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Red filled Coriolanus’ thoughts. The red emergency lights, the red splatters of blood, the red he saw as he switched to his most primitive instincts and brought that club down on Bobbin. Once, to get him away, twice, to take him down, three times to make sure he never got back up again. Sickening crunches, blood pooling onto the floor from the district boy’s wounds.
Coriolanus lay awake, shoulder aching beneath his bandages and limbs sore from their overuse. He felt like he’d never make it out of that arena alive; that he’d have sacrificed himself for some boy who couldn’t even be grateful for the opportunities that had been dumped on a silver platter and served up to him without a single ounce of effort. Stupid, emotional Sejanus. So eager to die, for what? Claiming to want to do good yet throwing his life away so meaninglessly, dragging him down while he did so. Coriolanus wanted to scream at him for it.
Yet, Snow couldn’t help but feel consumed by his guilt. Grief for a life he’d taken, all because Dr. Gaul wanted to teach him a lesson about humanity, or something like that. He’d never understand that woman. How dare she force him to do something so cruel, so evil, just for an experiment?
Though, he supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised. That woman had enough horrific experiments in her lab to haunt his dreams for a lifetime. Eugh.
Pushing aside the images of Dr. Gaul and her disgusting experiments, Coriolanus went back to debating with himself. He could still feel his hands wrapped around the club, feel himself bringing it down on the boy from Eight, feel the rush of sickening power it gave him, hearing the sound of the boy’s bones cracking beneath the force of his hits, saving himself from an untimely and worthless death. He didn’t like it. He hated the way the memories made him feel, making his skin itch despite the fact he’d scrubbed them raw the moment he’d returned home.
Yet… He enjoyed it. It made him feel nauseous, it made him feel guilty, but it also made him feel better. It made him feel powerful. The blond boy groaned, running his hands over his face as he finally gave in and sat up.
He’d made a decision. He was going to go over to Sejanus’ and tell him what he really thought of his thoughtless, rash actions. Yes, that was it. That’s all he needed. A good chance to blame Sejanus, see the look of guilt in the other’s eyes and know that he was the innocent one here, really. That would surely fix things.
—
Standing outside the Plinth residence, cool night air making him shiver slightly, he almost reconsidered his decision. He’d knocked and received no answer, rationalising that it was late and the family were all likely asleep. Coriolanus turned, prepared to drop it and leave before Tigris had time to notice he’d left again, when the sound of the door opening and a meek “Coryo..?” was spoken from behind him.
He sighed and turned around. Nevermind, then. Guess he was doing this after all. He opened his mouth, something about how stupid Sejanus had been ready to come out, but the words died on his tongue at the sight of the other. He looked distraught, clearly stressed and upset over the earlier events, and suddenly Coriolanus felt that insulting him further wouldn’t help like he hoped if all the other would do was weep in response.
So, Snow was a little stuck. Floundering to find something to say, watching the brunet with a sudden kind of shyness that was unusual for him. Luckily, Sejanus spared him from his growing embarrassment by speaking up. “I guess you couldn’t sleep either? Come in. My parents are asleep, but we can go to my room.” He whispered, opening the door slightly further to allow room for Coriolanus to make his way inside. He accepted, nodding softly and stepping into the house. Sejanus shut the door behind him and then they were off to his room.
Once Sejanus’ door was shut, he immediately spoke up. “I’m so sorry, Coryo. I’m so sorry for making you go into that arena for me.” He cried, guilt consuming his features. “If I’d known- if I could’ve predicted that it’d be you they sent… shit, I’m so sorry.”
Coriolanus held back a scoff. What good did sorry do? It didn’t take back the fact that they nearly died, didn’t fix the pain in his shoulder and certainly would not bring the tribute he’d mercilessly slaughtered in that arena back to life. Instead, he sighed. “I had to. I couldn’t let you die in there - not when it wouldn’t even mean anything. You’d have been forgotten by the time the sun rose.”
Sejanus looked like he was expecting a different answer. There was conflict in his eyes, a swirling mixture of confusion, guilt, hope and despair. All at once. Sejanus was so incredibly easy to read, so easy to know what to say to. Coriolanus thought it was annoying, yet found it somewhat endearing at the same time. In the way that you’d think of a cat bringing you a dead mouse, he supposed. Repetitively frustrating yet something you couldn’t hold against them because they’d look at you in a certain way and it’d make it almost forgettable. Though, Coriolanus supposed Sejanus was more like a lost puppy. Seeking his validation, longing for his friendship, following him around with such loyal naivety that Coriolanus just couldn’t help but hand what he wanted right to him.
“I suppose so,” Sejanus started, “I wouldn’t have made much of an impression in there after all. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping and a heavy sight slipping from his lips.
There was silence for a long moment, before Coriolanus finally decided to take the lead again. “I can’t stop thinking about it. You know, the boy from Eight.” He admitted, deciding that the truth may not be so bad to share for once. “I can see him, in my mind. Going down, laying there in his own blood. The feeling of hitting him, the noises it made.” He took a shaky breath, willing the sudden choked up feeling he was hit with to go away. “I killed him, Sejanus. Why did I kill him. I didn’t have to finish him off, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
Sejanus approached him carefully, gently, as if he was some wild creature capable of being spooked and running off. Coriolanus hated that, especially the look of pity that accompanied it. “It’s not your fault. You were just trying to survive. You were protecting us. That’s… well, I can’t be angry at you for that.” The brunet spoke, hands moving to hold Coriolanus’. The blond had to fight off the feeling of nausea that overcame him at the contact. Why was he letting Sejanus touch him? The taller spoke up again before he could dwell on the thought any longer. “You saved me, Coriolanus. You saved my life. I can’t thank you enough. Dying in there, it would have been a terrible way to go. At least now you’ve opened my eyes and shown me that I don’t need to die to make a point.” Sejanus looked as though he wasn’t entirely convinced and Snow knew it was because of his overly empathetic heart, trying to make him feel bad for everybody. Stupid Sejanus. Being District born made him so weak, so overly emotional about the tributes. It was sad, really, how horribly ungrateful for what he’d been given that boy could be. Ah well. He supposed Sejanus was right, though he wasn’t entirely keen on the other he knew that a part of him, deep, deep, deep down felt pleased at the other’s words. In a way, it was a slight surprise that Sejanus was choosing to comfort him rather than focus on the life he’d so mercilessly taken. Well, it’d be a surprise if it was anybody other than Sejanus. But the brunet was horridly predictable and Coriolanus knew that the other had probably been mourning for Bobbin before he’d arrived, though he also knew that Sejanus was not the type to lie to spare feelings when it came to the death or suffering of another. It made Coriolanus feel good, knowing that Sejanus trusted him enough to so blindly believe that his actions had been built on self preservation and the instinct to survive and not simply because Coriolanus Snow was, deep down, not that good of a person to begin with.
Snow stayed silent, unsure what to say next. Sejanus moved one hand to hold his face, using a thumb to wipe away tears Coriolanus hadn’t even been aware he’d shed. “It’s okay, Coryo. You did it to survive. He would’ve killed you - would’ve killed us both. You are not a bad person for this.” Sejanus reassured, quietly, so glaringly genuine in his comfort that Coriolanus felt like pulling back and running away. Nobody treated him like this; nobody dared touch him so carefully.
Yet he couldn’t pull away.
Sobs began to wrack his body before he could register them, everything within him screaming to break free and escape but his body feeling unable to move. He couldn’t fight it when Sejanus pulled him in, holding him close to his chest and whispering quiet words of comfort to him. He couldn’t fight it when he was lead over to Sejanus’ bed, pulled down gently and held as they lay down too. He didn’t know what to say, or do, such comfort completely foreign. Coriolanus simply let it happen, no energy left to fight with.
He’d regret it in the morning. When he woke up and slipped out just as the sun began to rise, before the sleeping boy beside him could stir. He’d regret being so vulnerable later, swearing he’d never discuss that night with anybody as he walked home in the crisp morning air and tried to ignore how he felt more rested than he had in a long time.
Sejanus Plinth was district and Snows did not associate themselves with district people. Not then, not now and not ever. Coriolanus wished that he could just forget about the way that it had felt to have the other hold him, but the memory kept replaying in his mind for a very, very long time.