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“Congratulations on your graduation!”
His peers wore their fake smiles, as they bowed their heads, shook his hand, waved. They offered him polite, amiable words of congratulations. None of it truly mattered. He knew, deep inside, the only peer who would have ever offered genuine words, who was never truly jealous of him… That was the one peer he had betrayed. Killed.
He tried not to think too much of the past when it was his Graduation day.
“Dear boy, I’m so proud of you,” his Grandma’am gave him a tight squeeze, before holding his shoulders, staring over at him with great pride, “You remind me of your father!”
Tigris trailed behind Grandma’am, offering him a small smile that never reached the eyes.
“Just like your father,” she echoed, no readable thought behind those eyes. A shiver crawled up his spine, but he ignored it.
“Thank you, Tigris, Grandma’am,” he spoke instead.
When he got home from all the festivities, he placed his diploma on his desk without a thought. He didn’t care for a piece of paper. He cared that his amateur days as an Academy student were over. He was going to move ahead, do bigger things, aim higher, achieve greatness.
And yet.
A part of him felt empty.
He wouldn’t fool himself into not knowing why. He knew why.
Falling into his bed, he tilted his head toward the window, watching the Capitol outside.
The one thing he had truly wanted, that he never got. It wasn’t beside him. It wasn’t close to him. It was gone.
And it was all his fault.
He closed his eyes tightly, attempting to forget about everything.
Forget. Forget. Forget.
He couldn’t forget.
But he was grateful when Tigris’ voice sounded from outside his room, calling for him, as Dr. Gaul was waiting for his presence in her office.
His days in the University were slow, but his nights, being tutored under Dr. Gaul’s wing. They were fast, paced. Every night, he had something new to do under her tutelage.
He did his best to occupy himself with what she expected of him. A part of him, a part of him still shivered at the presence of the elderly lady. A part of him was still reminded of what she had done. To those District Tributes. To Sejanus. To her. To him.
However, he did good in ignoring it. Soon, he forgot about those thoughts. They escaped somewhere to the depths of his memories, while he focused on work. At home, at the University, with Dr. Gaul.
And he hoped that it would remain that way. But it didn’t. When the 11th Hunger Games came running around. He was reminded. And then the 12th. The 13th. The 14th. Year after year. He tried his best. But every time he was forced to watch and plan with Dr. Gaul. Every time he met the eye of a District 12. Or even a poor Tribute girl, who was around the age of her. Or resembled her. He would be reminded of everything.
His wishes to forget didn’t disappear even after his time at the University had passed. When he continued to take the role as Gamemaker, without Dr. Gaul’s assistance.
Because every night, when he wasn’t busy with work and study. His memories would drift off, and he would think about her and him. He would think about before everything. And he would fall asleep to those bittersweet memories. Sometimes those bittersweet memories would be transformed into sweet fantasies. Other times, he would wake up to a night terror of those bittersweet memories transformed into something even more terrible than they already were.
He eventually did manage to push those feelings and thoughts away. When he was elected as a young President, he could have finally said, ‘Snow lands on top’. He had reached everything. He was at the pinnacle. Nothing could have stopped him. Nothing.
As President, he could no longer think of futile things and busy himself with fantasies and memories. He had the Capitol to take care of. He had Panem to take care of.
Paperwork filled at his desk. He was called every moment by someone who needed to speak with him, someone who wanted to discuss plans with him. Eyes of the citizens focused on him, surrounding him.
He couldn’t waste away at the thought of some girl.
Some girl he had protected. Some girl he had risked his life for. Some girl he had thrown away everything for. Some girl he had loved.
Indeed, despite everything. Despite how many times he tried to occupy himself, how many glasses of hard alcohol he tried to waste himself away with.
Nothing could stop the ghost of Lucy-Gray from wandering into his mind.
And then he finally realized it one night, with a bitter laugh into the cold, ice air.
Lucy-Gray was not his. She was never, ever his. Ever.
Coriolanus Snow was hers.
And he had always been hers.
That night, Coriolanus Snow wept into his bed and began to regret for the first time.
He took the morphine for the first time that day, something he had learned from his old Dean Highbottom.
And he drifted to sleep with a fantasy of what could have happened. What would have happened. If he had just given her everything. If he had just trusted in her.
Sleep.