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He still doesn’t walk well. Coriolanus isn’t even sure what had motivated him to pick his cane, and go when it was clear that they were hours away from the end of Walk. Coriolanus made the two hour drive peacefully, flashing his ID being more than enough to grant him access past the crowds.
He had seen the boy, Sejanus. Before Walk he had seemed potentially suicidal. On the finish line he wasn’t much more than a walking corpse. He didn’t need to keep going after the second to last boy had fallen, a small rivulet of blood leaking from his mouth, but the message wasn’t reaching Sejanus’ brain. First he tried to run, repeating the desperate plea that he didn’t want to die, and then was slowly, clumsily fighting the helping hands. They had to use a sedative before loading him into the waiting ambulance.
Coriolanus stayed by the new winner’s side. He is an old winner, one of the favourite boys, and one of those rare cases who hadn’t been carried to a loony bin yet. Nobody questioned his presence at Sejanus’ hospital bed. While Sejanus rested, slowly recovering and regaining his strength, Coriolanus brought him books, magazines and fruits, spots of colour to brighten the dismal hospital room. Sejanus was gray too, but he gave Coriolanus pretty, shy smiles, when he arrived.
”Who are you?” he asked, voice only curious, not frustrated or accusing.
”Coriolanus Snow.” It’s a well-known name in this country, and clearly Sejanus was also connecting a name and a face.
They had talked about Walk too, Sejanus feeling so suffocated in his father’s home, and wanting to do one thing showing that he was his own person.
”You could have moved to the other side of the country. No need to kill yourself.”
”You won too. Two years ago.”
He had done that. Coriolanus had given his blood, and almost his sanity too on Walk, reaching a financial security, but losing something essential of himself in the process. He didn’t live. He existed in his beautiful coastal house, and Sejanus had been the first thing to awaken his curiosity in a very long time.
He is too stubborn to just wait for death so every morning Coriolanus leaves his bed, grateful for days when his abused legs and bones don’t bother him too much. He knows the dangers of medications, and drugs, and thankfully the pain is rarely bad enough for his body to beg a pill.
People look at him like something that has already died, but he goes to the city, sensing the empty valley between them, and always keeping his head high. They don’t understand, but they can’t drive him away either.
Gradually Sejanus was getting stronger, handling their small walks to the garden of the hospital and back. He avoided the eyes and curiosity of other patients, but talked to Coriolanus of better, more hopeful times. Once, without asking for permissions from anybody Coriolanus took him out of the hospital property. They walked for fifteen minutes, reaching the quiet river, and had a picnic near a small swimming spot.
”Feels like a date”, Sejanus mumbled, clearly not having planned saying that aloud.
”It could be”, Coriolanus had promised, a long buried feeling tugging his chest. They hadn’t said anything else about that topic, but Sejanus was lovely, when he blushed, and there was something sweet and excited in the air.
Later, when Sejanus was starting to look more living than dying, Coriolanus had carefully packed him in his car, and driven the other boy to his house in Maine.
”What are you doing?” he only softly asked, Coriolanus giving a dry laugh at the words. ”I’m not kidnapping you. You are free to go any time.”
”I don’t want to go. I want to be with you.”
”That would be a pleasure.” He’d be happy to help Sejanus to stay out of the loony bin too. Coriolanus knows what had happened to him, and wouldn’t be asking gross questions.
He had made the bed in the guest room that smelled a little stale and dusty. Coriolanus tidied up and brought in one of his room fragrances, letting the faint vanilla spread into the air.
Maybe Coriolanus should have offered to share a room. It’s very early, around two am, when the little, sad noises wake him up. He covers his loose t-shirt with a hoodie, and leaves his own bedroom.
Sejanus is quietly crying, still in the no man’s land between sleep and consciousness, the tears cold on his cheeks.
”Sejanus, hey, wake up.” He has to raise his voice a little bit, when the first attempt doesn’t bring a reaction.
Sejanus gasps and sits up on the bed, pulling air in his burning lugs.
”I got you.” Coriolanus doesn’t do comfort well, he has been worrying only about himself for a long time, but he holds Sejanus in the dark room, listening to his heavy breathing and feeling the fear in his body.
Finally he stops shaking.
”It will get better.” Not easier, exactly, but Sejanus would learn to live with it, and appreciate being alive.
”Do you want to stay up for a bit?” Coriolanus is offering, sensing Sejanus’ fear towards the idea of sleep.
”If it’s not too much ask to ask.”
”Not at all.” He waits until Sejanus has found a long-sleeved shirt to wear, and wraps the other boy in a blanket. Coriolanus leads him to the second floor balcony, where they can watch the gentle waves of the sea.
Sejanus leans on him, trusting and soft, and they both sigh.