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Chapter Text

Part 1: District Two

With graduation months away, an impromptu, after school lecture from Dean Casca Highbottom is not what Coriolanus would call good news. Not only that, but other professors and some Academy faculty sat in the back seats that usually remained empty. Their presence was a looming darkness on him as he found a seat next to Clemensia. “What do you think this is about?” She leans over to whisper.

“Nothing good.” He murmurs, dropping his school bag in the empty chair to his left. 

“Well I heard we are going to be commemorated for being the top graduating students this year.” Felix twists his lanky body around to look up at them. Coriolanus’ stomach drops as hope seeps out of him. Felix is a horrible gossip and only reliable in the fact that he always has the wrong information. So it almost assuredly won’t be a celebration of their hard work. 

Before further speculation can be had among the classmates, the dean stumbles up to his round desk in the center of the lecture hall. Even from where he sits high away from the middle, Coriolanus can see his eyes are bloodshot and he wants to scoff at the dean’s inability to hide such an obvious crutch. 

“In just a few-” Dean Higbottom coughs wetly into his fist, “few short months you will all be graduating. Your hard work and dedication to your studies have earned you that right.” The dean sits in his chair, reaching behind him without looking to grab a paper. 

“However,” He continues and Coriolanus feels a shift in the room at his caveat. “there will be one final assignment to incorporate all your past learning and to teach you just how important you are to the future of Panem.” The dean adjusts the glasses on his face and clears his throat, drawing out an already painful announcement. 

“You, um- the top twenty-four students, will be assigned a district to visit and tour with local officials and Academy faculty to learn more about that district and then use that knowledge in a presentation upon your return.” Gasps and murmurs erupt around the room at the news. Coriolanus is nonplussed by the dean’s words; so surprised by it, in fact, that his face shifts into worry before he corrects it, glancing around to make sure his classmates are in the same way. A district ? Could there be a worse assignment than having to step foot in a grimy, dysfunctional, wild place? 

The whispers grow louder until Dean Highbottom throws his hand up, halting all talk. “That’s enough.” 

“President Ravinstill wants you to be prepared for the realities of what we face from the districts. As potential future leaders, you need to know who it is beyond the Capitol that you’re leading.” Highbottom says. Coriolanus does not think it very necessary to enter into a place filled with rebels, and from the looks of his fellow top classmates, they agree. 

“There will be no argument on the matter.” He says, getting ahead of the protests on every student’s tongue. “The Academy will pay for and oversee everything, so there should be no disputes from you or your family.” The dean drops his glasses low on his nose, finally content to let them sit. He whirls around in his chair, grabbing a paper from his desk before facing them once more. 

“Two of you have been assigned at random to visit a district, you’ll stay together the entire time and will be kept on a strict schedule. Remember your district number as I say it out loud.” Dean Highbottom’s eye scan over the paper, building anticipation that Coriolanus would rather not have to endure. How could they be told something so shocking and it not mean anything to the dean? Dread settles in his stomach at the thought of where Highbottom might place him if given the chance. Would he choose somewhere horrible like twelve? Or somewhere painfully cold like seven? There is not a single district he can think of to make such a trip sound appealing.

“District one, Livia Cardew and Palmyra Monty.” The dean read. Upon further thought, Coriolanus could not think of any of his classmates with whom spending any amount of time touring sounded appealing to him. 

“District two, Lysistrata Vickers and Coriolanus Snow.” Highbottoms words snap Coriolanus out of his stewing. District two? He tried to think of what he knew about it. It was one of the districts to border the Capitol, which was good should anything happen that required a hasty retreat. It was the masonry district, home of the nation's stone quarries and masonry workers. District two also provided Peacekeepers more than any of its counterparts, which Coriolanus could not reconcile if that meant good or bad news for himself. But it was also the district to steal weapon making from thirteen, a sin Coriolanus was unsure he could forgive. 

As the dean finishes off the list of names, Coriolanus begins to feel elated at such a high pick. While going to district two will never be ideal, his precarious status has earned him a lot in his time at the Academy, but where charm can take him far, true money and status always creep into the corners of the stage he plays on.  

“You will have the rest of the week to prepare. Pick up the packet with your district number as you leave. It has detailed information for you.” The dean’s words signal their dismissal. 

As students scramble to pack up and take their packet, Coriolanus is unrushed. Faculty talk amongst themselves behind him, some even nodding hello at him and other students to look their way. He’s polite, of course, nodding back with an ever present, practiced smile. He stands after the isles clear, making his way down the steps to secure his own package. 

The dean watches him as he plucks the brown folder labeled District Two in bold print. “You’ll be with me, Mr. Snow.” Highbottom says with a self satisfied smirk. His teeth are set on edge at the look.

“What a delight, Dean Highbottom.” Coriolanus smiles, not letting the way his skin crawls affect how he responds. 

“I almost sent you to twelve, but thought keeping an eye on you would be more effective.” Highbottom presses on. “Do you take a shine to all your students, dean?” Coriolanus asks pleasantly. The question irks the dean who makes a sound almost like a growl and shoos him away with his hand. Coriolanus needs no more motivation before he’s out the door and taking long steps to leave the Academy building altogether. 

Once he’s back home and the door to the apartment slams closed behind him, Coriolanus lets himself breathe. Tigris comes out with a sewing project in hand and her hair wrapped up for the night already. “Coryo, is everything alright?” She asks. He’s panting from how quickly he walked home, his face is probably red even. Coriolanus straightens his back, attempting to soothe out the Academy jacket before deciding to just remove it and hang it on the coat rack. He steps up to drop the folder on the table between them. 

“...District two?” She questions. He nods. “The top twenty-four Academy students are being shipped off to a district in pairs to do-” Coriolanus pauses and looks at his cousin’s stricken face, “I don’t even know what the point is.” He admits. 

Tigris brings a hand up to cover her mouth. She has every right to be horrified, regardless of district two’s high ranking among the others, it’s still a district. “Oh, Coryo, how scary. I can’t imagine how scary it must feel to leave the Capitol for the first time.” She says, coming around to hug him. He accepts it, hugging her back for a moment. Scary isn’t what he had been thinking about, but it was a good point. The people in the districts will probably have a huge problem with him and anyone else from the Capitol, he’ll need to be careful. 

“I’m supposed to open this to learn more about the assignment.” He tells her, stepping away to sit at the table. The folder is held together by a thin string wrapped around a small circular bit. Coriolanus unwinds it as Tigris sits next to him. Inside are multiple papers, an itinerary of their days, two weeks , he realizes, along with other information like a stapled bunch on the history and importance of district two. He flips through to find a rubric for their presentation along with a five page questionnaire for him to fill out while he’s in two. 

“This can’t be happening.” He says to himself, forgetting Tigris for a moment until she squeezes his arm in a reassuring manner. “It’ll be alright, Coryo. It might even be fun.” She suggests. He almost scoffs, fun? There would be nothing fun about this, it was work and worse it was dangerous for Capitol students to be in the districts. Didn’t president Ravinstill understand that these district citizens would tear them apart the first chance they got? 

It didn’t matter now. What matters now is reading through these pages in their entirety, and probably rereading them, and then doing everything he can to prepare before they’re shoved on a train headed south. They’re sending you to your grave , he thought. But now was not the time to be solemn, he needs to focus. “I think I’d like to spend some time studying these papers, would that be alright?” He asks, even though he’s already packing them all back up into the brown bag and standing to head to his room. 

Tigris nods, “Of course, I have some potato peels for dinner whenever you’re hungry.” She says gently. Coriolanus can tell she’s passifying him, trying to console. But it isn’t sad or scared that he’s feeling; Coriolanus is irritated. They asked him to work hard, make good grades, and be someone everyone admires. He has done all those things, exceeded in every area, and yet they still were asking him for more, asking him to do this? 

One day he’ll do something to make Dean Highbottom feel as he feels right now. Today, however, Coriolanus will go into his room to study more than twenty papers on a district he cares nothing about.      

❁❁❁❁❁  

The next day at school Coriolanus seeks Lysistrata out before their first class. She’s in the library checking out a book called Panem Districts: A History. “Did you read the information in the pamphlet?” He asks in lieu of a ‘hello’. 

“Good morning, Coriolanus. Yes, I read it. I could barely sleep last night.” She answers. He sighs through his nose, rolling his eyes out of her sight. “Yes, sorry, good morning. I couldn’t either. What did you think?” He asks. Following her out of the library and down the hall to their first class. 

Lysistrata holds the book up and waves it around in front of him, as if to say this is what she thinks, before putting it away in her bag. “I think we should get in as much studying and preparation as we can before leaving next week.” She tells him. He nods, steps falling in line with hers as they walk. “I agree.” He says. 

“Why do you think they’re making us do it?” She asks him. Coriolanus doesn’t have an answer. He has found some of their teachers are inept when it comes to forward thinking, he sometimes thinks that of their president too. “I’m not sure, maybe to remind us of our distinction from the districts.” He answers her. 

In front of them, a group of their fellow classmates are huddled near the door of their first class. Arachne spots them and gestures for them to come over. “What is it?” Coriolanus asks as the two move into earshot. 

“They posted the placements up, everyone is trying to get a peep at who our professor is that’s going with us.” Festus answers him.   

Coriolanus pushes forward to get a glimpse of the paper tacked to the wall. He was one of many who hadn’t heard anything passed his own assignment and was now curious of who received what. Since he already knew the dean would be looming over himself and Lysistrata during their “trip”, he wasn’t worried about reading that. The paper’s title was bolded, reading: DISTRICT ASSIGNMENTS. Below that was the date for next Monday preceded by the word Leaving. 

Then, their names listed out next to their district placement and assigned professor. 

District One: Livia Cardew / Palmyra Monty with Professor Daphne Brightrock

District Two: Lysistrata Vickers / Coriolanus Snow with Dean Casca Highbottom 

District Three: Florus Friend / Urban Canville with Professor Magnet Silverbrook

District Four: Persephone Price / Festus Creed with Dr. Pumice Kay 

District Five: Dennis Fling / Iphigenia Moss with Provost Collort Caddel

District Six: Apollo Ring / Diana Ring with Professor Trillium Whitlock

District Seven: Vipsania Sickle / Pliny Harrington with Professor Aki Tsukumo

District Eight: Juno Phipps / Hilarius Heavensbee with Dr. Waln Calascione

District Nine: Gaius Breen / Androcles Anderson with Dr. Rye Coppersmith

District Ten: Domitia Whimsiwick / Arachne Crane with Professor Hibis Freling

District Eleven: Clemensia Dovecote / Felix Ravinstill with Chairman Mox Guillebeaux  

District Twelve: Io Jasper / Alder Fairdrop with Professor Lynx Ladrón

“Let’s go! ” Vipsania says excitedly, clapping Pliny on the arm. “Professor Aki is the best person we could’ve gotten.” Pliny smiles back at her. 

“No way,” Io argues, “Prof Ladrón lets us do whatever we want. He’s way better.” He crosses his arms when Vipsania laughs at him. “So what? You got twelve, that’s the worst one. What’s the point of getting away with everything if there’s nothing to get away with.” She bites back. 

“I’d hope no one is trying to get away with anything.” Everyone turns to see professor Brightrock standing behind them. Her arms are crossed but gives them all a look like she doubts what she’s saying is true. Coriolanus is almost thankful he’s gotten Highbottom over Brightrock. While she’s not a strict teacher, he knows she doesn’t care about them or their safety and would let rebels in the district blow any one of them up to save herself from a chipped nail.  

“Everyone get into the classroom. You all have your assignments, no need to dwaddle by the paper. It’s not changing.” A chorus of “Yes ma’am’s” follows as everyone shuffles into the lecture hall. He turns to Lysistrata before taking his seat, “Library after school?” He asks. She nods before pushing past him to her seat. 

The end of the day finds Coriolanus in the library as soon as they’re dismissed from their final class. He and Lysistrata take their seats near the back so they don’t have to worry about interruptions. “I read some about district two during lunch, the pictures are amazing, look.” She opens the pages to a bookmarked section and he has to admit the photos are breathtaking. “These have to be old world.” Coriolanus says, “There’s no way it looks like this now.” 

Lysistrata flips the book back around to face her and shrugs, “Maybe, but I don’t think mountains work like that.” He doesn’t want to argue with her, and certainly not when he could be wrong, so he changes the topic. “Did you learn anything else?” He asks. She nods excitedly, flipping to the next page. “Apparently, one of the old languages was spoken in a lot of where district two is now. Some people even still know some words.” 

Flipping the book back toward him, Lysistrata points to a paragraph detailing some of the history of two. The book says it’s a dead language now, as everyone in Panem speaks the same, but that it can still be heard in some music and by certain seniors in the community. Coriolanus takes the book from her, marking the page with his finger and turning to the front with the print details. “Lysistrata,” He says, “this book is almost sixty years old. I don’t think anybody can speak one of the dead languages anymore.” 

She looks disappointed when he hands the book back. Coriolanus is disappointed too, hearing a dead language could have done wonders for their assignment. But it was too early to think about what ifs, they needed to be ready to soak up every word, every sight when they get to district two, and to do that, the history stuff that can be easily found in the Capitol library needed to be out of the way. 

They go through the week in much the same routine. Coriolanus and Lysistrata meet in the library before school, then go to class, and meet again after school. More of their classmates pick up on this and begin following suit. Arachne even pries the book away from him as he goes to return Panem Districts: A History for Lysistrata. “I promise to return it before it’s due, Coryo.” She says over her shoulder like she didn’t just jump him out of nowhere. He looks at the librarian helplessly who only shrugs, looking at him over her ugly glasses and telling him not to worry, she’ll remember not to charge late fees.

When the weekend arrives, Tigris is frantic. Reminding him to pack this and remember that . She even took the liberty of scrounging up a jacket from somewhere. He didn’t have many clothes to pack, so he packed everything and hoped it was enough.  

Monday comes faster than he is ready for and as his classmates huddle together on the Academy’s front lawn, bags in hand, he questions whether this was really well thought out by their authorities. 

“Everyone,” The dean calls from the stairs. “find your district pair and then the faculty who will be escorting you. We’ll be leaving soon.” 

From the bloodshot eyes of the dean, Coriolanus could only conclude that this trip was not as thought out as he hoped. “They’re going to get us killed.” He hisses quietly as Lysistrata steps up to him. “No they won’t, Coriolanus. We’ll be fine.” She tries to reassure. 

He finds that very hard to believe. 

Chapter Text

A line of trains waits for them at the station. Teachers shuffle each pair into the right train car, barely allowing friends to wave goodbye before the metal doors slide closed behind them. The lock clicking drops unease like a rock in Coriolanus’ belly. 

“This way you two.” Highbottom instructs, turning away with a careless wave as he walks into a clean, overly gray car with four rows of cushioned benches facing each other on both sides of the aisle. The dean takes a seat in the last row, facing away from the two students. He isn’t subtle about digging into the breast pocket of his coat and pulling out a morphling glass tube. 

Coriolanus rolls his eyes and sits nearer to the middle of the train car. He chooses the bench facing the dean’s back -even though he can hardly see his head over the seat- just in case. Lysistrata sits across from him. She pulls out a book she’d found a few days ago specifically about district two. It was a thin book, not even a hundred pages long, but she’s poured over every page. “Our packet says we’ll make a few stops on the way to the heart of district two.” She says, opening up her book to the chapter about landmarks. “We’ll make it to the first stop just after lunch.” 

He knows this. Coriolanus read the itinerary too; he read it eight times the first night and a hundred more since then. “Thank you, Lyssie. It’s not as if we received the same packet.” He replies. Coriolanus is so glad she’s here to tell him obvious things. Lysistrata snorts, thumbing through the chapter, “I’m just trying to make conversation.” She explains. “We’re together for the next two weeks.” 

“You’re right.” He smiles. If he is stuck with these two for the next fourteen days, he’ll have to make the best of it. “Sorry.’ 

She accepts his apology easily with a smile and nod. “You know, I heard some of the districts suggested that the guides be other students instead of district officials.” Her voice drops as she says this. She leans toward him conspiratorially, eyes glancing briefly over her shoulder at where the dean’s head is slumping against the window. 

“To buy sympathy probably.” He speculates. “There’s no way the Capitol would have agreed to that.” 

Lysistrata looks sad though he can’t imagine why. “It might have been cool to meet other people our age.” She remarks. Coriolanus does not agree. The districts are completely separate from them now for a reason, he does not think mingling with them has any merit to his own education or personal growth. “Maybe we still could.” She whispers, barely audible above the low hum of the train as it begins to come alive in preparation for their journey. 

Her eyes twinkle with mirth and it does nothing to settle any lingering nerves poking beneath his skin. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, not eager at all to be caught up in whatever she’s planning. 

“We could sneak out one night, don’t you think? Go see what the districts are really like.” She suggests, giggling on the idea of being rebellious. Coriolanus is not so giddy over it. He cannot risk getting into trouble, especially with the dean. Receiving a demerit or reprimand while out in the districts could mean severe consequences for him and his future. “Please don’t wake me when you do.” He says to her. Clear that he wants absolutely no part in her scheming. Lysistrata’s face falls, “Come on, Coryo. It could be fun.” She tries to plead but he only shakes his head. Absolutely not. 

Once they’re finally out of the station, the train moves rather quickly. He’s never been on a train -at least not that he can remember- but the fast pace leaves him somewhat ill. Thankfully, his classmate seems to content herself with reading and doesn’t try to encourage anymore conversation between them; he doesn’t think he could handle it amidst the jolts that send him reeling and his stomach lurching. 

Lysistrata was right. After a lunch where the dean doesn’t join them, the train slows into their first stop. They wait behind the dean at the train’s door, unsure of what to expect. Coriolanus hadn’t seen anything more than dirt, rocks, and trees outside of their window so his hopes were not very high. 

Metal doors slide open with a hiss, exposing four feeble looking wooden stairs. There was no platform or building around them, only the wobbly steps that clearly weren’t a part of the permanent landscape and were placed after the train settled. 

“Welcome!” A cheery old voice says. Coriolanus looks up to see a tall, white bearded man. His outstretched arms take up so much space, as if his orotund frame needs any help in the matter. “I’ll be your guide today.” The man says, stepping up to reach out for Dean Highbottom’s hand to shake. Coriolanus hikes an eyebrow when the dean actually accepts, not expecting him to so easily touch someone from a district.  “My name's Antoninus Orr. I’m the unofficial leader of our little pack here.” He laughs light and airy, as if he’s told a joke. 

“Casca Highbottom.” The dean says, “Thank you for showing us around.” His voice is firm, but with a distinct lack of usual meanness. 

“I’m Lysistrata, um- Vickers. Hello.” She gives a halfhearted wave and small smile from behind Highbottom. The man returns her wave then looks to Coriolanus, who would have been happy to not say anything at all. His shoes are steadily becoming soaked in mud and the air here bites with a murkiness the Capitol does not have. Altogether, he already concludes this trip must be some sort of punishment. If not on him personally, then on the districts by parading around Capitol children and their wealth. 

“Coriolanus Snow.” He says, nodding curtly and offering no smile at all. 

The man isn’t perturbed by his indifference. “How lovely to meet you all. Come along then, let me show you around!” 

Highbottom falls in step with Antoninus and he and Lysistrata fall in line behind them. “I was so excited when I heard that Capitol students would be touring our little village!” The old man exclaims, leading them over gravel and more mud. “Oh, and mind your step. Don’t want to step on anything the animals left.” Antoninus chuckles. 

The village in question looks to be miles out and with no car in sight, Coriolanus guesses they’ll be required to walk its length. Long treks are something he is used to but the context was different. In the Capitol, he had a trolley or at least pavement to keep his shoes clean. And there were not animals just about where anyone could step in whatever they “left”. 

“So are you the mayor, Mr. Orr?” Lysistrata asks from his left. Mr? The man does not deserve even a title as common as that, he thinks. Antoninus seems to agree with Coriolanus’ silent judgment, because he laughs openly, in a way that has his hands coming up to rest on his belly. “Oh, nothing like that. District two only has one mayor, and she certainly isn’t me.” He answers, laugh growing softer as it dies out into a pleasant smile. “And call me Antoninus.” He throws a wink over his shoulder playfully and Coriolanus is aghast when Lyssie laughs along. 

“No, I just live out here and that’s really all you need to lead a small village like ours it seems. Though, I don’t fancy calling myself a leader. More like… a facilitator of community decisions.” 

This man sounds like a fool. Coriolanus can’t imagine that this “village” runs efficiently at all. “How can a town run with so many opinions in the pot?” Coriolanus asks. His tone suggests it’s an innocent enough question.

“You’d be surprised to find that most people want the same thing.” Antoninus answers happily. “And what is that?” He pushes. Lysistrata’s eyes cut to him, she might not like his line of questioning but it’s important to understand how districts think. 

“Peace.” Antoninus says gently, like he thinks Coriolanus might not understand. He’s right to think that. If the people in the districts wanted peace so badly, why go to war? Why rebel? His classmate must see the question on the tip of his tongue, because she’s quick to throw out another question of her own. 

“Antoninus, what do the people here do for work?” 

“Well, we do what almost everyone in district two does!” He answers, tone chipper once more. “Work in the stone mines. You’ll probably make a stop at a quarry as well, but be thankful it’s not here.” He chuckles again. “If you think this walk is bad, just you kids wait.” 

Coriolanus wants to die.        

❁❁❁❁❁

The village is tiny. Antoninus points out a dining hall that everyone apparently eats in, a small store where anything they can’t make or grow for themselves is shipped in from the main town, and a school. Apparently, everyone’s homes are all out nearer to the fields. The school building is one room and takes up less space than the cafeteria at the Academy. Coriolanus decides right away that there is no way the space is conducive for learning. 

Every age is crammed together, some of the older students even help the younger ones instead of doing their own work. They do not go inside, Antoninus says it might distract the children to be watched by Capitol citizens. So they peer in through the window, which Coriolanus thinks is somehow worse. “What are they learning?” Lysistrata asks as they walk by, she’s turning her head to watch into the window as long as she can. 

“The basics.” The old man answers. “Reading, writing, history of Panem. The older students learn things too like math and whatever else the teacher has a book on. But most don’t make it far into that before they go into the stone mines.”  

Lysistrata looks disheartened and Coriolanus cannot help but feel an unease about him as well. The oldest of them looked younger than him, did they join the mines too? Not that it wasn’t their duty as citizens of district two, but still. Their hallowed out faces didn’t inspire confidence in him that they should be working with heavy rocks. 

The “leader” of this little village takes them into the dining hall. It’s an open air building, hardly even a building at all. Only the roof protecting it from the elements of the outdoors. A large stone oven sits in the back, with a full kitchen on a much larger scale surrounding it. Everything else is just wooden tables and stone benches. “Sit with me, I’ll answer any other questions you have while we wait.” Antoninus says, lowering himself onto a stone stool. 

A few people are working in the area and stop to watch them. Coriolanus can imagine how they must look, with their bright red Academy uniforms against the beige and brown of the rocky landscape. There wasn't a different color in sight for miles; the only green he’d seen was back toward where the train was waiting. 

“Are we not going to tour the mines?” Lysistrata asks curiously, sinking into the seat across from Antoninus, leaving him to sit across from the dean. Coriolanus wants to pinch her under the table for mentioning it. If they were meant to tour the mines and the old man forgot, he did not want anything reminding him about it. But Antoninus only laughs heartedly, “Oh no, not here dear girl. You’ll do that in the big city where the mines will be much safer for you.” 

She is quiet for a moment, her jew clenching and releasing a handful of times. “But if it isn’t safe why do the people in town work there?” Her question is asked softly. It’s almost too quiet to hear. And if there was any noise beyond the wind right now, he does not think anyone would have heard. The old man’s smile slips into a frown. 

“Perhaps a different question, Miss. Vickers.” Highbottom says across the table. Coriolanus uses this time to pull out his notebook and pen. He’s posed to ask a question about their history when a sharp whistle cuts through his thoughts. It’s high and long, stopping abruptly before two shorter whistles follow. 

“What was that?” He asks Antoninus, turning to look at the man supposedly. If it was a bird, it was a horrifying tune for an animal. “The miners.” Antoninus answers, laughing at the terrified looks of the two Capitol students. The old man licks his lips before repeating the whistle at a much lower volume, one long sound followed by two short ones. “Means dinner.” 

“Isn’t it a little early to have dinner?” Coriolanus questions. “Dinner here means lunch. Super is dinner.” The old man answers easily. That’s awfully confusing, he thinks. “There aren’t too many of us here so everyone eats together. Helps with rations and morale.” Antoninus continues. 

They all watch from their table as students spill out of the schoolhouse and their parents or older siblings begin emerging from openings of stone structures at the base of a nearby hill. “And the community decided this?” He asks. Antoninus said he wasn’t really a leader and more of a facilitator, but Coriolanus cannot imagine an entire town really agreeing to eat every meal together. He can hardly stand the few meals he has to eat with Grandma’am and his more annoying classmates. 

“They sure did, son.” The man answers, still smiling pleasantly as if none of Coriolanus’ questions have affected his good opinion of him. As the miners close in on the dining hall, the school children begin forming a line at one end of the kitchen. One of the people who had been watching them earlier brings four bowls over to hand out. “Thank you, Sasha.” Antoninus says, taking one from her to hand to the dean and then another for himself. The girl hands Coriolanus and Lysistrata bowls as well with spoons already balanced inside. 

Antoninus must see the hesitance in Coriolanus because he laughs full-belly again. “Don’t worry, boy. It’s only lamb stew. You came just in time with the shipments, now’s our good time of the month.” He chuckles some more as he raises a spoon to his lips before taking a bite. 

We’ve already eaten, is on the tip of his tongue when the harsh glare from the dean silences him. It’s obvious what the look means as Highbottom lifts the spoon up to his own mouth. Lyssie follows without any hesitation, leaving only Coriolanus to have not tried it. 

Normally, he would have no doubts in a meal. He knew all too well how scarce food could be, but this was district food. Food from rebels, who knows what they’ve done with it. How is the Capitol ensuring their safety? But when three pairs of eyes turn on him at once, he swallows his resentment at being made to eat. Slowly, he scoops a chunk of lamb onto the spoon and brings it to his mouth. He shoots Antoninus a tight lipped smile before tilting the contents back into his mouth to chew and swallow. 

Surprisingly the food is good. The meat is pleasantly tender and the broth is well seasoned. But there’s only a second of enjoyment before the resentment is back, settling into every part of him. How could these people in district two have better fortune than him? What was the world when he starves on cabbage soup while they eat meals like this? 

People mill about around them as they take their own stew and fill the tables. Families sit shoulder to shoulder and children laugh along with their friends. They’re dirty and starving but still seem happy. He does not understand it, cannot even begin to fathom why they seem to have no real care in the world when he is burdened by so many. 

Coriolanus chews his food bitterly as he listens to the laughs and whistles of the people around him. Nobody pays them any mind beyond a few glances here and there. One very small boy even waves and Lysistrata waves back.

❁❁❁❁❁

They continue this several times over the next few days. Stopping at some small village with starving people in dirty clothes that ate just as poorly as he did back home. It was the same, over and over. The strangest part is how quiet the dean has been on their trip. He cannot understand what this means or what the point of this trip was. 

If their time in the districts really is just meant to shine a spotlight on the Capitol’s victories, wasn’t there an easier way to do it? Was this really all just to show these people that their children will never be safe and well fed like a Capitol child? Coriolanus thought that was nonsense because he was not fed and hardly ever safe even in the Capitol. The Hunger Games might never reach him, but that doesn’t mean poverty didn’t have a tight grip around his neck. 

Or was this all to show him and his classmates the realities of the district and what their rebellion has cost them. Personally, he thinks it would be an idiotic lesson seeing as so many of his classmates are too tenderhearted. Lysistrata’s eyes softened more and her heart bled at each stop. Every child, bad meal, bare foot, or weeping mother tore her open just a little more. Coriolanus did not let it affect him after the first time. The districts chose this bed, now they would lie in it. 

Whatever the reason for their travels, Dean Highbottom -and he suspects the other chaperones- is not forthcoming on much information. 

“Are you excited to see district two’s big city?” Lysistrata asks after dinner on the train. Day four is ending and they will be in the main town of district two by tomorrow morning. The dean has slunk off somewhere and left the two alone before bed. “If it’s anything like what we have already seen. I think I’d rather go home.” He admits, looking out at the dark landscape over his nose. 

“Don’t be like that, Coryo. You saw the pictures, this city is different.” She insists. Coriolanus does agree that this will be much bigger. And he hope, cleaner. But regardless of it all, he doesn’t care about being in district two and is not excited for the next ten days. “You remember what I said before, about going out?” She asks and he wants to scoff. Of course he remembers her wanting to break curfew to sneak out and probably get beaten up by district. 

“Of course I remember. Do you remember me telling you not to wake me when you do?” He asks. Lysistrata sighs dramatically. “Come on, Coriolanus. This will probably be the only time in our lives we’re ever allowed out of the Capitol, why not try to enjoy it?” 

“How can you enjoy being around them all?” He snaps, voice low. “They could kill you in an instant. Would too if they got the chance.” 

Lysistrata shakes her head, “They aren’t all like that. Can’t you tell yet? Haven’t you noticed how kind most of the people have been? As if they have any reason at all to be kind.” She leans forward as she speaks, like she’s willing him to understand her. 

“You’re deluded to think they are being kind for any other reason than because they have to be. Don’t you think they rehearsed it before we came? Or, at the very least, were told to behave when we got here.” He asks. She doesn’t understand that district people see them as just as much of an enemy as the Capitol saw them. This wasn’t kindness they were seeing, it was an act. For food, or grace, or whatever the reason. Nobody is kind to their enemy without a good excuse. 

“You’re seeing the world in a terrifying way, Coriolanus.” Lysistrata says as she stands from her seat. She doesn’t say goodnight to him as she normally would before walking out of the car to the one with their rooms. He huffs to himself after she leaves. It’s Lysistrata who’s seeing the world wrong. Looking at everything through a flowery eye will never allow her to realize the horrors they face against the districts and rebels. 

He decides to go to bed too, not wanting to sit alone in a dark cabin. 

Coriolanus sleeps fitfully that night. He dreams about the hallowed or swollen faces of children he’s met. Their sad eyes do not leave him to rest, waiting for the moment his own close and he cannot hide from them any longer. Dreams of himself in the mines follow the children and families. His hands crack and bleed against the wood of a pickaxe and dust forces its way into his lungs. Suffocation rips him away from sleeping, he gasps harshly for clean air. 

The sun peeks over tall mountains; colors morphing from orange and pink to the blue of the day. He knows he will not find sleep again, and decides it’s a decent enough time to get up and shower. Because of the hour Coriolanus allows himself more time with the warm water. The humid air of early June still lingers cold in the morning, so the warmth of the water is a welcome feeling. He scrubs himself twice, trying to get the sensation of dirt and district eyes off his body. But no matter what, he can’t seem to escape the feelings of his dream on his skin. 

Dean Highbottom is awake and sitting at the breakfast table with a paper of some kind on his hand. Coriolanus has taken great care to not let himself be alone with the dean at all during their trip. He did not want to deal with whatever conversation would follow. Luck does not seem to be on his side this morning. 

Folding the paper in half, the dean lays in on the table before looking up at Coriolanus as he finds a seat. “Good morning, Mr. Snow.” He says, calculated as he always is around him. “Good morning, Dean Highbottom.” Coriolanus responds, perfectly polite and without any emotion. 

“Make sure to eat something. We’ll be in town within the hour.” He instructs. Coriolanus nods, pulling an apple from the tray of fresh fruits and taking a bite. He looks around awkwardly as they wait for Lysistrata to wake up and join them. 

The dean does not seem to sense his unease. Or, more accurately, he probably does sense it and it encourages him. “How has your trip been so far?” He asks Coriolanus, smugness coats his face and it makes him want to seize up and hit the dean. That would, of course, be completely inappropriate. So instead he answers, “Educational. The president was wise to send us out here to see the realities of the districts. Their rebellion should not be easily forgotten.” 

It’s the answer he thinks an Academy teacher would want to hear, not necessarily his true opinion of their trip. The dean must see through it as one of his eyebrows raise and his head tilts slightly forward in an insistence that Coriolanus continue. What else was he supposed to say? That the dirt and motion sickness were getting to him and he would much rather be home, eating Tigris’ bland, impoverished potato peels than be here right now. “Is there anything specific you’ve learned?” Highbottom presses. 

Coriolanus thinks for a moment. “The whistling.” He answers finally, “That wasn’t in any of the books about district two.” 

Dean Highbottom sighs, dropping back into his seat. Disappointment seeps off him but he doesn’t press further for Coriolanus to share more about what he’s learned. Lysistrata saves them from any more uncomfortable interactions by joining them in the dining car. She says good morning and both students eat quietly until the train comes to a stop. The dean hops off his chair, straightening his coat before looking back at the two. “Let’s go, it’s time for you to meet the mayor of district two.” He tells them. 

Both stand to follow after Highbottom. Coriolanus fixes his school bag at his side. Hardly anything was in it, mostly just the district two packet, his notepad, and a pen, what else would he need? 

The train’s lock clicks and slides open with a hiss. This time, it opens to a real platform -like the one in the Capitol- with sturdy steps and buildings surrounding them. In front of them, a beautiful woman in a purple colored suit waves. Her nails are long and painted the same red as their uniforms; something he only notices because Tigris has trained his eye for certain unusual fashions. 

“Welcome to the heart of district two.” She calls to them as they walk closer to meet her. Dean Highbottom leads the way but side steps after shaking her hand so she can address Coriolanus and Lysistrata. “I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’re learning about district two so far, and that everyone’s been accommodating.” She says, smiling at them with blindingly white teeth. He knew the villages were told to perform for them, this confirmed it in his mind. 

“I’m the mayor of district two,” the woman continues, “my name is Proserpina Garrison. Most people call me Pina, feel free to do that also.” 

Proserpina seems as kind as everyone else has been during their stay, but Coriolanus knows better. No one is just kind for the sake of it. “I’m so excited for you to join us so we can show you around. Of course, I won’t be able to show you everything on my own, but we have plenty of officials and community leaders who have volunteered to step up for your stay.” She tells them. Her arm reaches out in a gesture to something behind her. 

Coriolanus looks over her shoulder to see a boy leaning against a wall close enough to see clearly but far enough away that Proserpina needs to raise her voice to gain his attention. “Sejanus, come here please.” She calls over her shoulder. 

The boy, Sejanus, pushes himself off the wall and slinks over. He does not look entirely happy to be here, but he also doesn’t look mad or putout. Entirely neutral. But Coriolanus doesn't think about that at all, in fact, he feels like he’s almost stopped thinking entirely when big, brown eyes shift onto him. 

He’s completely taken aback by his strong reaction, not used to the feeling at all. Heat rushes his face fast and he looks away to avoid any more odd behaviors. “Since there will be so many officials in and out, Sejanus has volunteered to stay with you for the next ten days so you have someone to ask questions or talk to who is your age. He will probably understand your questions better than any of us old folks here.” Proserpina laughs, sweeping a hand in the air at the joke. 

Dean Highbottom makes a strange noise, like a cough and grunt mixed together. They all look to see him glaring up at the mayor. It doesn’t shake her like it would anyone else, her smile staying firm on her face. “I’m sorry, Dean Highbottom. I know we didn’t have time to discuss Sejanus being their guide, but he’s top of his class and a wonderful boy, you have nothing to worry about.” She tells him pleasantly. 

It’s a strange interaction that calls Lysistrata’s earlier whisperings to mind. He turns to her and she cuts him a sidelong glance, both thinking about their conversation from the first night. They’d speculated the Capitol would shut down any student guides, but it appears that mayor Proserpina decided to ask forgiveness rather than permission. 

The mayor claps her hands together enthusiastically. “Why don’t we all take a tour of the main building before dinner? You can ask Sejanus questions while you eat and he can tell you more about what you’ll be doing here for the next few days!” She suggests turning on one foot to lead the way. Her heels click against the stone ground as they walk. Coriolanus focuses on that rather than the heat of the boy walking next to him. 

“Hi. I’m Lysistrata Vickers.” Lyssie says, leaning forward to look past Coriolanus at the other boy as they walk. He gives her a quick, closed mouth smile. “Sejanus Plinth.” He tells her, nodding. Lysistrata straightens up and jams her elbow into his side. He hisses, flushing red again when it’s obvious that Sejanus saw and laughs. “Coriolanus Snow.” He says between his teeth. 

“Snow? We get a lot of that around here. If you climb high enough.” Sejanus says with a smirk. His neutral expression melting away now that introductions have been made. 

“Have you?” Coriolanus asks, curious, “Climbed high enough, I mean.” It snows in the Capitol as well, no climbing required. 

Sejanus’ eyes crinkle in mirth. “For a snow drop as pretty as you?” Sejanus asks, “I’d climb to the top of that mountain.” The boy stops walking and points to a mountain so far in the distance it looks small. Coriolanus curses himself for the warmth that crawls up his neck again. He needed to get the blushing under control, but he certainly wasn’t expecting flirtation. 

“Oh- well,” He clears his throat, not sure what to say. Almost blessedly he is cut off by the dean clearing his throat. He glances back at the three with a stern look. 

“Is that your uniform?” Lysistrata asks, steering them back to a safer topic. He’s in brown pants that match a brown vest with a blue shirt under it. The outfit does not look anything like their uniform with the excess fabric and blood stain color.

Sejanus snorts, “We don’t have uniforms.” He tells her. Lysistrata’s eyes widen in shock, “That must be nice to wear what you like.” Her voice comes out airy, like she can’t believe district two students are allowed such a freedom. Coriolanus thinks they probably just can’t afford the uniforms. Sejanus shrugs, “It’s fine I suppose. Glad to not be wearing that. ” The boy makes a show of dragging his eyes down, then back up, Coriolanus, eyebrows pressed together in disbelief at the getup. Lysistrata laughs whilst Coriolanus looks away from the boy. 

The two talk pleasantly with him between them as they walk, but Coriolanus does not include himself. His classmate would do well to learn from him and forget this notion of making friends with every district two citizen they meet. 

Thankfully, the main building isn’t far from the station; only about a ten minute walk. Proserpina turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “Are you two ready? I’m so excited to show you everything we in district two get up to from day-to day!” 

Her enthusiasm seems to rub off on Lysistrata, but Coriolanus will need to be more convinced.    

Chapter Text

Coriolanus was right to be apprehensive of their tour into the main building. Being bored is not something that happens often for him, with school and the stress of his home life keeping his mind occupied. But when both of those things are miles away his mind has nothing to latch onto as Proserpina practically skips through the building on the toes of her shoes. 

“Now, you’ll hear everyone call it the “main building”, but it does actually have a name! The Aurum City Building is our official name. Though you can tell how much of a mouthful that is, so “main building" just stuck.”  Proserpina explains, walking backward to look between Coriolanus and Lysistrata before turning back to point at pictures and artifacts on the wall. 

“We also call it “the lucre”” Sejanus whispers to them. Lyssie, being more sociable of the two when it came to the district citizens, has pushed between the boys and walks next to Sejanus now. Coriolanus wasn’t put out by this arrangement, needing the extra space to breathe away from the boy and his sharp jaw and delicate curls. “Why’s that?” She asks Sejanus equally as low, as to not clue Proserpina and the dean in that they aren’t really listening. 

“It means dirty money. That’s all the government officials care about.” He says it with more contempt of his nation than a person so young should have any right to be. His eyes jump past Lysistrata to stare Coriolanus down, challenging him to disagree. The boy seems to trust his classmate already, but despite the earlier flirting Coriolanus has not won the same trust.

Lysistrata nods like she agrees with Sejanus. He doesn’t say anything, even though he knows that sort of sentiment could land her in a lot of trouble. “I know you kids must be getting hungry after all this walking around.” Proserpina says, stopping near an exit and turning to look at them. “And I’m sure you have just a million questions for Sejanus, so why don’t we head to Plinth Hall for dinner?” It’s stated as a question, but the mayor turns away and pushes open the door, holding it for them to follow. 

Stepping outside blinds Coriolanus for a moment. The muted lights inside the main building are nothing compared to the way the sun beats down onto the rocky landscape. When his eyes adjust, he has to hold back a surprised look at his surroundings. To his left, Lysistrata gasps audibly. 

The buildings are so different from anything in the Capitol. Of course, that has been the case throughout each little village they stopped in or rode past, but this was different. Stone here was red and orange, not the cold gray of the Capitol. And everything that could be painted a bright color was. He could tell the paint was old and chipping in the corners and edges, but that didn’t really take away from the overwhelming look of it all. “It’s beautiful.” Lyssie says, “There’s so much color!” 

Proserpina smiles with all her teeth at them. “I’m so glad you think so. It's a tradition dating back long before any of us were even a thought.” 

“Won’t be for long,” Sejanus chimes in, “not with the Capitol cutting off paint supplies.” 

The mayor glares at him harshly. Coriolanus cannot explain it, but the look seems to be familiar to her. Like this isn’t the first time she’s reprimanded him for something similar. “Enough, Sejanus.” She says sternly. 

So the boy’s a rebel. It’s a shame that his good looks are wasted on an impolitic mind. 

There are not many people out. Proserpina explains that most people here work on weapons making or stonemasonry in the factories, something they’ll tour later. She walks them across cobblestone streets -he’s immensely grateful to be out of the mud- to a white building with rounded edges and a burnt colored roof. Plinth Hall is painted on a wooden sign above the arched door. Its layout is unusual, the doors open into a courtyard rather than the inside. Proserpina guides them through a colorful array of plants, with fruit he doesn’t recognize, to another door that leads into a large cafeteria. 

“Your family owns this building?” Coriolanus asks, looking sideways at Sejanus. The boy shakes his head roughly, “My father paid to have it built for the city. He doesn’t own it.” It’s harder to see pink fill in Sejanus’ cheeks than it was when Coriolanus blushed earlier, but it still darkens his face in a show of bashfulness. 

Proserpina directs them to the empty lines. “This is where students will eat. It’s a little early but you might see them as we’re leaving.” She says. Lysistrata steps into the line first, smiling at the old woman handing her a plate of food. Sejanus is behind her, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at Coriolanus who only falls into line to prove he isn’t scared of the district’s food. 

“Mrs. Garrison,” Dean Highbottom says, “may I speak with you while the students eat?” 

The dean’s face is screwed up in a way he usually reserves for when he has to look at Coriolanus. “Of course, Dean Highbottom.” She says easily, following him back out into the courtyard. 

Lysistrata wastes no time, spinning fully around and pressing in close to Sejanus. “So, what do district two students do for fun here?” She asks, eyes burning with an insatiable curiosity. The boy laughs openly as he takes his plate and walks it over to an empty stone table that looks like it melts into the floor. “Well there’s the street games and school.” He answers Lysistrata as she sits down next to him. Coriolanus only chooses to sit across from the boy instead of his classmate because he’ll need to ask his own questions soon enough. 

“What type of games?” She asks, enamored by his answers rather than the food in front of her. Sejanus is the only one to begin eating the meal. “We kick and throw balls, everybody calls it different things. A lot of people take the red rocks from outside of town and use them to draw on the cobblestone or sides of building.” He explains. Lyssie pulls out her notebook and pushes the plate out of the way to write down his answer word for word. 

Sejanus grimaces a little around a bite when he sees what she’s writing. “It can’t be more interesting than what you play in the Capitol…” He says, bewildered. Coriolanus and Lysistrata look at each other quietly for a moment; it is more interesting. Capitol students are expected to be quiet and almost regal. Always. 

At the Academy there is no time for playing, and before that… Coriolanus isn’t certain. Before that for him was the war. He cannot imagine what a young child would occupy themselves with now, because it certainly isn’t writing on walls or kicking balls in the streets. “Um, well we don’t really play very often in the Capitol.” Lyssie states. Her voice is soft, trailing off at the end in a way that explains more to the district boy than her words probably had. 

“Oh.” He says, pulling the fork away from his mouth. “Sorry.” 

Her smile is back in an instant, “Don’t be.” she tries to reassure. But Sejanus’ mouth pulls down on one side and he’s abandoned his utensil on his plate. The damage has been done. “Can you keep a secret?” He asks slowly, not entirely sure he can believe them yet. 

His classmate nods immediately, leaning closer to Sejanus in anticipation. But Sejanus says nothing and looks across the table at Coriolanus who hasn’t moved. He contemplates saying no. Of course he can keep a secret, has done so many times, but should he? There is no benefit to becoming a co-conspirator with a district boy. However, the swift kick he receives under the table from Lyssie has him clenching his teeth but nodding once. In the end, he could blame everything on her if they get caught. 

Those wide brown eyes stare at him unconvinced, but Sejanus turns back to Lysistrata and sees something in her that’s enough for him to continue. “A lot of us around here go out to this place called Bailar Hall at night, everyone dances and hangs out to forget about everything for a little while. It can be a lot though, so we don’t go every night.” 

He can see Lysistrata almost vibrating out of her seat in excitement. This is exactly what she wanted, to let district two run away with her as far as she could go. “We can join you there, right? You’ll take us?” She asks, hands coming up in a prayer, desperate for a yes.  

“You aren’t supposed to know about it, the city officials turn a blind eye because they did it too as kids. But you two definitely wouldn’t be allowed in there.” Sejanus answers, picking up his fork and going back to eating. Lysistrata’s face falls in an instant and he almost feels bad for her. “But you could get us in, right, Sejanus?” She pleads.

The boy shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m on my last leg, no way. You think I volunteered to parade Capitol students around out of some sense of duty?” He tells them, taking his last bite of food. “The mayor wanted a student and my father volunteered me for it.” 

“I thought you were top of your class?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrow raised pointedly. Sejanus looks at him with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I am.”

“How does someone who is supposedly so smart end up in so much trouble then?” He questions. The other boy’s nostrils flare and Coriolanus finds himself having fun for the first time in the last five days. “I’m honest and I’ll say it just like it is. Something I’m sure you don’t know a thing about.” Sejanus snaps. 

Coriolanus is taken aback by the harsh way he says it. His mind is sent reeling by the quick turn around from flirtatious to indifferent to violent. For a second, he contemplates if Sejanus is dangerous to be alone with. If he’s a district rebel with a history of shooting off about things, then he would be exactly the type of person Coriolanus was worried about when they began their little Academy funded adventure. 

“You’re certainly quick to judge.” He says back, keeping a calm front so that the boy doesn’t know he’s gotten to him. Sejanus’ eyes track down to his untouched plate of food before finding his own again. “I think we have that in common then.” 

Highbottom throws open the door with the mayor hot on his heels. She doesn’t appear frazzled but it isn’t a hard guess as to what the dean wanted to discuss with her. “Sejanus,” She says as they come to stand at the end of the table. “why don’t you stay here and then go back to school with your classmates?” 

It’s an order framed as a suggestion. Sejanus nods quietly, not looking at all put out by the change in plans. Lysistrata, however, of course has something to say. “But he’s already been so helpful!” She directs this to Proserpina before turning on the dean.

“Please, Dean Highbottom. I really think having Sejanus around will help us with our learning. And I think we could teach him about the Capitol traditions too.” It’s a reach. Coriolanus does not think the boy has any interest in learning about Capitol traditions from them, but he stays quiet, leaving her to plead alone. 

“If you want Coryo and I to do well on our presentation, we need someone who understands and can help answer our questions.” Lyssie adds. She doesn’t know that Highbottom probably does not want them to do well. For the simple fact that he seems to hate Coriolanus for a reason that’s beyond the Academy student. 

Dean Highbottom sighs tiredly. “Mr. Plinth will join you again tomorrow.” He informs her. “But he won’t be joining us in the mines or at any factories.” His voice is stern and leave no room for argument, not that any of them would have one. Lysistrata claps twice in excitement. 

“Eat.” He says, looking down at their full plates. “Mrs. Garrison and I will do the same and then we’ll all leave for the mines.” With that, the dean turns to walk into the line followed by the mayor. The adults take a seat at a table away from them. 

“Guess you’re stuck with me then.” Sejanus says. He reaches across the table to pluck a small dessert cake from Coriolanus’ plate. “You aren’t eating this, right?” The boy asks, winking before he picks off a piece and throws it up in the air to catch in his mouth. It’s a crude display of meanness against him, but his classmate laughs in delight at the trick. She begins to dig into her own plate now that she isn’t occupied with asking Sejanus questions. 

Just to be contrary to the district boy, Coriolanus picks up his fork, stabbing into the food before lifting it to his mouth to eat. Sejanus gives him a half-cocked, smug smile as he chews on Coriolanus’ cake. They eat until a bell rings loudly from another building close by.  There are only a few moments of quiet in between before Plinth Hall is flooded with students of all ages. Some wave at Sejanus as they pass, but most watch Coriolanus and Lysistrata with wide, warry eyes. 

Only a young girl is brave enough to approach them. Her hair is the same color as the mountains in district two, and longer than any girl of her age that he’s ever seen. “‘Rora!” Sejanus exclaims, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The girl is short enough that he can do that while still remaining seated. “Hello.” She says, but not to him. She’s looking right at Coriolanus. 

Coriolanus, for all that he doesn’t like the districts and isn’t Sejanus’ biggest fan at the moment, is still moved by her somehow. She seems entirely too bashful in greeting him for being the only person to even approach their table. “Hi.” Coriolanus says. It’s the first time he’s greeted a district two resident with his usual charming smile. Lyssie beams, first at him, then at the young girl settling between Sejanus and her. “Hi!” Lysistrata says sweetly, waving a little as the girl looks at her. “I’m Lysistrata Vickers.” 

The girl smiles with all her teeth, showing off a missing one right in the front. “I’m Aurora y’Corph.” She tells them. Aurora looks back at Coriolanus again expectantly. “Coriolanus Snow.” He says softly. Her eyes widen a fraction and she laughs. “Snow! I love snow.” It’s a fact that only a child could come up with upon hearing his name for the first time. Still, she’s charming in her own way and he smiles at her like she’s just complimented him personally. 

Aurora turns to Sejanus, “CJ, I’m going to get food. Can I sit with you?” She asks. Sejanus nods easily, “‘Course you can. I’ll be with you the rest of the day.” He tells her. The girl smiles and runs off quickly to get in line. Coriolanus fixes him with a stare, “CJ?” he questions. 

Sejanus huffs. “‘Rora started it a long time ago. She couldn’t say Sejanus as a toddler, would always say “sea” instead of “se” and then could never make it through the “janus” part quite right. So she just started calling me CJ.” 

“She’s your sister?” Lysistrata asks. The two look nothing alike, but that doesn’t really mean anything. “No,” Sejanus snickers, “we just grew up in the same part of town…” he says, then, “Her brother was a friend of mine.” Coriolanus doesn’t miss the past tense, or the way the boy looks down and his words strain. He knows not to ask, a million things could have happened but probably only one thing did. Lysistrata opens her mouth to ask and it’s his turn to kick her under the table. When she looks over at him, he gives a sharp shake of his head that Sejanus doesn’t see. 

Two years ago a boy with copper hair and the same bright green eyes was a tribute for the eighth Hunger Games. Coriolanus only remembers because until then, no tribute had killed their district counterpart, it was always somebody else. But when the girl brought a dagger down into the soft space between his ribs that could no longer be said. He tries to remember the boy's name to confirm he isn’t misremembering. It was something unique, like Alphon, or Agamemnon… neither sounded right. 

“What was his name?” Lysistrata asks gently. Her hand comes up to touch Sejanus lightly on the shoulder. The boy presses his lips together and takes a long breath through his nose before answering. “Amphion y’Corph.” 

That was it. Amphion. The district two male tribute during the eighth Hunger Games. In the end, killing her district two companion hadn’t even been worth it because the victor was a boy from district five. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Dean Highbottom pulls them away from the bustle of Plinth Hall. As they slip out the door Coriolanus turns to cast one more glance at their strange new guide and sees a flock of new people joining him at the table they’d just left. 

A car waits outside, red, the same as everything else here. He feels relief flood his entire being that they do not have to walk to the mines. They drive until cobblestone becomes dry dirt and greenery. “I think seeing the mines in person will be very educational. It’s so important to know where everything comes from.” Proserpina says. 

“Does everyone here work in the mines too?” Lysistrata asks her as they drive past endless trees and bushes. “No, no. Not here. In some of the smaller villages, yes. But here is where the factories are where we make all the stonecraft. We only have the one mine, though it’s still a big one.” She answers, smiling as Lyssie pulls out her note book to write the answer down quickly as they pull to a stop. 

Everyone steps out of the car to be greeted by nothing but a small mine opening that has Coriolanus questioning their safety once again. “Wear these.” Proserpina instructs, pulling out identical hats with small lights installed in the front. They were hideous and hard and will ruin his hair but Coriolanus accepts one quietly, waiting until Lyssie secures hers before doing the same. 

Proserpina takes them past the wobbly looking opening into the mines, explaining that many workers have their one and only break around this time and so it would be a fairly empty tour. She talks about all the minerals and precious metals collected here, about the stone and the ways they harvest it to create the buildings in the Capitol and various other places around Panem. 

“This place is detestable.” He whispers to her as they walk further into the mines side by side behind Dean Highbottom and mayor Proserpina. Lysistrata nods solemnly, “Yes, these people are made to work in such terrible conditions.” 

“I can’t believe this is the place they made Lady Panem.” He looks around, barely able to see amidst the dark and dust. “How she came from this is striking.” 

“You’re missing the point.” She says. Coriolanus looks back at the shift in her tone. She must think him stupid, because she says it like he’s so close but yet still missing something. As if there’s some greater lesson to be learned here. He cannot come up with any learning to be done so deep into the district two mines.

“What is the point then?” He asks, challenging her to convince him of a good one. “People are forced to work in these detestable mines. They’re humans just like us, Coryo, don’t you think they deserve better than this?” She implores. Truthfully, he’s never thought much about it, until now of course. Because didn’t they deserve this? Rebels and their bombs caused all of this. If the districts were unhappy they should have asked the Capitol for help, not fought a war. “Would you rather it be you working here?” He asks her. Lysistrata groans, looking away from him to a wall with a thousand little chips and markings. 

“This isn't right.” He hears her whisper to herself, but doesn’t say anything. What can be said to a girl with a bleeding heart? There’s nothing they can do to stop any of this even if they wanted to. 

Their tour unfolds in much the same way as the first had, boring him to tears for hours as Proserpina winds them through a maze of tunnels and rambles on about each tiny detail. She leads them deep into the mines, where the most interesting thing is the handful of workers they see, and even then it’s only interesting because their presence puts Coriolanus on edge. The men, and some women, that sit around eating out of their lunch boxes watch them carefully as they pass. Coriolanus feels like an animal on display.

When they finally find their way back into the light, Proserpina shuffles them all back into a car to take them to where they’ll be staying for the next few days. They drive past several brick buildings until very nice homes begin taking over the scenery. Some of them so larger that they must be at least seven, eight, or even nine bedrooms. He’s almost tempted to press his face into the glass just to get a better look, but that would be unseemly.

“You’ll all be staying with me in my home!” Proserpina exclaims, clapping her hands together. They pull up to one of the nicest houses so far and the mayor steps out first, guiding them all to follow and waving her hands to display the building in front of her. “Welcome, I hope you find it comfortable.” 

She shows them up the stairs, pointing out where each of them will be staying. Coriolanus’ assigned room is nice, if not exceptionally colorful. His bags are already inside. Proserpina tells them supper will be ready soon and they can wash up or relax until then. Coriolanus finds he is at least fortunate that this room has two small, separate beds so he falls into one, all dusty from the day, and worries about showering later. 

Dinner is quiet. Lysistrata still seems upset with him for what they said back in the mines. He’ll have to apologize to her later, even if he still thinks he was right, they couldn’t be cold toward one another as project partners.  

He is exhausted by the time dinner -supper- is over and they’re excused to their rooms. He showers quickly, desperate to get district two off his skin completely. 

As he begins to settle into bed, ready to turn off the light and leave the world of district two behind for a few hours, a tapping sound turns his head. Tap. He looks around the room, unsure of where it came from. Coriolanus holds his breath a moment, waiting for it to happen again. Tap. It’s so faint he has to strain to hear it, but when he does he’s off the bed and onto his feet in a second. Tap. Tap. A floorboard creaks under his foot and Coriolanus winces at how loud it sounds in the quiet of the night. Tap. This time the sound hits harder and he can tell it’s coming from the other side of the room by the window. 

Tap. Coriolanus pulls the one side of the mosaic looking curtains open. Below, in the street, is a figure standing and facing his direction. Suddenly, he’s aware of just how undressed he is and closes the curtain quickly. Hurrying, he scoops up an old cotton shirt from his bag to pull over his head before returning to the window. 

The figure is closer this time, and from the light of the house reflecting off the district boy, he can see it’s Sejanus. It takes longer than he will ever admit to decipher the window mechanism and open it. Coriolanus leans his head out to look down at the boy standing under his window. 

“Coryo!” Sejanus calls in some tone that mixes a whisper and yell. His first thought is to tell the district boy not to call him that, but he remembers Lysistrata saying it earlier and promises himself that he’ll reprimand her later when they’re alone. “What are you doing here?” He asks in a much more reasonable tone. 

“I’m here to break you out.” Sejanus says, smiling big as if he’s just had the most brilliant thought. “I don’t need breaking out. Who told you I did?”

The boy below only chuckles, disbelieving. “You can’t seriously be satisfied touring around mines and factories with a bunch of boring adults can you?” Sejanus asks. Coriolanus rather thinks he can, but much like with Lysistrata he does not see merit in arguing his point to someone who won’t listen. “I have to go to bed now.” He tells him, pulling his head away to close the window. 

“Wait!” Sejanus calls. Coriolanus does not know why he does it, tells himself later that it was just a natural reaction to look back, but he knows that’s not entirely true. “What?” He sighs, tilting his head to the side to convey impatience. “I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier at dinner. Come on, let me make it up to you by showing you around proper.” Sejanus pleads. His hands come up to grab the fabric of his shirt, twisting the linen around in his grasp. 

He’s just about to say no. To tell Sejanus that they’ll see each other again tomorrow against their wills and they should leave the other alone for the night at least, when a voice answers for him. 

“We’d love to!” Both boys turn to look at Lysistrata’s head peeking out from her own window left of Coriolanus’. “We would not, Lyssie.” He hisses, upset that she would try to force his hand. 

“Of course we would.” She insists, turning a pointed look at him. “I already said no to this. No sneaking out.” He reminds her. It seems he has no other choice than to put his foot down again. But so be it, they did not need to wander around the district only to wind up bloody somewhere or dead in an alley. 

“Do you really think Dean Highbottom will go easy on you just because you didn’t come? If he finds out he might even be more upset that you didn’t come with me.” She says. He’s annoyed to find her reasoning is sound. The dean would find any reason to give him a demerit, or worse, expel him. But he might be worse off to let Lysistrata run amuck with a district boy and no one to pull her away from any unsavory circumstances. 

Coriolanus sighs deeply, tapping his finger against the window frame. The will to argue leaving him all at once and making his body feel heavy with grief. When would he be allowed a break from this endless day? “Alright,” he agrees finally, “get dressed and we will go.” Both Sejanus and Lysistrata cheer quietly. His classmate disappears back into her room to redress. He spares Sejanus one last glance before doing the same. 

They meet at the top of the stairs and sneak down quietly. Sejanus is by the door when it creaks open and allows them to pass through. “Come on,” He tells them, already turning away, ready to run off into the night. “some of us are hanging out just outside of town, you two can join us.”  

Lysistrata smiles, glowing even in the dark, and grabs onto Coriolanus’ arm to tug him along. Probably worried I’ll leave, he thinks, she would be right. They walk for a while, letting the sounds around them fill the quiet air, until they spot a group of people sitting around a fire and Sejanus’ steps pick up. 

“This is blair hall?” Lysistrata asks, looking around the campfire that is very clearly lacking a building of any kind and not bailar hall. Sejanus chuckles, opening his mouth to say something but is cut off by another, deeper voice. “You told them about bailar hall?” 

Coriolanus turns to look at the person asking; he finds a boy sitting on a log near the fire. The boy is looking sharply at Sejanus, accusation clear on his face. “And what’s wrong if I did?” Sejanus shoots back. The other boy shakes his head roughly, like he can’t believe Sejanus would do such a thing, Coriolanus is confused because it didn’t seem like much of a secret when they were told. “You shouldn’t have brought them here, Sejanus. They’re Capitol.” He chastises then takes a long swing of his drink, glass bottle bottom up toward the night sky. 

Sejanus turns to look at Coriolanus and Lysistrata, “Don’t worry about Marcus, he hates everybody.” 

“Have a drink.” Another, strikingly tall boy says, jumping up and shoving two similar looking bottles at both Academy students. “Is this posca?” Coriolanus asks. Everyone laughs. He feels his cheeks heat at the insult of being laughed at. It isn’t often he feels out of his depth or undereducated, and to feel that way by district citizens upsets him even more. “That some fancy drink up in the Capitol?” The tall boy asks, pulling a small metal hook out of his pocket to pop off Lyssie’s lid. 

“Name’s Jamie by the way. Jamie Fleeman.” He introduces himself, stepping back to dip low with his arms stretched wide. “And who might you be?” He asks, lifting back up and winking at Lysistrata. His classmate laughs at the wink, waving her hand in the air to fend off the advance. “Lysistrata Vickers,” she introduces herself, smiling at them all. Then, because she knows Coriolanus isn’t here by his own will and is not in the mood for more introductions, she gestures to him and says, “and this is my classmate, Coriolanus Snow.” 

“Well, if I’d have known the Capitol made them as pretty as you two I would’ve hopped the fence a long time ago.” Jamie says, smiling wolfishly between them. Lysistrata laughs again -entirely unmoved but still enjoying his antics- before taking the first swig of her drink. Jamie looks to him now, reaching for the bottle back from his hand to pop the lid off. When the boy hands it back he does so by stepping entirely too close and whispering, “Aren’t you just as lovely as the desert flowers.”

Having just about enough of district two boys and all the ways they’ve annoyed him today, Coriolanus snarks back, “While you’re as plain as the dirt.” He makes a show of looking around at the sand surrounding them before snatching the bottle and taking his own drink. Greenery is spaced out all around district two, especially on its outskirts, but it seems this group has picked somewhere with nothing but red rock and dry sand to burn their rubble.  

Jamie whistles low, “And mean as a rattlesnake too.” The tall boy laughs heartily, as if he hadn’t just been insulted. He side steps Coriolanus to move next to Sejanus and clap the boy hard on the back. “Just your type.” He says, not trying at all to hide his words from anyone. Sejanus shoves him away, telling him to shut up, then sits on one of the logs. When he motions for Coriolanus and Lysistrata to do the same, his classmate moves to find a seat on her own closer to some girls talking quietly amongst themselves, leaving Coriolanus to sit next to Sejanus.  

The drink in his hand is not very good. It also is not nearly as strong as posca is, to the point that he almost questions if it really is alcohol. “So,” Jamie says, finally settling back into his own spot next to Marcus. “how does district two fair in comparison to the esteemed Capitol?” He asks, taking a swig. Jamie has a foot stretched out toward the fire and he leans back against the log instead of sitting on it properly. Coriolanus is appalled by the distinct lack of care about getting dirty or burnt. 

“Dirtier.” He answers before Lyssie gets the chance. She sucks in a breath, “Coryo! Don’t be like that.” 

“It’s been a lot of learning. Nothing in our books was close to what it’s really like.” She tells him. “That’s because your books were written by Capitol folks.” Marcus mutters, not looking at her but into the fire.  

“Afraid he’s right about that.” Jamie sighs. “You know, Sejanus almost went to the Capitol. Tell them about that, CJ.” He teases. Sejanus groans, taking a long drink to avoid answering, but Lysistrata will not leave any stone here unturned. “Is that true?” She asks, leaning toward him in her excitement. 

“My Pa wanted us to go after all the war profiteering he did.” Sejanus answers around the lip of the bottle. “But the gates to the shiny Capitol slammed closed before he could get us there.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lysistrata says, “I shouldn’t have pried.” 

Sejanus just chuckles, no humor to be had in the sound. “Don’t worry, I’m glad we didn’t go.” He tells her. 

Glad? He was glad to be here, in district two, instead of in the Capitol? There, he could have gotten a real education, could have rubbed shoulders with Panem’s best, could have been safe from the Hunger Games, and yet, he was glad. “You would rather be here?” Coriolanus finds himself asking, unable to hold it back. The shock of it was too much. Sejanus chuckles again, more humor now, and says, “Yeah. ‘Course you aren’t so bad to be around.” He answers, looking Coriolanus up and down in a sidelong glance before distracting himself with another drink. 

Jamie whistles then takes out a cloth from his back pocket. He hands it over to a girl sitting across the fire from him and she unravels it to reveal a stack of cigarettes. Although, they don’t exactly look like the cigarettes he’s used to seeing in the Capitol. The girl pulls out a lighter, settling the stack into her lap and lighting one to hand back to Jamie. She repeats this process, handing them out to several people around the fire; some sharing and some with their own.    

“What is that?” He asks quietly to Sejanus as the boy takes it from one of another person sitting near them. “Just something people grow out here.” He answers, pulling in a puff of smoke before releasing. He extends his hand to offer it to Coriolanus, who wrinkles his nose at the awful smell. “Coriolanus doesn’t smoke anything.” Lysistrata informs, taking an offered puff from one of the girls and giggling as she hands it back. 

“He’s too good for something like that.” She says around a teasing smile. Coriolanus appreciates his image as ‘too good for it’, but it’s not entirely the truth. Obviously this is something Lysistrata knows about, but he’s never seen it before. To his knowledge, smoking is done by adults with long cigarette extenders to make them seem more sophisticated than they really were. 

Sejanus pulls in another breath of the smoke. “Want to try?” He asks, blowing the air out toward the sky. 

He shouldn’t, knows he’s already compromised himself by being here with them, by accepting their drinks and letting them laugh at his expense. But curiosity is such a compelling thing, and with no one around to watch him -except Lysistrata- he finds himself reaching out to take the little cylinder. 

It’s awful, the taste terrible and smoke choking him until he’s forced to cough it back out. Everyone chuckles, Sejanus takes the thing back and pushes up on the bottom of the bottle in Coriolanus’ hand. “Drink, it’ll help.” He tells Coriolanus, rubbing circles on his back until he regains enough sense to push the boy away.  “And you do this for fun?” He asks once the coughing fit has subsided and he finds his voice again. 

“You’re not usually supposed to hack it back up.” Marcus says, taking his own drag as if to prove a point. “We can try a different way, if you still want to.” Sejanus whispers between them. Coriolanus looks at him for a moment without saying anything. He does not really want to try again, but with so many eyes set on him, waiting, he figures he should at least try. “Fine.” He agrees, but not without an annoyed inflection laced into his tone. 

Suddenly, Sejanus is taking his chin in his hand. Coriolanus flinches back slightly. “Sorry, should’ve asked. So to do this you need to open your mouth and then blow it back out after a minute. Okay?” He tells Coriolanus, who nods, confused but ready to prove he can smoke whatever this is just like the rest of them. “Okay.” He says back. 

Sejanus nods, taking his chin in his hand once more, but pulling away slightly to ask if it was okay, Coriolanus only nods. He should be more upset about the manhandling this district boy is doing to him, but Sejanus’ hand is warm against his cool skin and the calluses pull in a pleasant way. The boy guides him forward and Coriolanus opens his mouth as instructed. You’re following orders from someone who’s district, he reminds himself. But the thought is lost to him when Sejanus leans forward to meet him halfway. 

Open lips press against his and smoke fills his mouth. The hand holding his chin presses up gently to close his mouth so he doesn’t lose it. Coriolanus feels hot all over, but not from the smoke. “Hold it for just a second before blowing.” Sejanus whispers, face still so close to his own. Coriolanus does, blowing the air right into the other boy’s face just because he can. A small act of rebellion against the other. Sejanus coughs and laughs at once, batting the air away from him.

“How’s it taste?” Jamie asks, laughing at nothing. “Like how I’d imagine grass or leaves to taste.” He responds. Finally, everyone laughs with him instead of at him. It must be the strange smoke Sejanus forced into him, but he finds his own, very small, smile at the interaction.

When Sejanus walks them back to Proserpina’s home, he lifts a hand to linger on Coriolanus’ arm as he says goodnight to them. He doesn’t remark on it, but also doesn’t push the other boy away.

Chapter Text

Breakfast is just as quiet as the previous night’s dinner had been. Coriolanus eats slowly with the phantom weight of a hand on the small of his back and against his chin. He thought sleeping it off would clear his head of whatever delusion was building. It’s never been something he’s considered for himself, attraction. 

Attraction is a distracting feeling that clouds the mind and inhibits the body. Coriolanus has seen what it’s done to his peers and what it can do when taken away; neither is something he finds agreeable. 

They finish eating and stand. It’s like a release for the mayor who begins to prattle about the day ahead as soon as her heeled shoes touch the floor. “We have a museum of art here in district two!” Proserpina exclaims, “With our long history of talented stone workers there’s no wonder some of them were gifted in the arts.” 

She takes off toward the door, expecting them to follow behind. Lysistrata is hot on her heel, already asking questions so early in the morning. “Could we meet one of the artists?” She asks, looking up at Proserpina excitedly. The mayor clicks her tongue sadly as she opens the door. “I’m so sorry dear, unfortunately we haven’t had a stone carver or sculptor in quite some time.” She answers. 

Coriolanus is about to ask why that is. What could possibly be so different now than before to stop their frivolous artistry, but Sejanus standing next to the parked car stops him. “Sejanus, sweetboy! I’m so glad you’ll be joining us today.” Proserpina smiles at him, patting his arm. The boy huffs when she can’t see but still says, “Good morning, Pina.” to her. 

“Alright, everyone. Pack in!” Proserpina tells them as she opens up the car door. Sejanus slides inside first and somehow, Lysistrata has sidestepped with Proserpina so he’s next in line. Coriolanus climbs into the car. The seats curve, the front facing the back to encourage conversation. He has half a mind to sit far away from the district two boy, but all within just a few seconds Sejanus makes and holds eye contact with him and his body moves to sit next to him. Everyone else finds their seats and the car door closes with a loud slam. 

“Sejanus,” Lysistrata begins as the car roars to life by the driver and jolts forward, “we should have picked you up! You didn’t need to walk all the way here.” She finishes, always thinking of others in a way he was not used to. Sejanus chuckles slightly. “Not to worry, I only live two houses down.” The boy twists his body to point in the back window, forcing Coriolanus to lean to the side. “That one.” He says. 

Lysistrata has a clear view of the home from her seat across from Sejanus next to Proserpina, but he can only cast a sideways look out the back without fully turning like Sejanus had. “It’s lovely.” Lyssie tells him. The boy only shrugs carelessly. It boils Coriolanus blood how nonchalant he is in sharing his wealth with them. First it was Plinth Hall, then it was almost moving to the Captiol. Now, it’s a large, colorful house in the best part of district two and he doesn’t even care. 

Despite himself, Coriolanus feels heated enough to say something. He can already tell how a well placed jab about being spoiled is all it would take to set the other off like a rocket. But the car jolts suddenly as it drives over bumpy terrain and the two’s legs press close together when he slides with gravity across the seat. Sejanus looks at their legs, then nudges his knee against his. Coriolanus does not reciprocate, it would be beneath him, especially after last night’s affair. It doesn’t mean that he pulls away though, with little room elsewhere and Dean Highbottom on his other side Coriolanus stays pressed up against Sejanus. 

“Mayor Proserpina,” he begins, looking for any distraction. She interrupts him with a “Pina’s fine.” and a sickly sweet smile. Coriolanus nods, “Mayor Pina, where are all your sculptors now?” He asks. Proserpina laughs lightly as he purposefully neglects to drop her full title, but the end of his question gives her pause. She worries her lips for longer than he thinks is necessary to come up with an answer. Her eyes cast over to Dean Highbottom, who says nothing and looks just as neutral -and strung out- as usual. 

“Well, dear.” She begins, putting Coriolanus on edge with the slow pace she adopts, “The Capitol really prioritizes infrastructure and not so much artistry.” The answer is completely unsatisfying. What did she mean they prioritize infrastructure over art? That wasn’t true at all, if it was then Tigris would be out of a job. Coriolanus finds his eyes turning to Sejanus, expecting some pointed quip that would be too rebellious but might serve to clear up her vague answer. Instead he just sees the boy staring out the window, his reflection a hard glare. 

His eyes track down, Sejanus is upset, that much is clear. It’s attractive on him. The boy’s jaw, clenched tightly to not make a sound, pulls Coriolanus’ eye. He watches the boy tick, interested in causing it himself, until Lysistrata’s voice brings him back. “But district two made Lady Panem that we have in the Capitol, surely they would want more things like that and people to make them?” 

Her question goes unanswered by the mayor. Sejanus murmurs something, it sounds like gibberish to Coriolanus, but the boy says it so quietly he can’t be sure. “Sejanus!” Proserpina says sharper than the first time she’d reprimanded him. Whatever Sejanus had said, there was no way she could have heard, or for that matter understood. So he assumes the way she swats in the air toward the boy and the way she looks sideways at Highbottom is just her natural reaction to Sejanus’ outbursts.

“I think the Captiol decided they had all they needed, and that was enough.” Everyone looks over at the dean, who says it while he watches the trees pass. It marks the end of their conversation, final words leaving the car full of heavy silence as they rode. 

The drive is shorter than the one to the mines, the museum is placed appropriately in the center of district two’s bustling city. Coriolanus watches the people around them as they step out, small children try to outrun each other toward the museum door while their teacher hurries behind. An older couple walk along the side road and nod at the mayor when they see her. People mill about in and out of bright shops with exciting window displays. They seem like-

He cuts the thought off. Maybe they all seem fine because here there is wealth brought on by the collapse of district thirteen, but these people are nothing like the Capitol. They couldn’t be, the Capitol is supposed to be a shining beacon over all the districts, it’s purpose is to stand above the rest and guide them. What then would it say about them if the people in district two were just the same, if everyone was just the same. 

“You’re being left behind.” Comes a whisper in his ear. Coriolanus does not jump, but his shoulders tense and he steps away quickly, circling to find mirthy brown eyes watching him. “You do that a lot, ya know.” Sejanus tells him. 

“Do what a lot?” He snaps back, righting himself and heading for the museum door, content to let Sejanus drag behind. The other boy jogs a few paces before falling in line with him. “Watch people, like a snake, observing in case you need to bite.” 

“Will everyone in district two liken me to a snake?” Coriolanus asks. First Jamie from the night before, now this. Being compared to a snake might not be terrible, but it could get old. Sejanus just laughs as he pulls the door open to let Coriolanus through first. “Not everyone, no. Just the one’s you’re mean to.” Sejanus answers. 

Coriolanus is about to bite back that he hasn’t been mean at all, just a more honest version of himself in the districts where his carefully constructed persona isn’t as necessary for survival. But Sejanus is quick to continue talking, “Don’t worry though, ‘cause I have a cure.” He says with a wink. 

Mayor Proserpina is taking tickets from a young girl behind a counter as they approach. “A cure?” He can’t help but ask. As far as he knew, not even the Capitol had a cure for every snake bite. Sejanus nods assuredly, “Yeah, it’s called viper’s stone.” He answers. Coriolanus pauses his steps, ignoring Lysistrata’s look, and turns to face Sejanus next to him. 

“Viper’s stone?” He asks, curiosity really taking root. “Sure is, Coryo. It’s a special type of stone that can draw out any kind of venom. The old snake charmers used it all the time.” 

Now he knows he is being toyed with. There’s no such thing as a stone that could counteract a snake. It was a ridiculous thing to ask in the first place. “And is that what you think you are? A snake charmer?” Coriolanus asks. 

“If you’d let me.” Sejanus answers him. His face turns hot in an instant and he moves away from Sejanus taking fast steps to stand next to Lysistrata. 

Mayor Proserpina ushers them into a main room first, there are paintings of important district two individuals lining the walls. From the room several offshoot archways sit between the paintings, each new space is filled with different objects precious to the city. They walk around for so long Coriolanus’ feet begin to ache and his ears throb from having to listen to the animated way Proserpina speaks.

The museum is packed with a million things Coriolanus would have never expected from any district. Paintings of women, men, and children in beautiful, colorful clothing. Stone carved into every shape, a women, a horse, two children and a dog. It was all beyond impressive, especially for district artists. 

“It’s a wonder the Capitol does not still find use for this anymore.” Coriolanus lets slip. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, doesn’t mean for anyone to hear him. But he does say it and Sejanus does hear him. “It’s not that they don’t have a use, Coryo.” His tone is that of an adult teaching a child something new. 

“The Captiol doesn’t want the districts being too expressive, they don’t want us to be artists or adventurers. They want sheep; easy to guide and easy to lead to slaughter.” 

Coriolanus turns to look at him sharply. “That’s rebel speak, you should be careful what you say to a Capitol student.” Sejanus watches him, expression impassive. “You’re right. I forgot.” The boy moves away to join mayor Proserpina as she tells a story behind a proudly displayed dress. 

Suddenly, the air around him feels cold. Sejanus' absence unsettled him more than he was comfortable allowing. “You seem quite impressed with him.” Dean Highbottom’s voice comes behind him. He turns to see the dean looking at the painting in front of them, so he follows suit. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Dean Highbottom.” Coriolanus answers. The dean glances sideways at him before returning to the painting, “Sejanus. He seems to be making quite the impact.”

He thinks for a moment, allowing them to stare at the painting in silence. “Sejanus is a good guide. No more than the other district two guides have been.” It’s not true, Sejanus is a terrible guide. The mayor has done all the leg work. Sejanus only trails behind muttering nonsense about the shortcomings of the Panem and then sneaking them out to break more rules. 

Dean Highbottom “hmms” quietly. “The boy is a terrible guide,” the dean says out loud what he was thinking. It sends a chill down his spine to agree with the dean on anything. “but still, you two seem fond of him.” 

“I’m just trying to understand the districts better.” Coriolanus responds innocently. “That was the point of this assignment.”  

The dean sighs, old and weathered and in a put upon way only he can. “Don’t grow attached to something you can’t keep.” He tells Coriolanus before walking away to the next art piece. He’s left stunned. Don’t grow attached? Did he seriously think Coriolanus was so attached to Sejanus already? Because he wasn’t. Coriolanus huffs quietly to himself, tugging on his uniform jacket before joining everyone else as Proserpina winds down her long rant of the dress.

“She was really amazing, an important figure in the old days when district two was barely more than this city, and even then it was still hardly a village size at all.” Proserpina finishes with a proud smile. “That’s amazing, Pina.” Lyssie says, stars in her eyes at the history of whoever they were just talking about. “District two has so much history,” Lysistrata says, pulling out the small book she’d taken from the Academy library. “it’s such a shame this is all we have in the Captiol.” 

Lysistrata is quick to drop the book back in her school bag and begin writing in her notepad which she’s been holding in her other hand. Coriolanus has never been one to take such detailed notes, his mind always retaining enough to succeed well without it. But his classmate is different, always scribbling in a new notepad once the others have filled. He wonders why she’s not higher on the list of the twenty-four top students. 

Coriolanus finds himself increasingly more impressed with the individuals who take up space inside this building. Sejanus remains cold to him, only speaking with Lysistrata and sparing him no glances. 

Proserpina says their next stop will be one of the new factories, Sejanus will be dropped back off at school on the way. Coriolanus trails behind as they make their way toward the exit. In a moment of stupidity, he thinks, Coriolanus grabs onto Sejanus’ sleeve, bringing him to a halt. “Perhaps,” He begins hesitantly, eyes looking anywhere but the boy in front of him. “I was too harsh in calling you a rebel for saying those things.” He admits. 

One trip around the small museum and Coriolanus can already feel his mind tug the words Sejanus said in a loop. Without a good reason for why the Capitol would ban new artists here in the districts, Sejanus’ own seems plausible. But it would mean that the Capitol was afraid of something, afraid of what creativity could do, and that he was not ready to consider. 

Sejanus chuckles and twists his hand around to lose Coriolanus’ hold and grab onto his wrist instead. The boy brushes his thumb against Coriolanus’ pulse and it sends a shock throughout his body. He’s learning things the Academy hadn’t meant to teach him when sending him here. “You’ll get there.” Is all Sejanus says. He takes hold of Coriolanus’ wrist and pulls him outside, not dropping it until he has to climb into the back seat. 

They drop Sejanus off at the school with a promise to see him tomorrow from Proserpina. Once the car is moving again the mayor claps her hands together, smiling at the two students sitting across from her. “We’re going to see one of the machine factories. Mr. Plinth, who owns them, will be joining us once we arrive.” 

“Mr. Plinth? Is that Sejanus’ father?” Lyssie asks. Proserpina nods excitedly. “Right you are, my dear!” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Gray stone and metal greet them as they pull up to one of the many machine factories built during the war. Everyone steps out and a man who looks nothing like Sejanus except for his firm mouth and dark eyes greets them at the door. “Welcome, it’s an honor.” Mr. Plinth says, reaching a hand down first for the dean and then to Coriolanus and Lysistrata. 

Mr. Plinth possesses a sternness that no other district two person has had. Coriolanus, who hasn’t greeted anyone save for Aurora, finds himself interested enough to accept the hand extended to him. “Coriolanus Snow.” he greets, face impassive to match the one looking back. 

“Strabo Plinth.” The man returns. Mr. Plinth pulls his hands away to glance back over each of them, assessing. “I do hope my son has been a good host. He was honored to serve Panem.”    

Coriolanus forces down the rising snort. Sejanus would be more honored to serve animals in a dirty, disease infested pigsty. “Sejanus has been a wonderful friend.” Lysistrata says with a polite amount of enthusiasm. From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus sees the mayor smile wide at the same time the dean winces at the word “friend”. It was an interesting way to address the boy, given he was not at all meant to be a friend to them. But Coriolanus supposes he can forgive her sentimental disposition. 

“He’s been very informative.” Coriolanus concedes. With such a handsome face he thinks there are many things he might be encouraged to learn from Sejanus, rebellious attitude aside. 

The older man does not convey any sort of emotion in terms of their assessment of his son, only nods quickly before showing them through the door. Coriolanus wonders as they walk what Sejanus’ mother must be like. Since it’s quite obvious just from this initial greeting that father and son are completely dissimilar. 

Metal stairs take them up to a narrow walkway overlooking the entire facility. He’s almost shocked to find that the working conditions do not look much more glamorous than what they’d seen in the mines. Men and women stand across one another picking things off conveyor belts, moving things around, and assembling things together. If it’s not black sludge it’s hot welding fire, neither of which seem pleasant. The adults continue to walk, heading for the offices before taking them around the factory. 

Lysistrata seems to be just as shell shocked as he feels by everything. “I-” But he doesn’t continue. He what? Didn’t know? Didn’t understand? Didn’t think it would be or look so bad. “They look miserable, Coryo.” Lysistrata whispers. He cannot disagree with her.    

Dean Highbottom turns to look at them sharply. “Hurry up.” He says. Both students nod and follow along quickly. They pass the dean to hurry into Mr. Plinth’s office. As he steps through, he spares a glance to the dean. He’s not looking back but Coriolanus swears there’s something there, an unusual emotion for him that he’s not quick enough, or sober enough, to hide. 

The tour continues for the rest of the afternoon. Mr. Plinth takes great pride in his factories and how they operate, and wants to show that to the Academy students. He doesn’t ask about his son again, seemingly content with their earlier answer. He does, however, offer them lunch -dinner- and takes them somewhere pleasant enough. 

After, they ride back to Proserpina’s home in silence. She shows the two students to a study with a small table and gives them space to work on writing down any notes before supper. 

Supper with the dean and Proserpina is awkward and tedious but he finds himself warming up to Lysistrata’s company the more time they spend together. It’s only after everyone’s finished eating that he is finally released to the privacy of his temporary room. The bathroom connected to his room contains a luxury he’s never had the privilege of: a bathtub. 

It should upset him, being less fortunate than the district two mayor, but he finds relief and temptation rival any other emotion. Coriolanus uncaps and sniffs through every bottle, cream, and salt, throwing anything that smells good in; he doesn’t need to care about wastefulness here. 

His bath is long and he stays in until the hot water turns cold and his fingers prune. Only when he absolutely has to does he drain the bathtub and shower properly. Scrubbing the remaining dirt and emotions off from the day. Once he’s out, Coriolanus wraps himself in a towel and sets for the bedroom. It’s been hours and the house is dark and quiet. 

He’s just pulled open a drawer when he hears it.

Tap. 

Coriolanus sighs. He’s just come out of the shower and wants nothing to do with the district two boy for the rest of the night. Frankly, he would like nothing to do with anyone for the rest of their trip. Coriolanus thinks of what Tigris might say. Probably to be grateful for the meals and education beyond their wildest dreams. Though he’s much more content to sit sourly in his room and muse over all the wrong doings life has thrown at him. Tap. Tap. 

With more aggression than he should be exhibiting Coriolanus marches to the window and rips it open. Thankfully the towel around his waist stays secure and is probably not visible to the streets below. “Let down your hair.” Sejanus whispers below him.

“What?” He asks, incredulous, “What does that mean?” 

“I’m not sure, I saw it in an old book once.” Sejanus answers happily, like the clueless oaf he is. Coriolanus is perplexed by the knots in his stomach at this oaf’s smile. “It’s ridiculous.” He answers back, Sejanus only shrugs.

“Come down, I want to show you something.” Sejanus instructs. Coriolanus has half a mind to disagree on principle. He cannot allow this district two boy with winding curls and a foolish smile to keep telling him what to do. Him, a proud Capitol citizen. Him, a Snow. 

Do not agree, he thinks, mouth pressed together in a hard line as his finger taps on the window seal insistently. “What could you possibly have to show me?” Coriolanus finally asks, curious but still hesitant. “My favorite place.” Sejanus smiles. 

One more night out couldn’t hurt. They were here for educational reasons, after all. “Alright.” Coriolanus finally agrees. Sejanus whispers a sharp “Yes!” and pumps a fist into the air. “I’ll get dressed and get Lysistrata.” he announces, moving to close the window again. 

“Wait! Wait!” Sejanus calls before he can pull away fully. “What?” Coriolanus hisses, ready to be wearing proper clothes. “Just- just you.” The boy says. His hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, rubbing it sheepishly. “We can wake her up later.” 

“Fine.” Coriolanus says, pulling away and shutting the window forcefully. 

He joins Sejanus outside in no time. The boy pushes into his space but doesn’t fully touch him. “Hi.” Sejanus smiles. “Hello.” Coriolanus greets back, though he phrases it almost as a question. 

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Sejanus repeats his earlier sentiment, grabbing Coriolanus by the hand and tugging him down the street. They walk for miles, his feet already aching from being on them all day in his too tight shoes. Sejanus fills the quiet night air with mindless chatter about everything. He tells Coriolanus about his school day, about a flower Aurora picked for him, about a village boy who just moved here whom Marcus has taken to. At Marcus’ story, he laughs even longer. “He’s so reserved, so it’s good to see him blushing over someone for once.” 

“I assumed he’d already done that with you.” Coriolanus says. He tries very hard not to be jealous, it’s an emotion that should be beneath him, but it winds through his chest and heats up his neck into his ears just thinking about the two together. “What made you think that?” Sejanus asks, looking over his shoulder at Coriolanus who’s been dragging a step behind. 

“Jamie made it sound like that’s your preference.” He answers, citing an earlier conversation around the bonfire. Sejanus laughs openly, “We had a thing before, but we were so young…” The boy trails off, shrugging a bit. “I don’t know. When you’re that young is it ever really a thing?” He asks. It’s now that he finally drops Coriolanus' hand, leaving him cold everywhere the boy was just touching, and stops to turn on him. Coriolanus stops just in time to not run right into Sejanus’ chest. 

“My cousin would say it doesn’t matter as long as it’s real.” He answers. Sejanus just gives him a look, head tilting forward like he wants him to continue. “And you would say?” 

“I’ve never had a thing that mattered so I guess I wouldn’t know.” His biggest thing was kissing Clemensia when they were fifteen and both deciding then they were not an ideal match. Afterwards it was school and trying to eat enough. Who really has time for things when they’re worried about not dying? 

“Your friend, Lysistrata, she’s really interested in district two. Genuinely seems like she cares.” Sejanus says, changing the topic. Coriolanus nods, “She cares too much. It’ll ruin her.” 

“I think it’s a good thing, caring so much.” Sejanus says; he's watching Coriolanus closely. It almost feels like a test, one Coriolanus isn’t sure he can pass if he is honest with Sejanus. “Caring only serves to hurt you.” He answers into the night air, turning away from Sejanus’ open eyes. “It has never done anything for me.” Corioalnus’ voice is raw, it was too honest of an answer. Sejanus pulls something out of him that he cannot quite name. 

“Coriolanus Snow, let me show you why I brought you miles out of town into the middle of nothing and nowhere.” Sejanus smiles once again reaching back for his hand. This time, Coriolanus feels bold enough to twine their fingers together. He’s rewarded with seeing all of Sejanus’ white teeth in a bright smile as the boy’s eyes fly to their hands then back up to Coriolanus’ face. 

Sejanus makes him climb up a terrifyingly steep rock. It’s so sharp he almost lets his knees buckle completely to crawl up the rest of the path. It’s only the boy’s hand in his that keeps him upright until the steepness plateaus into a flat top. 

“You brought me up here to see more rocks?” Coriolanus asks, he can’t help the way his tone tilts into disbelief, but Sejanus takes it in stride. “Just come here.” The boy drags them to a spot where the earth jumps up to resemble the back of a seat. Sejanus drops down onto the red dirt but Coriolanus hesitates. “You have to sit.” The other boy says, looking up at him. 

Coriolanus shakes his head, “I just showered. I’m not sitting on the dirt.” 

With a dramatic sigh Sejanus stands back up and begins to unbutton his cotton shirt. “What are you doing?” Coriolanus asks, voice rising in pitch with every syllable. “Getting you to sit.” Sejanus answers, pulling off the shirt roughly. 

It isn’t on purpose but Sejanus’ movements draw Coriolanus’ eyes down. He tracks the pull of the boy’s chest as his arms move around the sleeves and then the hard lines of his stomach when he leans down to lay the shirt down. “Sit down.” Sejanus says, righting himself. 

Mouth half open at the firm command, Coriolanus lowers himself slowly onto the shirt. Sejanus nods once before dropping down again beside him. “Now look up.” Sejanus tells him, pointing at the sky. Coriolanus does so and finds his mouth dropping further.

It’s hard to describe the night sky in district two. In the Capitol, hardly any stars can be seen behind all the city fog, but here it’s open and airy and Coriolanus has a front row seat to every constellation. The sky is dark, but not exactly black. Colors blend and twirl alongside each other, moving with everything else to create a breathtaking view.

“See that?” Sejanus asks, pointing out into the sky. He tries to track the other boy’s finger, but can’t make out where exactly he’s pointing. “Here.” Sejanus says. The side of his face is suddenly pressing into the side of Coriolanus’ and calloused fingertips move to touch both cheeks and guide his head in just the right tilt to find what Sejanus is looking at. 

The boy shoots a hand back up, “See how those stars make a square almost? And that right there is the tail.” He explains. Coriolanus nods and knows Sejanus feels it where their faces still push together. “It’s called the big dipper.” 

“There’s an old story my Ma told me once. It’s not somethin’ you can find in books anymore, but apparently it happened in the old world.” He whispers, hand settling down against his bare ribs. “It used to be a guide to freedom for people.” 

Coriolanus doesn’t say anything. They fall into a comfortable silence, watching the stars until he feels like he might fall asleep against the other boy’s warm body. With a naturally cold disposition, he revels in the warmth.  

“Why don’t we go get your friend and I’ll show you two bailar hall?” Sejanus suggests suddenly, turning his face to look at Coriolanus. Their noses touch and he thinks he’d agree to anything in this moment, so he nods softly. 

Sejanus stands, “It’s what we do for fun around here, remember?” he says, offering both hands for Coriolanus to take so he can pull him up. They end up chest to chest, Coriolanus does well to hide any reaction but Sejanus takes in a sharp breath. 

“There’s… one other thing people in district two like to do for fun.” Sejanus says quietly, shooting him a playful smile. “What’s that?” Coriolanus asks, thinking he may already know. 

Sejanus swoops his head down before Coriolanus can understand what’s happening to kiss him. It’s soft and chaste, only a hard press of their unmoving mouths. But warmth still floods through his chest at the feeling. His hands clench at his sides, desperate to grab onto anything other than the ends of his shirt. 

“That.” He answers, pulling away only so far that their noses brush at the end. Coriolanus nods, how fun indeed, he thinks. Without truly thinking it through, he whispers, “Sejanus”, tilting his head to invite the boy back to him. It works immediately. 

Their second kiss is more intense than the first. Lips dance against each other wetly. Coriolanus allows himself to reach his hands against the hard muscle of Sejanus’ chest as his knees go weak. The other boy’s warm hands come up to cup his face. It’s overwhelming, the heat of Sejanus mixed with his own rising temperature, but pulling away feels impossible. 

Sejanus presses his weight into Coriolanus and lowers them back down onto the rock. The dig into his back is uncomfortable, but every place that Sejanus presses against him makes up for it. 

Despite himself, and despite everything he should believe in, Coriolanus is fully prepared to let this district two boy do whatever it is he wants with him. But Sejanus, noble it seems in everything, pulls away. “Wait, wait.” He’s panting against him and Coriolanus thinks for half a second that even with the warm summer air, Sejanus’ hot breath and high body temperature don’t feel so bad against his skin. 

“Not on a rock.” He says when the panting subsides and he’s swallowed down enough air. “No?” Coriolanus questions, shifting to press closer into the boy, “Because I would let you.” He whispers against Sejanus’ mouth. 

It’s brutally honest, something he shouldn’t admit too but does anyway. Sejanus has very rapidly become Coriolanus’ weakness, and if he’s even more honest with himself, he doesn’t mind at all. 

Sejanus chuckles, pressing a hard peck on his lips and moving quick kisses across his whole face until he falls down his neck. “You’ll ruin me, Coriolanus Snow.” Sejanus admits against Coriolanus’ rapid pulse. “Funny,” He says, not laughing at all, “I was going to say the same about you.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

People fill in the old barn, more than Coriolanus thought would fit. Feet dangle from the loft as people sit and drink. There was a makeshift bar by the door with a sign that said “No Tabs”. There were only a few tables and chairs around the walls; the entire place was really only set up for dancing, even the stage seemed small in comparison to everything else. 

A group of boys stand on the stage with one lone girl, they are singing and dancing around as people below follow their steps. They spot Jamie across the room as he sways, holding onto a drink of his own. Lyssie takes off to join him, leaving Coriolanus behind with Sejanus. 

The song winds down with laughter and hollers from everyone. “This next one I wrote for my sweet Lucila. Baby, whenever you’re ready, just come on back to me!” People laugh and the band begins anew. The singer gives a loud cry, almost startling him, before singing. 

Coriolanus is confused, the man isn’t speaking in a way he understands. 

Oh, Lucila

No te vayas, por favor

“What is he-” Coriolanus starts, turning abruptly on his heel to face Sejanus. He catches a glimpse of Lysistrata across the room. She’s elated, jumping up and down and speaking animatedly in Jamie’s ear. It’s then he realizes what’s happening. This man is speaking in a dead language. 

“This can’t be real.” He says to himself, but Sejanus hears and laughs airily. “What’s that?” He asks, though from the look in his eyes, he knows what Coriolanus means. “He’s speaking in a dead language! How is that possible?” He’s so taken aback by the revelation that he allows himself some semblance of dramatics by throwing one arm out toward the performers. 

Te lo pido de rodillas, no me vayas a dejar

“Not dead,” Sejanus answers. “just really old.” 

The performers sing loudly into their mics, words Coriolanus cannot even begin to decipher. Sejanus presses in close to him then, every part of them touching. They stand away from the dancers near the door they’d just come through. His breath is hot in Coriolanus’ ear. Everything is loud but it begins to drown away as Sejanus speaks. 

Oh, Lucila

¿Cómo te convenceré?

“Oh, Lucila, how can I convince you? I don’t have another love, I’ll always love you.” Arms come up to wrap around Coriolanus’ middle as Sejanus begins to sway them slowly, much too slow for such an upbeat song. He brings his own arms to drape around Sejanus’ shoulders, if only so they don’t hang awkwardly at his sides. 

“Early in the morning I met Lucila and I said to myself "ah, Chihuahua, I'm all alone now”.” Coriolanus can feel the boy’s smile hovering so close to him even if he cannot see it. “Lucila, please don't go away.” 

”I’m begging you on my knees to stay.” 

Sejanus does not attempt to keep up with the fast pace of the band, he whispers the words hot and wet against Coriolanus’ ear, his head tilted to press his forehead into Coriolanus’ temple. His voice, though, is melodic, dancing between singing and speaking the words to Coriolanus. 

The song ends much too quickly for Coriolanus’ liking, but Sejanus does not pull away from him. He only moves his head away when the woman on stage yells into the mic, “¡Seguimos aquí!” 

Sejanus, along with everyone else in the room, hollers back, “¡Sigo aquí!” Whistles cut through the air from a dozen different mouths and Coriolanus lifts a hand instinctively to cover his ears. Thankfully, Sejanus has done him the courtesy of not whistling right next to his ear. 

“What was that?” He asks, lowering his hand as the last whistles fall. “A reminder.” Sejanus answers.

Chapter Text

The next day is just like before, they spend the morning touring with Sejanus muttering in everyone’s ear. They eat dinner together before dropping the district boy off, then they tour some more. Coriolanus wonders if the mayor will ever run out of sights for them to see. He can only stand so many miners and factories before he gets a migraine. 

Once the day is through and they’ve had supper, he and Lysistrata are released to work on their project privately. As he writes everything down into more comprehensive notes, his classmate brings up the thing that’s been on his mind all day. “They speak one of the old languages here. Can you believe that?” She’s whispering excitedly, already flipped to the page in her book where it discusses the district two traits. “It says here that only the community’s oldest seniors knew the language, but the people on stage were definitely singing it.” She mutters. 

“Maybe it’s just songs they know and that’s why the dance hall is private. Sejanus did say bailar hall was supposed to be a secret.” He speculates with her, having turned the topic over in his mind all day. 

Lysistrata’s eyes shoot up from her book, she closes it and sets it on the table carefully. “...About Sejanus,” She begins. Coriolanus raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t interrupt her. “I know you like him, Coryo, but we aren’t staying here forever.” Her face pinches up in a grimace, like the words are hard to say; they’re hard to hear quite frankly. Coriolanus feels the tension in his shoulders, an automatic response to sit up straighter and hide his face behind a gentle seeming blank look. “It’s not like that, Lyssie.” He assures, using her nickname to purposefully put her more at ease. 

“It’s just a,” he spins one hand around in the air, looking for the right word, “thing.” 

A thing. Just for fun while he’s here because he can’t afford things back home where his image means everything. Lysistrata would never tell, he’s fortunate to not be stuck with a gossip. Here he has more freedom to explore certain things.  

“A thing?” Lyssie deadpans. He doesn’t spend more time explaining it to her, only nods. To explain it would make him think harder about it and that was not something he intended to do. 

Later, Sejanus is there to sneak them out like the past two nights. It only takes one Tap for Coriolanus -already dressed for going out- to pull open his window and let the boy know they’d be down soon. 

Lyistrata pretends not to see the way Sejanus pulls Coriolanus into him in greeting as soon as they’ve closed the front door. “Ready to dance?” He asks with a wide smile. Lyssie pumps her fist and Coriolanus nods. “I suppose so.” He answers. 

Bailar hall is packed when they arrive. Just like before people line the upstairs loft and dancers take over the floor downstairs. Jamie is standing near the door this time and he waves them over when he sees them. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Jamie says then chuckles. He’s sipping on a glass of something, past experience would remind Coriolanus that it’s not posca. 

The boy taps his feets to the music. Coriolanus tunes in to the singers to see if they are using their other way of speaking. They are not. It’s the girl singing tonight, or at least right now, and her words come out clear and decodable to him. 

Well, I met him on a Saturday night,

Underneath the pale moonlight.

He had a twinkle in his eye,

Oh, that boy, he caught me by surprise.

“Jamie,” Lysistrata begins, obviously noticing as he just had. “the singing from last night, will they do it again?” She asks. Jamie laughs, “They’re singing right now, Ms. Lyssie!” 

“She means will they be singing in the dead language again.” Coriolanus states, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn’t feel like playing a back and forth game with the boy, he wants answers now. Jamie watches him for a moment, cup rising to his lips but dark eyes never leaving Coriolanus’ bright ones. 

Instead of answering, he turns to Sejanus who is standing next to Coriolanus. “¿Éste?” Jamie mutters behind his glass. Sejanus nods seriously and Jamie just shrugs, eyes rolling hard as he sets his cup on the table. 

“Listen, forget your little Capitol book and whatever else they told you up in your fancy buildings.” Jamie tells him, “We’re real people, with real history. And we’re allowed to preserve it no matter what you say.” 

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the stomping feet and melodic voices behind their group. “Who’s saying you aren’t allowed to preserve it?” Lysistrata finally asks. Jamie’s usually cheerful face is somber, his mouth pressed together in a tight line. 

“There’s a reason this place is supposed to be a secret.” Sejanus answers for him. 

More doesn’t need to be said, Coriolanus can read between their lines. The Capitol is saying they can’t preserve it. He remembers something Sejanus said on their first day here, something about the Capitol no longer providing district two paint. He thinks about the drab, mechanical look of the new factories when even the old mines had some life. 

There must be a greater reason. Something he isn’t noticing that would make the Capitol want to remove this part of district two. Maybe it’s the rebels, if they’re too comfortable then they will get bold. Coriolanus settles on that, district two is suffering because of their rebels. 

“The Capitol is wrong.” Lysistrata announces firmly. Coriolanus almost chokes on air. He’s never heard her say something so outright rebellious, she’s never been so bold before. It would get her into a lot of trouble in the Capitol. Before he can reprimand her for it, Jamie laughs heartily, “Atta, girl! Let me get you a drink just for that.” 

“She shouldn’t say things like that.” Coriolanus says when both Jamie and his classmate have left for the small bar. “Why not?” Sejanus asks quietly. 

“It’s rebellious. The Capitol is supposed to be here for us all.” He states. The Capitol is the government of all of Panem, and they won the war against the rebels, it was their duty and right to govern as was necessary.

The song that’s been playing begins to wind down. 

So let's keep on dancing, through the years,

With every step, let's conquer our fears.

In this old-school love, we'll always find,

A rhythm and rhyme that forever binds.

“Do you really believe that? That the Capitol cares about us all? Us, district?” Sejanus' voice is soft, but there’s an immovable firmness behind the words. Coriolanus doesn’t know that he can answer. He shouldn’t be so hesitant, it should be easy to say this is the price the district pays for their rebellion. 

But Proserpina is no rebel. Jamie wouldn’t harm anyone, only wants them to laugh. Antoninus had been kinder than any Capitol professor. Aurora was only a child.

And Sejanus… Sejanus was rapidly taking up so much space inside of Coriolanus and it scared him. 

“Come dance with me before you pop from thinking so hard.” Sejanus finally says, grabbing Coriolanus’ wrist and dragging him onto the edge of the dancefloor and the music of another song bleeds into the end of the last. 

Tú me prometiste que pronto Ibas a volver

Que ya nunca más recordarías el ayer

Que no pensarías más en aquella mujer

Y hasta me juraste que mío querías ser

Sejanus takes hold of one of Coriolanus’ hands, his other wrapping around his waist. Coriolanus, not knowing where to put his other arm, wraps it around Sejanus’ neck as he’d seen other dancers do. Couples shuffle together in a new and strange way, Coirolanus can only hold on and move his feet as Sejanus guides him through it, whispering “one, step, two, step.” 

Cobarde

Tú no eres más que un cobarde

Te falta valor para hablarme

Y huyendo sigues por allí

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus asks, looking up from where he’s been watching his own feet so as not to step on Sejanus’. The other boy laughs airily, “She’s calling her lover boy a coward.” Sejanus answers. 

“Why?” He’s curious, it’s so rare in the Capitol that he doesn’t understand something. Here, where everything is new, he feels like a sponge soaking in everything until he’s too full to take anymore, but is still trying. He sees the hesitation in Sejanus before the answer comes, “Because he left her, and he’s never coming back.” 

Sejanus locks eyes with Coriolanus. There’s something in the air between them. Coriolanus doesn’t ask Sejanus to translate anymore of the song. 

❁❁❁❁❁

It goes like that for the next several days; their little group touring the best and shiniest parts of district two. Then Sejanus will sneak them out to visit his friends’ campfire or to dance at bailar hall. Lysistrata is quick to make friends with the group, even Marcus; Jamie becoming her co-conspirator of sorts. 

They kiss again like that night under the stars, several times actually. Once as they tour shops in the main square, Sejanus pulls him behind an aisle to make him breathless only to pull away with a terribly self-satisfied smile and rejoin the group. Then again every night they’re together, Coriolanus would rather he not do so in front of everyone, not with Jamie’s annoying laughing and whistles, or Marcus’ hard glare, or especially Lysistrata’s knowing looks. But he does it anyway, and Coriolanus feels helpless to stop him or pull away. 

Coriolanus wakes up on their last full day in district two feeling sick. Not in the same way he was all those times that Tigris would tuck him back into bed then lay a wet towel over his forehead and bring him whatever ‘soup’ she could make. He’s sick in his stomach with nerves, his body aches from all the extra walking but also from anticipation of the inevitable. 

Dean Highbottom told him not to grow attached and he believed himself removed enough that he wouldn’t, but every touch, kiss, and laugh from Sejanus has caught him in the boy’s snare. Coriolanus dresses slowly, not yet ready to face the people he hears moving around downstairs. 

Sejanus has taken to eating breakfast with them in the last few days. So, when he hears the front door creak, he winces and pulls his last shoe on too aggressively. Coriolanus holds his breath to be able to hear the faint, “Good morning Pina. Lyssie, Dean.” Proserpina is the only one loud enough to be heard from his room with her chipper good morning back. Last night, he had another dream about district two. This time it was him hunched over a conveyor belt in one of the machine factories. The pain in his back had crumbled his knees and just before they hit the hard stone floor he woke up in a sweat.

Sighing, Coriolanus finally stands and pulls open the door to his little room. He makes his way down the steps toward the dining hall. Sejanus is right there, already sitting at the table, facing him with the most beautiful smile when he sees Coriolanus in the doorway. “Morning, Coryo.” Sejanus says, then stuffs another bite into his mouth. Lysistrata echoes the sentiment and he returns it to them both quietly. 

Proserpina’s eyes crinkle at the corners of her eyes when she sees him, “Mr. Snow, good morning to you! I’m glad you finally joined us. Now that you’re here, I can tell you all about our exciting last full day together!” 

Coriolanus thinks he could throw up at her words. 

“We’ll be touring the school!” She claps her hands together like it’s the most wonderful news. Sejanus laughs behind a breakfast roll and Lysistrata does not say anything. If Proserpina notices the odd reactions she doesn’t mention it. “Sejanus will be the perfect guide for this, since it’s his area of expertise. He is head of his class afterall!” 

“Only because-” Sejanus begins but is cut off by Proserpina’s harsh ‘tsk’. “Not so early in the morning, Sejanus.” 

Coriolanus raises an eyebrow in question, wondering what Sejanus would have said, but the boy just gives him a secret smile and wink before returning to his plate. Breakfast ends quickly enough, everyone leaving the table with empty plates.

The drive to the school is filled with history ranting from the mayor. She’s going on and on about a million things Coriolanus does not have the energy to care about. Still, he smiles at her and nods like he’s listening when her eyes turn to him, delighted crinkles in their corners. 

District two’s big city school is a lot different than the smaller villages had been. It’s considerably large for starters, and hilariously red. Coriolanus has seen it several times behind the dark tint of the car’s window, but stepping outside and needing to tilt his head back to see the roof’s peak makes it feel so much grander. The feeling is an illusion though, because just like every painted building in district two, chips are flaking and falling at its corners. 

Inside is no better off. Mayor Proserpina apologizes for the hot temperature. Apparently, the air conditioning has been broken for some time now, and with June about to dip into July, that is not a welcome feeling. 

There’s an old closet near the front door with a coat rack inside. Proserpina encourages them to lose the top layer of their uniform as they tour. Coriolanus and Lysistrata shed the red jacket quickly, hanging it in the closet next to the mayor’s dark green one, the dean keeps his dark overcoat on. Sejanus, who would have already known about the heat, isn’t wearing any layers, only a thin shirt with a short vest sewn in delicate details. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Coriolanus announces. He's purposely fallen behind the group as they begin heading into the school, and knows Sejanus has matched his pace. “Will you come say goodbye?” 

“‘Course I will, Coryo.” Sejanus promises, hand coming up quickly to squeeze his side. Coriolanus nods, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. 

They follow Proserpina around the first floor where the older students work. “Where’s Marcus?” Lyssie asks, her question directed at Sejanus rather than the mayor. “Only some of us have the luxury of staying in school.” Sejanus answers her, looking grim. 

It’s such an odd mix to see play out on the boy’s face. One moment, he’s puffed up and proud to be a part of district two, ranting about the unfairness of the Capitol, then the next a dark shadow falls on his face as he talks about the hard parts life here.

Despite himself, Coriolanus finds a kinship in Sejanus for that. While he’s never outright said -or even thought- a wrong thing about the Capitol, life there hasn’t come without its hardships. He can admire the pride despite it all, and moreso, Coriolanus can relate to the cloud hanging over Sejanus when he’s forced to face certain realities. 

They walk outside the back and up to the second floor, which even from the stairs, is much more alive than the first. Proserpina gives them a delighted smile before turning and pushing open the door upstairs. 

Rooms of open and closed wooden doors line both sides of the hall, mirroring the first floor, but the atmosphere is entirely different here. 

Concrete floors and walls are overtaken by chalk. Lysistrata, who is in front of him, hops on one foot inside three different boxes as Proserpina had done just before. Sejanus follows, leaving only the dean and Coriolanus to not partake. “Come on, Coryo. It’s fun!” Lysistrata assures, though he cannot see its merit. 

Halfway to refusing, he is stopped -as is everyone else- when Dean Highbottom steps into the first square, then hops into the second one using his other foot, and continues forward until he too has made it to the end. 

Everyone is silent for a moment, nobody exactly sure how to react. The dean only raises a stern eyebrow at their confused looks.  

Applause bursts forth from one of the open doors and the five of them all look to see children, one being Aurora, leaning out of its frame and cheering at the dean. The young red haired girl is the first to turn back to Coriolanus, “Now you!” she demands with a grin. 

Now me, he thinks. Perhaps he does it because he does not want to be outdone by the dean, or because there is something so compelling in their young enthusiasm, but whatever the reason, Coriolanus steps forward. Lifting one foot into the chalk square, he hops down the line like the rest of them in time with the cheers, now coming from even more classrooms. 

On the last square, Coriolanus missteps and falls, his shoulder landing hard on Sejanus’ chest. The boy’s hands jump up to grab him and he continues laughing, even at his audible, hard grunt on impact. “Good job.” Sejanus encourages, though he is breathless from the hit. Coriolanus straightens immediately, embarrassed.  

The children don’t allow him time to dwell, however, because as soon as his foot has left the last square, they flood the hall. He looks around, wondering how they are allowed so much leniency, but the teachers all look just as playful as their students, not one seeming to mind the sudden interruption. 

The youngest of them waddle up to him and Lysistrata, pointing and grabbing at the red academy skirts. Only then do teachers intervene, guiding everyone back to their rooms with the promise of a story. It takes a lot of convincing, but eventually the children leave himself and Lyssie alone and return to their rooms. “You might be too distracting for the littlest of us, but I don’t think Mr. Sage will mind the interruption so much.” She tells them, then guides them to sit in the back of the classroom Aurora and a few other older children are in. 

Mr. Sage, it turns out, is a man around the mayor’s own age. Just from looking at him Coriolanus can tell he is soft, his eyes shaped in a way that looks constantly upturned with pleasantness. 

He tells the children a story about a man who fell in love with the woman living on the moon.

A young boy interrupts to ask how it’s possible to live on the moon, but their teacher only smiles and tells the class that it’s just another one of life’s great mysteries. Mr. Sage continues, painting a scene of a tragic love and how the man built towers, tried to fly, did everything to get to the woman he loved, but how it never seemed to work.

Coriolanus is surprised by how the story captures him, the man at the front spinning a tale as if he had seen it all happen. “If he couldn’t get to her, then they couldn’t be together, right?” Aurora’s soft voice asked. 

“Not exactly, Ms. y’Corph. Because it wasn’t just the man who was in love. The woman on the moon watched his devotion night after night, and began to fall in love with him too. So, one day, she decided to meet him.” 

Every student is enraptured by the story, Coriolanus is afraid some might even be holding their breath. “As the moon began to rise in the sky one night, she stood on its edge, waiting until the earth lined up just right and jumped off.” He tells them. A few gasps ring out, but otherwise the class stays silent. 

“After she jumped, she began falling, but the man was so in love that he was watching the whole thing, and he caught her before she could hit the ground.” Logically, Coriolanus knows the story wasn’t created on anything that could be real, but there’s something about the way Mr. Sage is telling it that has him leaning forward with each word. 

“Do they stay together after?” It’s Lysistrata who asks. Mr. Sage turns his kind eyes toward the back of the class where she sits next to Coriolanus. 

“They do.” He answers. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sejanus is waiting like always by the front door, ready to whisk them away to somewhere they aren’t supposed to be. Coriolanus is surprised however, when Sejanus grabs his wrist and stops him from walking away from the house, following after Lysistrata who needs no direction to make her way to bailar hall. 

“You know the way, right, Lyssie?” Sejanus asks. She turns back to them both looking at Sejanus first before cutting her eyes toward Coriolanus. “... I do.” She answers slowly, “Are you two not coming?” 

“I’d like to show Coryo something.” He says, looking down and smiling nervously, “Since it’s your last night and all.” The feeling he’s had all day returns just as strong as when he’d woken up. A terrible reminder wrapped in such a well-meaning package. “Sure.” Lysistrata says with a gentle smile, “You two have fun.” Then she’s gone. 

The boy waits, fingers still wrapped around Coriolanus’ wrist until Lyssie’s out of view. “I hope whatever you want to show me isn’t as far of a walk as the last time.” Coriolanus says. Sejanus smiles at him, turning on his heel and pulling him in the opposite direction of where Lysistrata had just gone. “Not far at all.” He tells Coriolanus. “In fact, it’s only two houses down.”  

He was taking Coriolanus to his home. In the past several days Coriolanus has seen almost every part of district two, this felt like the only place left he had to see. There wasn’t even a promise of anything more than seeing the color of the walls inside the boy’s home, yet he found his face growing hot with each step. 

Sejeanus hadn’t exaggerated the ‘two houses down’ comment. Two short minutes was all it took to come face to face with Sejanus’ door. “My Ma has supper with my father sometimes when he’s working late.” The boy informs over his shoulder as he pushes the door open. Sejanus steps aside to allow Coriolanus into the foyer. A foyer. They have foyers in district two it seems. 

Taking a few steps further into the home, Coriolanus pauses when the boy behind him makes a noise. “Ah!” Sejanus hisses, “Ma will kill me if there’s footprints on the floor.” He points down at Coriolanus’ feet, “You have to take them off.” 

“Mayor Proserpina has never made me take them off before.” He answers, arms crossing over his chest. He’ll take them off eventually, but doesn’t like the way Sejanus ‘tsks’ at him.

“Pina just wants to make a good impression with Capitol folk. My parents won’t be as accommodating about their white tile.” Sejanus says seriously. Coriolanus thinks he can understand, with all the red dirt swirling under their feet every day, he might also be included to not allow shoes in the house. But Coriolanus is feeling petulant, so he stays standing for just a few seconds too long; enough time to watch the other boy’s eyebrow twitch in a funny way. 

"Quítatelos, Coryo." Sejanus’ breath is hot as he steps up barely leaving an inch between them. An electric bolt jumps up Coriolanus’ spine. He doesn’t know what exactly Sejanus said, but it was rough and commanding, two things that have never been attractive to him until now. Swallowing hard, Coriolanus nods jerkily, picking up one foot to peel the dark colored shoe off, before doing the same with the other foot. 

Sejanus smiles, pleased, and takes Coriolanus hand to pull him up the stairs. The boy gets nervous as he opens the door to his room. “This is it.” Sejanus mutters. Coriolanus takes a moment to look around, making sure the boy sees him as his eye catches on the knick knacks stacked along the desk. 

Everything about the room looks lived in, so much more than his own room at home. If it wasn’t so uniquely Sejanus, he might have been jealous. “You have a lot of toys.” He tells Sejanus. Coriolanus steps up to the desk, his hand finds one of the dolls placed on the desk. It’s a soldier. Not a peacekeeper, and not a rebel, someone different but distinctly war like. 

There’s a laugh behind him and Sejanus presses his chest against Coriolanus’ back. His hand runs down Coriolanus’ arm until he plucks the doll out of his hand. “Haven’t played with this in years.” His breath is warm in Coriolanus’ ear. Goosebumps rise throughout his body under his clothes. 

“It’s a soldier.” Coriolanus remarks. 

“His name is Lenny.” Sejanus tells him. He leans forward, pressing himself harder into Coriolanus as he sets the doll back down. “Lenny the soldier.” 

Arms wrap around Coriolanus’ stomach, they’re both watching Lenny sit amidst the other toys on the desk. “Did you have any toys growing up?” Sejanus asks. He wants to bristle, the warm feeling growing in his belly gone in an instant. “No.” He answers, pushing out of Sejanus’ hold and walking further into the room. 

There’s a bookshelf next to the bed. He goes to it and pulls out the first one his eyes land on. ‘ Panem Districts: A History’ is scrawled in neat print across the cover. “This book is in the Academy library.” He comments, lifting it for the other boy to see over his shoulder. Coriolanus flips the book open to district two’s chapter. 

“I thought it would be impossible for district two to look like this still.” He whispers, more to himself than the other person in the room. Sejanus’ front meets his back again, but there’s a whisper of space this time. He’s more hesitant now. “And is it?” Sejanus asks.

“Yes.” He answers, “But not in the way I first thought.” 

It’s a gentle slip in truth. District two has proven itself to be a beautiful place. Its handsome landscape and breathtaking sky is so completely different from the beauty of the Capitol. “And the people?” Sejanus whispers. The boy's face finds the grove of Coriolanus’ neck, his nose brushing against Coriolanus’ cool skin. 

“You’re pushing.” Coriolanus says, slipping the book back onto the shelf and turning so that they are nose to nose. “I can stop.” Sejanus responds. He knows it’s true. There’s something so honest and open about Sejanus. Something that says he would step back and not try again if that’s what Coriolanus wanted. 

It’s not what Coriolanus wants. He tilts his head in the same way he had that first night Sejanus kissed him. The boy pushes forward but Coriolanus pulls back slightly, “The people have been delightful.” He says around a smile. 

Then he pushes forward to kiss the boy. That warmth floods him again, burning through his chest, up to his neck and across his face. Sejanus’ hands find his waist and slides up his back. Everywhere he touches creates an overwhelming tingle on the surface of Coriolanus’ skin. 

Sejanus’ arms flex to pull him closer and Coriolanus wraps his own around the other boy’s shoulders. Sejanus steps backwards once falling back onto the bed with Coriolanus on top of him. They pull away breathlessly to laugh. “I could have crushed you.” He tells Sejanus. It only makes the boy laugh harder. “You couldn’t have.” He states, “But even if you could, I would’ve let you.” 

He looks down at Sejanus with a lifted eyebrow, the sentiment was absurd, but he took the other boy to be careless over things. “Take your shirt off.” Sejanus tells Coriolanus. 

Voice gravelly, he is stunned by the turn of Sejanus’ tone. He hesitates at first, but is then quick to sit up and comply. Coriolanus rips the cotton shirt off his shoulders and throws it to the ground behind them. Sejanus is patient, watching as Coriolanus moves his hands to the hem of his undershirt, crossing his arms before pulling it over his head and flinging it off to join the coat. 

Hands come up to press into his waist, long fingers digging into the small of his back. They stay there for a moment to massage the stress out. Coriolanus hums at the feeling. Sejanus then releases his hard grip to run both hands up his torso. Fingertips glide over where Coriolanus’ ribs press into his skin, slowly tracing up, then back down to the part of his hip bone that peeks out beneath his pants. Coriolanus’ chest rises and falls quickly, desperate to feel any sort of pressure, to let the night fall away until they are the only things left in his mind. He subtly arches his back, not enough to lift himself off Sejanus’ lap, but sufficient to feel those hands press harder against him.

“Careful.” Sejanus teases, massaging circles into the lower part of Coriolanus’ belly. “Breathe, close your eyes.” Coriolanus has been watching this other boy from under his thick lashes, brows knitted together in impatience. But he does what’s asked of him, softening his spine as his eyes flutter closed, sitting fully on Sejanus and feeling the hard press of hip bone against the bottom of his thigh. 

The feel of hands sliding down to his clothed thighs pull a noise from him, low and breathy. Sejanus massages him there, digging his fingertips into the fabric above his skin every few passes. A gasp is pulled from him next as Sejanus readjusts to sit up quickly, mouth laying kisses down his neck. 

“Sejanus,” He breathes out airily. The chuckle reverberates against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He feels Sejanus’ hands draw further down as two fingers on each leg trace down to his knees. With agonizing slowness, the boy pulls his legs only a fraction more apart, pulling their middles closer. Every part of them feels like it’s touching, the touches burn. 

Sejanus’ hands lift off his knees and find a new place on the belt hooked to the band of Coriolanus’ waist. With hurried fingers, he pulls the leather from the loops, then unclasps the metal part from it before sliding it completely away. Coriolanus hears it clang to the ground when Sejanus lets go. 

Coriolanus gasps his name again as Sejanus pops open the button in the same moment that he grinds up into Coriolanus. Sejanus hooks his thumbs under the band of his pants and underwear, he looks up at Coriolanus, “Can I?” 

“Yes.” He breathes, head falling down to meet Sejanus’ mouth. They work together to take the pants off, it’s awkward and they fumble, but Coriolanus doesn’t feel embarrassed when he sees the way the other boy looks at him. Having enough of being the only one, Coriolanus slips a hand under Sejanus’ shirt, “Now you.” He whispers. The boy scrambles half of the bed to underdress, throwing clothes on the floor as fast as he can get them off. 

When he returns to Coriolanus on the bed fully, he slides to lay over his body, their positions switching. Sejanus bends to lay kisses on his neck again, starting right under his chin and moving slowly down. Pausing at his collar bone, he litters it with more presses of his lips. No biting or sucking, simply teasing. Eyes falling closed, Coriolanus is at the mercy of his other senses. Every kiss feels heightened, the thrill of not knowing where the boy’s mouth will fall next clouds his brain. Fire burns in his chest as Sejanus moves down his body, wet mouth trailing down his torso. He stops every few seconds to kiss around an area more thoroughly. 

When he finally makes it to Coriolanus’ hips, he thinks he might cry from the build up of it all. 

Coriolanus’ head falls back against the bed. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, blighting his lip roughly and tasting the iron tang of blood. Sejanus knows when to speed up, when to add pressure, and he knows exactly when to slow down and let up. He scrapes his teeth, just barely, over the skin just below Coriolanus’ belly button just to hear him whine louder. 

“Oh god, please.” Coriolanus begs. When Sejanus finally moves to the place had been begging for, Coriolanus gasps as his entire body lights up. Tingles run through every part of him at the sudden feeling of lips sinking down. His hips buck up on their own and he lets out a high pitched cry. 

Coriolanus knots his hands in the boy’s hair. He throws himself back against the bed. One of Sejanus’ hands shoots out to touch against Coriolanus chest, caressing him anywhere Sejanus can reach. His body begins to sing again and he’s lost track of the noises he’s making because of Sejanus. 

Just as he is pulled to the edge, ready to fall over, Sejanus pulls away. Coriolanus releases a distressed sound, “What?” he asks. The boy smiles and crawls back up his body to kiss around Coriolanus’ face. “I have stuff to make it easier.” He tells Coriolanus, pulling away and reaching around to grab a small tin and box from a drawer. 

Two fingers dip into the tin and come out with a liquid coating them. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He states seriously, enough that Coriolanus nods. He thinks he knows what this is and has heard classmates talking about it before. It’s obvious that Sejanus has done this before, or at least knows more than him. The thought burns hot -not in a good way- in his chest, but he shoves it down to make room for what is happening now. 

The first finger is cold, it fills him in an odd way he isn’t used to and it’s not pleasurable at all. For a moment, he’s disappointed that the way people talk about sex is a lie, but then Sejanus turns the finger just right and he knows it’s not. 

Then the second finger sends him back into the good burning he felt when Sejanus was touching him earlier. He gasps, fingers digging hard into the other boy’s shoulders. Coriolanus lifts his head slightly, mouthing at the boy’s neck, kissing and whining into the skin there. There’s a third finger that guides Coriolanus closer back to the edge he’d been hanging off of before. 

Sejanus pulls away and grabs something out of the box and rips it open. He’s back over Coriolanus in a second, peppering kisses across his sweaty face. “Ready?” He asks Coriolanus. Sejanus’ eyes are bright and he’s still smiling, but all Coriolanus can do is nod. 

It hurts at first, not a lot but enough to pull a groan from his chest and bring his eyebrows together. But the pain fades quickly, Sejanus’ gently rocking building and the feeling of it overtaking any pain from the beginning. 

The boy’s hand finds Coriolanus’ hip and he pressed his fingers hard into them, then tension building as their movements quicken. The churning in his belly tightens, twisting like a heavy knot that won’t be ignored. He brings his hands to Sejanus’ back, blunt nails scratching at his shoulders. 

Feelings building, climbing higher and higher, pushing Coriolanus faster to the edge. Until suddenly, like a car that brakes suddenly or a swing that stops after you jump off, he is pushed over the edge. Pleasure wracks up his body, only to crawl back down and dig into the places Sejanus is touching. 

He pants hard, eyes rolling into the back of his head and toes curling against the soft sheets beneath them. Sejanus buries his head in the crook of Coriolanus’ neck and bites down hard. Coriolanus can feel the vibrations of his groan against his skin hidden behind the wet dig of the other boy’s teeth. 

Coming down together is hazy. Sejanus drops his weight on Coriolanus for a second before rolling off. They’re still connected by arms and legs, entangled with each other’s sweating bodies. 

Sejanus asks if it was good and Coriolanus can only nod, gulping even though his throat has gone dry. They share a smile, laughing a little, the after effects leaving Coriolanus wondering why he restrained himself so much in the Captiol. But also, in the back of his mind, a voice tells him it wouldn't be like this with anyone else. 

They shower after. Giggling and kissing as hot water sprays against their skin. 

“You smell like roses.” Sejanus whispers back under the covers of his bed. “It stays on you like a second skin.” Coriolanus gives him a look at the strange way he said it. Sejanus just laughs, pressing his nose into his neck and sniffing loudly until Coriolanus pushes him away. 

“I think I love you.” Sejanus says, not pulling his face away from where he’s hidden it. Air is punched from his lungs before he has time to take in a breath. 

“Would you stay?” Sejanus asks, pulling away, eyes wide and vulnerable, “If you could?” 

Quiet takes over the room. It’s not a gentle, comfortable quiet, this kind sits on Coriolanus’ chest as if he is being crushed by a building. Stay? In district two? 

The silence lasts too long. Sejanus pulls away completely, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He says, falling on the bed as far away from Coriolanus as he can get. 

“I should go.” He says to the ceiling, Sejnaus has rolled over and doesn’t say anything as he stands and dresses. He hates it, hates that Sejanus couldn’t have just left it alone. But he hates himself too for it, he should have said something different. 

Coriolanus leaves, Sejanus doesn’t follow. He picks up his shoes in the foyer and slips them on carelessly before making the very short walk back to Proserpina’s home. Lysistrata’s room is dark and he doesn’t know if that means she’s asleep or still out. He doesn’t bother checking. 

Instead, he slips into his borrowed bedroom as quietly as he can, and closes the door. The night sky is clear in district two but Coriolanus feels a dark cloud looming above his head just out of his reach. 

Knots form like heavy rocks in his stomach as his strips and lays in the bed and he wonders if this is what regret feels like. 

❁❁❁❁❁

❁

It’s dark. He can’t see anything. 

Coriolanus lifts his hands inches away from his face but still can’t even make out their shape. His back hurts, his hands feel cracked with callouses and his face is hot. 

Suddenly, a bright overhead light slams on. It blinds him, making Coriolanus hide behind his hands until he can adjust to seeing again. When he opens his eyes, he finds a conveyor belt in front of him sitting stationary. It’s filled with weapons, bombs, guns, pieces of machinery. 

A loud bang makes Coriolanus jump and the conveyor belt starts to move. As the belt moves, the weapons begin to change, blood appears on them, coating the barrel of every gun and seeping over the conveyor onto his black shoes. Coriolanus lifts a foot and winces at the blood puddled under him. Somehow, the whole floor is covered in it with nowhere for him to get away. 

It fills Coriolanus with a sense of panic. He doesn’t know how he got here and doesn’t know how to get away. The conveyor belt buzzes lightly as it continues forward. He’s watching the weapons go by, struggling to understand what to do. 

A gun comes through that’s unlike the rest and when he catches sight of it Coriolanus screams. A hand is still connected to the handle of the weapon, finger still curled around the trigger. 

Blood continues to overflow onto the ground around his feet. A banging sound from above has him covering his head in his arms and crouching down. Coriolanus wants to cry. What is happening? There’s another vibrating bang from above. Then a third that shakes his whole body and rattles his clenched teeth. 

❁

Three sharp knocks jolt him into consciousness. 

Highbottom has to rouse him from sleep in the morning. Coriolanis isn’t one to oversleep, generally rising with the sun, sometimes even before, but his dream and the pain that being awake brings is enough to keep his mind shut tightly away. 

Coriolanus packed before they snuck out the night before, a fact he’s entirely too grateful for now. The only thing left is to change out of his nightshirt and into day clothes. He’s thankful the trip required them to wear their uniforms each day, Coriolanus doesn’t know how he would have explained to Lysistrata that he only had one extra outfit aside from his nightwear. 

On the third day in the city, Sejanus pushed two shirts into Coriolanus’ hands when nobody was looking. He’d been quick to tuck them into his school bag and not ask questions, accepting the “for bailar.” when he gave the boy a funny look. Coriolanus isn’t sure if that was true, or if Sejanus had felt the way his bone pressed against his skin when he’d kissed him. Either way, he was grateful for the addition of his night time ensemble. 

He considered returning them yesterday when they were together, but holding one up in his hand Coriolanus is glad he didn’t. He brings the shirt up to smell. Everything here gets washed in the evening, so the scent is faint, but Coriolanus clings to the smell of Sejanus. 

Two more hard knocks wake him out of his daydreaming. “Let’s go, Mr. Snow. Five minutes if you want breakfast.” The dean says behind thick oak. Coriolanus nods, though the dean can’t see him, and shoves the shirt back into his bag. Dressing quickly, Coriolanus flings his bag over his shoulder and scoops up any other belongings into his arms. 

Downstairs, Lysistrata looks almost as forlorn as he feels. “You can set everything by the door, dear.” Proserpina instructs, painted finger pointing toward the other bags lining the wall nearest to the door. He tosses the bags down without much care and joins the three at the table. 

They eat in silence, the only sound is the unnerving scrape of metal utensils against ceramic plates. 

The car ride over is equally quiet. Coriolanus wonders how Lysistrata is handling this all. He knows their experiences here have been vastly different, but she’s made friends hasn’t she? She certainly cared more for this district as a whole from the very beginning, so it must be hard to finally have to say goodbye to it. 

Nobody is at the train station when they arrive. Proserpina is tear full as they begin to pull bags out of the trunk. “Oh, you children were just wonderful to have around.” She sniffles, “Here, can I give you a hug?” 

Her arms are already open and Lysistrata steps into them quickly. They stay wrapped in each other for longer than a normal hug would last, both with unshed tears. She turns to Coriolanus and begins it say “I know you aren’t the affectionate type, but…” 

Without much resistance he does step up to hug her as well. Though their hug is much shorter than the one with Lysistrata had been. He thinks that although her chipper spirit was overwhelming to him at times, he will miss it in some strange way.  

The train conductor meets them in front of the metal door and Coriolanus hurries to shove his bag at the attendant and make his way into the car with gray benches, pressing his nose against the window in a fruitless attempt at glimpsing a boy who’s not there. 

Goodbyes ached, at least that’s what he’d been told. But nobody said how painful the absence of one could be. His fingers turn white as he presses them harder against the glass. Sejanus had promised. How could he change his mind because of a stupid fight?  

He hadn’t actually said he wouldn’t stay if given the choice. Simply hadn’t answered. What was so wrong with that? Was he not allowed to want to go home? “I wish we could’ve said goodbye to Sejanus.” Lysistrata murmurs, totally oblivious to the turmoil spinning in him at the same sentiment. 

“I had hoped”. He answers her, pulling away to sit properly in the seat. Dean Highbottom is watching them, mouth pressed into a tight line. Coriolanus cannot begin to speculate what the older man is thinking. His mind feels raw and torn apart. 

Ten days. A boy with a nice smile and noble disposition had made him weak in the knees in less than ten full days, nine really if today doesn’t count. 

As Coriolanus slips away from the window, Lyssie’s gasp pulls him back into the moment. She’s smiling and pointing at the glass. He turns his head sharply to see Jamie rounding the corner, waving frantically. Sejanus, with young Aurora on his shoulders, following several steps behind. Coriolanus feels elated at the sight. 

Lysistrata waves at the group until they catch sight of her and wave back. Sejanus sets Aurora down and she begins jumping frantically to ensure they see her from their seats. Coriolanus does see her and he smiles and gives a small wave back, but his focus shifts quickly to Sejanus, who is not moving around like the other two. The boy stands frozen, watching Coriolanus like he’s deciding whether to wave or stay upset. 

It’s frustrating. Sejanus came all this way with the weight of a twelve year old on his shoulders just to be undecided at the last minute. Well, Coriolanus can decide for the both of them. He lifts his hand to press it back into the glass and leans forward. Hot air fogs the window where he blows. 

His finger moves quickly, a crude drawing of a heart appearing in the center of the fogged area. Coriolanus tilts his head from behind the fog to lock eyes with Sejanus again. The other boy is smiling now, small as it may be and he waves. Sejanus’ mouth moves around a goodbye just as the train jolts forward. 

The pair watch each other, blue nor brown blinking away from this moment. 

It’s not until the train rolls behind a stone building do they lose each other finally. Coriolanus was heading back to the Capitol and Sejanus was staying in district two. 

He would never see Sejanus again.

Chapter Text

Part 2: The Mentorship 

The lecture hall is quiet. It might seem that with all twenty-four students together again - finally - there would be more chatter. But Dean Highbottom’s somber face where he sits at his desk turned toward them, has left everyone at a standstill. 

“As you know, you’ve taken off this past week to rest from your travels and wait for your fellow students to arrive safely home.” Highbottom begins. It’s not unlike him to wait until everyone is seated to start a lecture, but his tone was different. The long sigh is no more comforting than anything else he’s done this morning has been. “You were told before leaving that you would be required to… present on your findings from the districts, however there’s been a change in plans.” Murmurs erupt among them, similar to a few weeks ago in this same room when he told them they would be leaving. Only now the whispers are more quiet, less angry than they had been. 

“You will all be mentors in the Tenth Annual Hunger Games.” The dean announces. Now the murmurs turn to outrage. “Dean Highbottom, this isn’t fair, Palmyra and I have already started our project.” Livia says from somewhere behind him. Coriolanus does not turn to look. He cannot move.

Dean Highbottom nods solemnly, like he can understand her frustrations. “It seems Head Gamemaker, Dr. Gaul, thinks you all would benefit from your newfound knowledge in a more practical approach. And our president agrees with her.” 

“The reaping will be held next week. You’re all to attend and watch, you’ll each be assigned one of the tributes from your previously assigned district.” 

Coriolanus has so rarely been shocked, but this has accomplished just that. Mentor the students? After they were made to tour the school and greet each face of every child? He’d once thought of the districts as less than people, barely human. With the perception of the Capitol always within arms reach it was all he knew to think. But then he was forced to face their humanity, forced to watch them sing and laugh, to eat meals and dance together. 

Even if he was given a tribute he didn’t know, he might still recognize them. That was personal, how could he do that. Coriolanus’ hand shot up at once. “Yes, Mr. Snow?” The dean sighs. His classmates bickering dies in anticipation to hear what he has to say. “Has the president considered the stress this will put on us? I mean, we just finished traveling, some further than others. I don’t think this added layer of the assignment could possibly benefit our learning.” 

Everyone looking at him turns suddenly to the dean where he sits quietly, mouth pressed into a tight line and eyes redder than normal. It’s quiet for a moment before the dean says, “I will discuss your concerns with the president,” cheers erupt throughout the classroom until the dean puts a hand up, “but I won’t promise anything will change.” 

It’s enough for now. Lysistrata turns to give him a small nod, mouth curved down at the corners in a hard frown. She’s trying to be encouraging and supportive but cannot hide her own dismay. “There’s one more thing.” The dean says. There isn’t a person among them who’s not listening, everyone anticipating more unsavory news. “This will perhaps,” Dean Highbottom wipes his mouth and shrugs, like what he has to say isn’t something he wants to. Though that always seems to be the case in terms of the dean, “make the change more bearable for you.” 

Half the class takes in a breath, the other stops breathing entirely, Coriolanus is caught somewhere in the middle. “There will be a prize. A scholarship to the University, a completely free ride with everything included to the winner.” Some people, the more snobbish and superior of them, cheer quietly or clap at the news. The rest sit silently, not making a sound. 

A hand shoots up in front of Coriolanus, fingertips coming to land in the middle of his vision with where she sits directly in front of him. “Dean, how will a winner be determined? Won’t it just be whoever is lucky enough to have the winning tribute?” Arachne asks. She has a point, as much as he’s loath to side with her on anything. 

“Winning the games isn’t everything. Your grades and time spent prior to the games will be considered, but your job here isn’t to create a survivor. Your job is to make spectacles out of the tributes.” Murmurs return but die just as quickly as the dean continues, “Dr. Gaul believes the games need something to motivate people into watching,” he laughs like it’s funny, “because if nobody is watching what are the games even for?” 

Nobody says anything as they sit in the echo of the dean’s words. Almost a minute ticks by on the clock hanging above the door of the classroom before the dean says anything else. 

“You’re all dismissed for the day.” The dean says. Nobody waits, standing quickly and shoving everything into bags before fast feet carry them out of the room. Coriolanus understands how bad this must be to have been let out forty-five minutes early from their last class of the day. 

Poor attempts at whispers start as soon as they file out into the hallway. “I can’t believe they made us meet all those kids just to do this.” Lysistrata says as her footsteps fall in line with his. Festus turns completely around, walking backwards to respond to Lysistrata’s statement. “They made you tour the schools too? Did they make you do it on the last day like us? Pretty shit if you ask me,” he sneers. 

“It’s totally messed up,” Persephone chimes in from somewhere behind. “What if we get someone we know?” 

“Does it matter?” Arachne asks, nose pushed high in the air, “it’s not like we care about those people.” 

Her statement divides the students instantly, with many saying they did care and some murmuring agreements that they didn’t. “Either way,” Festus says, “I’m tired and Persephone and I have already started working on our project. No way I want to scrap that to mentor some tribute.” That, at least, reunites everyone. Nobody wants to mentor any district tributes, whatever the reason. 

Everyone splits up at the entrance of the Academy, each going their own way home. Coriolanus walks with a dark cloud over his head. He doesn’t understand this feeling growing in his gut, not when nothing truly bad has happened yet. Mentoring could save him; with the scholarship money now hanging over his head Coriolanus felt he had no right to be upset. His duty was to pull himself, and his family, out of the state they were living in, University could -would- do that. 

As he trudges through the bustling streets of the Capitol, his mind overwhelms him with conflicting emotions, it’s giving him a headache. Throbbing begins to settle just beneath his eyes as his mind circles around the very different opinions of accepting his impending duty as a mentor with the uncertainty of what it could mean. 

Despite the energy pulsing through the streets, Coriolanus feels completely isolated, the weight of his thoughts dragging him down like an anchor. He approaches his family’s modest apartment, tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the Capitol, with hurried steps. Tigris would be waiting, probably with whatever she could scrounge together simmering on the stovetop. Confiding in her would benefit him, allow him to talk out his stress, but the thought of being seen as weak upsets him greatly, always has. 

Pushing open the door to the apartment, Coriolanus is greeted by the familiar scent of watery stew wafting through the air. He’s surprised by the way the smell eases some of the tension knotting his shoulders as he makes his way into the living room, where Tigris sits stitching together an intricate costume.

“Tigris,” Coriolanus says, his voice betraying him. “Can we talk?”

His mind seems to have made the decision for him. 

Tigris looks up from her work, her keen eyes immediately catching the expression he tries to carefully tuck away. Setting aside her sewing things, she gestures for him to take a seat beside her on the old sofa, concern etched into her features.

“Coryo, what’s wrong?” she asks softly, her voice a soothing balm. Taking a deep breath, Coriolanus slowly recounts the news from the dean. 

“I just don't know if I’m capable of this,” Coriolanus admits quietly, not looking at her directly. “I never imagined myself in a position of-” caring, he doesn’t say, “and now... I feel lost.”

Tigris listens intently, her gaze steady and unwavering. She’s always been that, a pillar of strength, someone who, as a child, he relied on. As he’s gotten older, the need to lean on her left, and suddenly he wanted to protect her. But now, with Sejanus playing in his mind, he’s grateful to have her near, to allow himself to be younger than her for just a moment.

She waits a moment, letting the silence settle in between them. In the corner of his vision he can see she’s worrying her lip. “What aren’t you telling me, Coryo? It’s not like you to not take things in stride.” The question hangs like a heavy weight in his chest. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, but he knows exactly what she is asking. 

“What happened in district two?” Tigris presses. Of the two of them, it has always been in her nature to care about the districts, to hate the Hunger Games. But it was always different for him. If he wasn’t supportive he was at least indifferent to them. So to show such a strong rejection of being assigned a mentor must be strange to his cousin, perhaps, more strange than it is to himself. 

“I met someone… he was,” funny, abrasive, idiotic, passionate, he could go on, “important.” 

How many confessions could he squeeze into six words? With one sentence, he’d just told Tigris more about himself than he would have ever dared whisper before. Caring was a weakness, so he’d never allowed himself to indulge. But now? Now he cares so much. 

“You’re capable of more than you realize, Coriolanus,” Tigris tells him gently, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “I’ve seen you face things no child should have to. You have the strength to face whatever challenges come your way, even this one.”

It’s a small confort, knowing she’s in his corner through this. But it’s enough to release his chest from the pressure that has been building. Tigris leans forward, pulling him into her arms. Another time, he might pull away, not allow either of them this comfort, but today he can’t find the strength. 

“I’m glad you care,” he hears her whisper. Coriolanus pulls away, returning her smile with a small one of his own. “What’s his name?” 

“Sejanus,” he answers immediately, wanting to feel it again on his tongue, “Sejanus Plinth.”

❁❁❁❁❁

News of their mentorship being rescinded never comes. Coriolanus waits everyday, going through the motions of dressing, attending school, sitting through classes, and returning home. He’s smart enough to keep up the image of himself. It’s only when Lysistrata asks him while they’re leaving school the day before the reaping if he’s okay that he lets his face fall. 

“I got too attached to them, Lyssie.” He answers her. She nods like she understands, because of course she does. Lysistrata cared about them long before he did. It wasn’t until he was leaving on the train that he wondered what life would be like if he had told Sejanus he wanted to stay. “It’s not just you, Coryo. We’ve all gotten attached.” She tries to assures him. It does nothing to reassure him, in fact, he only feels worse. To be like everyone, to care as much as others is not a trait he’s ever associated with himself. But here he is now, caring. 

The morning of the reaping comes and Coriolanus wakes early to put on his best clothes. Tigris has stolen the shirt from inside his closet and he panics until she rushes through the door, holding it up like a prize. To them it is a prize; a nice shirt to hide the poverty. 

He leaves her and Grandma’am, ignoring the nerves that set in without them to distract his mind. 

Inside Heavensbee Hall, the atmosphere vibrates with anticipation as students from the Capitol’s Academy gather to watch the live broadcast of the reaping. Coriolanus sits on the edge of his seat, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes fixed on the large screen at the front of the hall. The last two hours have been dancing around teachers, other students, everyone in attendance just to make nice and save face. Now, his only goal is to watch without drawing attention or reacting negatively. 

Beside him, Lysistrata squeezes her hands together tightly, her knuckles are white with tension. They both know that any moment now, the names of the district two tributes will be called, and the weight of that knowledge hangs heavy between them.

Dr. Gaul announces again that they’ll be mentoring the 10th Annual Hunger Games tributes, nobody is surprised. All the students sit quietly, watching as she turns the podium over to Dean Highbottom. 

The students hush, trying hard to hear the Dean above the echo of the hall. “Read you a name, then you who gets that one. Right? So, fine.” The screen shifts to show rows of district one children, a boy is walking up to the stage. The dean pulls a piece of paper out of his breast pocket, “district one, girl, goes to…” Dean Highbottom squints at the paper, trying hard to focus. Coriolanus knows he took morphling before this, probably on the way into the building. He wants to curse with the way he has to strain himself to understand the Dean’s murmurings. 

“Glasses,” he mumbles, “forgot them.” Everyone stares at his glasses, already perched on his nose, and waits while his fingers find them. “Ah, here we go. Livia Cardew.” 

Livia’s pointed little face breaks into a grin, and she punches the air in victory, shouting “Yes!” in her shrill voice. She was always prone to gloating, as if this assignment was solely a reflection on her, and not her mother running the largest bank in the Capitol. “District one, boy, goes to Palmyra Monty.” 

The TV plays through district one’s reaping. Both look strong, both are older, it worries him.

Highbottom’s voice echoes through the hall again and Coriolanus holds his breath, his eyes locked on the screen. “District two, girl, Lysistrata Vickers.” he says solemnly, sending a ripple of nervous energy through the room.

Then, as the screen flicks from one landscape to another, Coriolanus’s heart skips a beat at the familiar voice. Mayor Proserpina wears all black, her nails are unpainted, a feature he only notices after so many days looking at the bright red she usually kept them.  

The slip of paper was already in her hand. She raises it closer to her eyes, the intake of breath audible through the microphone on the gray, stone stage. When she speaks, it’s wobbly and wet.

“Aurora y’Corph.” 

Murmurs erupt through the speaker as everyone in district two gasps and whispers between themselves. Eyes turn sharply on the bright red haired girl. 

A cry rings out from the crowd. It’s a gut-wrenching wail of despair that cuts through the whispers like a knife. The camera whips around to zoom in on an older woman collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Peacekeepers haul the women onto her feet as the camera turns back to the stage. 

Aurora walks slowly, but even from his seat he can see the shaking of her knees. Coriolanus hadn’t even realized she was old enough to be in the reaping. She looked so young, so much younger than twelve. Tears streaming down her face add to how young she appears. 

Before Coriolanus can fully process everything happening, Proserpina’s voice echoes again through the microphone. Distantly, he can hear the dean announce that the male tribute goes to him, but it sounds like he’s hearing it from underwater. “And the district two boy is…” Her heels clack loudly against the stone, she dips her hand into the bowl, pulling out a strip of paper and bringing it back to the middle of the stage.

Coriolanus holds his breath, willing his heart to stop pounding so he can hear the name called. 

“Marcus Abaroa.”

He doesn’t have time to feel guilty for the sudden relief that floods his every pore. Because of course it wouldn’t be as straightforward as this. Why had he even for a second allowed himself to think he’d been spared? 

“Wait!” Another boy pushes people out of his way from the row just behind Marcus -who has barely taken one step forward- and yells again, “wait!” 

Sejanus is red faced, breathing hard, and Coriolanus wishes he didn’t look lovely. He wishes and prays as much as anyone can in such a short amount of time, begging Sejanus to hear him and not do anything stupid. 

“I volunteer! I want to go instead.” He’s screaming, shoving Marcus back into line. Peacekeepers move to stop him, one even gets their hands around his arms, but before they could do anything more, they stop. 

For one single second you could hear a pen drop across the entirety of Panem. Nobody has ever volunteered to be a part of the games. Who among the districts would want that? 

Water gathers at the corners of Coriolanus’ eyes. But he’s so good at holding them at bay, too practiced in hiding to let anyone see. Then, the Peacekeepers begin moving again. The one holding him drops Sejanus’ arms, turns and begins pushing him up the walkway to the stage. 

When he is on stage the cameras move back to the mayor’s face. Proserpina looks horrified, she doesn’t hide well the tears bubbling in her own eyes. “Um,” she breathes, clearing her throat and blinking a few times before looking away from Sejanus. A finger comes up to tap gently on an earpiece in her left ear, like she’s listening to something. 

“Our district two boy tribute is Sejanus Plinth.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

He thinks about all the promises he’s made to Tigris and Grandma’am over the last year. Promises of going to University and pulling them all out of the mess district thirteen has made of them. He can feel the blood burning his cheeks as he tries to remain composed where he waits for the train. 

With Marcus, he could have had a real shot at helping the district two boy out. Now that his tribute was Sejanus, Coriolanus doesn’t know how helpful he can be.

The rose in his hand was an idea of Tigris’. At least he could be here under the guise of meeting his tribute, nobody would suspect otherwise. 

The train pulls up and Coriolanus hangs back as Peacekeepers begin forcing tributes out of the cars. He sees Sejanus the second he jumps off the train. He’s thought of a million different things to say, but the second he sees Sejanus, alive and in front of him again, he forgets them all. Without thinking too much about it, he crosses over, holding out the white rose. “Welcome to the Capitol,” he whispers, eyes wetting again. 

Sejanus is slow to turn once he’s gotten Aurora safely on the platform. Eyes track from Coriolanus’ face down to the offered rose. It’s electric when Sejanus reaches for the flower and his hand brushes against Coriolanus’ own. Almost a month apart and Coriolanus’ body is jolting at their closeness. 

The district boy holds the rose between his thumb and pointer fingers, spinning it around as he inspects it. 

Then, he lets go without a word, watching it fall to the ground between them. “Why are you here?” he finally asks, looking back up to meet Coriolanus’ eyes with a hard stare. 

“I wanted to see you,” he admits. When another tribute looks over at them, he adds, “I’m your mentor. And I wanted to see you on my own terms, not the Gamemakers.”

“Ah, a rebel,” he snorts.. That word was poison here in the Capitol and it makes Coriolanus’ skin crawl in fear, but it also lights a fire in his core at the thought of Sejanus’ approval. “And what does my mentor do for me?” He asks.

“I do my best to take care of you.” He answers easily, smiling first like he would for anyone else, then, more secretive when he feels the brush of fingertips against the inside of his arm.

Peacekeepers begin ushering the tributes toward a truck. Sejanus only nods, grabbing Aurora’s hand and pulling her behind him to walk away. 

In an act Coriolanus would regret had it been anyone else, he follows. 

The doors to the truck slam closed behind him and twenty-four young faces stare back. Coriolanus swallows hard. Sejanus is crammed into a corner near the back, Aurora tucked protectively into his side. 

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” The boy from district eleven, Reaper, snarls. Rattled, but never one to let it show, Coriolanus shoots back, “No, this is exactly the cage I was waiting for.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. The boy’s hand comes up fast, backing him up against the truck wall. “He might kill you.” One of the other girls says, sounding very much like she wouldn’t care either way. “He killed a Peacekeeper back in eleven.” She explains. 

“Shut up, Dill.” Reaper hisses. 

“Let’s kill him.” Another boy chimes in, “Nothing worse they can do to us.” 

Coriolanus wonders very seriously if this might be it. It surprises him that Sejanus flashes first before his eyes. He’s so shocked by the realization that he almost forgets where he is. 

“Not to us maybe, but you got family back home?” Sejanus’ gruff voice chimes in, breaking the tension. “Someone there they could punish?” he presses. 

“Besides,” he says once the grip on Coriolanu’s neck has eased back completely, “he’s my mentor. Supposed to help me. I might need him.” They share a look. Sejanus has come to his rescue, but he doesn’t look totally accepting of Coriolanus’ presence here, yet. 

“How come you get a mender?” Coral, the district four girl, asks. 

“Mentor. You each get one.” Coriolanus says, pulling on his red coat and trying to sound on top of the situation. 

“Where are they then?” The girl demands, “why didn’t they come too?” 

“Maybe he’s just stupid,” another tribute pipes up.

Before the insult has time to sting, the truck jolts to a stop, doors swinging open, and they’re all tipped out. Coriolanus tries desperately to hold on and not tumble out with the rest of them. But his grip isn’t good, and he rolls out after the other tributes. 

Sunlight glares down on him as he scrambles to stand. Sejanus is quick to stand up next to him and he takes a moment to orient himself. One glance around freezes him in horror. While he hasn’t visited in years, it’s easy to see the dirt and greenery, the bars lining their cage, the people staring in at them. They’re inside the Capitol zoo.  

He could not have felt more exposed in this moment than if he was naked in the middle of the Academy. Across the way, he can make out a Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman.

“It’s the Snow boy!” Someone says from the crowd. Lucky turns and says something he cannot hear over the pounding in his ears. He’s beginning to consider making a break for it when a voice next to him softly says, “Own it.” 

The warmth of Sejanus’ body radiates against him, easing Coriolanus’ mind, and his voice jerks him into action. 

Smiling brightly he steps forward, turning his head just so to make sure Sejanus is following, he was. They make their way toward the bars separating them from the rest of the Captiol. 

“Well now, Mr. Snow, that was quite an entrance!” Lucky Flickerman exclaims. Coriolanus smiles and laughs breezily like everything is happening exactly as planned. Children are pressed into the bars, watching Sejanus, and Aurora next to him. Sejanus smiles gently, kneeling down in front of the youngest boy, “I have a hat just like that, what fine taste you have.” 

The young boy giggles and squeals at the complement, introducing himself and his sister to Sejanus, who introduces himself, and his district two counterpart, in kind. A different girl tells Aurora how pretty her hair and dress are. Aurora responds by twirling the dress around and making all the children clap. 

Lucky is quick to wedge himself back into the conversation as soon as the children quiet down, “you’re the volunteer! My, my, we’ve never had one of those before! Eager to be in the Capitol, are we?” 

Sejanus just chuckles, “nothing like that, no.” Coriolanus’ eyebrows raise slightly at how well Sejanus seems to play the part in this moment. With how he acted back in district two, Coriolanus would have never known he was capable of this level of acting. “Marcus is a dear friend and I-” he worries his lip a bit, eyebrow pinched before continuing, “I couldn’t see another friend suffer the Hunger Games without doing something.” 

Flickerman’s eyes twinkle as pulls the microphone back toward himself and spins to look into the camera, “a hero!”

Conversation flows easily until Peacekeepers appear to escort Coriolanus away. As he’s grabbing and dragged toward the enclosure's exit, Sejanus turns, reaching out for him. Their fingertips brush but the Peacekeepers have already pulled him too far out of the other boy’s reach. Sejanus watches him go, lips pressed into a hard line.

Chapter Text

The Peacekeepers escort him all the way back to the Academy. By the time he makes his way up the steps, he is beginning to gain some composure. Coriolanus is beyond rattled but can’t let it show as he strides through the halls, arriving to class. 

“Your little excursion is in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow,” Dean Highbottom says without looking up from the paper in front of him. “Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student.” 

This stops Coriolanus in his tracks, “What? Who?” He demands. 

“You.” The Dean says flippantly. “I’m moving for the Gamermakers to disqualify you as a mentor immediately.”

“You said that we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away,” he insists, dropping his bag at his feet but remaining standing. “Oh, that’s insubordination as well,” the Dean responds. Coriolanus looks around the room, eyes desperate, but the other students have their heads bowed and say nothing. Of course he couldn’t rely on them, he was cleverer than the lot of them combined, he’d have to get himself out of this.

Coriolanus drops into the seat, letting the thud echo around the quiet room. “Introducing him to people, Coryo? Smiling at him? You make it seem as if we’re one in the same as those animals,” Arachne says. He grinds his teeth at the nickname, wanting to jump down and hit her simply because she was that grating to listen to. Instead, he swallows dryly to try and subvert the urge. 

“They are the same as us, Arachne.” Lysistrata snarks, spurred into action by their annoying classmate. Heads around the room snap to where she sits, a rebuttal is unlike her. She’s smart, and kind, but never argues even when everyone can see the vein that grows pronounced along her forehead. 

“Those tributes are human beings just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games,” she goes on. Dean Higbottom finally turns to acknowledge the room, listening silently as she rants, on a roll, “because they know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedom, their right’s-” 

“DOWN in the cage, you fell down in the cage. And you landed…” Dr. Gaul’s voice interrupts Lysie’s with a terrifying boom. She looks past everyone to Corilanus, asking a silent question. 

“onstage.” He mutters, falling back into his seat. She grins giddily, “oh, you’re good at games, Mr. Snow. You might even be a Gamemaker like me one day.” He cringes away at the thought. It’s something he has wanted desperately for so long, but in the back of his mind a voice whispers that Sejanus would be disappointed. That Tigris, Lysistrata, Proserpina, everyone would be disappointed in him for taking on that mantle. 

“Not if the games continue at all,” Dean Highbottom interrupts. 

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo,” Dr. Gaul says, “and I came here to ask your star mentor a question.” Her words pull everyone’s attention to Coriolanus. 

“What are the Hunger Games for?” Dr. Gaul asks. Was he supposed to know that? Of course, the correct answer is to punish the districts for the uprising, he knows that’s what people usually want to hear, knows that’s what most people in the Capitol believe. But if Coriolanus were honest with himself, he has no idea what purpose they truly serve. The Capitol doesn’t watch, the districts are angry and scared; their government has succeeded in proving no point for them. Perhaps he could argue that they’re a reminder, something to keep the districts in line, but he saw the children in that school. Not one of them had shown a natural rebellious spirit, at least not in the way he’d been raised to believe. The rivaling thoughts make me feel sick.

“...They’re to commemorate the war.” He answers cautiously, unsure of what it is she really wants from him. Dr. Gaul’s smile drops immediately, “dull, dull, dull. If we wanted people to remember, we could punish them in other ways. Why not cancel food shipments? Or drop bombs?”

“Maybe we should be asking ourselves if it’s even worth it in the first place?” Dennis Fling pipes up from the back of the room. Dr Gaul’s head snaps up to look immediately, “do you have a problem with my games?” He turns nervously to Iphigenia next to him. They’d gone to district five together and had been close since returning. 

Iphigenia swallows, her throat moving jerkily before she speaks, “I think Dennis just means that some of those kids were two years old when the war ended… maybe there’s other ways besides this to… quell more uprisings?” 

Dr. Gaul only smiles, but the look is enough to raise the hairs at the back of Coriolanus’ neck. “That sort of sympathy is the kind of thing that might interfere with your mentoring assignment,” she cautions, eyes sweeping over each student in the room. 

“Perhaps,” Dean Highbottom interrupts, drawing her attention back to him, “the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the game’s time has passed.” 

“What if we made it more personal?” Clemensia says from Coriolanus’ other side. “If we’re worried about people watching then it’s just about giving them a reason to watch. Like one of those old sports, people wanted to watch because they wanted someone to win.” She finishes her thought. He tenses beneath the fabric of his coat. Pouring more ideas into Dr. Gauls head is not the way to go about this, but he won’t stop her from reaching if that’s what she wants. 

The gamemaker smirks at Clemmie’s idea, looking more than a little intrigued, before her eyes jump back to Coriolanus. “And what about you, Mr. Snow? What do you think of my games?” 

He thinks of Sejanus and Aurora. Of Jamie and Marcus, watching their friends through a TV screen back in two, if they were watching at all. He wants to curse Highbottom and their president for suggesting the trip to begin with. Had Coriolanus never gone to district two, had he never met Sejanus, had he never allowed himself to think of Lysistrata as a friend, then none of this would be an issue. As it were, the earth feels like it’s moving out from under him faster than he can correct his footing. His worldview is shifting and cracking under the weight of hard brown eyes and that devilish smile. 

“Cleminsia is right. Nobody watches because it doesn’t matter to them, but, if we make it more personal then we risk another uprising once enough people in the districts take it too personally.” There it is, just the right amount of agreement laced with a cautionary tale of continuing forward. From Dr. Gaul’s curious look, he knows he hasn’t crossed the line yet. If he keeps going, he could risk stepping over the line, but if he stops now, what would she say?

Coriolanus opens his mouth, not yet sure what he’ll suggest, but knowing he needs to continue somehow. But before he can get the words out, Persephone interrupts with her own thoughts. “Coriolanus is right,” she says, “when we were in four, nobody seemed like they wanted another war. They just wanted someone to take care of them. I think...” Her words quiet near the end, embarrassment or shyness getting to her at everyone’s stare, but she needn't be shy, not with how many of their classmates mutter some sound of agreement. 

The gamemaker’s eyes narrow as her stare jumps around the room, “so you’re all against my games?” Coriolanus is fast to interrupt that thought, “Of course not, Dr. Gaul.” The last thing they needed was to be thrown into their own games for insubordination. 

“Perhaps,” the dean’s voice cuts through the thick tension in the air, “as the future of Panem, they’re simply providing a fresh perspective.” 

Dr. Gaul “hmm’s” not at all amused with the turn in conversation. “We’ll see what they think after the games are over,” she concludes finally, before turning and sweeping out of the class with a dramatic flair. Coriolanus worries the inside of his lip as she goes.  

❁❁❁❁❁

They’re released from class soon after for lunch, and then to strategize for the rest of the afternoon. Most head straight for the zoo now that Coriolanus has set a precedent. He folds a sandwich and cookie into a napkin to take to Sejanus before leaving. 

Lysistrata greets him at the bottom of the steps outside the Academy. “What is that?” She asks, pointing to the tied napkin. “Food,” he answers simply. Her face shifts uncomfortably for a moment, “Oh-I…I didn’t think about that. I should have. Did they not feed them?” The words roll out quickly as her panic sets in. He can’t imagine what it’s like to worry about Aurora; at least Sejanus has a fighting chance. He saw the other tributes earlier today, the only one that’s a real physical threat to Sejanus is Reaper, the boy from eleven. 

“I don’t think so,” he says, pace quickening the closer they get to the zoo’s entrance. 

“You surprised me today,” Lyssie says, changing the conversation as they walk. “How so?” He casts a sideways glance at her. She’s watching him too,  but not in a suspicious way. She’s looking at him the way Tigris does sometimes, it makes him nervous. “I just didn’t ever expect you to go against someone like Dr. Gaul. You’re generally very accommodating to authority.”  

He laughs quietly, “I wasn’t speaking out against her, I was just being realistic about the facts. Eventually desperation leads to uprising. It’s how the old world ended and it’s how the last rebellion occurred.” As he says the words he realizes how true they actually are. Already in district two people are resenting the Capitol for the games. Though he understands the Hunger Games could work for a long time before anyone was ready for another rebellion, maybe even long enough that he wouldn’t be around to see it, but eventually there would be another. 

“Maybe,” Lysistrata agrees as they step through the entrance to the zoo. People surround them, all heading toward the tribute’s enclosure. “but it wasn’t just that,” she smiles like she knows some terrible secret. Coriolanus supposes she does, he didn’t hide well the nature of his and Sejanus’ relationship in district two. But she’s more perspective than he’d initially given her credit for, Lysistrata is probably realizing what he’s been less than eager to voice out loud. 

As soon as they’re close to the bars, Lyssie extends her stride. Aurora notices and runs up to meet her on the other side of the bars. 

Sejanus is watching her from where he sits, when she’s with Lysistrata, his eyes move to track over Coriolanus. Lifting the napkin, Coriolanus shakes it slightly, offering it without words. Sejanus stands, rolling his shoulders and walking over to meet Coriolanus at the bars a few feet away from the girls. 

“I brought you something to eat,” he murmurs to Sejanus, dropping the wrapped napkin into the other boy’s hand. To their left, he sees Arachne and her tribute. His classmate taunts the girl, Brandy , district ten’s offering. 

Immediately, Sejanus hands half the sandwich over to Aurora. She takes it without question, inhaling most on the first bite. Coriolanus presses his mouth into a thin line. It wouldn’t do anything to call Sejanus out on food sharing, but he needs to be careful about keeping up his strength. 

“Earlier,” Coriolanus starts, knowing he has precious little time to strategize with Sejanus, “Flickerman said something about you being a hero, I think we can work with that. There will be interviews soon, you need to play into people’s favor.” 

“Why does it matter? In there it doesn’t mean anything who likes you or not.” Sejanus immediately clips back, and bites the cookie hard, snapping it in half. Coriolanus watches as it snaps, he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Coming home to an empty fridge had been one of the more difficult adjustments to being home. For days he’d ached in both his stomach and chest. 

Noticing him watching, Sejanus offers the cookie. “No, I couldn’t.” He tries to refuse, but the boy interrupts him, “don’t hide from me, Coryo. Just take it.” 

Relenting, Coriolanus reaches through the bars and grabs the broken half of the cookie. 

Sejanus kneels and he follows. Eating together will look good, he thinks, and show the Capitol people that the other is worthy of dining with. He misses eating together under different circumstances, the feel of Sejanus’ boot brushing his under the table leaves a phantom sensation against his leg. 

“I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.” Sejanus remarks, looking at him sideways. He scoffs slightly, “once, I ate a whole thing of paste just to keep the stomach pains away.” 

The boy watches him for a moment, his face carefully neutral, “and how was it?” he asks. 

“Paste-y.” Coriolanus chuckles, looking down at the cookie in his hand. “I… wondered,” Sejanus admits quietly. Coriolanus looks back up, for a moment, the noise fades out and it’s just them watching each other. If he concentrates, it could be just like the night Sejanus took him to watch the stars, it could be just them. 

“I can’t,” Sejanus whispers.  

Coriolanus shakes his head in confusion, but the other boy only takes the last bite of his sandwich. “What?” He asks Sejanus. 

“Do what you want,” Sejanus answers, “I can’t.” 

“It won’t be hard, the interview will only be a few minutes. You can do it.” He grits out, but his heart has begun beating wildly in his chest. Wherever Sejanus thinks is keeping him from being able to do this can’t be anything good. 

“No, Coryo…” Sejanus’ face morphs into a sympathetic look, like he’s about to tell Coriolanus that his childhood pet has died. “I–” but whatever he might have said is cut off by a scream. Coriolanus turns just in time to watch as Brandy seizes the bottle from Arachne finally, smashing it against the bars, and slashing the broken ends across his classmate’s neck. 

Arachne goes down in an instant and everyone around them begins to flee, cries echoing throughout the zoo. Coriolanus jumps up, running toward Aranche, he’s yelling too, knows this, but can’t hear himself above the rushing in his ears. He presses his hands to Arachne’s throat, “it’s okay. It’s okay, hold on. Hold on.” He says, over and over again. Coriolanus tries to look up and call for help, but shots above his head have him ducking down. 

He watches Arachne as she gasps, gargles on blood until she stops breathing entirely. “Oh no, oh god.” He mutters. Peacekeepers rip him away from her body and begin pulling him back toward the exit. Lysistrata, who had done her best to cover Aurora through the bars, stands and chases after him toward the exit; she looks as horrified as he feels. 

❁❁❁❁❁

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Dean Highbottom says the next morning as Coriolanus and his fellow students stand before their tributes inside one of the Academy’s buildings. He feels shaky still, but does better than his classmates at hiding it behind an impassive face. “our President has decided that the games must go on to show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror.” 

“To which end Dr. Gaul wants you all to preview the area with your tributes. And as a reminder, later this evening there will be a special televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they can get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy before we move to the arena.” The dean finishes, turning quickly and leaving them alone with each other and the Peacekeepers lining the walls. 

Coriolanus watches everyone sit with their tribute, he follows suit. “Are you okay?” He asks as soon as he is seated across from Sejanus. The handcuffs rattle between them and it makes Coriolanus queasy with buried guilt. “Is there an answer you want’a hear?” Sejanus asked, his voice harsh. He just shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Look,” Sejanus begins, “yesterday, when I said I can’t…” the boy bites at his lip, looking anywhere except back at Coriolanus. “I didn’t mean the interview.” 

Never, not once in his life, has Coriolanus ever wished to play dumb. He’s never wanted the disadvantage of not knowing another’s thoughts or motivations. Now though, it’s all he can hope for. Coriolanus can only wish he’s wrong about what he knows Sejanus is saying. 

“You can’t… win, you mean?” He clarifies, giving Sejanus a chance to take it back, but the other just nods. “Why not?” He demands. 

Sejanus sighs, “did you actually expect me to let her die?” 

“So what,” he hisses between clenched teeth, “you protect her the whole time and then kill yourself at the end? That’s your big plan?” 

It wasn’t the right thing to say, Sejanus’ face says as much. “I didn’t really have a plan, but sure. That.” 

“You could stay here.” He doesn’t think before he says it, like his body takes over with anything to keep Sejanus alive. “In the Capitol, with me. If people like you they might give you that chance.” 

He leans forward on the table, but Sejanus leans away. “You think I want that?” His laugh is angry, “you didn’t want to stay with me, why would I want to stay here with you?” 

Coriolanus didn’t have the answer to that. What could he say? That he was sorry, that he just got scared? It might be too late for any of that. He’d had too much pride before to tell Sejanus how he was beginning to feel, and it shouldn’t have taken the games to change that. But here they both were. 

“Please,” is the only thing he can think to say. For a moment, Sejanus doesn’t answer, and he worries that’ll be that. But then, the other boy leans over the table, crossed elbows parallel to his own. “If it had been anyone else but her,” he whispers. Coriolanus turns his head slightly to look at the young girl sitting across from Lyssie. Her eyes are as red as her hair from crying. She’s wearing what are probably her best clothes, but the color is basically hidden now behind layers of dirt.  

“I’m sorry, Coryo,” Sejanus answers. 

Coriolanus swallows hard, his throat and mouth feel dry. “You…” he starts but trails off to swallow again before continuing, “you still need something planned for your interview tonight.” When he finally looks back at Sejanus, the boy is watching him with sad eyes, Coriolanus hates it. 

“Flickerman called you a hero, so play into that. Be humble and charming, and say you just wanted to save your friend Marcus.” Coriolanus instructs, pushing past his feelings for now, it’s what he is best at. “Whatever you do, don’t mention wanting to protect Aurora. She’ll already be a weakness in the arena, you don’t need to put more targets on her before the games start.” 

Sejanus nods along, accepting the advice. They work on Sejanus’ strategy for the rest of the hour. Coriolanus writes down any small thing that could help, Sejanus’ whistling that everyone in two learned, his strength, all of it might matter later. 

After their hour is up, the Peacekeepers are rough about moving them toward the arena. “Let’s go.” A Peacekeeper says, shoving one of the tributes with the butt of his gun. Sejanus looks at him and he nods, trying to be reassuring. They stand in two rows, tributes on the right and mentors on the left, all lined up by district. 

Because of this, they are one of the first to walk through the ticket barrier, the loud “Enjoy the show!” makes Sejanus tense up, and on instinct his hand reaches for the other. He squeezes Sejuns’ hand before letting it drop back down between them. 

Camera’s are pushed in their faces as they enter the arena, Festus shoving it away from them and onto his own tribute who winks at it. Once they’re all inside the doors to the entrance slam closed and shutters begin to raise all around them, letting in light from outside. 

He walks alongside Sejanus further into the arena, something about just being here puts him in a bad state. He did not like this place, and dreads the thought of seeing Sejanus here tomorrow. When they’re far enough away from the cameras and other tributes, Coriolanus turns to look at the boy next to him. “I don’t know,” he says. 

One of Sejanus’ eyebrows raises high on his head in question, “you don’t… know?” He nods, “when you asked me if I would stay in district two.” Sejanus’ face quickly drops and he crosses his arms over his chest protectively. “Like I said before, I shouldn’t have asked.” The boy mutters, shrugging like it was not a big deal. 

Coriolanus clicks his tongue quietly to himself and reaches up to gently touch Sejanus’ arm. “That’s not a no, Sejanus. I would give anything to be in a world where we could be together like that again.” He sighs, squeezing at the boy’s biceps, trying to be encouraging even though he knows it’s not the answer Sejanus was hoping for when he asked. “But I don’t know if I could leave my family here, I’m the only chance of us climbing out.” 

Sejanus nods, ever the empath, and drops his arms. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” Coriolanus insists, “I should have been honest with you then, because I think that I-” 

He doesn’t get to finish what he wanted to say. Around them, the world explodes. 

Coriolanus knew bombs, and they terrified him. Even as the impact threw him off his feet and tossed him farther into the arena, his arms lifted to cover his head. When he hit the ground, he automatically flattened onto his belly, cheek pressed into the dust, one arm bent up to guard his exposed eye and ear. 

The first was followed by another, and another, until he lost count of how many had gone off and everything was ringing. Coriolanus lifts his head when the last one doesn’t turn into another and sees Sejanus laying next to him. “Get up,” he gasps, they both scramble to their feet as the ceiling creaks and cracks, “go.” He yells pushing at Sejanus’ back as they make for the light where the door has broken loose. 

Debris comes down hard; Coriolanus can’t out run it, and something heavy traps him under its weight as it slams him back onto the ground. “Help!” He cries, vision blurring around the edges. Similar pleas cry out all around him, but he can’t see anyone else past the cloud of dust. 

He looks up, desperate for any help he could find. Amidst the smoke and dust, he sees Sejanus standing a few yards from him, just out of the debris reach. He trips as he rushes back to Coriolanus’ side, pulling the metal that traps him away. He reaches for him, wanting more than anything to cling to Sejanus, but before he can the boy is ripped away by a Peacekeeper.

He tries with all his might to push himself up and chase after them, but as he tries desperately to get his knees under him the world blacks out.  

Coriolanus wakes suddenly, memories pounding against him in an instant. Bombs, he remembers the bombs. His first thought is, “Sejanus.”

“Coryo,” he hears and follows the sound to see Tigris sitting there, watching him with tears in her eyes. “What happened?’ He asks as he lets himself be wrapped in her arms. “It was a rebel bombing, they must’ve been planning it for months. Four tributes were killed.”

“Everyone’s terrified, Coryo.” Tigris continues, “people are locking themselves inside their houses.” 

“A boy from twelve, Jessup, got out. He’s the only one and Peacekeepers are hunting him in the streets, but at least he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow.” She whispers sadly. Coriolanus pulls back from her, dipping his head slightly to force Tigris, who’s looking down, to look him in the eye. “They’re not still going ahead with the games?” He asks. 

The silence Coriolanus is met with is answer enough. No. Oh god, he thinks. “He saved me,” Coriolanus whispers wetly, falling back into her grasp. “That was your Sejanus?” Tigris asks quietly, her soft hand rubbing circles on the uninjured part of his back. He nods against her shoulder. 

With no nurses or anyone around he lets out a terrible, gut-wrenching sob. It’s muffled by Tigris’ dress, and he’s grateful at least for that. 

He doesn’t know how long he cries for, but when he finally pulls away, rubbing his sore eyes, he focuses on the TV playing behind them. Flickerman is standing with Sejanus. Coriolanus scrambles off the bed and pads closer to the television to hear. 

“Well son, I’ll say this much, I think a lot of people will be rooting for you.” Flickerman slapped Sejanus hard on the shoulder, “anything else you’d like to say before you go?” 

Sejanus nods, he looks subdued in a way Coriolanus didn’t think he could look. “There’s someone out there who I didn’t get to say goodbye to properly, and now I’m afraid I never will.” He pauses, taking a deep inhale as if to gather himself.

Jealousy twinges in his gut. For a moment, he thinks of Sejanus’ history with Marcus, how he saved him from the reaping. But the flicker dies away before it has any real chance to burn him when Sejanus continues. “I hope even though I didn’t say it, they know that I love them.” 

Flickerman sniffles, then says something Coriolanus doesn’t hear. He turns quickly on his heel, stomping back to the hospital bed and rummaging around until he finds his clothes. Changing quickly behind a curtain, he tells Tigris he’s ready to leave. Sejanus’ message lit a different fire under him and he wants to at least give the boy he loves the best shot he can. Even if that shot was Sejanus saving someone else. 

As fast as he can move with his injuries, Coriolanus pulls Tigris toward the exit.

Outside, he sees large crates being rolled around the building where Dr. Gaul’s lab is. It’s odd enough to give him pause mid-step. He wants to investigate, their last conversation playing in the back of his mind. She’s planning something, he can feel it. But Tigris is there, tugging him in the direction of home, so for now he lets it go. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sleep eludes him, he sees the flames all around everytime he closes his eyes. His mind is desperate to know whether Sejanus is alright. He knows they are being fed now, several tributes passing out was finally enough to motivate the Gamermakers to order day-old sandwiches to be passed out by Peacekeepers. 

His hand fumbles on the drawer of his nightstand and finds his mother’s old compact. He doesn’t know what he thought before grabbing it, but as soon as it’s between his fingers Coriolanus knows exactly what to do with it. 

Finding the rat poison is easy enough, Tigris keeps it hidden so Grandma’am doesn’t find it and mistakes it for something else, but he knows all his cousin’s best hiding spots in the apartment. Coriolanus lifts his shirt above his nose and dumps as much as will fit into the tiny glass jar. He places the box back exactly where he found it and closes the drawer. 

Without thinking too much about it, Coriolanus stops back at the arena before heading to the zoo. Everything will be different now and if he wants Sejanus to have a fighting chance, he has to come up with a plan. He walks up into the bleachers, takes note of every hole and dip, anything that the boy can use to survive. 

After surveying every inch of the arena, Coriolanus makes for the zoo. His steps are long as he hurries -injuries protesting with every movement- to see him. Sejanus is awake when he makes it up to the bars of the cage, “Sejanus,” he whispers urgently. 

The boy is standing fast and runs up to meet him. “You’re alive,” he gasps, both hands shooting out between the bars to grasp Coriolanus’ face. 

“Those bombs, they changed everything,” he says quickly, not wanting to waste any time. “There’s a hole in the floor now, you can hide down there in the tunnels.” He insists. 

Sejanus doesn’t respond, he’s too busy looking over every part of Coriolanus’ face. His thumb has begun rubbing slowly against Coriolnus’ cheek. “Sejanus, please,” he urges.

“Did you see the interview?” Sejanus asks in a whisper. Coriolanus nods, feeling the scrape of Sejanus’ calloused hands. “You know I love you?” 

Again, Coriolanus nods, “I know.”

“I love you, Coriolanus,” Sejanus tells him. 

Tears prick the corners of Sejanus’ eyes -Coriolanus can feel some well up in his own- as he smiles down at him. “I love you,” he repeats.

“I don’t want you to die,” Coriolanus begs quietly. He curls his fingers around the cold metal of the bars, squeezing until it hurts just to ground himself in this moment. “I brought you something.” 

He pulls his mother’s compact out of his pocket and pushes it into Sejanus’ chest for him to take, but the other only shakes his head. “I won’t cheat,” he says firmly. Coriolanus could scream, wants to more than anything. “What does it matter?” He hisses pushing it harder into the boy’s chest, but it only results in Sejanus stepping back, away from him. 

“No, Coryo,” he says, “I won’t. It matters to me.” 

“What good are your morals if they get you killed?” He snaps meanly.

“I’m going to die anyway,” Sejanus spits back. At this, he drops the compact and grabs back onto the metal to keep himself from collapsing under his own weight, which suddenly feels too heavy for him. Sejanus is back in a second, hands curling around his cheeks as the ends of his fingers press into the skin just behind his ears. 

Their noses brush with how close Sejanus is leaning in. “I love you too,” Coriolanus confesses. Sejanus closes the gap between them, their mouths meeting between the bars. The feeling warms him instantly, like a blanket being laid over him after he’d been cold for so long. 

They pull away only for Sejanus to adjust his hands to fit better between the bars before they come back together. When they pull away the second time, Sejanus leans his forehead against Coriolanus’. “I don’t want you to watch,” he whispers to Coriolanus.

“I have to,” is all he can say back. Sejanus nods gently, pulling away. “Will you at least look away when it happens?” 

With tears finally falling, Coriolanus nods, “if that’s what you want.” 

The next morning, Coriolanus limps inside one of the Academy buildings. Nerves tangle in his stomach, so much so that he wasn’t able to eat anything Tigris tried to offer him for breakfast. 

There are floor to ceiling screens displaying the words 10th Annual Hunger Games. Two sections of seats are arranged to face the screen in a crescent shape. Students mill about through the rows, not yet ready to sit. Each seat has a neat card placed on the chair with a district and the word boy or girl. 

A hand suddenly comes down to lightly pull at his arm. “Are you alright?” Lysistrata asks in a quiet voice. Coriolanus nods solemnly but doesn’t answer further. She gently pats his shoulder before letting her own hand drop. 

“Come on, let's go!” Lucretius Flickerman shouts. All the students scramble to find their seats, Coriolanus takes the chair with his card.

District Two
Boy

He shoves the paper into his school bag and can see Lysistrata do that same. “We’re about to go live. Just because you’re not hosting doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, help me, I want to see big reactions when something happens.” Flickerman instructs, flouncing to the front of the room and turning to address them all. 

“No yawning, gum chewing, keep your heads up, and smile. It’s why we have teeth.” He smiles brightly, fake white glaring against the harsh lights. 

“Okay, ready? Five…”  Flickerman begins to count down, turning to face the screen in front of them. 

“Four…” The man’s hand shoots up and he pulls down a finger as each word rings out.

“Three…” Coriolanus feels sick.

“Two…” Sejanus.

Flickerman turns slowly as familiar music begins to play behind him. “Good morning!” He smiles into the camera, “I’m Lucretius,” he flips a coin into the air and it disappears somewhere. “Lucky Flickerman. A man who needs no introduction. Weatherman, amateur magician, and today your host for the tenth annual Hunger Games!” The crowd -students from different years and the top students' family- cheer excitedly for him, only a small percentage of the mentors even clap. 

A loud knocking sounds begins and Flickerman jumps into action. He repeats, “Happy Hunger Games, Happy Hunger Games,” to different students as he makes his way back down the aisle to stand nearer to the camera. “Remember, when your tribute dies, get out.” He jerks his thumb toward the exit.

The screen changes to show the tributes as they push through the ticket barrier. “Enjoy the show!” playing over and over as each of them are shoved through and roughly escorted to a circle to stand on. No one in the room makes a sound, everyone watching the tributes await the countdown. 

The screen shifts suddenly. Jessup’s beaten face appears on screen, he is hung by his wrists on some of the tall rubble. Coriolanus has to look away, the boy looks horrible; to the point that he isn’t sure if the tribute is dead or alive. 

“Two… One.” A voice booms before a bell rings as the countdown ends and tributes break for the center where weapons and small bags are scattered around. Chaos is immediate, as children grab whatever sharp object they can reach and jam it into each other just to get away. 

Sejanus yells for Aurora, and Coriolanus has to once again strain himself to stay seated. He urges him inside his mind to run, leave, he knows he saw the entrance to the tunnels, now is his chance. Around him, his classmates stand to leave as their tributes die. Reaper strikes down several tributes, like Bobbin, just for being another person to go after Dill. Coral’s own count rises as she stabs and hurls her trident across the center of the arena. 

Coriolanus can see the moment Sejanus spots Aurora, he sprints across the rubble trying to get to her, only to get knocked down by a boy taking a trident to the chest. The camera focuses in on Coral as she pulls the trident from between his ribs. Sejanus is up and moving, scrambling to get to Aurora who still stands on her circle crying. 

Sejanus doesn’t yell for her again, instead, when he runs straight at Aurora and lifts her over his shoulder, turning and breaking for one of the tunnels underground. A boy, Circ from district three, takes off after them. He has a spear raised and Aurora screams for Sejanus to look. He does, spinning around just in time to see the spear be thrown and drop to the ground to avoid it. 

Aurora rolls off and away from him as Sejanus scrambles in the dirt to stand. He looks over his shoulder at the spear, but it’s too far. Next to him on the ground, Sejanus spots some debris from the explosion. It’s black steel with some concrete still on one end. Sejanus grabs it, and swings it hard as the boy gets into range of him.

Concrete hits Circ’s head and makes a sickening sound through the speakers. The boy crumbles as a buzzer sound notifies his death to everyone in the room. Florus stands and leaves.  

Steel still in hand, Sejanus turns wildly until he sees Aurora cowering near him. Coriolanus is relieved to see she wasn’t looking. Without saying anything, Sejanus hauls her up by the arm, lifting her back over his shoulder and jumping into the tunnel nearest to them. 

Coral and a few others follow the down, and he hears Flickerman give commentary as the camera switches angles to show what’s happening in the tunnels. Go, go, he thinks, shoulders tense as he watches him run from the danger.

Tossing a look over his shoulder at where the other tributes are coming toward them, Sejanus picks up speed, sweat pouring off of him enough for the cameras to pick up. 

They come to a door and Sejanus uses the toe of his boot to kick a hole through it. He pushes Aurora in first, then follows her just in time before other tributes are on them. The girl tries to climb through, even gets a hold of Sejanus by the foot, but lets go when Coral and the rest catch up too and kill her and her friend. 

Two shots from the buzzer ring and he hears the scuff of chairs as more of his classmates get up and leave. Then, quiet. 

Sejanus stands over the hole in the door, steel bar raised, but nobody else tries climbing in.

“Are they done?” He hears Flickerman whisper to one of the cameramen as he toes his way back up the aisle. He spins to face the camera head on, “to the children watching, that was violent, horrific, and disgusting.” A crimson handkerchief appears suddenly in his hand to dab at his forehead. “Miss. Phipps, if you’re going to vomit, please do it off camera.” He reprimands. 

An urge to roll his eyes befalls Coriolanus. “Eleven tributes remain. Reaper and Sejanus is still looming large at the top of the charts, while Coral and her pack try to make a play.” Flickerman continues, “Eight tributes gone in minutes. If they keep it up at this pace, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He winks at the camera.

Chapter Text

Guilt rolls in his belly as boredom sets in. Coriolanus has been sitting for so long that he’s starting to go numb, but standing up could mean jinxing the quiet fog that’s settled over the arena. Never has he considered himself to be a man that believes in nonsense like jinxes, but right now something in his mind is keeping him plastered to his chair. 

Flickerman drones on in the background, he’s moved onto giving the weather to the people watching on their TV, not that many people are; nobody watches the games. There’s a dozen cameras behind him showing every angle of the arena, but everything is deserted at this point. He only has one small camera inside the tunnels to see Sejanus and Aurora, and even then it’s blurry at best.

Lysistrata is fighting sleep next to him. Everytime her head tilts down she jerks back up, startling awake. Coriolanus contemplates tapping her shoulder when he sees her chin fall for the fourth time, but something in his peripheral has him looking back at the cameras.  

Lamina, the district seven girl, appears on screen crawling out from beneath the heavy concrete. She’s looking right at Jessup and begins scaling the rubble he’s attached too. 

When she’s above him, Lamina reaches down to turn Jessup’s head to the side. All around them in the auditorium, his quiet, whimpering pleas ring out. It’s a moment so heartbreaking that Coriolanus thinks he may truly understand Lyssie’s contempt for the games. It feels like cold water being dunked on him -a feeling he knows well from all the times the apartment’s heater stopped working- and something that hadn’t yet fallen into place snaps like a rubber band in his mind. 

The girl pulls out a small ax from her belt. Everyone looks away as she brings it down against his neck. And when his body drops to the ground as she chops the rope, Coriolanus feels heat rise in his neck at the unfairness of it all. He’s been so neutral of the games since their conception, even justifying their need at times, but how could this be justifiable? Sejanus, with all his righteous fury, was right. 

Abruptly, Lysistrata stands. Many of their classmate’s eyes turn to watch her. Her lips are pressed into a firm like, like she desperately wants to say something, but instead, she turns sharp on her heel and leaves. The click of her shoes echo throughout the room until it fades behind her, leaving silence in her wake.  

Later, night begins to fall and Academy students start to leave, one after another as their tributes either fall asleep or keep hidden somewhere. Coriolanus has nowhere else to go. He could return home, take comfort in Tigris’ embrace or eat whatever watered down soup she made, but his mind would remain here, wanting at every second to know what was happening. Their TV at home wouldn’t soothe his anxieties the same.

“I told you not to get attached,” Dean Highbottom walks up behind his row of chairs, carefully leaning against the one Lyssie left empty. His voice is low, but Coriolanus hears him as if he yelled. “You’ve surprised me, Mr. Snow.” They’re practically alone, always the case when the Dean decides to strike on him. 

“How so?” Coriolanus asks, lazily turning his eyes away from the screen, nerves hidden deep in his chest. “I thought you’d be incapable of attachment to someone who’s district.” 

Coriolanus only stares. It surprises him too, if he was honest with himself. The dean clicks his tongue, “not just you, either. I can see the effect it’s had on your classmates.” 

“We were sent to understand the district to better control and govern them. I believe our trip has done that in different ways for us all,” Coriolanus answers.

“It has certainly had the desired effect.” Dean Highbottom’s answer feels implicit in its double meaning. He straightens behind him, their conversation over. 

“By the way,” the dean says, reaching into his pocket, “Peacekeepers found this at the zoo.” He pulls out Coriolanus’ compact, the one he’d tried to give Sejanus; the one he’d forgotten in the dirt that night. Sucking in a sharp breath, Coriolanus reaches to take it from the dean’s extended hand. It feels lighter, empty. 

“It must have fallen out during the chaos with Arachne,” Coriolanus explains, easily falling into the lie. Her death and the Peacekeepers dragging him away all happened so quickly, it was a solid explanation. Dean Highbottom ‘hmms’ as his arm drops back down to his side, “of course.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Rock crunches beneath his shoe causing Coriolanus to stumble, barely catching himself before he trips over his own feet. He whips his head around -the hot July air burns against his skin even after the sun has set- heat and darkness make his vision blur. Coriolanus lifts his hands to cradle his head, steadying himself a second time before looking up again. 

Squinting, he takes a deep breath as his eyes slowly adjust to his surroundings. A figure stands far enough away to not be recognizable, but close enough he can tell it’s a person. The person’s back is to him, they’re looking up at the Capitol flag. 

“Hello?” He asks, because what else does one do when they have no idea where they are or what is happening? The sound echoes into the expanse of dark night surrounding them, but it’s as if he didn’t say anything at all. Whoever it is hasn’t even so much as twitched.  

Irritated, Coriolanus tries again, “Hello?” he adds emphasis to the end, stretching the o long enough to seem rude. The person tilts their head to the side; it’s not exactly an acknowledgement, but a sign of life at least. He is tempted to step closer, but isn’t stupid enough to possibly risk his life over someone who might be insane. 

“Sigo aquí.” The voice murmurs lowly, but the echoes of it still reach Coriolanus’ ears. It’s so familiar, something he can almost place, but can’t exactly remember why. “What?” he asks, stepping forward the tiniest bit to hear better.  

“Sigo aquí, solo en caso de que te lo preguntaras.” 

Coriolanus laughs breathlessly, confusion bubbling up so quickly it can only rip out of him as a chuckle. “What are you saying?” he asks, then louder, “who are you?” 

“Seguimos aquí, Coryo. ¿Puedes salvarnos?” The voice asks. Coryo.

“Sejanus.” He whispers, it isn’t even a question now. He knows who it is. Sejanus turns around finally. He’s in his clothes from the reaping, the one’s he wore into the arena. Coriolanus doesn’t hesitate now, he takes fast steps forward, almost falling into Sejanus’ chest. The other brings his hands up to wrap around him, arms pressing hard against the bright red fabric of his school uniform. 

Without pulling away, Coriolanus angles his face up to find soft brown eyes staring back at him. “Why are you here, Coriolanus?” Sejanus whispers, his voice is soft -kind- and it hurts to hear. “I want you back, to start over,” he admits quietly, “...you can still win.” 

They watch each other in silence for a moment before Sejanus asks, “can you save us?”

He nods, curls bouncing out of place, “of course. Of course I can.” Coriolanus swears. 

“¿Puedes salvarnos, Coryo?” Sejanus whispers again. Coriolanus chokes on a sob, nodding and shaking furiously. Smiling, Sejanus leans forward, his lips grazing the top of Coriolanus’ head. “I believe you,” he whispers and shoves Coryo backwards toward the ground. 

He jolts awake hard. It would be embarrassing except that nobody else is still in the room with him. Furiously rubbing sleep from his eyes, Coriolanus stands on shaking legs. His fists come away wet from tears he must have shed in his sleep. It was a dream, he thinks. Relief and anguish fight and mix in his belly at the thought. 

Despite that, he promised Sejanus that he’d save them, and he would do everything to keep that promise. All day he felt hopeless watching the games, there must be something.  

His mind turns back to the crates he saw being brought into Dr. Gual’s lab when he was leaving the hospital. There was a point to everything she did, so he was confident that whatever he’d seen could be directly related to the games. 

When he steps outside, there’s light coming from the building with Dr. Gaul’s lab. Coriolanus hesitates, she’s liked him in the past but that doesn’t guarantee he’s safe going inside. Some part of his mind whispers that it’s too late to care, that he’s already attached. So he goes, makes his way across the lawn in the dead of night. Dew traps onto his too tight shoes and humidity causes the coat to cling to his arms. 

The building door is unlocked and there’s no guard at the front desk, an egregious oversight on the Academy’s part, but helpful to him. 

He hears the lab before seeing it. Birds chirp and sing, it would be beautiful if it wasn’t so mind numbingly loud. Lifting his hands to cover his ears, Coriolanus uses his side to push open the door. 

Red, blue, green, yellow, pink. He comes face to face with hundreds of colorful birds singing in their cages to one another. A sharp whistle -louder than the rest- cuts the noise off instantly. “Mr. Snow,” Dr. Gaul steps around the corner, smiling in an offsetting way, “what brings you to my corner of the world?” 

Lying is perhaps not an admirable trait, but an effective one that he’s honed well, “I went outside to get away from the monitors and heard birds.”  

She titters behind her gloved hand, “oh dear, I’m afraid my darling orchestra got a bit too carried away.” Her gaze turned toward him pointedly, “I thought everyone had gone.” 

“This assignment is important to me. I want to do well.” It’s a decent explanation, not so far from the truth. One very specific part of the assignment being the important part to him. “And what a good student you are, Mr. Snow!” She praises enthusiastically. A half-hearted smile spreads across his face and he inclines his head in thanks to hide it better. 

When he looks up his eyes go back to the birds, now completely quiet and docile. “Have you met my babies, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul asks, gesturing to them behind her while also waving him to step further into the room. “No but they’re,” he trails off not knowing exactly what word to use. Beautiful? Bright? “Colorful?” She suggests, and he nods, huffing a small laugh, “quite.” 

“I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction flood them. There should always be a point to everything or to nothing at all.” She says it casually, like they’re discussing the weather, not birds she plans on using against other people. 

“They look harmless,” Coriolanus observes, almost to himself. He reaches for one closest to him, its beak is wedged neatly between the bars like it's waiting to be pet. Generally he isn’t one for animals, but something about these are so captivating. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

He snatches his hand in an instant at her words and the sudden snap at his finger from the bird. “Their beaks are venomous. It’s taken a lot of selective gene implanting and breeding to get them here,” she warns. Then, as if remembering something funny, Dr. Gual laughs and tacks on, “and a lot of assistants too.” 

“It’s all part of the wondrous world of discovery! I may lose an assistant, but in turn I find out that I’ve successfully paired birds with snake DNA.” Coriolanus chooses to continue looking at the birds to hide his horrified face from the gamemaker. 

“How did you get them to stop singing earlier?” Coriolanus asks, turning back to her with a carefully curious look. Teachers like answering questions, but not too many. 

“It’s the funniest thing,” Dr. Gaul hums, “whistling soothes them. Like a baby to a lullaby!” 

“I tried to breed it out of them but that’s the one thing that never stuck.” She doesn’t sound put off by it, more amused than anything, like weakness wasn’t even a factor to her in this equation. “Plenty of time to fix that later.” The second part she says in a far off voice, almost as if talking to herself now instead of Coriolanus. 

The room is silent without them speaking, only the sound of a thousand small breaths. It’s so quiet Coriolanus is almost worried his hearing has been affected somehow. Before he can comment on it one of the lab assistants bursts through the door suddenly, his breathing is hard like he’d been running. “Dr, Gaul,” he gasps, taking a deep inhale as she turns her attention to him. “It’s Felix…” he hesitates only a second before saying, “he’s dead.” 

Dr. Gaul’s smile drops immediately from her face, replaced with a cold look. “I see.” She clasps her hands together before turning back to face Coriolanus. “Why don’t you go home and rest tonight, tomorrow will be a big day for our enemies in the arena.” He nods, not saying anything else.

Enemies in the arena. He wonders how that title is fair. 

Hurrying out of the room Coriolanus pauses at the front desk. There’s a mix of pens, markers, and other writing utensils. Without thinking properly, he grabs one and flies outside, taking the steps down two at a time. He comes to a stop at the bottom. Dr. Gaul told him to go home, if he had any sense that’s what he would do. It’s what he should do. But then there’s the promise he made not even an hour ago in his dream to Sejanus. 

Coriolanus would save them. 

So he turns the opposite way, heading toward the arena. Tired and stressed from the continuous build up of the last month of his life, the walk feels like nothing and too much at once. But he manages it, staying near the edges to not be seen. 

If there’s one incompetence he has ever been grateful for, it’s the Peacekeepers ‘standing guard’ now. One was asleep, slouched uncomfortably over on the ground. The second was standing considerably far from the door, throwing his gun in the air and catching it, then striking a pose. It takes everything in him not to waste time rolling his eyes.  

There are windows lining the entirety of the arena, most of which have glass and bars, but a few were damaged in the bombing. Coriolanus goes the long way around to avoid the guards, and finds the window closest to where Sejanus and Aurora are in the tunnels. 

This is a calculated risk, probably his biggest one to date. While there aren’t cameras outside the arena, there certainly are inside if even one person is watching right now this could be the end for him., it would be obvious he cheated to win. Coriolanus gulps down mouthfuls of air and crouches down to pull his mother’s compact out and angle it in the small light beam. 

The marker works as well as it can against cool metal, which is not as well as he’d like. But it will have to do. He presses hard, lines gliding in the small space inside his mother’s old compact. He blows on the ink before running the marker over the letters again, hoping against all odds for the best result. 

Whistle for them

Coriolanus stands, hurriedly brushing dirt off his pant legs. The hole into the tunnels that Sejanus was hiding in is a clear shot from this small break in the window. If he throws it just right, it will land down there with them. Then, if he’s luckier than everyone else in Panem, Sejanus will see and recognize it. 

Please don’t be watching, he prays, lifting his arm to throw. 

The compact hits the dirt hard, landing just on the outside of the tunnel’s entrance. Coriolanus waits with bated breath as it spins around, wavering this way and that, until eventually it leans too far over the hole and clanks down into the entrance. He can hear it roll then spin to a stop.

Coriolanus releases a breath and feels the exhaustion of the day take hold of him. With every bit of effort he has left, he walks tiredly back to the apartment. Tomorrow, he’ll either wake up to peacekeepers at his door or the end of the games. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sleep eludes him; he sees the flames all around everytime he closes his eyes. Or worse, he sees Sejanus in the arena. Tigris and him walk arm in arm all the way back to the Academy. She doesn’t ask questions about the bags he’s tried to hide under her makeup or where he was. They are quiet as they head into the auditorium together and he leaves her near a seat on the ground level, closer to him. 

Chatter from Flickerman about the weather guides him to his seat from yesterday. The man prattles on for several minutes, Coriolanus wavering in and out of consciousness, before a gasp pulls his eyes back to the giant screen. Every one of his remaining top classmates sits a little straighter in their chairs as the larger screen changes from the weather back to the arena. 

Lysistrata, already seated, has a hand clasped tightly over her mouth. Aurora has left Sejanus’ side and is in the tunnel halls, she’s poking at something between a pile of rubble. Nobody is down there with her right now, but it’s dangerous either way. 

The camera cuts to Sejanus scrambling awake, calling out for her. He jumps up and is out of the room in a second, running back the way they came until he comes to a stop behind her. His back obscures the camera’s view with how he is leaning over the young girl. “Look, CJ,” she whispers to him. Nobody can see what they’re looking at. Distantly, Coriolanus hears Flickerman make a comment about adding a camera next year for a better angle. 

Whatever it is they see, Sejanus says “okay,” then reaches down to grab it and shove it quickly into his pocket. A clicking sound and a flash against the light as he does this fills Coriolanus with some small hope that what they found was the compact he’d thrown into tunnels the night before. If that is what they found, Sejanus is smart to hide it away from view.

Suddenly, the camera jumps to the top of the arena, cutting off his view of the two. “Watch the beam!” Coral yells before running full speed at the rock and scaling the rubble to reach Lamina. She points over her shoulder for one of the other’s, Mizzen, to follow her on the other side. 

Their fight is hard to watch. Coriolanus wonders when the games became that way for him. He looks down just before Coral jams her trident into the girl’s stomach, almost flinching at the thud her body makes when it hits the ground. The buzzer rings as Coral hops down from the ledge. 

As if their morning wasn’t already hard enough to witness, Dill, the sickly girl from eleven, steps out from behind some rubble leading to hidden hallways. Tanner spots her easily enough, flinging his weapon hard as soon as she steps into range. 

She goes down quickly, his chains wrapping around her body and the end impaling into her stomach. From the corner of his eye, he sees Lyssie jump slightly at the sound of Dill’s buzzer going off. Tanner pulls his weapon away from her, letting her body carelessly fall back onto the ground.

“Coral!” Mizzen shouts, pointing at something off screen. “It’s Wovey, the little one.” 

The pack takes off after her, leaving Dill on the ground without much thought. Reaper isn’t far behind her, running up and talking to her as if she’s asleep. “Dill?” He says her name, and again and again. When he screams, it’s the only sound in the whole auditorium. 

He picks Dill’s body up, carrying her and setting her gently next to Lamina. He arranges them, moving around the arena to bring back every tribute and lay them out side by side. Reaper arranges their hands like an undertaker might lay out someone for burial. 

His steps are deliberate as he walks away from them toward the wall. Cries erupt around the room as he rips the Capitol flag down, dragging it through the dirt and stone before laying it delicately over the bodies of the other tributes. Reaper turns, staring into the camera, “Are you going to punish me now?” He asks.

“Are you going to-” his yell is cut off when the screen shifts suddenly to Dr. Gaul. “Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our games to announce a tragic loss. One that affects us all.” She says, sounding more serious than Coriolanus has ever heard her be. The screen cuts to a gruesome picture of his classmate. “Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved President, has succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing. Out there in the districts they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my games to give our enemies such a victory.” Spit flies as her words rise in volume, anger seeping out of her from every pour. 

“I swear to you now that a rainbow of destruction will soon engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these games,” she yells. The crowd erupts in murmurs, everyone upset by the change or by Felix’s death. 

He’s frozen to his seat. For a while nothing happens, it’s quiet in the arena. Then, Sejanus and Aurora emerge from underground. He is holding the iron rod with cement still attached to one end, he must have gone back for it after finding her. 

They make such an odd picture. Her long, fiery red hair falling down in tight, unkempt curls. Sejanus is such a contrast to her in looks, but fiercely protective in the way only a family could be. They’re both covered in dirt, enough to mute the bright colors of her dress. It makes Coriolanus’ stomach churn. 

Tanner appears back on the other side of the arena, they must have sent him back to scout for others. He beelines for Sejanus, running straight at him. Sejanus shoves at Aurora’s shoulder, yelling at her to run, which she does reluctantly. 

Sejanus has just enough time to swing his makeshift weapon out to catch Tanner’s long chain and stop it from hitting him. He pulls, jerking Tanner forward enough that Sejanus can lift his foot and bring it hard against the boy’s stomach. It’s causes Tanner’s grip to loosen and have him stumbling backwards. 

The chain gets caught up in the iron rod, Sejanus desperately trying to shake it off. Tanner runs at him a second time, which has Sejanus swinging blindly, stumbling backwards. He’s being backed into a wall. 

Stone wall eventually stops Sejanus from backing away further, there’s sharp, jagged glass sticking out on one side of him and piling rock on the other. Coriolanus wants to scream at the boy, he has the weapon, he can kill him. Kill him. 

Instead, Sejanus swings one last time before throwing both weapons away from their reach. He jumps forward, grabbing at Tanner and punching him hard. It isn’t enough to knock the other down, and Tanner is quick to throw himself back at Sejanus, trying to get the upper hand. 

They grapple for better footing, when Sejanus finds some he spins them around shoving Tanner back. From one of his pockets, Tanner pulls a small knife out and flashes it with a smile toward Sejanus. He makes another run at him, but Sejanus is ready and grabs him by the shoulders, shoving them both hard into the wall behind them. 

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, Tanner coughs once before blood spurts out of his mouth, some onto Sejanus’ face. Sejanus steps back slowly, like he doesn’t believe it, and with the loss of support Tanner slumps forward, hitting his knees and falling into the dirt. 

He’d been shoved into the glass. Sejanus had killed him. 

Someone lets out a shaky sigh as the buzzer rings and Coriolanus isn’t sure if it’s him or Lysistrata. But it doesn’t last. Not when Sejanus turns back to fully face the closer camera and Tanner’s knife is sticking out of his stomach clear as day. Not when Sejanus takes one step forward before collapsing onto his knees. 

Aurora screams and it’s a terrible sound. 

Coriolanus blinks several times, but the water still finds its way into his eyes. His chest hurts, like he’s taken his own stab wound. A warm pressure finds its way into his hand and he looks down for a brief moment to see Lyssie’s soft hand in his. She squeezes it and it feels like the only part of his body that doesn’t begin tingling painfully. 

“Sejanus!” Aurora sobs. Sejanus smiles at her, face bloody. They both look down at his stomach as he pulls the knife away. She begins pressing her small hands to his wound, desperately trying to stop the blood flow.  

The echo of his whispered assurances ring loudly through the room. “Está bien, mi hija,” she only cries harder, “seguimos aquí.”

“Sigo aquí,” she says back to him, hiccups covering most of the sound. 

Coral and the rest of her gang take this moment to appear from the same opening Tanner had moments ago. She spots them, ready to run and fight, but stops when a helicopter appears through the broken opening of the arena’s ceiling. It’s carrying the largest cage Coriolanus has ever seen, lowering it into the center and dropping it heavily on the rock. Everyone watches, nobody knowing what’s coming. 

It’s quiet as the helicopter’s sound fades, only the insistent commentary of Flickerman can be heard inside the auditorium. Then, the birds begin chattering, getting louder and louder until everyone in the arena clasps their hands over their ears. 

Eerie creaking beings coming from the cage, then one by one the walls begin to collapse. 

Wovey, who appears out of nowhere, goes down first, the birds swooping down from their perch in droves over her. A buzzer rings. 

Mizzin is next alongside Treech, he screams and cries for Coral, who looks back but turns around and begins running fast. Treech falls after him, barely making a sound. Two buzzers ring back to back. 

Reaper doesn’t even flinch. He just closes his eyes as a group of colorful birds pile on top of him. The buzzer rings again. 

Coral isn’t fast enough, could never have been, she screams as she goes down. “No, no, no please!”

“It’s not fair… I can’t have killed them all for nothing.” Her last words are resigned. She cries loudly, reminding Coriolanus how much of a child she still is, as she falls and the bird consume her until a final buzzer rings.  

“Well now isn’t this a fun surprise!” Flickerman enthuses, looking around the room for any excitement he can feed into. Nobody is paying any attention, all eyes are on the screen as every available camera zeros in on Sejanus and Aurora. 

Sejanus is whistling. It must be a song, but it isn’t anything Coriolanus recognizes. He goes on for as long as he can before a coughing fit interrupts the sound. The birds don’t hesitate, one flying down right in their reach. 

Aurora starts singing, following the tune of whatever Sejanus had chosen. She watches the bird for a moment, before returning her gaze to Sejanus’. 

Como quisiera, ay, que tú vivieras
Que tus ojitos jamás se hubieran cerrado nunca
Y estar mirándolos
Amor eterno, e inolvidable
Tarde o temprano estaré contigo

He smiles at her gently and closes his eyes, beginning to whistle again as she sings. Coriolanus knows what this is; Sejanus is waiting to die so the Capitol pulls Aurora out. His chest is painfully tight, why had he thought he could save them both? 

The bird closest to them seems content to sit and listen. It’s head settling in and getting comfortable while it watches Aurora sing. She smiles at it and it croons back.

Coriolanus’ heart stops when she reaches forward. 

Tú eres el amor del cual yo tengo
El más triste recuerdo de colegio

It leans forward to meet her hand, her smile growing wide as her fingers scrape down its back. The bird spots her bracelet, a colorful jewelry piece she’s had on that he hasn’t even noticed until now. It’s innocent, the way it pecks at the beads, and so soft Sejanus hasn’t even realized. But it doesn’t matter, the damage is done. 

A small drop of blood blooms on her arm. 

“Sejanus,” she calls. He opens his eyes in time to catch her as she slumps forward into him. Her body going limp against his chest. The bird hops closer and he shoves it back with his boot, looking around at the rest watching him carefully.  

This time when the sharp sound of the buzzer goes off, Coriolanus jumps in his chair. He blinks back into reality, feeling Lysistrata’s hand still in his, he squeezes it hard and lets her keep her dignity by pretending he doesn’t hear her sobbing. 

Tears fall freely off of Sejanus’ face. He pulls Aurora’s body to his, turning her to caress her face. “Oh,” he gasps in a breath, it’s stuttery and weak, “I wish that you would live.” He’s singing, his gruff voice encasing every part of the room. “That your little eyes would never have closed. Eternal love, and unforgettable, sooner or later I'll be with you…” 

Sejanus trails off back into whistling the melody gently. 

“He’s won.” Coriolanus laughs quietly, looking around the room at solemn faces. He jumps to his feet, needing Sejanus out of there now. 

“It’s over, he’s won.” His pitch hikes in worry when Flickman doesn’t announce Sejanus as the winner, when nobody moves to do anything. “Let him out!” He yells, but Flickerman only looks at him like he was a child to pity. “I’m afraid that’s not your call to make.” He says, pointing behind Coriolanus. 

Dr. Gaul stands at the top of the stairs by one of the entrances. “Dr. Gaul, he’s won. It’s over, let him out.” He pleads. Around him, the melody flows through the speakers of the auditorium. Dr. Gaul only glances at him before her eyes dart back to the screen. 

“Why aren’t they attacking him?” Festus asks. Coriolanus shrugs quickly, trying to look nonchalant. “It must be the music, they’re good with that in two,” he answers. “Well he can’t do that forever,” Festus mutters. Coriolanus thinks if this was any other situation, he might’ve broken his classmate’s nose. 

Coriolanus looks around the room. Everyone is watching him, rapt. He sounds anointed somehow, final, like no matter what, he’s had the last word. And just when he thinks that Sejanus looks up at the camera, interrupting his song to say, “Sigo aquí!” He snarls it, before the anger fades and his attention is back on the girl in his arms. 

“Dr. Gaul, please, get him out!” There are so many things Coriolanus Snow is above begging for, handouts and sympathy, but Sejanus’ life is not one of them. 

“Get him out!” Tigris yells, setting off a chain of students and faculty yelling the same. People begin chanting “Get him out! Get him out! Get him out!”

Dr. Gaul’s hand flies up, silencing the room in an instant. “Get him out.” She mutters to a woman next to her. 

“He’s won! Sejanus Plinth is the winner of the tenth annual Hunger Games!” Flickerman cheers into his microphone. The room erupts into applause, classmates swarming him, congratulating his victory and Sejanus’. 

Tigris, he thinks, turning in a full circle before pushing his way through the cheering crowd to get to her. Tigris grabs his face, she’s glowing and as happy as he’s ever seen her. He wraps his arms around her and swings his cousin around before placing her back on his feet. “You did it, Coryo.” She tells him. 

“No,” He whispers, “No, he did it.” Sejanus won.

Chapter Text

Part III: The Peacekeeper

Fireworks light up the dimming sky as Coriolanus is escorted into a different Academy building. He’d been called away by a set of Peacekeepers, promising Tigris that he would see her soon back at their apartment.

“Sejanus?” He calls into the empty room. If any of the gamemakers cared at all for their winner, Sejanus would be in the hospital right now, but he still can’t help but hope. 

There’s a table sitting in the center of the room. His heart drops into his stomach at the sight of his mother’s compact sitting open in its center. The words ‘Whistle for them’ written in almost completely faded ink. “Congratulations, Mr. Snow.” Dean Highbottom’s voice booms behind him, “your boy won.” 

“I’m glad.” Coriolanus says, swallowing as his mouth goes dry, eyes staring straight ahead. He doesn’t look at the dean until the older man makes his way around the table, hands clasped behind his back. 

Dean Highbotton smiles, “I’m sure you are…” His voice trails off while his lips curl somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “I need to ask you something, Mr. Snow.” He looks at Coriolanus, eyes narrowing slightly. “I told you and your classmates that cheating would be punished.” His last word is emphasized by him picking up the compact and swiping his thumb across the letters, smearing them further.  

“Unless memory escapes me, I did give you this back, didn’t I?” His question is slow, like he doesn’t believe he even has to ask. Coriolanus can’t believe he’s asking either. They both know what this means. There’s no saving him now. 

“You did.” He answers. 

“Then how did it end up in the pocket of your victor?” The dean pinches this bridge of his nose, “I am actually asking, you know. How did you get this to him?” 

“Good aim, I suppose.” He figures there is no real use in lying now, no amount of charm has ever favored him where Highbottom is involved. Dean Highbottom huffs out a bit of a surprised laugh, he mouths the words “good aim” in a mocking gesture. Dropping the compact back down onto the table, he shoots Coriolanus an unimpressed look. 

“President Ravinstill has left your punishment up to me,” the dean informs. He begins pacing slightly on the other side of the table. “I’ve decided some time as a Peacekeeper will help you in your… reform.” 

Coriolanus sucks in a breath. This was it, he’d be cast out to some district forever and would never get to see his family, or even Sejanus, ever again. The dean pauses, turning to watch him impassively for a moment. “Coriolanus,” he says finally, “I have always been so afraid of the parts of you that were your father that I forgot there were other parts of you as well.” 

“He was my best friend for so long, and his betrayal so sudden, that it’s hard not to see him in you.” Looking away, the dean clears his throat and begins pacing again. “Having said that, cheating -even for noble reasons- was still strictly forbidden in the games.” Coriolanus nods along even though Highbottom is making it a point to look anywhere but at him. 

“You’ll spend a year serving in district two.” 

His heart is hammering inside his chest, the words “district two” echo over and over. “And after?” Coriolanus asks, because it’s the only question he can think to ask, even if there are a million others better suited for this moment. 

“After?” The dean looks back at him again, shrugs, “I suppose that’s up to you.” 

Dismissed by a wave of the dean’s hand, Coriolanus is left to stumble out of the building with only his shock to fill his thoughts. Everything outside is dulled by the ringing in his ears, people wave and congratulate him as he passes by, but he hardly hears them. 

A hand on his arm pulls him from his daze and he glances around until his eyes fall on Lysistrata. Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, the skin of her lips peeling at where she’s bitten them over the last few days. “Did you see him?” Her voice is quiet and he has to strain to understand her question.

Coriolanus shakes his head. His eyebrows are pulled together, enough that he feels the pinch of skin, it hurts subtly. “He wasn’t there. The dean wanted to speak with me,” he answers. Lysistrata nods, “they probably took him to the hospital wing. Do you think?” 

“I think so,” he responds. They are both quiet for a moment. “Should we…” her voice trails. He knows what she’s asking. “I will never understand your proclivity to sneak into places where you shouldn’t be.” But he grabs onto the bend of her arm as he says this and drags them away from the crowds toward the hospital building. 

Their walk is quiet the further out they get from the main Academy buildings. Coriolanus can hear the crunch under his feet and it settles him. Or maybe, the knowledge that every step is closer to Sejanus is the thing settling him. “I was caught cheating to help Sejanus,” he tells the space in front of them, not turning to look at his friend walking next to him. “I’ll be sent away as a Peacekeeper for a year in district two.” 

She hesitates on her next step, “is that a… good thing?” Lyssie asks. He thinks for a moment, unsure of what to say to that. “I don’t know.” 

It will put him a year behind on his future plans, Tigris and Grandma’am will continue to struggle, and there is no way he’s getting that prize now. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lysistrata nod. She hums quietly in thought, “maybe not a good thing, but also maybe not so bad either?” 

“Maybe,” he answers. “They were more your friends than mine though,” Coriolanus says. He cannot imagine any of them will be able to stand the sight of him again, not after everything with Sejanus and Aurora. 

Lyssie laughs, “I’m sure you will make do. Sejanus liked you better than me, at least.” 

“That was before,” he huffs, suddenly not so eager to get to the hospital.

“Coriolanus.” Lysistrata says sternly. She stops walking, forcing him to stop as well and turn back to acknowledge her. “Whatever’s happened during the games, you did the best you could.” Her voice is stern, reprimanding him like a child. “And now you two have been rewarded with being together again. Don’t let guilt, or pride, or whatever it is you keep bottled up stop you from seeing this for what it is.” 

“And what do you think this is exactly?” He asks, crossing his arms defensively. 

“A chance,” her hands clench into fists as she says it. Coriolanus has never seen her look so bold and determined about anything before. “Not just for you. We’ve all changed because of this trip, Coryo. Can’t you see that?”

He can see that, has noticed it in the small things, but has been too concerned with his own problems to really consider any kind of implication; A chance? “Don’t let your time in district two be bad, Coryo.” Lyssie says, much softer now. “Maybe in a year, it’ll help make you a better future president because of it.”  

They laugh softly at that, before continuing toward the hospital. The silence is comfortable for the most part, but he can’t help letting her words repeat in his mind. Maybe in a year… What will life be like in a year? He doesn’t want to give up his future yet, but a year from now, months spent with Sejanus, will he have changed his mind?

❁❁❁❁❁

It’s much easier than it should have been to sneak into the hospital where Sejanus was being held, easier still to even find which wing he was in. Everywhere is deserted until they reach the third floor where nurses and doctors flood the hallways. They all have their eyes turned to one room in particular, whispering behind hands to each other. 

One nurse spots them and gasps out, “you shouldn’t be here!” But Coriolanus is nothing if not an excellent and practiced actor. “Dean Highbottom sent us to check on the victor since we represented district two as Capitol mentors.” His response comes with an easy smile. It should be alarming how effectively that works.  

A doctor with gray speckled hair and a tight frown approaches the two classmates, “he’s been in surgery all day and is sleeping now. But if the dean allowed it then you two can stay until visiting hours are over.” Lysistrata and Coriolanus both nod politely and follow the doctor through the crowd of people and into the room.

“Like I said,” the doctor pipes up as he opens the door to shuffle them inside, “he’s asleep. Don’t wake him up.” Then he all but slams the door closed behind them and leaves the two alone with Sejanus. 

Coriolanus is quick to turn and make his way further into the room. Sejanus is wrapped in a dozen rolls of gauze, most taking up all the space of his torso around where he was stabbed. Tubes and monitors surround him, their soft beeps and hums sending a pang of unease through Coriolanus. Lysistrata follows closely behind him, rounding the bed and standing across from him on the other side. 

He wants to say he’s sorry. He also, for inexplicable reasons, wants to be mad at Sejanus. Or maybe it’s something else he’s mad at, it’s all too confusing to think about as he watches the soft rise and fall of the other boy’s chest. 

Sejanus is alive. 

There is bitterness in that sentiment from knowing Sejanus is only here with him because he didn’t save Aurora the way he’d planned. 

Lysistrata stands just as quietly, her gaze fixed on Sejanus’s face, which appears pale and drawn against the stark white of the hospital pillow. “He looks so... fragile,” she whispers finally, almost to herself. Coriolanus nods. “I didn’t think I’d see him again, alive.” He raises a hand, hovering it over Sejanus’ chest before letting it fall lightly, guided by the boy’s breathing. “I didn’t either,” she agrees. 

It’s difficult, but Coriolanus pulls his eyes away from Sejanus to look up at Lysistrata. “I’m sorry about…” but he can’t finish, isn’t yet ready to say her name and make it all come crashing down again so soon. Lyssie seems to understand, she nods solemnly, “I am too.” 

They stay together by his side for a long time. Only exchanging the occasional few words, but mostly watching Sejanus closely to make sure he kept breathing. Eventually, they move to sit in the chairs on one side of the bed. In the quiet, he notices Lysistrata begin to nod off, lulled into sleep by the stress and exhaustion from the day. He doesn’t wake her, allowing her whatever peace she can find in sleep.

“I’m scared,” he tells the room. He’s never admitted to anyone when he is feeling worried, so saying it now -even to sleeping listeners- makes him feel stripped raw.  

Coriolanus stands gently and takes a few steps toward the hospital bed. He settles down on it as quietly as he can, not wanting to wake either of them. “What if I want to stay with you?” He whispers, reaching out to stroke the dark curls that frame Sejanus’ face. “Or what if I don’t?” 

Which was worse? To follow a boy he’s just met to the districts because of love and never be anything more than that, or to throw it away to build a better future for Panem. There’s also the possibility that once they’re both in two Sejanus won’t want to see him at all. A small part of him hopes it’s true. Not because he doesn’t want Sejanus -he wants Sejanus so badly- but because maybe it would be easier to let the other boy make this decision for them. 

“I’ve spent eighteen years deciding my future alone. How have you managed to uproot that so quickly?” 

Sejanus doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t, Coriolanus wouldn’t want him to. These are feelings he doesn’t know that he can share with the other. Not after already promising a life in two together if they ever had a second chance for it. 

A rough bang makes Coriolanus jump, and he turns to see the hard faced doctor striding into the room. “Time to go, visiting hours are over and we need to prep him to get home.” 

“Home?” Coriolanus asks, startled. Sejanus does not look up to be going anywhere. The doctor grunts, nodding, “yep. Sending him off to the district two hospital in the morning.” He says it with a scoff, and Coriolanus wonders if the doctor also has doubts of Sejanus’ travel plan. 

Behind him, Lysistrata shuffles a bit as the noise wakes her. She stands, yawning widely, and picking up her red Academy coat from the chair. “Time to go?” She asks, obviously missing the doctor's words and his internal panic at the thought of Sejanus being moved. Coriolanus nods, looking grim but grabbing his school bag to leave anyway. 

As they begin to shuffle out of the room he casts one last, long look at the boy; he’s still asleep, but alive. 

They’re escorted to the doors of the building, and practically shoved out by the doctor, who then turns on his heel without sparing them a second glance. Coriolanus takes a few steps down the stairs before realizing that Lysistrata isn’t next to him. He turns and is surprised to find her with tears in her eyes once again. 

“Are you oka-” he begins to ask, but is cut off by her fast movements down the steps and assault to his person. Lyssie wraps her arms tightly around him, causing Coriolanus to teeter precariously on the step before righting himself in her grasp.

It’s awkward for him at first when he doesn’t immediately return her embrace, but she’s nothing if not persistent and holds him tight until his arms, very slowly, wrap around her in return. 

“I’m going to miss you, Coriolanus,” she says, then laughs wetly through her tears, “that’s something I never thought I would say.” 

“I-” he says, but hesitates a moment. Feelings like this are so unnatural to him, but he finds that he still wants to return the sentiment. “I’ll miss you too, Lyssie,” he says. She presses her face further into his chest, offering a final squeeze around his middle before pulling away. 

“At least now, I’ll finally be ahead of you in school.” She tells him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Coriolanus gives an undignified snort, “we’ll see. It wouldn’t be so hard to catch up on a year’s studies.” 

Lysistrata shakes her head good naturedly, “only you would think that.” 

They smile at each other for a short moment. “I mean it, I will miss you,” Coriolanus says. “Me too,” Lysistrata replies, “and Sejanus too, probably more than I’ll miss you.” They smile wider, laughing a bit. 

“Don’t be a stranger, you can call. I’m sure once everyone knows you’ve disappeared they’ll want updates.” She says. Coriolanus grimaces, “maybe keep it to yourself, there’s more fun in a mystery.” Lysistrata nods. “But yeah, I’ll keep in touch.”

She steps forward quickly to offer a last, quick hug, before stepping back and starting down the stairs. “Goodbye, Coriolanus!” She yells, waving behind her before heading into the night back home. He follows suit, taking the stairs two at a time and walking in the opposite direction to his apartment. 

His footsteps are quiet as he walks home. The black of his shoes not covered in awful red dirt, Coriolanus wonders if he’ll miss that again like he did before. 

Tigris is waiting by the door when he arrives home. “Coryo,” she rushes to him, “did you see him?” He nods, “I did.” She smiles brilliantly at that, “good. That’s good!” 

“But there’s something else.”

❁❁❁❁❁

Proserpina is waiting, once again, at the train station to greet him. Her nails are the same bright red and she’s wearing an imitation of a once happier smile. “Mr. Snow, welcome back to district two.” 

He steps into her outstretched arms, telling himself it’s solely to comfort her. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as they pull away from each other. The mayor clucks her tongue, shaking her head harshly at him. “Do not apologize to me, Coriolanus Snow.” Her hands squeeze his arms tightly, “you’re here right now because you saved Sejanus’ life. That’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“He wanted to save her, I couldn’t do that for him.”

The mayor sighs, bringing her hands up to cup his face. If it were a few weeks ago, he might have thrown her off, instead, he allows himself to sink further into the warmth of her palms. “We knew they couldn’t both come home,” the corners of her eyes prick with tears as she says it. “The fact that we still have Sejanus is a blessing. One that I will not allow you or him to take for granted. Do you understand?” 

Coriolanus nods, resulting in her smile widening and a pat to his cheek. “Good.” 

Stepping back from him Proserpina nods her head once, “well then, let’s get on with it! Like it or not you’re a Peacekeeper now and Gaius abhors tardiness.” She turns swiftly on her heel, walking away from him with her head high as she begins to rattle on with everything she can think to mention about district two’s barracks life.

Chapter Text

Late August heat finds Coriolanus with a terrible burn on the back of his neck and dirt clinging to every part of his skin. Gaius, the Head Peacekeeper, is a giant man from district eleven who hates tardiness as much as he hates everything else in two, including Coriolanus and the rest of the trainees.

“Boss says if the kitchen don’t shine by dinner, we’ll be cleaning it again tomorrow until the stone gets pressed int’ diamonds,” Gladius huffs out, dropping his hands down to rest on his knees as he sucks in lungfuls of air. Everyone groans -even Coriolanus- at the news; tomorrow was their first day off since he’d gotten here, and he heard whisperings that the Victor was finally out walking around. 

“The hell’d you do to piss him off?” Another recruit, Antonio (though he insists on Tony “for short”) grunts. Gladius just waves him off noncommittally, “wasn’t me.” 

“Let’s just get this finished so we aren’t stuck here,” Coriolanus says, too tired to be charmingly persuasive, instead snapping at the other two. Antonio just snorts, “Yeah Glad, get to work, so snowflake here can go find a girl who can pull that stick out of his- oof.” The mop that Coriolanus throws stops his taunting with a wet smack to his chest. 

Antonio, in what Coriolanus has learned is normal for him, falls to the ground in fits of dramatic laughter. “You’re too easy, snowflake,” Gladius snorts. They’ve found a million different ways to get under his skin, and nothing seems to discourage them against it. Coriolanus thinks he’s grown completely soft with the district’s influence, because he likes them both anyway; at least enough to continue spending more time than necessary listening to their endless chatter. 

Finishing the floors is no small task and the sun is beginning to set by the time they’re done. “Eight minutes before the dinner bell.” Gaius comments after stepping into the room, arms clasped tightly behind his ridged back. He nods, the closest to an acknowledgement they will get and releases them from work. 

Coriolanus breaks for the showers, he’ll lose time eating but it will be worth it to remove all sweat. Many of the trainees have plans to sneak into the dancehall tonight, eagerness and dread bubble up inside him at the thought of who he might see. 

Not having to face the residents of two was the only good part about the intense initiation training he’s been subjected to, but it can’t last forever. A month he’s been safe behind the high metal gates of the barracks but that all ends tonight as new recruits have decided tomorrow’s day off will be used to sleep away tonight's escapades. 

He pats himself dry in a hurry, filing into the cafeteria and slipping into the back of the line. Almost everyone has gotten their food so it isn’t long before a plate’s shoved in his hands and he’s making his way to the seat across from Tony and Gladius.

“You’re sure looking spiffy,” Antonio comments. 

“Spiffy? In this?” he jokes, trying to avoid any questions as to why he might be a little more dressed up than usual. Antonio just shrugs. Gladius is sucking in his last spoonfuls of soup, “time to get you a proper date on our first night out, yeah?” He allows the comment. Better that than what they would say if they watched the games. He’ll ease them into the idea of Sejanus just in case. “I just don’t like being dirty.” Cleanliness presents a defense against the assumption of poverty; a lesson hard learned during the war.

Coriolanus drowns out the rest of their conversation as he eats slowly. He’s nervous, it’s unlike him, but the thought of saying or doing the wrong thing when facing Sejanus weighs heavily against him. The guilt presses on his chest with the weight of a thousand arenas. 

They finish their dinner quickly enough, dropping off plates and cutlery in the water buckets before leaving. Coriolanus walks a step ahead of his two peers on the street. Older peacekeepers walk in front, leading the way even though Coriolanus is fairly certain he could find it on his own if it came to it. The hall is lit brightly, already full of life by the time they get there. People are coming straight from the mines, dusting off what they can at the door and leaving the rest to dance off later in the night.  

It’s hot and humid in the building. The band hasn’t started singing yet, mostly just playing their instruments loosely and chatting on stage. Gladius and Tony make a beeline for the bar, as do most of the peacekeepers. Coriolanus stands back, scanning through the crowd. 

He recognizes Jamie in an instant, dread seepings into his skin. 

It feels like a cosmic joke, how Jamie turns the second before Coriolanus decides he should look away or sink into the shadows. They lock eyes and the man’s face goes through a dozen emotions in just a few seconds. Watching his face light up then fall is exactly what Coriolanus expects to happen yet it still upsets him to experience it. 

But Jamie also does something he doesn’t expect. He sets down his drink and walks directly toward Corilanus. For a split second, he braces for the blow to land; his body tenses up and his eyes close, but instead Jamie’s arms wrap around him. 

He’s squeezed tightly, enough that his limp arms can be excused by restricted movement and not the shock coursing through his body. “I’m sorry,” is mumbled into his ear before Jamie pulls away. 

“I think I should be saying that to you.” Coriolanus responds dumbly. It’s all he can think to say in the face of an apology he wasn’t prepared for. Jamie pats him on the back with a tight lipped smile. “We’ll both be sorry then.” 

How simple, that they can both be sorry. Sorry for a million things each. Coriolanus for everything he did and did not do in the span of a few days, maybe even in the span of his whole life thus far. Jamie, he doesn’t know, but he seems like a person to say it just because he’s sorry it happened. 

Some of the other friends of Sejanus move in after Jamie, Marcus among them. He doesn’t smile or look sad, just nods curtly and mumbles a quick ‘thanks.’ Coriolanus puts on the best front he can manage, shakes their hands, allows the pats on his shoulder and hugs from the people he’d met before. It’s uncomfortable, genuine gratitude. 

Before all this, it would have been the least he would have expected from a district who produced a winner. Now…

Now he’s sick that they feel grateful to him at all.

“The hell’d you do, man?” Tony asks next to him. “You haven’t heard?” Jamie snorts, “Coriolanus is the reason we have a victor to welcome home this year.” 

“Yeah?” Gladius says, “how’d he manage that?” Everyone glances around, then eyes fall to Coriolanus to explain. 

“He saved me” comes the answer from behind Coriolanus. A warmth washes over his skin, drowning out the dread and leaving tingles in its wake. He turns on his heel and is greeted with the sight of Sejanus. 

Awake, healed, alive Sejanus. 

❁❁❁❁❁

They leave the dance hall behind them quickly, everyone watching but not saying anything. Sejanus leans against a crutch, hobbling along the dirt road. “I’d like to take you back out to where we went that first night but…” Sejanus trails off, gesturing down toward the crutch. 

“I’m fine with anywhere,” Coriolanus answered. Sejanus chuckles, eyebrows shooting up “you’ve come a long way from someone who wouldn’t even eat the food.” He had, hadn’t he? If you’d asked him before all of this, he wouldn’t have considered himself someone who needed to grow. Now… he’s not entirely sure yet. 

Sejanus’ smile drops suddenly, “I want to show you something.” 

With the hand not wrapped around the crutch, Sejanus grabs Coriolanus’ and continues walking forward with a new urgency. His hand is warm, calloused beyond what should be acceptable, but it fits well in Coriolanus’. The warmth travels up his own cold hand into his arm; it somehow brightens his whole being.

The walk is quiet. He doesn’t ask where they’re going, though curiosity pushes at the edge of his thoughts. Concrete slowly fades into the natural ground and the lights of the main city start fading behind them. It’s not nearly as far as where Sejanus had taken him before, but they are going out of town. 

A high, intricate fence grows in Coriolanus’ vision, it’s obvious that’s what they’re heading toward. His curiosity pushes until it abruptly freezes when he realizes where they are. Without meaning to, he digs his heel into the red dirt. “Sejanus, I…” what does he say though? How is it he can always say the right thing to everybody else except to Sejanus when it mattered most. The boy turns his head and offers a sad smile, “it’s alright, Coryo.” 

Gently, Sejanus tugs at his hand and Coriolanus continues following slowly. “Do you mind?” Sejanus asks when they reach the closed gates. Coriolanus nods absently, already reaching for the latch to push open the gate. 

“This way,” Sejanus says, pushing forward, less urgent now in his stride but still determined to reach his destination. 

Her stone is painted with flowers and brightly colored things. A child's toy has been left to perch at the top, something Aurora probably played with before all this. The grave is freshly dug, dirt as wild and fiery as her hair covers what’s left of her. It suits her, Coriolanus thinks. 

Sejanus produces a bracelet from his pocket. Coriolanus is shocked to realize it was the one she was wearing in the games. He bounces it in his hand, “your teacher, Highbottom, he gave this to me when they put me on the train. Slid it on my wrist for me because I could barely move with whatever your doctors gave me.” Sejanus kneels jerkingly, drops the crutch next to him. “Her brother made it for her, did I ever tell you that?” Before Coriolanus can answer Sejanus laughs mirthlessly, “of course I didn’t. When would I have had the time?” 

“Mr. Sage got ahold of old art supplies, probably stole it from wherever the peacekeepers hide it from us, brought it to school and told us we wouldn’t be doing math or reading or anything else besides sitting around for the day and,” Sejanus pauses for a moment, “be kids, he said. Today you can sit around and be kids.” 

Coriolanus wondered if he would cry, he definitely felt like he was about to. Sejanus’ shoulders were tense, starting to shake, if he cries Coriolanus will certainly follow. “Amphion made it for her three weeks before he was reaped.” 

Sejanus turned to look up at him, he was crying. He was clutching the bracelet tightly now, “do you know how many people live in two, Coryo?” He asks. Coriolanus does, or at least, probably knows better than Sejanus would, it’s something he’d read on the train ride here the first time. “Too many people for them to both have this happen” Sejanus says firmly, looking back down at the grave. “And I couldn’t even save her.” Sejanus was fully sobbing now, horrible sounds punching out of his chest and shaking his whole body. 

With little thought to the trouble he’ll be in coming back in a dirty uniform, Coriolanus drops to the ground next to Sejanus. He laid a hand at the bottom of Sejanus’ neck, fingers lightly grazing, “Sejanus,” he whispers, it comes out terrified and small, but the boy hears it over his cries. 

“Dean Highbottom told me once I was too attached to you,” Coriolanus says, reaching for anything that might bring the man some comfort. Sejanus looks at him with red-rimmed eyes and a furrowed brow. “He was right,” Coriolanus says, “I’m so attached that I cheated and lost my cool and did everything wrong by the Capitol’s standards.” Would he really admit this? Saying it out loud means he can’t take it back later. 

“But he missed something,” Coriolanus breathes deeply, holding it a moment before exhaling through his nose. “It’s not just you who I’ve become attached to. You changed what I saw so severely that I’m afraid I’ll never see the same again.” Lysistrata, his other classmates, Proserpina, Aurora, everyone. 

“I’ve become too attached to district two. I’ve made friends, Sejanus, that isn’t like me.” His own tears form in the corners of his eyes as he laughs at the absurdity of it all, the overwhelming feelings bubbling up and over finally. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you save her,” Coriolanus whispers. It’s a grief they’ll both have to carry, he won’t let Sejanus hold it alone. “And I’m sorry for how I was before, for who I was before.” When has he ever apologized and truly meant it? He had wondered briefly if it would feel wrong, but it doesn’t, it feels like relief. 

“But I need you to know that you saved me.” The tears fall hot on his cheeks. 

“I know that isn’t enough, it might never be, not for you or anything here, but if I do one thing right with the rest of my life it will because you saved–” 

Sejanus’ mouth is wet from his own tears and the bracelet digs hard into his skin where it’s pressed between them still clutched in Sejanus’ hands. Coriolanus’ hand is still laid on the back of Sejanus’ neck and he uses it to press them closer. 

The kiss is no more than fifteen seconds but it’s the best kiss they’ve shared. Coriolanus pulls away panting, both from the kiss and the crying. 

Sejanus turns his face back toward Aurora’s stone and quietly nestles the bracelet between flowers left on her grave. “I’ll always carry her with me,” Sejanus says to the air in front of him. “But,” he turns back to Coriolanus, “you are enough.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Coriolanus had lost certain privileges after coming back to base with red pants where white used to be. Thankfully, it is soon forgotten by Gaius. The months pass quickly, until eventually the boiling sun gives way to colder weather. It did not get cold like in the Capitol he finds, at least not in this city, but he welcomes any reprieve. 

Sejanus gets better, eventually losing the crutch entirely and only wincing when he bent the wrong way or moved too fast. 

“I hope y’boys are ready ta get drunk tonight,” Gladius says, mouth full of food as he talks around his dinner. Coriolanus suppresses a grimace, and smiles, “big plans?” Gladius swallows before laughing, “of course! I always have big plans when we get the next day off.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively to everyone at the table. 

Antonio laughs, “lower your expectations, Glad, you need your own big things to get away with having big plans.” Everyone around them laughs, even if the joke isn’t all that funny. Gladius huff indignantly, “don’t pretend ya’re more popular than me.” 

“There is no pretending.” 

Coriolanus huffs lightly and ignores the rest of their bickering. He watches the clock closely until it’s time for the peacekeepers to file out and head to the dance hall. They’re late tonight. A fight broke out and everyone eating was forced to clean up the food that got thrown around. He was practically sleething by the time he stepped through the building’s double doors. 

But then there was Sejanus, laughing along with his friends not exactly dancing but swaying to the song that was playing. 

Contigo aprendí
A ver la luz del otro lado de la Luna
Contigo aprendí
Que tu presencia no la cambio por ninguna

Marcus sees him first, he nods his head, inviting. So Coriolanus makes his way through the crowd to settle next to Sejanus at the high table. 

Y contigo aprendí
Que yo nací el día en que te conocí

He contented himself with listening to the conversations around him, only chiming in when something was directed at him. Sejanus had come back to life since the games. There was something still there, lingering behind his eyes, but Coriolanus hoped time would help. He didn’t want to see the games kill everything that made him Sejanus. He wondered what the point of winning would be if everything you were was killed anyway. 

As the song wound down and another began in its place, Coriolanus felt himself be grabbed by the elbow. “Want to dance?” Sejanus asks. “Can you dance yet?” 

Sejanus looked amused and insulted all at once, “of course I can dance still. Come’on, I’ll prove it to you.”

I wish a falling star could fall forever
And sparkle through the clouds and stormy weather
And in the darkness of the night
The star would shine a glimmering light
And hover above our love

He arranged Coriolanus how he liked, and whispered him through whatever steps he wanted them to do. Coriolanus was grateful for it. He wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, but the Capitol had different dances than two had. 

Please hold me close and whisper that you love me
And promise that your dreams are only of me
When you are near, everything's clear
Earth is a beautiful heaven
Always I hope that we follow the star
And be forever floating above

I know a falling star can't fall forever
But let's never stop falling in love

When you are near, everything's clear
Earth is a beautiful heaven
Always I hope that we shine like the star
And be forever floating above

They danced through the song into the next one, then the next. Coriolanus found himself laughing as the music sped up and Sejanus dragged him back and forth across the hall. People began stomping and jumping and cheering. It was bright, happy. 

At one point Jamie came in and whisked Coriolanus away into another love song. The look of affront on Sejanus face made him peel with laughter, something he would have never done to such an extent at a Capitol party. Eventually, he finds his way back into Sejanus’ arms and he feels himself clutched tighter this time. 

“Today is a wonderful day!” the woman onstage says between songs. Everyone whoops and hollers in agreement. “How often does Yule happen on our day of rest?” Cheers ring out in agreement. Yule? 

“We celebrate the rebirth of the light after the very darkest part of the year, as our parents and grandparents did before us.” She looks around the crowd until she spots them together in its center, “and this year, we celebrate one of our own overcoming the Capitol’s games and coming home to us.”  

“¡Seguimos aquí!” She yells. “¡Sigo aquí!” Everyone around him yells back. 

“Let us dance to that,” and she was off again. 

“What was that? Yule?” Coriolanus asks. 

“Something we’ve been doing forever,” Sejanus answers with a shrug. “Districts don’t get holidays, we get nothing for ourselves, here especially” he pulls a face “where we’re becoming a lapdog to the Capitol.” 

Sejanus dances them to the edge of the crowd, nearer to the door. “Apparently it was once a big holiday, many things mixed into one, I’m not sure. But now we just celebrate making it past the shortest day. My Ma told me once that there’s hope in light, that’s why people still do it.” 

“How do you celebrate?” Sejanus smiles at the question, “you’ll see.” 

They wait off to the side for a few songs, until the girl stops singing and laughs. She runs to the edge of the stage -along with the other musicians- and they all grab an offered drink from the crowd. Someone shoves drinks in Coriolanus and Sejanus’ hands too, until everyone in the building has one. 

People turn to the small clock above the bar, watching it tick closely. Someone above starts counting and the rest join in. 

Delighted screams erupt when midnight strikes and everyone throws their drink into the air. Liquid splashes everywhere as people laugh and holler. Sejanus looks at Coriolanus’ still full cup and grabs his wrist. “No, wait–” but before he could get a real protest out, Sejanus thrusts Coriolanus’ hand up so the drink flies up before falling down and soaking them both. 

He has half a mind to give Sejanus a few choice words, but when he wipes his eyes he sees the brightest smile. Sejanus’ head is thrown back in laughter, his shoulders shake from joy. Who was Coriolanus to take that away over a wet uniform. 

Eventually, Sejanus tugs gently at Coriolanus’ elbow, “let’s get out of here” he says into his ear. They fade into the background, everyone already too busy dancing again around puddles of alcohol to notice. 

The walk outside is frigid, air cooling his skin, but with Sejanus pressed to his side he stays warm enough not to shiver. “My pa’s been touring more recently,” Sejanus begins, “they let him because of his factories.” 

Coriolanus looks at him as they walk. “Suppliers or parts, I don’t know,” he says flippantly, waving a hand around. “I think his business is doing better because I won.” Sejanus grumbles. Coriolanus makes a thoughtful sound, “that must upset you.” The man jerks his head in an affirmative nod, “pisses me off, yeah. People in the Capitol love him because he has a victor son and people in the districts love him because I guess they liked me, I don’t know.” 

“You made an impact, Sejanus.” Coriolanus has thought about this at length. Not everyone watched, but those that did were moved. He saw it in the Capitol, saw it here in two, it isn’t a stretch to think the other districts have similar feelings. 

“Ma says I gave people hope.” Sejanus is still grumbling, but less so now. “I don’t know how you could watch and still be hopeful.” 

“You fought well so the Capitol likes you, you fought for love so the districts like you. You didn’t become an animal the way they wanted you to, you stayed who you are.” 

Sejanus looks at him now too, slowly his stride significantly. “I felt like a monster. I don’t think I’m who I was before.” 

“I’m not either.” Coriolanus says. Sejanus snorts, “I don’t know, you’re still a charismatic ass most of the time.” 

He smiles too, “ then maybe we’re both. The same and different.” 

“Maybe,” Sejanus concedes. He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t so they walk in silence the rest of the way to Sejanus’ home. 

Inside, Coriolanus slips out of his boots and wet socks, then hangs up the jacket he’d been wearing. Sejanus does the same. The air between them suddenly feels charged when they turn back to face each other. They haven’t kissed since that first night; had not done much of anything while Sejanus was healing. “I…” Sejanus trails off, lips pressing into a thin line. 

“We’re both different,” Coriolanus reminds him. The corner of Sejanus’ mouth ticks up in an amused smile. “Come on,” he says and leads Coriolanus upstairs. They don’t turn into Sejanus’ room like he anticipated, instead Sejanus leads them two doors down and opens it up to one of the nicest bathrooms he’s ever seen. 

Sejanus steps forward to a tub and turns on the water. He drops oils and bath salts into it until the entire room lights up with fine smelling fragrances. Sejanus turns to look at him, “I don’t know if you want…” 

Coriolanus wonders briefly why he’s become so nervous suddenly, but then again it’s twisting in his stomach the same way. “Come here,” he says, reaching out hand to beckon Sejanus toward him. The other steps up and Coriolanus slowly brings his fingers up to the top button of Sejanus’ shirt. He lets them linger while they look at each other. “I don’t look the same as before,” and it dawns on him that Sejanus has more scars than ever.

“I don’t either,” he whispers, popping open the first button. Coriolanus has developed his own scars throughout all of this, he has his own nerves about Sejanus seeing them now. 

They undress each other agonizingly slow. It isn’t even about sex anymore, it’s about seeing each other again. Really seeing each other. They move to the tub, facing each other with their legs tangled together where they’re both bent at the knee. It’s a large enough tub they don’t have to touch as much as this, but Coriolanus doesn’t want to move away. 

“I didn’t realize what the blast did to you,” Sejanus whispers. He leans in to press their foreheads together. “You saved me,” Coriolanus reminds him. Sejanus nods, “you did too you know. You saved me too.” 

‘It’s not the same,” Coriolanus says, but Sejanus pulls back to look at him with fire in his eyes. “You saved my life and you saved me again by being here now. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t–” 

His hands shoot forward to grab Sejanus’ face, “don’t say that. Please, Sejanus, don’t say that.”

“Highbottom offered me that chance to move to the Capitol.” Sejanus says suddenly. Coriolanus’ eyes widen slightly. “I thought about it. The whole ride back I thought about it. He gave me until the next games to decide.” 

Sejanus smiles then, “but I’m glad I didn’t have to. I’m glad you’re here.” 

“You’ll spend a year serving in district two.” 

“And after?” Coriolanus asks.

“After?” The dean looks back at him again, shrugs, “I suppose that’s up to you.”

Chapter Text

Coriolanus spends most of his winter in the back of a Capitol truck going to every outskirt village district two has. It’s exhausting, especially when coupled with late nights off -like tonight. Bailar is packed to the brim, everyone already four drinks and ten dances in and Coriolanus is practically asleep standing at the table.  A laugh comes from his left, “you’re gonna drown in that beer.” Jamie is watching him lean his weight on one elbow with a drink hovering just under his nose. 

“I thought the Academy was strenuous,” he replies, setting down the drink and watching the other man snatch it to down in one go. “What? You sayin’ daily physical labor is taxing? Never would have crossed my mind..” 

“It’s more of a mental exhaustion.” And a physical one, but he couldn’t let Jamie have the satisfaction of being right. “Taking orders with no options. Don’t think, just obey.” He’d gotten through his whole life without knowing how to disassemble and reassemble a gun in under three minutes, without having to use it to point people around, it weighed on him more than he cared to admit.

“Yeah, you seem more the politician type. Kind to order people around instead.” Jamie says, Coriolanus follows his gaze out onto the dance floor. Sejanus is dancing around with a girl who just lost her brother to the mines. He’d shrugged it off, telling Coriolanus it happens more often than one would think, but he still went out of his way to cheer her up. As if he doesn’t need his own cheering still. 

Glancing at Jamie, Coriolanus smiles, “I planned to be President.” 

Planned. Past tense. Because how could he plan on that now? His career was over before it started, and he had nobody else to blame. Though, a voice whispered in his ear sometimes that he can still go back, still make something of himself. But Sejanus would be here, growing old in district two without him, maybe even with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t want that.  

Both would be selfish choices. 

“Ha!” Jamie hollers. “You’re probably the only Capitol-ite I’d vote for.” An empty statement given the districts don’t vote on anything, but a kind enough sentiment. He leans across the table into Coriolanus’ space, face drawing into a serious look, “you should still plan on that.”

“I appreciate it,” Coriolanus says smiling, “but I’m here for a reason. I’ve lost that chance.” 

“Oh.” Jamie slumps back to his side of the booth. “Well, what about your friend? She should do it then.” 

“Lysistrata?” Coriolanus asks, amused, “she’s not the “politician type”.” Jamie shrugs easily, “yeah. Doesn’t seem too up her alley. Damn.” 

After a quiet moment, Jamie says, “well, I think you should try anyway.” Like that’s all it would take. Coriolanus doesn’t say anything in response, doesn’t need to because the song ends and Sejanus sidles up next to him. Sweat dripping from his temples and his face flushed red. “It’s hot in here.” Sejanus says, “bonfire?” 

Jamie whoops and the few people around that heard all nod in excitement as well. They make their way outside and Coriolanus relishes the still cool air. It warmed up quickly here, but mornings and nights still carry a nice chill. 

The bonfire is easy enough to start, not that Coriolanus had a hand in its conception, burning alive is not a risk he wants chancing. He sits on one of the logs not used for burning with Sejanus nestling between his knees and easing onto the ground. 

Everyone chats lightly while watching the crackling fire. It was nice, Coriolanus thinks. He and his friends never did anything like this. Briefly, he wonders if maybe they actually did do things like this, just not with him. They acted the part of good friends but it was always at arm’s length. Maybe a few broke through that barrier, but then again, probably not. 

After a few people decided to turn in for the night, only Jamie, Marcus, Sejanus, and he were left with a dimming light. “So?” Jamie turns a look on Sejanus, “tomorrow?” 

“Shh.” Marcus hisses. Coriolanus sees his eyes cut to him. “Shut up, Jamie,” he snaps, but it was too late; whatever they wanted to hide from him, he would find out. 

“What?” Coriolanus asked, smiling easily like he’s not immediately on guard, bracing for the worst. Nobody offers to speak up. He nudges Sejanus’ shoulder with his knee, “what?” he asks again, less question now than demand. 

Sejanus twists his body to look up at Coriolanus, his face pinching with a wince, “Coryo…” he starts, but Coriolanus does not want to be coddled with whatever this is going to be. “What is it, Sejanus?” Said man glances over at Jamie before looking back up at him. “I told you how my Pa’s been doing better since my win.” Sejanus starts slowly, drawing out the syllables to drag on the words.

“Well there’s a shipment going to the Capitol soon, they finish packing up the last of it tomorrow morning and hauling it off after that.” At first, Sejanus appears small, guilt written all over him, but then he begins to straighten. Coriolanus watches his chin jut out, sees his shoulders pull back -Sejanus morphs into someone who believes he’s completely justified. “Jamie, Marcus, and I are going in after everyone leaves. We’re gonna take some and ruin the rest.” 

Moments like these are where he is the most grateful for how strong his stoic face is, how good he’s become over the years at appearing exactly as what is needed in the moment to get him what he’s after. “How long has this been a plan?” Coriolanus asks carefully.

“A few weeks,” Marcus chimes in, looking defeated as he swigs the last of his beer. A few weeks. Weeks of being lied too. 

“I didn’t want to ask you to do something like this as a Peacekeeper. Didn’t want you to be put in a spot.” Sejanus defends, but anger is already traveling through Coriolanus fast. “You’re still injured, Sejanus-” he’s cut off by a scoff and quietly muttered “barely.” 

To prove his point Coriolanus lifts his foot and kicks it against the place where Sejanus had been stabbed. Sejanus doubles over in pain; he hadn’t even kicked him that hard. 

“Point taken.” Jamie lifts his hands in the air in surrender. “Don’t get mad at him, we asked him not to. ‘Course he wants your help.” 

“It’s an absurd plan.” Coriolanus bites, “You will get yourselves killed.” Not to mention everyone in two knew about him and Sejanus, he’d be punished for this too. The man at his feet might have made him a romantic but he wasn’t going to die for their fools errand. He wouldn’t let them die for it either. “Not if we had you.” Jamie says, smiling like he really thinks Coriolanus will agree.  

“What do you think will happen when they catch you?” Coriolanus insists. “They’ll hang you like a criminal, they’ll make me do it.” 

“They won’t catch us, Coryo. I know that building and the others better than almost everyone. I know where to shut off the breaker, which will shut off the camera.” Sejanus argues back. Coriolanus has to take a deep breath in and hold it for as long as he can stand not to breathe. “What do you think will happen if they don’t catch you?” 

Nobody answers that one, so he reminds them. “Someone has to be blamed for this. Someone will be blamed for this.” Sejanus is their precious victor, he’s safe, but the others? 

“Nothing will happen Coryo, I promise.” Sejanus turns around to balance on the knees between Coriolanus’. He takes his hands and squeezes them. “There’s some people in one of the villages, it’s not visited that often. Marcus is gonna take the guns there. The rest we’ll just destroy. It’ll be easy, I promise.” 

“I don’t want you to do this.” Coriolanus says quietly. Sejanus looks up at him sadly.

“You can’t stop me.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

They watch the flames die out in silence. Jamie and Marcus packing up and leaving in the two in the dark. Sejanus had moved at some point to sit next to him on the log, their knees an inch apart but refusing to touch. “Jamie was right,” Sejanus starts after a while, “I do want your help.” 

“I won’t help you get yourself killed.” Coriolanus says to the barely burning embers of the fire. “I won’t get myself killed.” Sejanus says, frustrated. “Would you just- would you just look at me.” He grabs Coriolanus by the shoulders, jerking him around to face him. His face falls and Coriolanus watches his eyes go wide. “You’re crying…” 

Coriolanus lifts a hand slowly to his own cheek. He feels the warm tears wet a path down his face, each one meets the cold air harshly. “You don’t have to do this. You should not do this.” Coriolanus says in a small voice. 

“How do you still not get that this is exactly what I have to do?” Sejanus asks him. “I’ve always been this person. And I thought you-” Sejanus bites his lip and looks down at the ash, “I thought you understood that now.” He looks back up at Coriolanus. 

“I understand the games are bad, Sejanus.” Coriolanus bites out, “I get that. But what the fuck is martyring yourself going to get you?” Sejanus looks at him, keeps just looking at him.

“Freedom?” He says finally. “For two. For- for shit, Coryo, for everyone? Freedom, that’s what it gets me.”

“And you’re willing to die for that, even if you won’t see any of it. What if it doesn’t work?” Because it won’t, it’s a mediocre plan at best. Festus could have come up with something better. 

“Yes. Because it will work, Coryo. We’ll get the guns, get them to the village out of town. It’s just the first step. A slide of hand, they’ll look over here and somewhere else others will be working on something bigger.” 

“Like the bombing?” Coriolanus questions sarcastically. Sejanus looks incredulous, “you can’t seriously think that was rebels, they wouldn’t have done that while we were in there.” Coriolanus wasn’t so sure, but he honestly didn’t know either way. 

“...I won’t help you.” He whispers. “Do it, fine. But I can’t watch you try to die again.” 

Sejanus nods, “okay.” he leans in, their foreheads press together. It helps ground him. “Okay, if that’s your choice. I want you to be safe.” Coriolanus wanted the same thing. “I love you,” Sejanus whispers, his eyes are shut tight. Coriolanus nods, knowing Sejanus can feel it even if he can’t see him do it. “I love you too.” 

“Hey,” Coriolanus says. Sejanus opens his eyes. They’re so close. “I love you.” 

He surges forward suddenly desperate, kissing Sejanus hard and grabbing tight to his shirt. Sejanus kisses him back in equal measure, his hands that had been resting around Coriolanus’ waist travel up his sides. 

“I love you,” Sejanus answers as Coriolanus rips open his shirt. Buttons fly and they both laugh when one lands in the coals and sizzles. He’s terrified, of tomorrow, of Sejanus dying, of what he’ll do if that happens, who he’ll become. But right now all that matters is that he loves Sejanus, loves him like he’s never loved anyone else. That terrifies him too, maybe just as much. 

Sejanus pulls the white shirt off him with just as much force, drops it on the ground and lowers Coriolanus onto it. “I love you,” he says. Sejnaus is kneeling between his legs, clumsily pulling off both their pants. 

They keep saying it. He begins to lose track of which ‘I love you’ is his and which is Sejanus’. They say it until Coriolanus pushes himself up to kiss Sejanus again, hands grabbing at his shoulders. Sejanus brings his hands to cup his face and Coriolanus realizes he’s crying again as they fall back onto the ground. 

The kiss is searing hot in the cold night air. It burns Coriolanus alive. The calluses on Sejanus’ hand scratch down his neck and arms, tingling every part he touches. He throws back his head as the sensations overwhelm him, Sejanus' wet, hot mouth trails down his neck. Coriolanus gasps when he feels the sharp pain of being bitten on his shoulder. He doesn’t bleed, but it strings all the same. 

Sejanus pulls back, lifts a hand and spits into his palm before lowering it down to Coriolanus. “Spit too.” he instructs gently. Coriolanus nods, turns his head just enough and spits into Sejanus’ hand. He then watches closely as the back of Sejanus’ hand brushes down the line of his body. He clumsily pulls down their underwear enough to take them both in his hand, but it’s not enough. Coriolanus drops one of his own, the tips of their fingers brush together. 

Their eyes lock as they both begin to move. Coriolanus’ mouth falls into a ‘O’ as Sejanus groans above him. “I love you,” Sejanus tells him again. Coriolanus nods, pleasure overcoming his ability to respond immediately. He reaches up to cup Sejanus’ face with his free hand, he focuses hard on not digging his nails in at each jolt that runs through him. “Sejanus,” he murmurs. Sejanus, whose eyes had fallen closed, snaps his eyes open to look at Coriolaus. “I understand.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Coriolanus wakes up with a start. After they’d finished, he and Sejanus walked home in silence, arms brushing with every step. He’d had to sneak back into the barracks but nobody woke up, he was even able to shower. 

Rubbing his eyes, Coriolanus is confused about what woke him. Panic begins to set in as he looks around and recognizes the train cabin. He falls over himself to get up and get out into one of the main cabins. Throwing open the door as he’s still wrestling himself into a white cotton shirt, he makes his way, barefooted, into the dining car. 

Cold shock takes hold when he sees Lysistrata sitting there in her red uniform. “Are you excited to see district two’s big city?” She asks. His mouth is dry when he opens it to try and respond. 

“If it’s anything like what we have already seen. I think I’d rather go home.” Coriolanus turns his head to see himself sitting near her. 

“Don’t be like that, Coryo. You saw the pictures, this city is different.” She insists, then perks a bit, “you remember what I said before, about going out?” 

He watches himself practically scoff at the mention. “Of course I remember. Do you remember me telling you not to wake me when you do?” He asks. Lysistrata sighs dramatically. “Come on, Coriolanus. This will probably be the only time in our lives we’re ever allowed out of the Capitol, why not try to enjoy it?” 

“How can you enjoy being around them all?” He snaps, voice low. “They could kill you in an instant. Would too if they got the chance.” 

“No,” he tells himself, “no, Sejanus wouldn’t do that. None of them would do that.” 

It’s horrifying to watch his own face turn to look at him. The other him stands and he finds himself eye to eye with this Coriolanus. “You’re deluded to think they are being kind for any other reason than because they have to be. Don’t you think they rehearsed it before we came? Or, at the very least, were told to behave when we got here.” the other him says. 

“That’s not true, I know them now. They’re good people, better than you.” He stands his ground as the other Coriolanus steps closer. “The districts are animals, rebels, no better than scum. You can’t even eat their food, who knows what’s in it. They’re not like us, Coriolanus.” 

He looks at his own face, scrunched up in disgust at just the thought of being in the districts with the people here. Cold regret drowns him in wave after wave. “I don’t think that anymore,” he tells himself, “you’re wrong.” 

The other Coriolanus just smirks. “Then why are you here letting Sejanus die? Why are you letting all of them die?” 

He’s confused, “what?” 

“Jamie said it already, Coriolanus. Do you actually care?” 

“Yes.” he nods, “yes, of course.” 

“Then you should do something about it.” Coriolanus tells him. 

He wakes a second time with a start, but this time he’s back in the barracks. “You good man?” Glad asks from his bunk on the other side of the room. Coriolanus nods, “yeah. I’m fine.” 

For the rest of the day Coriolanus goes through the motions. Each meal he picks at his food as nerves fill up the space inside him. When Gaius calls for lights out, Coriolanus makes up his mind.   

Waiting until snores ring out across the room, he slips on his boots, pulls out the small gun he’d hidden that day during training in case, and takes the back door, placing a thin rock to keep it open for when he gets back. 

He argues with himself the whole walk to Mr. Plinth’s factory, knowing this can’t be a good idea but not caring if it means keeping Sejanus alive. As he steps into view of the building, Coriolanus is grabbed from behind and pulled off the path. “Coryo!” Sejanus whispers then kisses him quickly.

“Save it,” Marcus snaps. Sejanus nods to him then turns back to Coriolanus. “Okay, so there’s only one camera on the outside of the building,” he explains, “so we’ll go around the back, I’ll cut the breaker and that will kill the camera plus everything inside.” 

“How are you going to get inside?” Coriolanus asks, because when he’d taken the tour, Mr. Plinth and the workers used keycards, which usually took power. Sejanus smiled and held up actual keys, “my dad is a paranoid man.” Coriolanus couldn’t possibly think of a reason why.

“What about guards? Or other peacekeepers?” He pushes. They need to have thought this through. Jamie pipes up, “don’t worry, they sit in the big man’s office to protect that stuff, and they smoke every night.” His smile was huge as he holds up a smoke and waves it around. “I sold ‘em my “finest” to smoke, they’ll be out like a light.” 

Nodding, Coriolanus still pulls the small gun from his belt to keep out as they walk in. The three boys around him freak out slightly, “whoa, whoa, no need for that, Coryo.” Jamie throws up his hands teasingly. He doesn’t respond, only tells Sejanus to lead the way. 

Making it around the building isn’t a hard task. Sejanus finds the breakers and kills the power as Marcus pulls out three flashlights. “Sorry, didn’t really think you'd come,” he gruffs as he hands Sejanus and Jamie one each. “It’s fine,” Coriolanus answers. 

They get inside and Sejanus cuts around a maze of piled high crates until he stops in front of a few. “How are you getting this out of here?” He hisses quietly. Sejanus doesn’t turn to look at him, just pulls off an empty duffle he’d been carrying. “We’ll only take what we can fit, then burn the rest. They’ll think we only destroyed stuff once everything’s melted together, so nobody will go lookin’ for missing guns.” Coriolanus pauses for a second to marvel at the thought. Sejanus was right, and he’d thought this through a lot more than he’d given him credit for. 

Dropping his own gun back into his belt, Coriolanus helps them pry open the top crate. Sejanus wastes no time before shoving the guns one by one into the bag. “I’ll go grab the ammo,” Jamie whispers, walking off in the other direction. They finish filling Sejanus’ duffle plus a second one Marcus produced. Sejanus throws his bag over his shoulder while Coriolanus is handed one of the gas tanks, “pour it over everything,” Marcus says. 

Hesitating, Coriolanus looks at the tin in his hand; there’s no coming back from this, even if they don’t get caught. “The guards,” he says when he looks up to see Marcus tossing his own tin into a crate and pulling out a box of matches. “Are behind those glass walls with a separate exit.” Sejanus nods toward the upstairs office, “different vent system, bullet proof, sound proof-” 

“Fireproof,” Marcus cuts in. Sejanus spills the last of his own gas and looks to where Coriolanus is still holding his. Coriolanus follows his gaze to look at his own hand, he presses the pads of his fingers into the cool metal, it gives easily. 

Without any more thought Coriolanus uncaps the gas and begins pouring it over the last of the crates. 

“Jamie,” Marcus hisses, pulling out a match from the box, “let’s go.” Coriolanus picks up the second duffle and throws it over his shoulder before walking around the crates back to the door. Sejanus follows him, “I’m glad you’re here.” Coriolanus looks at him without saying anything, he’s not sure if he agrees about being glad, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a reason he’s here. 

A loud bang screams throughout the building. For a moment, Coriolanus’ world freezes on its axis, it stays like that for a few achingly long seconds before he hears Jamie’s quiet wince. “Sorry, shit, sorry.” 

Marcus snorts, “idiot.” 

Before he can let out his own held breath, a shout comes from upstairs. “Hey!” Suddenly one of the guards is jumping up groggily and ripping open the door upstairs. Coriolanus sees it more than hears it from behind the large crates. “Run!” Marcus yells. 

The flames go up in seconds. Coriolanus is turning and pulling open the door, heart pounding in his chest. He looks behind him just enough to see Sejanus still rooted to his spot. The guard is more than halfway down the stairs, waving a gun and screaming for them to stop. Letting the door go, Coriolanus takes the few strides to get to Sejanus and shake him out of it.

“We have to go! Now!” He hisses in Sejanus’ face until the other blinks back from wherever his terror sent him. Sejanus nods, “yeah, okay. Let’s go.” 

Coriolanus doesn't let go of Sejanus’ arm as he throws open the door a second time, this time pulling them through. They run around the building back down the path. Behind them the door bangs open again and there’s more running, but he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t loosen his grip enough from Sejanus to either. 

Eventually, Sejanus wakes up enough to turn Coriolanus in a direction he’s never been. His feet ache, pain licks up his shins every time his feet hit the dirt, but they don’t stop running, not until they get to the bottom of one of the mountains. Both of them are gasping for air as they slow to a stop, Sejanus drops to his knees and begins pulling rocks away until Coriolanus sees a hidden hole in the ground. He wants to ask, but can’t breathe properly enough to say anything so he just follows Sejanus’ lead, falling to his knees and removing the stone. 

They work quickly until there’s enough of a hole that Sejanus can pull the bag off his shoulders and shove it down into the ground. He looks at Coriolanus who copies his movements and drops the second bag in. Sejanus nods, swallowing as he finally catches his breath, “This is where Jamie keeps his stash. Nobody knows about it,” Sejanus laughs, half hysterical, “I didn’t even know where it was until three days ago.” 

“It’s okay,” Coriolanus lifts a hand to Sejanus’ face. “You heard the door too, they got out.” Sejanus closes his eyes and nods. “That guard was half gone,” he insists sternly, “they’re okay.” 

“Yeah,” Sejanus answers, “yeah. They’re okay.” 

“I have to go. They’ll call for peacekeepers soon and I can’t be out after curfew.” He stands and when Sejanus doesn’t follow Coriolanus leans down to take hold of him and pull him to his feet. “We both have to go,” he says, “right now.” 

They stay together as long as they can before splitting up. Coriolanus runs hard back to the base and slips in through the door he’d left ajar. It’s still quiet, which means the guard must really be as out of it as Jamie suggested. He toes off his boots and shoves his dirty clothes into his chest and climbs into bed just in time for the alarms to begin ringing. 

Cadets shoot up one by one, Coriolanus among them feigning sleep. Officers file in, yelling at several of them to get up and get out. He’s spared from this assignment. Initially relief floods him, untightening his knotted chest and stomach, but then he begins to worry what -who-  they might find without him there to alter narratives. As his peers begin laying back down to sleep, he allows himself to believe in what he told Sejanus. They’re okay.   

❁❁❁❁❁

Breakfast is a somber affair, nobody knows for sure why they were woken up but they know it must have been something big -an unusual occurrence in two. What little talking is being had stops abruptly when Gaius marches in. 

“Last night rebels broke into one of the weapons facilities and started a fire. Everyone is to get dressed and report to the city's center within the hour where the mayor and I will address this properly.” Orders given, he sweeps out of the room as quickly as he came. Coriolanus feels something inside him sigh gratefully, Gaius hadn’t mentioned Jamie or Marcus which meant they really had gotten out. 

Everyone hurried through their meal to get dressed and clamor outside onto the street. It was excitement as much as it was nerves. Rebels rarely showed their face in two now that the war was over, so this kind of thing wasn’t something any of them were used to. 

Each district two citizen was huddled together around the main stage, it looked just like it did during the reaping. Coriolanus craned his neck to see past the sea of people until he found Sejanus on the other side of the crowd. He was standing in between his parents, doing his best to appear neutral, something he has no skill for.  

Gaius stepped up onto the stage, Proserpina behind him. She looked… terrible. Her hair was twisted into a poor knot, she had no makeup on and her nail polish looked picked apart. Stepping up to center stage, Gaius leaned forward into the microphone to address the crowd. 

“District two,” he began, “last night we faced a terrible tragedy. The Plinth’s factory was burned by rebels and two brave guards almost lost their lives.” Gasps and whispers erupted among the people. Gaius held up a hand and the voices quieted immediately. 

“It is a tragedy indeed when rebels attack us.” He pauses, looking around, “it is an even bigger tragedy when those rebels are our friends.” 

More gasps at his words, then all out screams when two peacekeepers step out from a side building with Jamie in their grasp. “No,” Coriolanus whispers to himself, his voice lost in the waves of others crying out at Jamie’s beaten and battered face. The guards drag Jamie up the steps and place him a few feet behind Gaius. 

“I am as heartbroken by this as you are,” the head officer continues, “we in two have known peace for so long now that I had become hopeful we would never have to punish another again.” He nods and makes everyone suffer through watching as a ladder is brought out and a rope hung. It falls in front of Jamie’s face. 

Behind him, Coriolanus hears someone retching at the sight. “But we must remember that this is the only option in keeping the peace. We are here to protect you, and to do that we must punish those who wish to do you harm.” Gaius’ voice rises with each word until he is practically screaming the words. Slowly, he bows his head in a single nod and steps away from the center to stand next to Proserpina, who has her eyes turned down at her feet. 

Jamie is crying looking frantically around the crowd, his eyes falling on Sejanus first before bouncing around until they fall on Coriolanus, and then somewhere behind him. Turning, he sees Marcus several paces back. If the man didn’t have tears running down his cheeks, Coriolanus might not have even known he was upset. Marcus holds Jamie’s gaze and nods just slightly. 

He still hasn’t turned back when the floorboard bangs open and he hears the rope. People scream but he feels half underwater, like he’s floating, suspended in nothing. Birds take off overhead at the noise, for just a second it almost goes entirely dark above them. 

Chaos erupts around the stage. People scream and push and cry. To his left, someone in the crowd begins to whistle. It doesn’t sound the same as what he’d heard in the mines, it sounds like a song. Another person joins the first, then another and another until everyone that can is whistling the song. Coriolanus turns back to where Giaus stands, sees his head whip around at everyone in the crowd. His face is red with anger and Coriolanus wants to laugh, he recognizes the frantic look in the head officer’s eye. 

Gaius has just started something in two -at least in this city- and Coriolanus sees how it scares him. His peers push past him to try controlling the crowd but Coriolanus stays. Jamie had been right the night before, Coriolanus isn’t really a soldier. But he can still be a leader.

Chapter Text

Days drag out endlessly. Everyone felt it, peacekeepers, citizens, everyone. Winter had turned quickly to spring, spring held only for a short while before summer began creeping into the corners of each day. 

Marcus left for the other village two days after Jamie was hung. Fights broke out more often than not, but it worked to conceal his leaving on the train. Sejanus hardly spoke in the first weeks. Coriolanus would finish out his day then join him at his home. Sejanus’ parents became quickly well acquainted with him and would push a tray of food for two in his hands every evening before he went up.  

Today was Sunday, which meant anyone who was blessed with a day off had one today. 

“I overheard Gaius say they’re bringin’ more peacekeepers in from other districts,” Tony said over breakfast. “What? Why?” Gladius questioned, “we haven’t had a proper protest in weeks. People are finally starting to settle down again.” 

Antonio shook his head, “apparently they think something else is brewing. Not sure where or what, just enough that they wanna get more eyes out here.” With a sigh, Gladius shoveled another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. He waited a minute before responding with “I never thought two would have to worry about rebels.” 

“People loved Jamie.” Coriolanus interjected, “you don’t take away a big dog’s favorite toy.” He’d never had a dog, but figured the metaphor was apt enough for these two to understand. Antonio nodded along with Coriolanus, “yeah Glad, it doesn’t take much to burn a whole place down.” then he snorts at his own phrasing. Gladius rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to shoot something back before he was interrupted by one of the officers walking up and alerting Coriolanus of a call. 

Coriolanus followed the officer down the long hallway to where the phones were. He had not spoken to Tigris in weeks, and when he did he’d left out all the protests and fights bubbling up across two. 

The officer turns sharply into one of the offices instead of continuing down to the phone room. Heat spreads fast throughout him as his mind begins racing about what type of call this could be; if it was a call at all. If he’s been made, what would he have to say to get out of it? If getting out was even an option. 

The office was minimally decorated with a desk in the center and shelves lining the left wall. On the right wall, was a phone. “You can take your call in here and leave when you’re finished.” the officer told him before walking out and shutting the door. 

A light was blinking red as Coriolanus stepped up to the phone. Reaching out, he lifted the piece up to his ear. The screen flooded with the image of Dean Highbottom, not Tigris. “Hello, Mr. Snow.” 

“Dean.” Coriolanus greets, nodding. Though his voice does little to hide the shock he feels. 

“I’ve heard about what’s happening in two. I’m sorry.” the dean says.

“Thank you professor, but there’s no need to be sorry. We’re handling it well, the protests have been contained.” For now. 

The dean shakes his head slightly, “No, Mr. Snow. I’m sorry about your friend.” 

Coriolanus is further shocked to realize he means Jamie. Without knowing how to properly respond, he nods. The dean mirrors with his own nod, “Yes, well. I can see it’s been very upsetting for the district, but that’s not exactly why I’m calling you now.” Coriolanus waits for him to continue. 

“I want to know if you’ve thought about my offer Mr. Snow.” He asks. “I’ve been told you make a fine peacekeeper, and perhaps a respected officer one day. Should you choose that path.” 

The words spin back to life in his mind. 

“You’ll spend a year serving in district two.” 

“And after?” Coriolanus asks.

“After?” The dean looks back at him again, shrugs, “I suppose that’s up to you.” 

“It hasn’t been a year yet.” Coriolanus says. He’s not sure of his answer, maybe a few more months is what he needs to decide. 

The dean grunts, “I think it would be better to have you back before the games… And the start of the semester at the University.” 

“University?” He questions. Getting back home was appealing to him, he couldn’t lie, but the University hadn’t crossed his mind, not with the victor money lost to him. 

“Did you know I’ve decided to look for an apprentice?” The dean says instead of answering, “it’s a University role that would come with many generous benefits.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment. 

As he begins to speak, he’s not sure what will come out, but when it does both he and the dean know what it means. “Jamie, a boy here, told me I’m more suited for politics than peacekeeping.” Coriolanus says. 

“Then I suggest you accept the offer,” Highbottom says gruffly. “I’ll be waiting to hear, Mr. Snow.” 

Dean Highbottom hangs up after that, leaving Coriolanus standing alone in a room, unsure of what to do now. He holds the phone to his ear a few seconds longer than he has to before placing it back on its rack.  

Today is his day off, so he’ll spend it as he spends every Sunday. Sneaking off to Sejanus’. It came up on the first day he’d been back in two that peacekeepers were under no circumstances to have any type of relations with district residents. It was one of those rules everybody turns a blind eye to as long as nobody gets caught, much like the singing at the dance hall. 

Turning, Coriolanus leaves the office. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sejanus’ parents aren’t home when he gets there, so Coriolanus invites himself in, takes off his shoes, and heads up stairs. Sejanus’ door is cracked just slightly, enough that he gets a peak before the other knows he’s there. Sitting in the chair usually pushed under his desk, Sejanus lounges in the sun sketching on an old notebook. It’s a hobby he’d taken up recently. One he had before the games, before they’d met. He used to draw things for Aurora and his other friends during school, he stopped as he got older. 

“What are you drawing?” Coriolanus asks, pushing his way into the room. Sejanus looks up at him and smiles, tilting it toward him. He looks over the face for a long moment, “I give up. Who is it?” 

“Amphion,” Sejanus replies, turning the notebook back to himself. 

“I recognize that name.” Coriolanus says, though he can’t place where he remembers hearing it. Sejanus nods, “Amphion was Aurora’s older brother.” 

The one who died in the games. “I don’t remember what he looked like all that well anymore, but I wanted to draw what I could.” Walking over to the bed, Coriolanus sits down, watching as Sejanus goes back to his drawing. “Like a memorial?” 

 “Yeah,” he affirms. “like a memorial.” 

Sighing, Sejanus sets down the notebook and pen. “I feel so helpless, Coryo. Marcus is out there right now doing something and I’m here, what am I doing?” Coriolanus’ heart breaks at the desperate frustration he hears in Sejanus’ voice. 

“You’ve done so much, you can’t do everything.” He reminds. They’ve been having this specific conversation a lot. Mr. Plinth hadn’t been deterred by the sabotage, using it as an excuse to begin erecting more workshops. “One day my boy, two won’t be a town of rock. We’ll be the new thirteen, but better.” Coriolanus had watched the hideous shudder that wracked Sejanus at his father’s words. Sejanus craves more, he wants to do something. How can he make him see that he’s done enough already?  

“It’s not enough, it can’t be.” Sejanus says, “there has to be more.” 

Coriolanus thinks about his conversation with the dean, thinks about how many ways having Sejanus with him could help. “What if…” he stops short, face impassive.

“What if what?” Sejanus asks. 

“What if we went back to the Capitol?” Coriolanus asks. 

The reaction is immediate. Sejanus recoils like he’d been slapped. “There’s nothing left for us in the Capitol. Why would you even ask that?” 

“It’s something Jamie said.” He presses, setting his shoulders and barreling on even as he sees Sejanus pulling back, “he said I should still try to be President. Think of what I could do- what we could both do if you were there with me?” 

Nervousness dances up his skin as they sit in the silence following his words. 

“...You said you didn’t want to go back.” Sejanus whispers. Coriolanus opens his mouth to speak but is lost for what to say. He had said it, back in the Capitol with Sejanus still behind bars. He had meant it then, that given another chance he would follow Sejanus back to his home, but Coriolanus has been here for months and the call of what could be sings louder in his ear each day. 

The Capitol calls for him like a lost love. Pride begs him to return home, but it’s also more than that. Tigris, Grandma’am, Lysistrata, he could see them all again. He could make a difference in Panem, a real one like what Sejanus longs for. The more Coriolanus thinks on it the more he worries Sejanus won’t be able to change his mind. 

“I said I wanted to be with you here in district two,” Coriolanus replies. “And I have been. But-” He pauses for a moment, he needs to decide now before his words implode in the space between them. 

“But,” he continues, stopping the words in his throat in favor of saying “if you ask me not to go, I won’t.” 

Sejanus nods, “decision made then, I don’t want you to go back. I won’t- can’t go back there, Coryo.” 

Coriolanus nods, resigned, watching Sejanus stand and reach out to pull him up too. When he stands he says, “will you at least think about it? You want to make a difference, you could do that in the Capitol.” 

Shaking his head Sejanus makes a frustrated sound, “it’s not worth the risk or the pain. She’d-” he doesn’t need to finish, Coriolanus knows what he means. Aurora would haunt him even more in the Capitol.

“Okay.” he says. It will be okay. 

And it is, until it’s not once again. 

They ignore it for another month before the thought builds itself back up in Coriolanus’ mind. It happens on a hot day in one of the outlying villages. Several peacekeepers are out doing standard patrols, the riots and upset have mostly subdued with the looming 11th games. There were, however, still people who would always fight back against any Capitol interference. 

Miners piled out in droves for dinner. The sun high and beating down on them all as Coriolanus, Gladius, and a few others walked around the groups, guns setting heavy in their arms. “I heard they’re testing for officers soon, you gonna test?” Gladius asks, nudging him as they walk. Coriolanus shrugs, “probably. Most of the officer training happens here so I wouldn’t have to leave.” 

Gladius hums with a serious nod, “wouldn’t want to leave your beau. I get it.” 

Coriolanus turns his head sharply, hissing a shushing sound through his teeth. Gladius rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, “lighten up. It’s one of two’s worst kept secrets, nobody cares.” It’s true that they’ve not hidden it well, but it could still have an effect on his chances at being an officer. And many people still have an issue with certain ways of loving. 

“Regardless,” Coriolanus says lowly, “you should learn to be more tight-lipped.” Then, just to prove his point, adds, “you should also learn to catch where your eyes linger.” Antonio and Gladius have never been that good at keeping secrets either, Coriolanus has just been kind enough to feign ignorance. 

At his words, Gladius makes a few sputtering noises, first confused then affronted when he realizes Coriolanus’ meaning. “You’ve got a mean bite, Snow.”

Their conversion is cut off before it can go any further when the two peacekeepers walking in front of them stop abruptly to start yelling at the group blocking their path. Coriolanus picks up his step to see what the problem is and is met with a couple dirt covered teenagers standing tall in the peacekeeper’s way. 

“I said move, kid.” Albus, an older peacekeeper says. “We ain’t doing nothing wrong. You can go around us.” The kids seemed to have been sitting and eating under the shade of the building closest to them. They could easily walk around these kids, the road is more than wide enough, but the older man’s anger flares to life at the rebuttal. Before anyone has time to react the man is rearing up his gun and slams the butt of it into the kid’s temple. 

The kid crumbles to the floor. His friends yell and jump up, some looking for a fight and others running away. 

It all happens so fast. One jumps on Albus, clinging to him as he stumbles. The old peacekeeper flails, gun still in hand. Coriolanus steps up to intervene but is caught by Glad’s hand just as the gun fires. It rips through the air tearing into one of the boys who falls alongside his friend. 

Everything becomes a blur. Others come, the kids are taken away in cuffs. The one bleeding is still alive enough to be hauled off to a medic. They get back on the truck to drive back to the main city. Gauis reprimands Gladius and him more than Albus, even if they were hardly involved. Perhaps because of that. 

But tonight he’ll see Sejanus again at bailar hall. Until then, he goes through the motions of his afternoon. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sejanus is sitting alone at a table when he walks in. Coriolanus leaves the other peacekeepers to their business and makes a beeline for him. 

“Want to dance?” Sejanus asks after a quiet moment. Coriolanus nods and they walk to the edge of the floor. The song is slower, something to sway to more than dance. 

I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed, yes, really changed
In these past few days when I've seen myself
I seem like someone else

He wishes he couldn’t understand tonight. The words fall into his ear and echo in his mind like a taunt. It feels too personal to hear someone sing about changing and loving. 

Don't you think it's rather funny
I should be in this position?
I'm the one who's always been
So calm so cool, no lover's fool
Running every show
He scares me so

Sejanus shuffles them around the ends of the dancefloor. He tilts his head closer so they’re pressed together. Coriolanus can feel his warm breath against his skin. 

Yet if he said he loved me
I'd be lost, I'd be frightened
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope
I'd turn my head, I'd back away
I wouldn't want to know

They dance for a few minutes as lyrics repeat and then fade out to music for a long while. Coriolanus aches with the sudden thought that he has changed so completely and yet not at all. He’s still the same person determined to claw his way to the top, only now, he has reasons so beyond himself. For all his love for Sejanus, he can’t leave this part of himself behind. 

He scares me so
I want him so
I love him so

“You seem quiet tonight.” Sejanus whispers as they pull away and step off the dance floor. They move to a corner of the room; Coriolanus can see everything from where he stands, the dancers holding each other, drinkers laughing together, people up in the rafters watching below and chatting happily. 

“A boy was shot today by a Peacekeeper.” Coriolanus answers. He hears the sharp intake of breath from Sejanus but the other doesn’t push further. A hand slides into his, “Come’on,” Sejanus says. They walk along the wall leaving without saying any goodbyes.

They walk hand in hand through the empty streets. Sejanus turns so they head out of town, Coriolanus begins to recognize it as the place he’d taken him all those months ago the first time he was here for his school trip. It feels like a lifetime ago when they first met. Both of them had been so different then, untouched by the Capitol in the way they were now. 

They settled onto the rocks, both watching the stars. It’s quiet between them for a long time until Sejanus breaks it. “Tell me what happened,” he asks softly, turning onto his side to face Coriolanus. He mirrors him before answering. “They weren’t doing anything, just eating, but a Peacekeeper told them to move and when they said no it started a fight.” 

“I couldn’t do anything. Gladius held me back from intervening so I wouldn’t be shot, but I can’t help but feel that if I would have just-” 

“There’s nothing you could have done. He was right to stop you from getting hurt.” Sejanus interrupted.

Coriolanus laughed mirthlessly, “I suppose I understand a little more your feeling of helplessness.” How easy it is to hide away from the horrors of reality in the Capitol where he didn’t see children shot for nothing. At least with the games they had fabricated a reason for being, what was the reason today? 

“I keep saying that,” Sejanus says after a moment. “That there’s nothing I can do to help the districts.”

His lips press tightly together like he’s warring with whether to say the words. “There is though,” Sejanus continues eventually. “There’s something I can do that would help all of Panem, but I’ve been selfishly keeping him here with me instead.” 

Coriolanus sucks in a breath as Sejanus smiles tightly at him. “You have a real chance to make a difference that I couldn’t ever dream of having. And all I’d have to do is tell you to go.”

“I don’t have to.” Coriolanus whispers but Sejanus shakes his head. “You want to though.”

“It’s okay, Coryo. I want you to go and save Panem.”

❁❁❁❁❁

So Coriolanus goes. He calls Dean Highbottom the next morning to make the arrangements and packs his meager belongings into one bag. He doesn’t waste time on waiting, it would make the goodbye so much harder. In just a handful of days he’s getting ready to leave on a train that will take him back to the Capitol for good. 

Until his Presidency, which he’s once again certain of, he’ll not see district two or any other for that matter. It’s a bittersweet realization. Who would watch over Gladius and Antonio? Would Sejanus find someone else one day? Or will he get himself killed trying to fight as a rebel? His stomach churned in horrible knots to think of either outcome. But he couldn’t let it stop him from leaving. 

Coriolanus is standing on the platform waiting to board the train. He and Sejanus had been mostly normal in their last few days together, he’d stayed with him last night to say goodbye but needed to leave early to pack his things. Hope delayed him from getting onto the train, hope that Sejanus would make it in time to say one last goodbye. 

The train whistle blows sharp and loud and the conductor steps out to grab Coriolanus’ bag from him. “To the Capitol?” The man asks. Coriolanus puts on a smile, “yes.” 

He receives a nod, “let’s get going then, almost time to depart.” Coriolanus nods.  

Before he can step onto the train however, a yell comes rounding the corner of the building onto the platform. Sejanus is red faced and panting as he slows to a jog then stops in front of Coriolanus. 

“Hi,” he says, still out of breath. 

“Your timing on these things is deplorable.” Coriolanus responds with a soft smile. 

Sejanus just smiles and leans in to kiss him. It’s a soft, warm kiss that lasts for as long as they can manage before pulling away. Sejanus’ hands have found their way up to cup his face. “I wanted to finish something to give you before you left.” 

Stepping back, Sejanus reached behind him to pull a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket. He hands it to Coriolanus with a nervous smile. Coriolanus looks at him a moment before looking down at the paper and unfolding it slowly. 

He gasps quietly at the drawing. It was them, all of them, around the campfire they so loved. Marcus, Lysistrata, Jamie, Aurora, and him and Sejanus. They were all smiling and happy. It was beautiful. 

“I-” He was at a loss for words. Looking back up at Sejanus he smiled, “thank you.” They kissed again and parted when the train whistler blew. 

“I have to go.” He says quietly, not moving. Sejanus nods, “I know.”

“Time to go!” The conductor yells from inside the carriage. Coriolanus steps back, “Goodbye, Sejanus.” He says. Because if he says ‘I love you’ or ‘I want to be with you’ then he might convince himself to stay. 

But Sejanus doesn’t look sad, he’s smiling at Coriolanus. “I’m proud of you, Coryo.”  

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes but don’t fall, instead he holds them steady as he boards the train and sits in a window seat so he can see Sejanus and wave one last time. 

In a last minute decision, Coriolanus lifts his hand to press it back into the glass and leans forward like he did that first time they said goodbye here. Hot air fogs the window where he blows. 

His finger moves quickly, a crude drawing of a heart appearing in the center of the fogged area. Coriolanus tilts his head from behind the fog to lock eyes with Sejanus again. The other boy is smiling now, laughing brightly at the heart. Sejanus’ mouth moves around an ‘I love you’ just as the train jolts forward. 

The pair watch each other, blue nor brown blinking away from this moment. 

It’s not until the train rolls behind a stone building do they lose each other finally. Coriolanus was heading back to the Capitol and Sejanus was staying in district two. 

Would he really never see Sejanus again?

❁❁❁❁❁

Coriolanus shrugs on the button down shirt. It’s nice, far nicer than anything he’s worn in a long time. Tigris bought it as soon as he’d settled back in; a celebration of his return. The buttons are well made, they slide through each hole smoothly and reflect subtly against the light. 

The necklace hangs hidden beneath his neckline. 

He would be meeting with the dean this morning before classes. It has only been a month since his return but he needed to sort out all the small details of his education out with his new mentor–and generous sponsor. Coriolanus snorts, still somewhat unbelieving of the dean’s offer, but as the man had already explained, of all his classmates, Coriolanus was among the most radicalized. 

“They’ve impassioned you, Mr. Snow. That’s what Panem needs now more than ever.” 

Buttoning the last of his shirt, he tucks the hem into his gray slacks, grateful for the reprieve of red. The University was much more lax with the colors of its dress code. Once he’s finished dressing for the day Coriolanus lingers near his bedside table where the picture Sejanus made sits. Maybe one day he’ll put it away, but he thinks he probably won’t. 

Walking into the kitchen, he greets Tigris with a smile. She’s made eggs for breakfast. It nearly brought Coriolanus to tears the first time she’d done it since he’d been home. He’d been able to send his peacekeeper’s checks to her while away, it hadn’t been much but that mixed with the dean’s help now, had them back in their home and able to afford small luxuries.  

They sat in ate in comfortable silence. Grandma’am was still sleeping in her room. “Are you excited for your first day back?” She asks him in a whisper. Coriolanus smiles and nods, “of course. It’s all finally happening.” 

Tigris’ grin is wide as she quietly exclaims, “future President Snow.” He laughs brightly with he and doesn’t deny it. They finish their plates and set them in the sink. 

The quiet of them apartment makes it impossible to miss the knock that rings out from the front door. Coriolanus, already heading out, moves to answer it. The click of his and Tigris’ shoes clack loudly against the wooden floor, for a moment it’s the only sound he hears. 

When the door falls open even that sound falls away. His heart thrunders, turning from a thump to a gallop in seconds. Coriolanus is almost certain his mouth falls open for a time too. 

“Sejanus.” He whispers. 

Sejanus smiles, “Coryo.”