitting here.
"How do you mean?"
"Your voice is more fluttery for one. You're smiling with your eyes and you have faint dimples in your cheeks. And, you're just smiling. Really big." Peter smiles too. He pops a piece of bagel in his mouth while I stare. He continues to eat until he realizes I still haven't dropped my gaze.
"What?"
"What?" I say in my best Peter voice. He rolls his eyes.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Eat? Oh, yeah!" I laugh. "I forgot." Peter looks at me weirdly as I shovel more food into my mouth. "Mmmmm. I love muffins. They're really good. Do you like muffins? Of course you do. Everyone likes muffins. Do you want some muff–"
"Are you okay, Jax?" I frantically nod my head as Peter raises his eyebrows. "You sure?" I continue to nod my head as I finish chewing the next piece of muffin I put in my mouth. Muffins are so good. Peter studies me with raised eyebrows.
"Are you okay, peasant?" I say teasingly. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. I giggle when he mumbles a faint "now I am." He immediately pulls away so he can look me in the eye.
"Did you just giggle?"
"Yeah, I guess." I giggle again.
"This is different. But judging from the fact that you're actually hugging me right now, I'm not going to do anything about it."
"Okay."
"Okay."
• • •
AFTER ANOTHER HALF hour passes, Peter and I are still sitting at the same table. My breakfast is long gone while his grew cold fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he's not hungry. Marcus comes into view and stops at our table.
"The Amity are going to vote on whether or not we can stay now. Follow me, please."
Peter pulls me up from my seated position and guides me after Marcus. I presume he's come to the conclusion that I'm not thinking straight, but I feel perfectly fine. Better, actually, if that's possible. Marcus ushers us out of the cafeteria and pushes us gently into the stream of people dressed in fluttery yellow fabric. Soon enough, another building comes into view; a fairly squat dome completely made of glass panes. I can see even from far away an array of different plants growing around and inside, yet still letting the sun shine in from various different angles. The Amity flow through the doors like their clothes would flow through the wind, and lead us into the building. As the crowd thins, a gigantic tree presents itself in the center of the room with poor air circulation. The replacement of soil with water directs my attention away from the humidity sure to cause frizzy hair and the not quite blistering but definitely uncomfortable heat.
Johanna Reyes stands on one of the spaces where the deep roots overlapped while trying to get everyone's attention. Johanna is the representative of Amity rather than the leader, since the Amity don't have a leader, but she still has to do a lot of the work to initiate the voting and such. The members of their faction sit cross-legged on the ground surrounding the tree as the Abnegation sit in tight rows slightly to the left. Marcus, Peter and I make our way towards the small section of grey slacks and oversized sweaters and take a seat. I soon make eye contact with Four, who is with Tris, as he guides her over to where we sit. I peer at Johanna's scarred face and the hair draping over it like a curtain intently; I'm trying to picture what she would look like without the marks tarnishing her still-pretty face. A warm jolt wavers through my fingers and up my arm when Peter laces the fingers of his good hand with mine, which causes me to stop observing Johanna and eye the familiar olive skin against mine. I discreetly look upwards at Peter to see a faint smile toying on his lips even though his eyes are set on the agricultural feat of the tree.
And then she starts to speak.
• • •
A/N hey guys!
As promised, here's the next chapter of Duplicity. I'm still finishing up the rest of the chapters so updates are going to be slow, but I'll actually be putting up more parts. I'll let you know when I'm completely finished writing, but until then you'll have to wait!
I'm sorry it took a while for this to come out, but I felt bad for leaving you hanging. This is still the Amity part, but updates will be more frequent when more *dramatic* stuff happens.
QOTD: what's your favourite food?
Thanks for reading, commenting voting and sharing!
Until next time,
~Tori