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Chapter Text

The Dark Days of war between the Capitol and the Districts had taken nearly everything from Coriolanus; his parents, his fortune, and every lavish drop of true power that had been his birthright. All except Tigris and the Grandma’am. As a child, he’d been furious and confused, but as he’d grown, those cloudy, unfocused feelings had refined into a sharpened dagger of disdain pointed straight at anyone who posed further threat to his decidedly-complex rise to power.

Despite being a pessimist realist hardened by the fallout of war and desparation, Coriolanus knew that all successful politicians knew how to find the silver lining with the shitty cards that life dealt to its metaphorical players. Anyone dealt his hand would have undoubtedly crumbled under the pressure, but not Coriolanus. It would be terribly unbecoming of a Snow, after all. He was better than that. He needed to be.

The Dark Days had brought pain and torn the easy life that should have been his straight from his hands, but with the struggle came a tenacity that Coriolanus knew was unmatched among his snobby, cushioned peers at the Academy. Not that he was bragging, simply… observing. That was something he’d become exceptional at since his boyhood, perfecting the art of watching and creating an image so real, it would become reality through pure will.

What hadn’t managed to kill him had undoubtedly made him stronger, more independent. So what if he went days while subsisting only on the rationed lunches of the Academy? His peers were simply weaker for needing the extra calories to make it through the day and perform academically in a way that paled in comparison to Coriolanus’s outwardly struggle-free efforts. Sure, a good hearty breakfast or filling dinner would be welcomed, but when there were only two portions and neither Coriolanus nor Tigris could bring themselves to starve the Grandma’am, oftentimes he would push Tigris to take the meal instead of him. She’d already sacrificed so much in rearing him into the young man he was today, the least he could do was ensure his beloved cousin went to her pitiful job with some bland cabbage stew in her stomach.

There was a pride that sat heavy in his soul, constantly praising him for surviving, no, excelling , with less sustenance. He should be proud, shouldn’t he? He was thriving even without the four-course meals that undoubtedly would’ve been served every evening had the Snow fortune not gone up in smoke alongside District 13. And his classmates? They were none the wiser. Coriolanus was regularly praised for his lean, attractive figure, perfect skin (untainted by greasy, heavy meals), perfect grades, perfect manners, and perfect image. He deserved it all with what he’d been through, hadn’t he? Smaller or nonexistent portions were a small hurdle to overcome to keep his expertly crafted castle of a facade standing.

As much as it pained him to acknowledge it, the castle felt like it was crumbling. A bout of final examinations and projects had never hit Coriolanus this hard before, and the careful balancing act that was his life was precariously teetering closer to an edge of reputation-destroying exposure with each passing day.

He’d grown accustomed to the swirling hunger pains that were now a permanent characteristic of his body; the pain often kept the exhaustion at bay and allowed him to focus on his notes or readings. He had adapted to the lightheadedness and black spots that would swim through his head by deliberately taking long, methodical seconds to stand up and collect his things after a class. He had become an expert in hiding his hands that constantly trembled from a low blood sugar by always having a collected resting posture and manipulating any writing utensil with a death grip that left no room for shaky mistakes.

But these past few days had felt… different. A new breed of discomfort gnawing at his will, and it was undeniably grating. The Academy was going through a week where the lunches were even more sparing than normal, some days being supplemented with the all-too-familiar nutrition crackers that brought Coriolanus back to his desperate childhood. Academy staff encouraged students to bring in additional sustenance if the provided lunch was not satisfactory. Too bad Coriolanus had nothing extra to pack. Not that Tigris needed to know the situation at the Academy, nor did his peers need to know the real reason their proud classmate didn’t bother to bring anything extra. The aching in his gut had not yet overtaken his will to remain in control.

Coriolanus prided himself on always having an ear open and absorbing the conversations of his classmates. He was a silent snake constantly intaking gossip or information and analyzing his peers’ opinions of him. It kept him on his toes and made sure his mask never slipped. The spoiled teens surrounding him in Academy crimson uniforms prattled on about their senseless, trivial lives. It took all of Coriolanus’s will not to roll his eyes.

The senseless, trivial prattling was particularly grating today, though, as each conversation warbled in through either of his ears and sent a rumbling pain through his tired mind.

“Hey, Coryo. How was your weekend?”

Ah, Plinth. The only thing that could worsen his growing headache. Coriolanus hardly had the energy to spare dealing with the District boy’s pathetic socialization today. So much so that he didn’t bother correcting his use of the nickname reserved for Tigris. But Snow lands on top, and as such, he turned to Sejanus with a taut smile and gave a crafted response of, “it was fine. I’ve been studying for the arithmetic exam in between assisting Tigris with selecting the new furniture sets for the penthouse.”

Sejanus smiled right back, a disgustingly genuine one with teeth and creasing around the eyes. Coriolanus took pity on how easily he read the other boy; Sejanus was an open book, one that was not meant for the ruthless games of the Capitol.

“I’m ready to get this last final assigned and get it over with, I have no idea what Dean Highbottom has planned for us,” Sejanus continued. 

“Mhm,” Coriolanus grumbled as kindly as his manners allowed him to. The pounding in his temples urged him to rub his forehead; without thinking, he gave into the temptation. With that moment of weakness, his body retorted with further sabotage as his pained stomach gave a low growl. Damnit. Plinth is going to ask questions now, you fool.

Predictably, Sejanus’s brow scrunched up with concern. He opened his mouth to air a query but was cut short.

The rumble of conversation within the room silenced quickly as Highbottom stumbled into the room, eyes cloudy, a clear sign he’d just downed a vial of morphling. Typical for the sad little man. Normally when the dean was high, they got out early so he could enjoy the peak of his indulgence without the chatter of youth. Coriolanus usually sneered at this trend of time usage, but today, he cared little. Whatever would get him out of this lecture hall and to a drinking fountain where he could silence his body with some water.

“Now…” Highbottom drawled, “this is a crucial career prospective project meant to simulate the sorts of debate and formal discussion you may have in the future as a member of Capitol high society. I’m sure most of your parents have groomed you into hopeful young political figures… this final is meant to test which of you actually have the skill to handle the logistical side of decision making. I suspect most of you will be grossly humbled after your term scores release.”

Highbottom’s words jumbled together and Coriolanus was doing everything in his power not to tune the man out, until a key set of words tore him from his pathetic self-loathing over his stomach ache:

“This will be a partnered project, naturally, as we’re assessing your discussion abilities. I’ve assigned partners based on the midterm topic submissions and personal interest. Partners are listed on the paper making its way around the room.

If you have issues with your partner, figure it out. That’s life. You’re dismissed.”

Coriolanus moved slowly and deliberately as he collected his items into his bookbag and breathed deeply as he went to stand. His flawless strategy that had fought off lightheadedness with a 0% fail rate was suddenly… failing? Dark spots swam across his vision as the room spun and the floor suddenly seemed even further away from him. Unconsciously, Coriolanus grabbed the edge of the desk to steady himself as he waited for the the onslaught of dizziness to pass. He silently cursed himself for this slip up.

As if his immensely stressful week couldn’t have gotten any worse, his eyesight cleared just enough to graze the partner assignment sheet as he passed it along the row. The name listed on the paper sat passively, yet taunted him nonetheless:

Group 6 : Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth ( Topic: Moral stances around the expansion and diversification of arms and weaponry within Panem )

Fantastic, Coriolanus thought, his mental dialogue dripping with disdain. Sejanus, on the other hand, seemed to have an appropriate amount of joy. Quickly, Coriolanus devised a plan to rid himself of a responsibility shared with the District boy as soon as possible.

“Would you mind meeting up this evening to get a draft done? I do not anticipate this being incredibly difficult and have other classes I would prefer to study for,” Coriolanus proposed cooly.

“No problem, Coryo. Do you want the servants to prepare anything in particular for dinner? Ma’s raised me to be a good host,” Sejanus awkwardly, yet earnestly, offered.

“No thank you, friend,” Coriolanus regretted the use of the label immediately. “I will be eating with Tigris and my grandmother, like normal, so I’ll be fine.”

As Coriolanus stood on the imposing front steps of the Plinth property with the cold winter wind whipping around him, he began to wonder if he was decidedly not fine. The nausea building since the end of the school day was growing stronger, despite Coriolanus’s stomach having next to no food inside to upset it. The snow that had melted on his painfully thin jacket from the walk over was threatening to seep down and soak his clothes; he shivered anyways. He clenched his jaw tightly to stop his teeth from chattering as he went to clang the heavy brass knocker against the ornate front door.

The door whipped open, and Coriolanus was ambushed by the warmth of the Plinth house. He blinked to allow his eyes to adjust from the dark, imposing outside to the warm light inside. When everything settled, Coriolanus was surprised to see Sejanus Plinth himself to be the one who’d answered the door. Coriolanus wondered to himself if Sejanus was so righteous about everything that he refused to use the Avoxes in service to his family. Typical, brutally, disgustingly kind Sejanus Plinth.

Normally, he would spend more time pontificating on silent berations against his classmate, but today, all Coriolanus wanted was to finish this stupid assignment and then head home where he could curl up in his thin covers and will the aches and protests roaring inside his body to disappear. He hoped Sejanus couldn’t see how close he was to losing his perfect composure.

“Can I take your coat, Coryo? We can work on the project in the second floor study. Ugh, of course the Plinth’s had a second floor study.

“Sure, I’ve already drawn up a few rough points for an outli-” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wince as a deep twisting pain coursed through his gut.

“Are you okay?” Sejanus immediately asked, concern plastered across his earnest face.

Shit.

“Yes, of course. Something from dinner is taking a little to settle, that’s all.”

A lie. A lie that Sejanus took with apprehension.

“Alright… do you want some water? That might help.”

Coriolanus didn’t need any help from anyone, especially not a district worm like Sejanus. But the well-mannered survivalist part of his mind was screaming at him to accept the offer. He convinced himself that the manners drove his response.

“That sounds great, thank you, Sejanus.”

“Here, the kitchen is just this way. I’ll grab us some cookies to snack on while we work too. Ma and my dad are at some banquet right now so we won’t be interrupted.”

Coriolanus was slow to follow Sejanus’s route to the grand kitchen filled to the brim with fresh savory sustenance spread across the counters. The incredible lingering scent of freshly baked goods invaded his olfactory senses and he had to pinch his bony wrist to calm his body’s million screaming signals.

“Ready to head upstairs?” Sejanus asked, glass of water in hand.

How much time had gone by? How long had he been staring off into space simply trying to get a hold of the war raging inside him? More pressing, however, was the question of how Coriolanus was going to manage to hike up the stairs all the way to the Plinth’s second floor study.

But despite his buzzing head, Coriolanus simply answered, “yes.”

Each step was a herculean effort. The bookbag he so easily carried every day had somehow transformed into a rucksack of boulders throwing off his balance as he held the shining banister in a white-knuckled deathgrip. God, Coriolanus had never felt so pathetic.

They eventually reached the study and set down their school things on the table. Coriolanus sunk into the velvety chairs nestled around the table. He reached for the water Sejanus had poured for him, taking a sip and hoping it would quiet his silent war; it did no such thing. The water hit his stomach like a tinge of acid, further coiling his insides around an invisible epicenter. Time, he insisted to himself, would allow it to settle and aid the way he intended it to. It had to.

This project was getting done, and it was going to be a shining piece of perfection. Snow lands on top, of course. As Coriolanus began to write down Sejanus’s suggested additions to the outline, his handwriting slowly deteriorated, sabotaged by his uncontrollably shaking hand. Anger flared in his chest at the inability to control a fine motor skill he’s had since childhood.

He couldn’t still be shivering from the cold, he’d been inside for nearly half an hour and had shed the wet coat causing most of the problems. But now that he thought about it, he was, admittedly… a little bit cold. He feared admitting how the roaring fire of the study did nothing to stop the chilling ache sitting deep in his arms and legs.

Coriolanus’s writing slowed further and the words on the page seemingly dissolved as his focus trailed back to the dizzying nausea wracking him. It was only a matter of time before Sejanus stopped blathering and took note of his deteriorating state, and Coriolanus was not sure that Sejanus would so easily accept another lie. He needed to slip away and collect himself. Yes, that was what he would do.

“Sejanus, I hate to interrupt, but where is your washroom?” Coriolanus breathed as he dropped the pen and notebook onto the table.

“It’s the second door on the right when you exit the study. I can show you if yo-”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you very much.” 

Coriolanus pushed himself up from the table eager to escape to the refuge of the washroom and splash cool water on his face to force himself to focus. He was fine. A little off his game, but fine. His hands left the table bracing of the tabletop as he stepped away towards the door, but his rise had left him incredibly lightheaded and he blinked rapidly attempting to regain his vision. The next step was wobbly and unsure as a hot wave of pain shot out throughout his body. Coriolanus couldn’t help but groan as he finally lost the silent battle, knees buckling under his skeletal figure and body crashing to the floor.

Chapter Text

Sejanus was trying ever so desperately not to panic. He clenched at the dark curls of his own scalp trying to ground himself. Coriolanus Snow was unconscious and unresponsive in his family’s second floor study and he was sitting there like a fool instead of helping his friend.

After steeling his nerves as best he could, Sejanus dove to the floor and thrust two fingers to Coryo’s pulse point, taking in the weak thrumming underneath. He tried to ignore how deep his thicker fingers sank as Coryo’s clavicle now seemed to protrude extra far from the dry skin surrounding it.

His friend’s face was devastatingly beautiful, even in unconsciousness, yet it was an even paler pallor than what was expected. Suddenly, Coryo’s body was wracked with a spasm and he let out a sharp whine.

“Coryo?!” Sejanus cried out, hoping that he was awake.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it had passed. Sejanus returned to his awkward stance, hands hovering over Coriolanus’s frame. He feared that any other touches, no matter how gentle and well-intentioned, might break the fragile doll laying before him. Sejanus took another moment to visually assess the situation, his own pulse thrumming behind his ears as he took Coryo’s limp wrist into his hands with tender care. 

“Coryo…?” he tried again, lips pulling into a taut line.

No sound abounded throughout the room except the faint crackling of the roaring hearth in the study.

What a horrific turn of events.

Sejanus was not some stupid District boy, opposed to what many of his classmates might think or say. As much as he hated to admit it, he saw the twinge of discomfort that graced even Coryo’s face when he stepped out of line in any classes, for ever having the audacity to sympathize with the District citizens he used to call his neighbors. He tried not to let it bother him, his affluent Academy peers been raised since birth to believe such utter nonsense, after all. Killing them with kindness had always been the strategy at play. Needing to adapt to such a fraught social environment had increased his observational awareness tenfold in a way that practicing using a firearm never did. The money and influence of Capital socialites were more dangerous than any weapons that rolled out of District 2 in Sejanus’s mind.

He had taken note of Coriolanus’s slowly deteriorating state over the time he’d grown to know him and claim him as his one and only friend. Although, he was never quite sure what was wrong. Knowing how deep Coryo’s pride ran, he felt it best to not mention anything, to never offer the help he could see that Coryo desperately needed, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

The Snow boy’s pride would surely be even more damaged to wake up on the floor of his classmate’s second floor study, Sejanus surmised, as he gingerly positioned his arms under Coriolanus’s upper back and legs. Sejanus knew he was physically strong, privileged to have full meals and a roof over his head, but a jolt of dread shot through him as he rose from the floor with Coryo’s body and realized how dreadfully light he felt. The hard lines of Sejanus’s muscles dug into the harsh bony curvature of Coriolanus’s torso and legs.

In a perfect world, the moment may have been romantic. A gorgeous boy who was the only one paying him any attention lying prone in Sejanus’s arms. But worry clouded over his bubbling feelings as he brought Coriolanus over to the velvet chaise nearest to the hearth. That ought to ease his shivering.

This was perhaps the first time Sejanus had ever seen Coriolanus so vulnerable, so weak. He grabbed one of the glasses from the table, their final project draft long forgotten, and returned to Coryo’s side; the blonde lay there, dead to the world. Sejanus eased Coryo’s head up from the arm of the lounger and brought the water to his painfully chapped lips. Up close and in the glow of the fire, Sejanus could see the hollowed darkness painting harsh lines across Coryo’s gaunt skin. How gradual had his descent been that he hadn’t noticed him wasting away? 

A weak moan rumbled out of Coryo’s mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, a pinched expression overcoating his features.

“Coryo? Please try and open your eyes for me. I can’t help you unless I know what you need. Please?” Sejanus pleaded.

Dreary blue eyes met soulful brown ones as Sejanus coaxed Coriolanus to consciousness. He was clearly confused and in an unknowable amount of pain. Seizing his own confidence, Sejanus grabbed Coriolanus’s hand and squeezed it, hoping to ground him with physical touch. Slowly but surely, Coriolanus eased out of his hazy confusion and back towards lucidity. And slowly but surely, horror dawned across his face. Sejanus dropped Coriolanus’s hand.

“Wh-what are you… where am I? What’s… what’s going on?” Coriolanus slurred.

“You collapsed! I was–I mean, I am still so worried about you. Are you okay?” a stupid question, Sejanus realized the moment it exited his mouth.

“I… I’m fine, just… I must’ve fainted. I apologize for scaring you.” Sejanus could feel Coriolanus Snow’s cold, diplomatic walls shutting him out with each word.

A low grumble sounded from Coriolanus’s stomach and he curled in on himself with a wince, whether from pain or shame, Sejanus was unsure; he was sure, however, that they burned an equal amount. A pregnant silence fell across the two boys. Sejanus was sure Coryo was beyond embarrassed about the whole ordeal, and the mere fact he hadn’t gotten up and excused himself home was a testament to how unwell he must’ve felt.

Why would Coryo be so painfully thin? He was sure that with the Snow fortune, his friend ought to be living just as comfortably as him. A dreadful thought shot through Sejanus’s mind.

“Coryo, um, can I ask you a question?”

“If it is about the project, just give me a moment to… collect myself, and we can resume. I apologize for distracting us from the task at hand. I only need a few mi–”

“No, Coryo, it’s not about the project. The project can wait. I… Are you…” Sejanus bit his tongue, unsure if he should continue pushing into Coriolanus’s walls. “Do you know about Iphigenia? She has some… struggles with her food. She has more than plenty to eat, but she just… doesn’t. She looks so sick, sometimes she passes out because she just doesn’t have enough to keep going. I know that you are well off, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. It’s okay to say something about it.”

Sejanus could see Coryo’s foggy mind racing to calculate the perfect response; how to relieve the situation and plaster up his image while placating Sejanus’s worries. But too much ill placed plaster is bound to chip and fail at some point.

“I don’t mean to pry, but… you can talk to me about it if you need to, if you want to”

A flash of contemplation dashed across Coriolanus’s face. A war between mind and body, pride and pain.

“While I appreciate your concern. You need not worry, my friend.”

Pride, then, had won.

Unable to muster the words to protest again, Sejanus swallowed his dread. Coriolanus extended a shaking hand, and Sejanus wanted nothing more than to take his own, surround it, and offer more help, more protection, more… comfort. But staring into Coriolanus’s cold, determined eyes, Sejanus found compromise. 

He intertwined their fingers, feeling Coryo stiffen at the unanticipated intimacy, and said simply, “I’ll be here to catch you again, if you fall. If you need me, I’m here.”

Something seemed to shift in Coriolanus’s demeanor, if only for a moment.

“I know…” Coryo breathed, “thank you.”