#rimeoverreason

“The last time I saw you, you were going to say something.. and then you stopped.”

Coriolanus’ gaze was searching, and inquisitive, and for a moment Sejanus panicked. Last time, he let himself go weak, he let himself entertain stupid scenarios that would never come to fruition, that would never, ever happen because Coriolanus wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like him, he didn’t want to hear of any of his escape plans. Here, in Twelve, he could see Coriolanus not as constrained by what kept him so tightly wound in the Capitol, he could see him let loose just a bit more, and more and more of the actual person that he was unveiled itself. He didn’t know how to feel about it, at the beginning. He had almost worshiped Coriolanus, and he was still doing it, even with every new facet he was getting privy to, even with knowing that what Coriolanus really, really wanted was not to help these people, but just do his job well and hopefully get out of here and back to the Capitol as fast as possible. He could understand it, in some way, that he wanted to be back to something familiar. But in other ways, this knowledge felt like a thorn in his side.

They were lying close to the lake, it was getting a bit late and they should return soon, really, Sejanus could mention that and leave him wondering again, but he didn’t think it would work. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and the sky was more pink than anything; it was beautiful. 

“Did I?” he started off with a question, still trying to gather his thoughts. I’m going to leave, he thought, sorrowfully, happily, and I will probably never see you again. That one was a punch to the gut. Despite everything, aside from his mother, Coriolanus was the presence most constant in his life, in his thoughts. There were others, here, especially, he’d managed to get close to a few, but no one occupied quite as much space into his very being as Coriolanus did. Woven into the fabric of his soul. That was a bit of a comfort. He didn’t think he would ever forget about him. He wished he could take a keepsake, something other than that picture of the two of them in his box. He found an interesting rock on the soil, and played with it between his fingers. 

“I don’t remember. I don’t think it was anything important,” he evaded, tossing a weak smile Coriolanus’ way. He knew that Coriolanus wouldn’t let it go so easily, he was suspicious, he was nosy, he’d proved as much. He knew that Coriolanus had been watching him. How curious, when it was he that used to watch him, back to the Academy. He wished he could tell him, he wished he could tell him badly. There was still a flicker of hope that he might react differently than he had assumed in his head, but it wasn’t very encouraging. He tossed the rock onto the ground again, and tugged at Coriolanus’ dog tag sitting on his chest, playful, nonchalant, appearing nonchalant, anyway. He wished he could take it with him, that dog tag. He looked at Coriolanus — he looked good with the buzzcut, though he missed the curls, too, and his eyes were darker, a bit intimidating, still that beautiful blue. 

➶ ┇ from: meme sentence starters. ➶ ┇ status: accepting.

Nestled atop Sejanus' lap with knees like a vice against his waist and hands grasping loosely at his shoulders, Coriolanus was deep into his mouth. His throat stung from the drops of vodka he licked up off the other man's tongue and his head swam in a pleasurable lightness. Were it not for the hands that gripped tightly at his hips he felt he would have surely floated to the ceiling.

"It's a good thing you're to my taste," he breathed, dipping his tongue back into Sejanus' mouth, "I'm very picky when it comes to my drinks."

He wanted to die. Seeing Marcus, propped up like some grotesque toy, seeing, feeling the indifference from everyone else around him as they simply wrote him off as yet another tribute falling, he couldn’t help his outburst. He didn’t care, he didn’t care about anything at all anymore, his throat feeling raw and sore and his heart ferocious in his chest. He couldn’t stay away, he couldn’t stay holed up in his room, safe, no, he couldn’t allow this to go on anymore, there had to be something he could do, something to make everyone see how twisted and unfair they were being, how vile. The thought of letting himself be torn apart to shreds by those kids in the arena, the thought of being stabbed with Coral’s trident, the thought of being decimated in any form, none bothered him, if anything, they brought him some comfort; he’d longed for death many times, for a way out of here, and if this was the only way he could make it happen, then it had to be done.

"What the devil have you been up to?"

“What’s it to you, Coriolanus?” Coriolanus. He didn’t call him that very often. But he’d been pushed to the limit lately, the work at the hospital stretching on, it was stressful, his nerves felt raw and laid bare. So maybe he didn’t come back here for a few nights, maybe he asked a friend for company so he wouldn’t drink too much. Maybe he’d had to do too many gastric lavage interventions on too many avoxes; he wasn’t a toxicologist, but that wasn’t going to stop him from using the hospital’s resources on people who apparently had no rights, to help even a little bit. Many were coming from the lab where they tested new poisons, and while Coriolanus wasn’t directly in charge of it anymore, it angered Sejanus to no end that he wasn’t stopping all this cruelty, when he could, so easily. Coriolanus was President. 

And now he was questioning his absence. “What, you don’t know? The President doesn’t have eyes everywhere?” His prodding raised his hackles, and he wasn’t in the mood to be any sort of polite. Sometimes, he could barely look at Coriolanus’ face, filled with a rage that was going nowhere, burning, corroding his insides, a rage that was directed in equal measures at himself, too.

Sometimes he wanted to toss him around, to punish him, to give him even a bit of the pain that all these other people he impacted felt. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt him, and it felt shameful how much that thought excited him, how it stirred him. It still felt shameful, even as it wasn’t something new. The shame, however, was strongest before the action started; and the retribution felt so good afterwards. 

❝ guess after all that anticipation you really can conk out anywhere. feel like i've been ran over by a log. ❞ almost sounded like the peaceful thing she was searching for was being plowed over by a log. ❝ and guess it helps i've fallen right asleep in some uncomfortable places 'lot of times already. ❞ lips twitched in an amused smile, he had no idea of all the uncomfortable makeshift beds she's had to build in her young life time. so this is almost like second nature, even though he still has a good point.

just as lucy gray was about to say she might find a minute of sleep but she's givin' up on finding any peace in these surroundings, the blond she's eyeing –– even down to absorbing his mannerisms with his knuckles bumping against each other –– decided to actually give her some good ideas. ❝ that's not a bad idea. ❞ the brunette compliments out loud, proud smile curling lips that reached the warm chocolate of her eyes.

@rimeoverreason

It had been passed to her as she boarded the train to head back to 12, a red envelope that smelled like roses. It took everything inside the songbird not to crumble to the ground when she read, in Coriolanus's words, how he helped her survive- the great risk he took, and how he'd been caught. He said goodbye, that he had no regrets, and that he was so sorry for everything she had to go through in the Games and beforehand.

There was no song that comfort her, no words to describe her grief and guilt nor the trauma from the Games. There was no one who could understand, and the one person she'd felt she could rely on for comfort was now likely dead at the hands of the Capitol.

But weeks later, that supposed ghost had been standing in the Hob- alive and well...or as well as he could be.

"I was so certain they'd kill you," Lucy Gray whispers as her arms tighten her hug around him. "I kept your letter, or half of it at least. I tore off and burned the part about you helping me but I...I couldn't get myself to throw away the rest."

She pulls away to stare up at his tall frame. "....Why? Why would you risk somethin like that? Y-Your life? Everything you've worked for? Why would you do that?"

It was hot. It was too damn hot. Most of the shades in the apartment were down and the air conditioning was running constantly, but just knowing how hot it was was enough to feel it on the skin. The bare popsicle stick that hung from between Coriolanus' teeth, it's fresh and cold surroundings long gone, felt like a relic of better times.

Dressed only in gym shorts and a loose shirt that hung low off one shoulder, he walked languidly over to where Sejanus was and had been for at least the past half hour. He could ask him to make them both a drink but even that required more effort than he was willing to put out (he would have helped out, of course).

Draping himself over the back of the couch Coriolanus bit down on the now softened stick before taking it out of his mouth. "I can't take being cooped up in here anymore, it's like torture." He groaned next to Sejanus' head and poked his cheek listlessly with the popsicle stick. "And we're out of these."

The whirr of the air conditioning was the only sound he could hear for a while, after the slick noise of Coriolanus sucking on his popsicle stopped. It really was too hot, and even stripped down to his skin, he couldn't feel properly comfortable. The shorts he wore were his shortest pair, and he felt like ripping those off his legs, too. He watched Coriolanus languidly, and his lip turned up a fraction when he seemed bummed out about his icy treat now being gone. He looked cute when he was all dejected, and it never failed to make Sejanus want to rectify that immediately, the need simply tugging insistently at his heart.

His gaze took him in, wandering over his lovely legs and up his smooth, naked shoulder, over his pretty, dispirited face. "What if we take a cold bath," he suggested lazily, then couldn't stifle a chuckle at Coriolanus' dramatic groan and the way he poked his cheek with that popsicle stick. "No, we're not.. " He always kept a secret stash, because sometimes Coriolanus was going through them so darn quickly. And it truly was a crisis when he didn't have one at the ready, which was why Sejanus kept a few in hidden places. It was a bit of fun, and he loved taunting Coriolanus about it. "But I think there are only lemon flavored ones left." No, there weren't. Coriolanus' favorite, cherry, he always stocked up on.