Archive of Our Own ^beta

The start of the day feels like any other.

Coriolanus follows the same routine as usual, picks himself up, makes sure his curls look more than presentable, smiles as the Grandma’am… sings. He’s even lucky enough to have their version of breakfast, this morning.

And he’s fine. He feels fine. Though maybe he’d just been too locked in his carefully controlled routine to notice that he wasn’t actually feeling as fine as he convinced everyone he was. Or maybe he should feel pride? For managing to be convincing enough to fool himself.

Coriolanus almost trips over as he kicks yet another rock on his walk to the Academy. Fourth time this morning… He hopes he can clean the dust off of his shoes, if he’s managed to scuff them he’ll never forgive himself. Why was he being so clumsy this morning? He was never usually so uncoordinated.

Definitely not something to be proud of, he decides finally. How could you possibly have control over anything if you were so easy to fool that you could fool yourself? You couldn’t.

Things don’t get much better from that point on, either. His first class is alright, but he can feel his attention slipping away from the subject every few minutes, and for once during class discussions, he hopes to God that he isn’t called on to give his opinion. By the time they have fifteen minutes left, Coriolanus is kicking himself for barely retaining anything. It doesn’t matter how boring something is, he needed to do well in school – how could he waste away a class like that?

Coriolanus is quick to stop by the bathroom before his next class, wetting his hands and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to force himself to be more – awake? Alert? Present in the slightest?

As he looks up in the mirror though, he realises that his blonde curls are slightly all over the place, a bit fluffier than he normally likes them, and falling around his eyes. Great, something he couldn’t really fix or change, and yet something he also couldn’t really ignore, as they bounce a bit in to his eyeline.

He’s contemplating whether or not he should attempt to adjust how his hair is sitting or leave it as is and hope for the best, when he hears the door open and turns his head so fast it leaves him slightly dizzy as Festus walks in.

For some reason – even though nothing’s happened, he knows that nothing has happened – Coriolanus feels like he’s been caught. A deer in the headlights. Festus opens his mouth, looking confused more than anything, and Coriolanus realises that he’s just been standing and staring at the other boy for no apparent reason, before he finally finds his footing and all but bolts out of the bathroom and to his next class. What was wrong with him? Such an overexaggerated reaction to… nothing, really. He just didn’t want anyone to see him, that was all.

Unfortunately, his next class is much the same as the first, though he feels less aware of when his attention starts to float away from school work, which is much, much worse. He keeps coming back to reality, eyes focusing, and realising that he has no idea exactly how long he’s been tuning out of the lesson, much less why. Not only that, but he keeps finding himself fidgeting.

Snow is definitely not meant to fidget. He’s not meant to be some twitchy, nervous wreck – and really, he isn’t! He swears he isn’t even nervous! Not more than usual, but somethings… Something’s not right with him and he doesn’t know what or why or how and he hates it. He hates not knowing, hates being so out of control of himself.

Something’s wrong! He never gets so, so, so like this.

It becomes even worse when lunch comes around and he finds himself barely able to stop himself from running to grab his plate. He’s never usually so obviously hungry – and he even had breakfast today! Usually, it’s so much easier for him to banish the thought to the back of his mind while he gets through his lessons but now, he’s starving.

Why was he feeling like this? All out of focus and strangely hurt by it all. He’d never usually be so emotional over small things like his hair but today he keeps unintentionally twitching to get his unruly curls out of his eyes and the whole thing sort of makes him want to cry – and why would he possibly feel like responding in that way? It made no sense.

A shadow passes over the table he’s sitting at, and Coriolanus looks up to see Sejanus Plinth hovering by his side. The last thing that Coriolanus needs is to hold a conversation with Sejanus. Especially with how… Off he felt.

Sejanus has the decency to look a bit uncomfortable at least, as he should when approaching a Snow. A moment passes where Sejanus opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say, and Coriolanus inwardly scoffs. Imagine not having your every word be calculated and considered carefully. Was Sejanus really so humble? How could he possibly be, when he didn’t even know the extent of his own luxury.

And then Sejanus bites his lip, looks around for anyone passing by close enough to hear, and tilts his head slightly lower to get closer into Coriolanus’s space, before quietly asking, with all the sympathy and concern in the world dripping off of his words, “Are you okay, Coryo?”

And then Coriolanus realises it wasn’t apprehension for his status, but apprehension because Sejanus – ever the empathetic soul – knew probably better than anyone just how important Coriolanus’s pride was to him, and asked anyway.

And Coriolanus feels a lump form in his throat and his eyes begin to sting, because he must really look bad to have Sejanus outright ask him if he was okay.

He doesn’t want to talk – feels as if his tongue is heavier than normal, like his lips simply don’t want to open, feels so much more comfortable with not saying a word, and he can’t imagine why exactly that is – really he wants to nod his head and go back to eating and wait while watching out of the corner of his eye for Sejanus to drop the topic and scurry off.

Though he knows, even through the temptation, that that would only be more of a testament to how not okay Coriolanus feels.

“Why-” Coriolanus stops abruptly, shocked at how strange it felt to talk, different somehow. Certainly not the smooth, calm, and charming tone of voice he’d grown to perfect. No, this was- this was vulnerable and not at all right, not at all him. Still, he pushes through and pretends nothing’s wrong, and begs his face to not betray that. “Why wouldn’t I be okay, Sejanus?” Coriolanus asks, shaking his head slightly in fake amusement, like the question was anything other than laughable.

Sejanus doesn’t rise to the bait, however. He isn’t so easily fooled by the pride. Silently, he looks Coriolanus over, once again going to say one thing before deciding to keep quiet. Part of him doesn’t want to know what Sejanus must be thinking. Part of him hates not knowing.

“You just…” Sejanus trails off, before sighing and shaking his head, throwing his arm out from where it’s been resting against his thigh. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself, I just thought- don’t worry about it.”

Coriolanus forces a smile, nodding. “Okay.” He agrees with a small laugh that doesn’t sound even half convincing to his own ears. “I won’t.” To try and escape the interaction for good, Coriolanus searches for the clock in the room, feigning a need to be at his next class early. Belatedly, he realises that Sejanus will also be in the same lesson as him, and he makes an attempt at thankfulness, even if he wants nothing more than for Sejanus to stop looking at him like that. “Thankyou, though.” Coriolanus smiles again, and Sejanus returns it, even if it’s obviously forced and he still has a look of clear doubt in his eyes.

“Of course.” Sejanus says, before stepping back from the table and letting Coriolanus stand up, where he barely manages to keep himself from swaying. How? He’d just eaten, normally he was never lightheaded after lunch. Though he doesn’t feel faint, as such, just… Just unsteady, more like.

Maybe food would help. Usually it did, he knew. He just needs some food and water, and he’ll be able to focus just fine in his last class. He sits at his seat and opens his notebook and tries his hardest to remember what exactly they’d been doing last lesson. For some reason it doesn’t click in his head like usual.

Students file into the classroom after another ten or so minutes, the sudden flood of noise making his ears hurt. The silence had been so much nicer. Now they were all talking, and dropping their bags on the floor, and flipping through pages, and how could he possibly focus now?

He had a headache, maybe that was it. Though it didn’t hurt, exactly, he just felt kind of… floaty, or spacey, or something. His thoughts felt syrupy slow, nothing coming fast enough to his brain. Unfortunately, the feeling just keeps getting worse, keeps becoming some all encompassing thing that he can’t escape or ignore. He doesn’t even really know what’s wrong either, just keeps coming back to the conclusion that he feels… Off.

He can feel eyes on him too. Though every time he glances around the class, he can’t seem to catch anyone in the act but- but it feels like they’re all watching him. It feels like they all somehow know that he’s vulnerable and wrong. They’re vultures, the lot of them, and he knows they have a sixth sense for prey. Coriolanus tries to push down the feeling of panic creeping up his throat, even as he’s sure that any second now they’ll turn on him.

No one knows. He needs to think rationally, something which just keeps getting harder and harder a task to do. Much like focusing on class, which is such a losing battle he may as well not even be there. Coriolanus’s eyes flick back towards the teacher, talking about something that he’d long since tuned out of- though not for lack of trying! He just can’t seem to get it like normal. Why was he so out of it suddenly? He was a smart kid! Everyone knows that. So why couldn’t he seem to comprehend any of the subject material today?

While walking back and forth at the front of class, their teacher looks across the students, stopping briefly when she reaches Coriolanus, some unidentifiable expression on her face that might be something close to concern, or maybe confusion. God forbid it be anything like disappointment though.

He’s nervous to think of why she looked at him in that way – why would he give her pause? Surely only if he was doing something wrong. Did she know? Could she tell that something was unexplainably wrong with him?

Coriolanus looks down at his page to see if that would offer him any help, and finds that he’d been absently scribbling along the side of his notebook. He’d never do that in a lesson in his right mind. What was going on with him? Was he sick? Out of control of his body? He felt overwhelmed and fidgety and confused, mostly.

While he’s paying attention to what he’s doing, he notices that his thumb had been resting against his lips, where he was practically leaning entirely on to his hand, elbow propped up on the desk. Hastily, he drops his arm, then realising how silly and abrupt he’d been to fix his posture and appearance, he looks around at his classmates with paranoia. Had any of them seen him like that? If so, how many? Were they whispering about him? About his reputation?

Come on. He groans in his head. Think rationally, he’d been looking just about everywhere except for at his teacher or the class work, he surely would have noticed someone staring at him.

Nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows.

Clemensia looks over at him when he glances in her direction, and he shifts his eye line back to the front of the class. Don't look at her, he berates himself. She won't ask anything. She won’t. There’s nothing to ask, nobody knows that anything is wrong at all.

Except for Sejanus. A voice in the back of his head whispers. He already asked as well, didn’t he?

There’s at least a small comfort in that, though. It was Sejanus, after all. He was different from the rest of them for a multitude of reasons. Clemensia, along with anyone else, they wouldn’t even think to ask if he was okay. He wouldn’t need to explain anything. For some reason he still really doesn't feel like talking.

By some miracle, the end of class comes soon enough, and for one of the only times in his life, Coriolanus makes sure to be one of the first people out of the door and on his way home.

The walk back home is significantly worse than the walk to the academy had been, his feet are uncooperative, for lack of a better word. Wobbly, almost, as if he’d been spinning and gotten dizzy, or he’d been suspended in the air for a while and only just come back down to earth. Though he wasn’t actually dizzy, and he’d been on his feet the same as any other day.

He felt heavy in a way – that’s why walking was suddenly so difficult. Heavy in the sense that it seemed to take far more effort than it normally would to move his limbs. Why was he so out of control? This wasn’t like him, not in the slightest.

Coriolanus knows he’ll probably regret the decision, he always needs to be holding his reputation up, even to strangers, but when he passes anyone else on his walk back home, he ducks his head and ignores their presence until he’s sure they’re too far to make eye contact with, let alone talk to. Even if it’s a simple passing greeting. He just feels too not like himself to risk saying something out loud. He hadn’t sounded right at all when he spoke to Sejanus, and that was hours ago by now. He’d hate to think what his voice might convey now, and he hardly thinks there’s a chance for it to be any better when the rest of his… Symptoms have only gotten so much worse.

At least with his head ducked down as it is, he can watch out for tripping hazards. That was something he definitely didn’t want a repeat of. Especially now that he felt so much more floaty and uncoordinated. Imagine if he actually fell over? God, he’d never get over the embarrassment.

Tigris will be able to fix it. That’s what Coriolanus says to himself, motivating him to keep a steady pace back home as he reaches just a block away. She always fixes stuff like this. Or, well not like this exactly, because he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this but… But she always makes everything better in some way, somehow, even if just by a little bit.

He’ll be able to finally take a breath and let himself stress and be vulnerable around her, show her how everything is so, so wrong, and she’ll listen, because she’s such a good listener, and she’ll know how to make him feel better, and she’ll make sure it won’t happen again. She protects him like that.

He’s so consumed with the idea of Tigris fixing everything, the idea of being so close to protection, that Coriolanus all but runs up the stairs to their floor, opens the door hastily, and only then remembers that he’s always home before Tigris is.

Oh, right.

He wants to scream. What’s wrong with him? How could he possibly forget something like that? Of course he’d be home before Tigris. How could he not remember something that has been a part of his daily routine for years now?

Thankfully, though probably his only saving grace, is that the Grandma’am isn’t in eyesight of the door, at least, and therefore does not see what Coriolanus assumes is a fairly obvious panic, then realisation, then upset expression on his face.

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to squeeze his eyes shut tight and take a deep breath while he’s not being observed for once.

Right. Maybe now that he was alone, in the comfort of his own space, maybe he’ll be able to focus better? Yes, that’s it, all Coriolanus needs is to go to his room and try to remember any key words he’d heard in his lessons today. He was a smart kid, he’d be able to piece it together.

So, he walks to his room, all too aware of how strangely cold he feels, and drops his bag besides his desk, staring back and forth between them like he’ll magically get the motivation to even try and do school work.

First step is getting his books out, he can do that. Coriolanus drops to his knees to open his bag, taking out books and loose paper that definitely shouldn’t be as rumpled as it is. He would have never let any of his work look less than in pristine condition, normally. It all gets dropped on top of his desk, when he realises he needs to get up off the floor to continue onto step two, actually doing the school work. He doesn’t want to, and not just because it was boring either, he doesn’t feel like he can do the work right now.

But when does he ever have time to spare just because he doesn’t feel good?

With more effort than he should need to use, Coriolanus pushes himself up off the floor and back onto his feet, which somehow feel even wobblier than before and – Why, why, why? He has that awful feeling overwhelming him again, choking him. He just wants to cry. Why was everything working against him?

Coriolanus stares down at his desk, books and paper covering the surface. It’s just too much. He definitely can’t concentrate on one thing when there’s all these subjects and assignments everywhere. How does he even know where to start? Coriolanus can’t understand why it all seems too big of a task now, why he can’t understand anything he reads no matter how hard he tries, and he is trying! It’s just that he can’t get it. His vision starts getting blurry, and the words become even more indecipherable. Was he not a smart kid anymore?

No, that’s ridiculous, he’s being so – so overly emotional and silly about this. He’s just sick or something, that’s all. There’s certainly no need for tears. Imagine what his father would say if he could see him now.

Maybe he just needs a change in environment, some company, some warmth. He’ll just take one of his books with him, out to the table in the kitchen, and he’ll just try to focus on one thing at a time. It won’t feel as cold and lonely as his own room, which had become almost suffocating in the past few minutes, as if he was trapped, and he’d have the company of the Grandma’am, even if she starts talking about weird old stories that probably aren’t real.

Yes, that’s all he needs. Coriolanus takes a staggering breath in, and wills his eyes to focus, wills the tears away before he does anything really silly. He grabs his closest notebook and walks into the kitchen, still embarrassingly unsteady on his own feet. As if he was unsure how to properly control his own body.

After dropping the notebook on the table, he realises the room is filled with slightly unbearable silence, and Coriolanus looks around confused. He hadn’t seen Grandma’am before, but he wasn’t worried then, he’d just thought she’d been sitting in the other room, but by now she surely would have heard him and called out about one thing or another. He didn’t like the silence. Usually he’d find it comforting, he knows, but right now his eyes are stinging with the threat of more tears. He really doesn’t want to be alone.

He doesn’t really want to call out for her though – he knows his voice would sound all weird like before, and now it would probably be wobbly too, would betray him and reveal his close to tears state that he’s in. He definitely doesn’t want that.

So, Coriolanus wanders room to room, only growing more worried when he still can’t find her. She rarely ever left the apartment nowadays, and she certainly wouldn’t leave without telling him or Tigris. Why wouldn’t she be home? Why wouldn’t she be right there?

He’s halfway to actually panicking when he remembers the rose garden.

Obviously.

How had he not even thought about the chance that she’d simply be in the garden? It was her most prized possession after all, she was always tending to those roses.

Normally, Coriolanus would be thankful for the peace and quiet, as if he was truly by himself before Tigris got home and voices were always talking. Right now, he contemplates the consequences of running up to the garden to bring Grandma’am back inside – or even staying up there with her while she works. Whatever allows him to not be alone.

But he knows he shouldn’t do that. That would only raise questions, and Coriolanus is not in the mood to answer any of them. He doesn’t think Grandma’am would like hearing about how he might be sick, or whatever is wrong with him. She wouldn’t like it one bit.

Instead of doing what he wants, Coriolanus swallows down his anxiety over being alone, and walks back into the kitchen, still trying to convince himself that he’ll be able to catch up on work this time when he looks at the book. It’ll be different this time. It’ll make sense like it’s supposed to, this time.

He sits at the table and flips through the pages, not really understanding his own notes – big words and lots of smart ideas, over analysing and going above and beyond other students. He remembers writing all of this but it’s- he just can’t- it doesn’t make sense anymore like it did before. He doesn’t know why that is. Every time he tries to read through a sentence, the last one disappears from his mind.

He keeps catching his fingers fidgeting while he tries to read. Fiddling with the edge of the paper, or tugging on his lip or his ear, or tapping and drumming against the table. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it until he sees it. He’s barely able to stop himself when he catches it, and it only starts again the second he stops consciously thinking about it.

His legs are swinging under the table too, back and forth, one and then the other. He’s helpless to stop that either. Though, he can’t deny, it feels very good to do. Helps him to relax just a little more. So maybe it wasn’t… The worst thing he could be doing.

He’s tapping his fingers on the table again, his head resting against his other hand. Legs swinging, and eyes totally not focused on the work that he’d yet to make any sense of. That’s when there’s the sound of a door opening from behind him, startling Coriolanus out of his thoughts.

Tigris.

Finally! Now he can fully relax and let her deal with it all. Though that sounded bad. He just wanted a little help, wanted someone to listen and make him feel better, and the only person truly capable of that was Tigris.

“Tigris?” Coriolanus calls out, suddenly aware of why he was doing his best not to use his voice. How did he normally manage to sound so… So adult and composed, so above everything?

His body makes the next decision for him, as he bolts up from his chair and all but runs towards the door, before he even has a chance to think about it.

He catches a flash of her blonde hair as she closes the door behind her, before Coriolanus is running up and hugging her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder and neck, nuzzling just slightly. He’d missed her! That was all. He was just happy that she was home, and thankful he could finally let someone know just how awful he’d been feeling all day.

"Hello." Tigris giggles, obviously not having anticipated such an affectionate greeting. She awkwardly hugs him back while still holding onto her bag, loosely wrapping her arms around him as well as she can.

He knows he needs to let go and explain himself a bit, but it felt so good to be so close to her, and part of him never wants to leave the embrace. Obviously, she must be able to tell that something’s wrong, but for now he thinks he can afford to stay hidden in Tigris’s arms and properly relax for a few more minutes, even if he’d appreciate it more if she wasn’t holding onto her bag, or trying to shuffle further into the apartment, and away from their doorway.

But Tigris has always been patient, especially with him. She feels warm, and cosy, and she presses a gentle kiss to the side of his face that feels so nice. He can’t help the small sigh that escapes him at the action, even more so when Tigris brings her other arm up to scratch lightly at the back of his head in such a soothing way, even if he gets shivers from it.

"Does Grandma’am know you're little, Coryo?" Tigris asks, voice light and calm, and speaking as if what she’d just said was nothing more than an obvious fact.

Coriolanus feels himself go rigid, before he pushes back from Tigris, and takes a couple steps back to distance himself from her, as if she’d burned him. He can feel his expression being too open and honest already, eyebrows furrowing, shoulders rising, eyes stinging. He wants to say why would you say that? He wants to say I know when I’m feeling little. He wants to say I’m in control.

But he’s scared about the answers he’d inevitably get to them. So, like many times before, Coriolanus defends himself.

“I’m not little.” Coriolanus says, in that stupidly wobbly voice, because of his stupidly adamant tears that are still yet to properly make an appearance. That’s the fact. He’s not little. He knows when he slips, he’s aware. Coriolanus has never slipped into headspace without realising it, had never even come close. He was always prepared, always aware, always in control. Hell, Coriolanus had managed to hold back from slipping multiple times. It simply wasn’t possible for him to not notice.

Coriolanus is not little, and he expects that Tigris will hear the honesty, and realise her mistake, so that finally, he can tell her about his awful day.

But that’s not what Tigris does. Not at all. Tigris sighs, far too close to pity for his liking. Or perhaps disappointment, which is far, far worse. She straightens her posture, and somehow it makes her seem so much taller than him. "Come on honey, I thought we talked about this, you shouldn't be alone when you're small, someone needs to know." She gazes down at him, that same tone of disappointment rippling through each and every word.

"I'm not lying!" Coriolanus all but shouts, nose scrunching up and look of betrayal crossing his features. How could she think that? Could she not tell that he was telling the truth? He wasn’t little! He’d know! He’d been so patient all day waiting for her, and now that she was here, she wasn’t listening! She didn’t even believe him, when she always believed him!

Tigris cautiously stands still, tilting her head. She looks wary, like she’s unsure of what to do next. "Coryo..." She says softly, taking a step towards him.

"No!" Coriolanus shouts, stamping his foot and clenching his fists.

Tigris doesn't respond for a moment, and the silence stretches just long enough for Coriolanus to think about his actions, realisation dawning horribly on him.

Oh. Maybe, like always, Tigris had been right.

His eyes fill with awful tears, and he clamps a hand over his mouth in a way that could never be interpreted as dignified. How had he not known? How had he not noticed? He doesn't even know for sure how long he's been slipping. How could he be so, so stupid? If Tigris could tell without a second glance at him, did that mean that everyone could tell? Had everyone at the academy known? Could the strangers he passed on the way home tell? Coriolanus knows better than anyone that it only takes one or two people to spread news around like wildfire – what were his odds now? If Clemensia could see it, or Festus, or God forbid someone like Arachne caught onto him, he’d be done. Then there was Sejanus too, and how many people had seen him like this? How was he so stupid?

The last thought forces a pitiful half whimper, half sob to escape him, the emotions becoming too overwhelming to keep back any longer. Tigris must deem it the end of one outburst and the start of another, as she drops her bag to the floor and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms securely around his shoulders, and enveloping him as completely as she can.

Why was he always like this when little? So prone to emotional outbursts and meltdowns and tantrums.

He cries into her neck, shoulders hitching with every breath. He knows it sounds gross too, the shaky wet breathing and loud sniffling and open mouth crying but he can't do anything to stop himself and she keeps being so nice to him. Like always, protecting him, even when he’d done nothing but scream and shout and throw tantrums, and be so rude to her. He whines through a sob, all high pitched and grating, even to his own ears. Why was he like this? Snow’s weren’t meant to be like this. Imagine if his father could see him now.

"Shh, shh." Tigris gently shushes, beginning to rock them from side to side. "Okay." She whispers, keeping a steady flow of soothing words as she squeezes him tightly and rubs his back. "I know Coryo, I know you're upset, honey. You wouldn't lie to me on purpose about that."

On purpose. But even that isn't quite true either, is it? He’s never not known before, and he’s- he’s… He’s scared.

The more his crying goes on, the more Tigris speaks. "We just need to get better at recognising the signs, okay? You just need to keep checking how you feel and why." She gently explains, like that makes it any better.

And he's never been that good at recognising his feelings, has he?

He can hear another door open, and knows that the Grandma’am must have come back inside and he doesn't want her to see him like this because he knows that she wishes he wasn't a Little. Even if she's nice enough to him. He knows that she hates when he gets so overly emotional too.

And here he was being everything that she doesn't want him to be. How was he ever supposed to live up to the Snow’s reputation?

Coriolanus’s crying picks up as the footsteps get closer, and Tigris makes a sympathetic noise, squeezing him again. "Oh Coryo, baby." She softly speaks, and Coriolanus can hear the sadness and sympathy in her voice. She rests her cheek on top of his head, effectively keeping his face pressed as close to her as possible, and he never, ever wants to leave. He wants to stay hidden away forever. Where he can’t see the Grandma’am’s disappointment.

He can feel himself leaning more and more on Tigris, rising slightly on his tip toes even though he's already taller than her. He doesn't even want to do it but he's clearly too little to have the same control over himself that he usually does. Though, he thinks bitterly, he’s well past that realisation.

Tigris knows the cue for what it is and squeezes him just a little tighter again. He knows it’s an apology. "I'm sorry." She whispers, rubbing his back. "You know I can't carry you, Coryo." The clear sadness in her tone, the obvious longing she has, the wish that she could pick him up – it doesn’t help to soothe him one bit. It surely doesn’t matter what she wishes she could do. He was still as helpless as before.

Coriolanus whines at the words that she wasn't meant to say out loud, and feels even worse when he hears the distant voice of the Grandma’am, undoubtably saying that he's much too old to need such things anyhow.

He does however, hear Tigris’s soft spoken response.

“He can’t help it, Grandma’am.” Her voice quiet but containing an edge to it that Coriolanus rarely heard from his cousin. “He’s just a little boy, it’s not his fault.”

Coriolanus’s body shakes at the words, the guilt of the entire situation weighing down on him heavily. If he’d known he was slipping, he never would have ended up how he is now. How had he let himself be so unaware? It really was his own fault, and he really should be able to help it, and even with those facts, Tigris continues to protect him – to defend him to their Grandma’am. Thoughts may be coming in and out fuzzily, and he may not be fully understanding everything around him, but Coriolanus knows that he does not deserve that type of unconditional love from Tigris. Especially when it came with such little gratefulness from himself.

Grandma’am must say something else, but Coriolanus can’t hear much else over his crying that he just can’t seem to get a hold of. He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset, why he’s crying so hard and hiding so deep in Tigris’s embrace. He doesn’t know why he can’t seem to calm down, despite Tigris’s soothing hands rubbing his back and petting his curls.

Her hold grows slightly more rigid, not as fluid as Tigris typically comes across. This time, when she speaks, her tone comes out sharp. Nothing to read between the lines about.

“There is nothing wrong with Coriolanus.”

Tigris pulls back from Coriolanus, even as he tries to retreat back into her arms. Her expression is soft, but Coryo knows his cousin better than anyone, and her eyes are angry. He doesn’t like that. He knows that she isn’t mad at him, she’s never mad at him, but he also knows that really, this was his fault and she – she should be mad at him. He does his best to take deep breaths and stop crying so hard for her.

“Come on, honey.” Tigris softly instructs, reaching a hand down to interlock their fingers. She stays as close as possible to him as she gently tugs his hand, leading him away from the open space and the Grandma’am, who Tigris carefully blocks from his vision. She leads him through the kitchen, past his abandoned notebook, and down the corridor.

The only thing keeping Coriolanus upright is the knowledge that Tigris is so close to him, securely holding his hand. His feet feel too small for his body, and his legs feel wobbly and unreliable.

Tigris stops briefly down the hall, as if coming to a realisation. In a way that would have greatly embarrassed him when he was big, Coriolanus stumbles as they come to a stop, Tigris grabbing his other arm to support him. At least she doesn’t seem annoyed, even as he’s still wiping tears off of his cheeks.

“Do you want anything from your room, Coryo?”

Between his school work and the colourless walls, not really. He’s about to say as much, or try to say as much, when he remembers that he does want something from his room! The most important thing in there.

“Mhmm!” He hums, nodding his head enthusiastically at Tigris, who has a small smile beginning to grow on her features – which is far more like she’s supposed to look, in his opinion. Then, because he remembers his manners, and because he wants Tigris to keep looking at him like that, “Please.”

Tigris grins, and Coryo feels squirmy at the sight. “So polite.” Tigris praises. “Of course, honey.” She turns to open his door, gently guiding him through. “Do you know where you’re looking, or do you need help?” She asks, respectfully staying in the doorway as Coriolanus drops her hand and rushes inside on unsteady legs. “I’m okay.” He answers, voice quiet to try and hide the slightly higher pitch it’s taken on.

He hadn’t been thinking about it earlier, but now he feels desperate to hold his prized possession. He needs it right now. Needs to be close with her- it.

Finally, after dropping to his knees and checking every section of his bag, he finds the compact.

When he turns around to look back at Tigris, she’s still hovering in the doorway, that fond smile on her face that he loved seeing. She looks sort of sad too, though, and Coriolanus doesn’t know what to make of that, so he chooses to ignore it, reaching his hands up towards her in a silent request to have some help with standing up.

Tigris walks into his room, never quite able to deny him. “You have everything you want from in here?” She double checks, reaching down to grab at his hands, only pulling him upright once he nods in confirmation and mumbles an ‘uh huh’. She’s quick to hide the sadness she’d been carrying with her, playfully cheering a ‘you ready? Here we go’, as she drags him up.

After successfully finding his footing, Tigris takes hold of one of his hands, the compact held safely in his other, and she leads him further down the corridor towards her own room.

Most times he regressed, he’d stay with Tigris in her room – they both preferred being close to each other, and it was good to not associate his own bedroom with being little. They kept the few little items he had in her room, safely tucked away from the rest of the world.

Tigris opens her door, gently pushing Coryo in first, and walking in behind him before finally closing the door again – now they were safe. Safe from anything and everything. As long as they were in Tigris’s room, and she was right next to him, and he had his compact, nothing could hurt him. He’d be okay.

Tigris’s room was also far more colourful, with many scraps of fabric littered around, which was infinitely more fun than anywhere else in the apartment.

She lets go of his hand, giving a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder before she turns away to find his box of Little items. Without Tigris’s guidance, Coryo stands still in the middle of her room, eyes flittering between the colours and objects in Tigris’s room.

He must be more out of it than he realised, as his attention only focuses again once Tigris is back in front of him, gently tugging his hand away from his mouth. “Oh, come on Coryo, don’t bite, honey.” She softly reprimands. He can feel a blush spreading over his cheeks, he hadn’t even realised he’d had the tip of his thumb in his mouth. Maybe he was a lot littler than normal… Is that why he didn’t notice? He didn’t know how it felt to be so little…

Tigris giggles. “Don’t give me that look.” She playfully scolds, nudging him to sit on her bed. After a moment’s consideration, she asks, “Do you think you can get changed by yourself, or do you need help?”, and his blush deepens. Obviously, he must seem quite little indeed.

He wants to immediately deny needing any help with such a simple task, but he also knows it’s far more embarrassing to admit to needing help after proving how badly you needed it, and thinks it over.

Slowly, he shakes his head in determination, he was a big kid. He sees Tigris eyeing his hand and realises that it had been creeping up towards his mouth again. He wills it to stay still.

“Okay.” Tigris gives in. “I’m gonna be right back, do you think you can get changed while I get you some water?” In the back of his head, Coryo knows she’s doing this because he doesn’t do well when he’s left alone when he’s little like this. She’s trying to distract him, so he doesn’t have a meltdown again. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about the tactic though, not when it was clear how deeply Tigris cared about him.

He feels himself nodding, not quite wanting to speak out loud again. “Yeah?” Tigris confirms. “It’ll be fun, right? Sort of like a race.”

Coryo smiles, nodding with more enthusiasm. He could be a big kid.

“Perfect.” Tigris grins, turning to retrieve his Little clothes, and laying them out on the bed. There was a long sleeved shirt and pants, that had once been a brighter blue but had faded over time. He’d had them since he’d been classified, back when a small collection of items had been sent out with the classification letters. It was basic and lacked both personality and thoughtfulness, but the clothes were still a little too big for him, and they were cosy enough to sleep in, so Coryo had rarely complained about any of it.

Tigris brings a hand up to pet at his curls once again, sliding her hand down to cradle the side of his face when he looks up at her. “I won’t be long, promise.” She says, gently grabbing the compact from his other hand, where his grip was slipping gradually, and placing it on her bedside table so it wouldn’t get lost. As always, Tigris is very smart.

Tigris walks to her door, opening it and standing half inside the room and half outside of it, keeping her head leaning inside. “You ready?” She asks, expression bright and cheerful, and Coryo can’t help but giggle himself, at the theatrics. Tigris pretends to be offended. “This is a very serious race! I’m gonna count down, okay?” Coryo nods, already inching forward to grab his clothes. Tigris doesn’t mention the slight cheating attempt. “3…2…”

Anxiety eats away at him and Coryo can’t help the words that blurt out of his mouth in a rush. “You’re gonna come back, right?”

Tigris’s playful demeanour falls in a second, her features softening. “Course I will, Coryo. You know that. Always.”

He did know that, he was just… Just worried that maybe something might happen to her when she left. He takes a deep breath, and nods.

Tigris smiles wide, voice taking on a performative tone. “I’ll be so fast you won’t even know I’m gone, that’s why I’m gonna win. You ready? In 3… 2… 1!” Tigris bolts from the doorway, and Coryo can hear her footsteps as she runs down the hallway.

He rushes to get changed, managing to get the pants on and his blazer off easily enough, but he struggles with unbuttoning his academy shirt, trying and failing over and over again with the top one. He can feel a whine building up in his throat – it wasn’t fair. He definitely wouldn’t be winning any races with how slow he was going but he just can’t get the buttons undone no matter how hard he tries. It’s like his fingers are both too big and too small, and they just won’t cooperate with him, slipping off the button before he can slide it through the hole.

After what must be minutes, sitting on the edge of Tigris’s bed, and getting nowhere with his buttons, Tigris comes back into the room with a smile, gently closing the door behind her.

“How’d you go?” She asks, and for some reason Coryo feels like crying and yelling all over again. Tigris’s form gets blurrier as his eyes briefly fill with tears, and his feet unintentionally do little stamps on the floor. “Can’t do it.” He whines, sounding sulky even to his own ears, and he ducks his head down to look at the ground.

There’s the sound of something being placed on the bedside table, and then Tigris’s feet come into his vision as she gets closer. “Well that’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with needing help.” Her sweet tone is comforting, reassuring even though he still feels silly for needing help with something he was usually okay with.

“Look up for me, sweetheart.” Tigris gently instructs, and Coryo finds that his vision has cleared by the time he looks up at her again. “Thankyou, Coryo.” Then she reaches for his shirt and uses far more experienced fingers than his own to unbutton it. When he shrugs it off of his shoulders, Tigris praises him. She carefully helps him into the long sleeve shirt, continuing to say how good he was being.

“You did most of it yourself too! That’s pretty good. I wasn’t even gone that long either.” Tigris praises more, and even though he knows it is silly to be so dependant on her, Coryo can’t help feeling better at the words.

Once he can bunch the sleeves in his hands and is finally in different clothes, he feels a lot better. He hadn’t realised how much it had been bugging him before, the feeling of his uniform against his skin. This was much nicer, much cosier. Soft and comfortable, even after being so well worn. Or maybe because it’s so well worn.

He must look as relieved as he feels, because Tigris gives a small laugh once she’s finished folding his uniform. “Yeah, I bet that feels nicer, huh sweetheart?”

It does. He feels like he can breathe finally. Though with that, he also feels a lot sleepier than he had before.

Tigris reaches over towards the bedside table, grabbing his sippy cup, which she had filled with water. “Think you can drink a bit for me, Coryo?” She asks, but in a way that he knows means she isn’t really asking, and passes the sippy cup into his hands, still mostly covered with his long sleeves.

It’s a little embarrassing, because he knows that normally she would have asked him if he felt like using his sippy cup or a normal glass, and normally he didn’t need it because he wasn’t young enough to. He was always very careful, and he always made sure to use two hands, and usually that was fine.

But… It wasn’t unfamiliar, though. Not in the slightest. It was just that, usually, he only used it when he was really tired, at bedtime. He may be a bit sleepy after having such an exhausting day, but it definitely wasn’t bedtime yet, surely?

“It’s your cup, Coryo, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” Tigris says, beginning to crouch in front of him when he doesn’t reply. He felt silly, and vulnerable, and really little, and he wasn’t really sure what to make of any of it.

He watches Tigris closely as she rests a hand comfortingly on his knee. She looks kind of sleepy too, but not really in the same way as him. “Did you hear me earlier? When I was talking to Grandma’am?” She questions, tilting her head.

He had heard her talking, but Coryo’s not entirely sure what part she means, so he gives a small nod before humming in a so-so way.

Tigris rubs her thumb on his knee. “Okay, well I meant what I said. There is nothing wrong with you, sweetheart.” She looks slightly emotional herself. “And- and you don’t have to feel like you need to prove anything alright? Especially not like this. It’s okay to be really small, I just want you to know that, you don’t have to pretend for me, Coryo.” She shakes her head almost desperately along with the words.

Coryo goes to speak, when he finds that the tip of his thumb has yet again slipped between his lips. “Kay.” He mumbles around his thumb, eyes darting back and forth between Tigris and the sippy cup in his other hand. He knows he should probably say something else, but he just can’t bring himself to. The whole conversation feels too big for him, too serious and adult.

Tigris must think the same thing because she squeezes his knee and stands up again, dropping the subject. “Just drink a little bit for me, we’ve gotta keep you hydrated after all those tears.” She says, though not unkindly, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, and dragging him back playfully until Coryo Is resting upright against the headrest.

He does feel a little better now, with comfier clothes and a safe space, and his Tigris, of course. He looks down at his sippy cup and slowly brings it to his lips, begrudgingly slipping his thumb out of his mouth for the moment.

The sippy cup itself is basic, a light blue colour that matches the rest of the Little supplies he had from his classification results, including his clothes. Tigris had always said he was lucky to get blue, that it matched his eyes, and suited him perfectly. There were parts, though especially the spout, that had been worn down by time and teeth, bite marks on it that had become second nature to bite at again and again, filling in the dents. It was by no means perfect, and ideally, he’d have new little things, and more too, but there was at least a comfort in the familiarity of the objects, and Coryo rarely ever minded that much. They were still his, after all.

After taking a sip of water, Coryo gets comfortable, leaning heavily on Tigris, his head finding her shoulder easily. She wraps an arm around him, fingers absentmindedly coming up to play with his hair just how he likes. “Oh I know, you must be so sleepy.” He nods lazily against her shoulder, bringing the sippy cup to his lips once again.

“You think you want something to eat?” Tigris asks, scratching lightly at his scalp. “If you’re hungry, I’ll make something work.”

Coryo finds himself shaking his head. He felt too tired for food, truthfully. Or maybe it was that thing he’s sure Tigris has mentioned before… Something about being too used to not eating, or not eating for too long and not feeling hungry for a long time after. It was part of his routine though, and he was very good at sticking to routines.

“Are you sure? If you want-”

“Nuh uh.” Coryo softly argues, nuzzling her shoulder just a little.

“Okay.” Tigris concedes with a sigh, pulling him closer. He loved this part of being little. Being so cuddly. It made him feel so much better, so much safer.

While they sit in almost silence, Coryo compares the faded blue of his long sleeve shirt, to the blue of his sippy cup, and nudges Tigris to show her the difference. “I know.” She giggles, pulling back to look at his face, gently tapping his nose. “Now they’re almost as light as your pretty eyes, huh sweetheart.”

For some reason, it makes Coryo feel sad. “I wish they weren’t.” He mumbles too honestly, almost startling when Tigris looks down at him with confusion. He hadn’t really meant to say it out loud.

“Pretty?” She questions, a hint of amusement seeping into her voice.

“Noo.” Coryo whines, upset that he’d managed to dig himself this grave. “Blue.” He clarifies.

The amusement vanishes from Tigris’s expression. She soothingly plays with his curls, keeping herself distanced enough to see his face at all times. “Why do you say that, Coryo?” She asks, eyebrows furrowed and eyes sad.

Coryo shrugs, trying not to meet her own eyes. “Wish I was more like my mother.” He admits quietly, voice barely rising above a whisper. “I wanna see her when I look at me.” He steps even further, something he had never said aloud, ever. “But I don’t.” He swallows thickly, bringing his sippy cup to his lips to have something to chew on.

“Oh, Coryo.” Tigris says, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him as close to her as possible. He sniffles as she rubs his back. “You know what I think?” He shakes his head, and Tigris pulls away just far enough to cradle his cheeks in her hands, sounding sincere when she next speaks, with her voice soft and sympathetic. “I think you look just like your mommy, sweetheart.”

Coryo can’t help the whine that escapes him at the words, can’t help the tears that escape his eyes. “I miss her.”

“I know.”

“I want her.”

“I know, sunshine.” Tigris brushes a stray blonde curl from in front of his eyes away, gently petting more of his hair as she does so. “You know, she used to call you that a lot – sunshine. I think because of how blonde your pretty hair is.”

“Like yours.” Coryo sniffles, ever at the ready to make comparisons between himself and his cousin.

Tigris smiles, running her thumb soothingly along his cheek. “Thankyou, honey.” She drops one of her hands to grab at the ends of her own hair. “We match pretty well, don’t we?”

They do match, which Coryo likes. He likes when everyone can tell that him and Tigris are related, even without being told.

Coryo’s blinks begin getting slower, his eyelids feeling heavier than before. Tigris hums comfortingly. “You’ve had a hard day today, haven’t you, sunshine?” She asks, though he hopes she isn’t waiting for a response, because that feels like way too big of a question for him right now, especially when he was just so sleepy. Tigris helps him lay down, still pressed as close to her as possible, because Tigris cuddles were very special to him.

He feels like he could fall asleep at any moment, chewing lightly on his sippy cup, but he does have a request. “Sing to me?” He mumbles, tone laced with hope. The hand in his hair stops briefly. “I’m not sure I’ll be that good.” Tigris’s voice warns.

“Better than Grandma’am.” He says, completely seriously, and he doesn’t really understand why Tigris giggles so loud when he says it. “Yeah, I bet.” She agrees, shifting and shuffling in her spot on the bed, doing something he’s kind of curious to see, but is too tired to open his eyes for, even more so when Tigris begins to softly sing, a song he does vaguely remember from childhood.

A moment later he can feel his sippy cup being tugged away from him, and his grip tightens on the object until Tigris gently shushes him, and presses what must be a pacifier against his lips, something he rarely used when little. It’s a testament to how little he was feeling, that he can barely care about it, just knows that Tigris is magic, like always, because he does really want his paci now, and opens his mouth slightly to get it, feeling so much comfier and sleepier as soon as he has it.

With Tigris’s soft voice singing to him, and the comfort of the pacifier, it doesn’t take long for Coryo to fall asleep.

When he wakes up, there’s light streaming in through Tigris’s windows, and he’s lost the pacifier somewhere in her bed. It takes a moment for him to wake up properly and remember what exactly he’s doing in Tigris’s room. Once he remembers one thing though, everything else follows swiftly.

The door opens quietly, and Tigris walks inside, looking relieved, though cautious, to see him awake. “How are you feeling?” She asks, and Coriolanus fights the urge to rolls his eyes at her because that’s a silly way to ask what she’s asking, but he’s extremely grateful for everything she did for him the day before, and he really has no place to make fun of her.

“Fine.” He says, voice slightly raspy and not quite up to his usual tone yet. Tigris visibly sighs in relief at the words. Now that he gives it some thought, he’s relieved. Imagine if he had needed to stay home from the academy, and maybe worse, Tigris had needed to stay home from working. They definitely couldn’t afford that. He supposes that’s lucky, even if the rest of the drop in headspace had been anything but. The best of a bad situation, he guesses.

“I didn’t expect you to sleep until morning.” Tigris admits, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, looking Coriolanus over. “I guess you really needed it though, lots of sleep, and being little too. You didn’t have a good day?”

“I didn’t realise I was… Slipping.” Coriolanus confesses. “I just felt off, I- I couldn’t tell. That’s never happened to me before, Tigris.” He continues, rubbing his hands over his face, anxiety seeping into his words.

She seems to consider that for a second. “Well,” She starts, hesitating slightly. “You know sometimes that happens when Little’s don’t go into headspace for too long.” Coriolanus looks away from her, beginning to move off of the bed and stand up, trying to ignore Tigris’s look of sympathy.

“You can’t run from it forever, Coryo.” She sighs. They both know this argument well.

“It’s never been a problem before.” He pushes. Why wasn’t she more concerned about this?

“But it might be now.” Tigris says, not budging on the matter. “Just once every few weeks- only twice a month! That’s all you need to do, and you won’t need to worry about dropping like that-”

“I don’t need-”

“You’re a Little, Coryo. There’s nothing you can do to change that, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself by pretending otherwise. I know it could be better, but it’s really not that bad either, you still have Little gear, and I always want to help you when you’re small.” She continues, slightly exasperated. He was grateful for everything she did for him, but she didn’t understand how hard it was.

“But what if that doesn’t fix it?” He argues, pacing slightly. “What if I get too used to being little, and it makes it worse? I can’t regress like that again, what if next time I don’t even feel off at all? Then everyone would know.” He argues, snatching the compact off of Tigris’s bedside table and fiddling with it as he walks back and forth.

“That’s not how that works.” Tigris sighs.

“What if I think I’m big but I start slipping again today? What if I don’t notice?” Coriolanus reiterates, anxiety becoming more and more pronounced.

“Coryo, you’re working yourself up over nothing.” Tigris assures, standing up and placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sure that no one thought anything of it yesterday, and you won’t slip today when you spent yesterday regressing, you know that that’s not how it works at all.”

“But-”

“Do you feel little?” She interrupts, tilting her head.

“No, but-”

“Then you’re not, yesterday was because you’d been ignoring your needs. You regressed, your needs as a Little were met. You don’t have to worry about it today.” She shakes her head, “If you’re seriously so nervous about the possibility of it happening again, then you need to let yourself regress more regularly.”

“Okay.” Coriolanus gives in with a sigh, stepping back from his cousin, though he’s not happy about the arrangement, and it’s obvious that Tigris doesn’t believe him.

“Go get changed.” She changes topics, gently guiding him towards the door. “You should leave soon to be on time, I packed up your bag for you.”

“Thankyou!” He calls out, already rushing down the hall to his own room, getting changed and grabbing his bag.

“If you’re still worried, I can walk with you.” Tigris offers as he meets her again in the kitchen.

“No.” Coriolanus decides. “That’ll probably make it worse, I’ll be fine.” He says as he opens the door.

“I know you will.” Tigris says, all confidence. He’s grateful for her solid presence. “Thankyou.” He whispers again, meaning so much more than what one little word can say, but Tigris gets it nonetheless, as she always does.

His walk to the academy goes far more smoothly than the one from the day before, and Coriolanus even finds himself slightly optimistic.

The nerves come back as he enters the building though, passing students he must have seen yesterday, wondering if any of them noticed anything different about him, or if they noticed him at all. As he walks to his first class, the nerves get worse. How was he meant to explain this? He could only hope he wasn’t called on, and that somehow, he’d be able to piece together the subject material, despite not knowing anything he’d meant to be learning or writing down yesterday.

As he’s the first person to walk into the classroom, he finds his seat and takes his notebook out, desperately trying to remember anything important he’d heard from the day before, when the door opens and Sejanus walks into the classroom, looking sheepish, if anything. He doesn’t expect Sejanus to say anything, but he walks right up to Coriolanus and takes a seat next to him, handing over a few folded over pieces of paper before he so much as gets a ‘hello’ out.

“I uh- I know you said everything was fine but… I just noticed that you seemed kind of out of it throughout class and so I took some notes for you just in case.” Sejanus stutters out, though there’s a confidence behind the words – it was clear that he didn’t regret the action, even if it meant he was assuming Coriolanus was in a vulnerable position.

Coriolanus means to snap at the boy for the audacity of it, but all that comes out is a weak, “Does everyone know?” He curses at himself for the word choice – the last thing he needed to do was give Sejanus Plinth hints, but Sejanus mustn’t think much of it – assumed he was sick or something, the same as Coriolanus had originally thought.

Sejanus knew his pride was important, that was clear, and for once that seems to come in handy for him. Sejanus shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Arachne said you were being moody but nobody else made any comments, except that you looked kind of tired, I guess, but everyone knows how hard you study.” He shrugs, easily passing off the day as nothing more than too much late night studying. Maybe Coriolanus didn’t need to be so stressed after all.

Coriolanus looks Sejanus in the eyes and feels a deep gratitude he’d never expected to direct at the district boy before. “Thankyou.” He says, as he grabs the papers from Sejanus, and he means it more than anything.

As Coriolanus copies the notes into his book, Sejanus fidgets. “Are you feeling better?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound suspicious, but Coriolanus would rather not get any deeper into it. “Much.” He answers, flashing a quick smile at Sejanus, all charm and reputation, before continuing to write.

Luckily, other students file into the classroom, and after a few minutes their teacher is walking through the door, and effectively taking Sejanus’s attention off of Coriolanus.

Good. He was fine, after all.