@rimeoverreason sent ❛ i know you. how else do you think i found you so easily? ❜
Coriolanus was Head Gamemaker. There was a celebration, extravagant and excessive, so opulent that it made Sejanus’ skin crawl, so much money spent on such fickle things. He’d been mostly ignoring Coriolanus for the past few days, as soon as he was made aware of the upcoming change in Coriolanus’ title. Volunteering at the hospital, visiting his parents, meeting up with some friends he’d made at university, trying to block out what was happening, trying desperately to ignore it. Full control over the Games. The last voice to decide. The power to kill, and maim, and torture, without repercussions. A power so vast it was dizzying to think about. And yet, Coriolanus was only getting started.
The party was held at the Snow penthouse, nicely redecorated, having been brought to its full former glory for a while now. Sejanus felt so out of place suddenly, among effusive, loud guests, still avoiding Coriolanus; he could have made an excuse to decline the invitation, he could have rejected it, but he couldn’t stay away. Even as he loathed this with every ounce of his being, he missed Coriolanus something awful, and he wanted to see.. what? If he was reveling in this new development? He most certainly was. He wanted to see him, his feet dragged here by his treasonous heart. Coriolanus’ gaze fell on him instantly as he held the first toast, as he spoke exuberantly about this new opportunity. His smile was blinding. Sejanus’ gaze was hard, and he felt on the verge of a panic attack.
As soon as Coriolanus was mingling within the crowd, he bolted out of there. He didn’t go home, no, instead, he found his way up to the roof, to the rose garden. After his grandmother died, Coriolanus had it tended to by talented gardeners. He snuck into the solar greenhouse, row after row of sumptuous white blooms in there, and the fragrance, oh, so staggeringly intense. It reminded him of Coriolanus. Stumbling, he immediately sat on the stone bench there, as he was starting to hyperventilate. He clenched hard over the edges of the stone he sat on, struggling to take in deep breaths, feeling lightheaded. His chest hurt dreadfully, and he attempted to squeeze down on it, a mantra in his head, that he was okay, it was just a panic attack, he was not going to die. It wasn’t his first rodeo, after all.
He summoned his most cherished memory here, a few years ago, Coriolanus sitting beside him on this very bench, pressing a rose into his hand so he could bring it back to his mother. A sneaky thorn had grazed his palm, and he remembered Coriolanus fussing a bit over it. He remembered that he was smiling so widely his face couldn’t contain it. He remembered Coriolanus looking at him, with a strange look on his face, and then leaning in. The smell of roses so strong around him, around them, and Coriolanus’ lips on his, somewhat needy, and cold from the time they spent on the roof outdoors, into the chilly early March. It was nothing short of perfection. He was perfect.
His breathing slowed. When he looked up, he was looking into Coriolanus’ eyes, and he was sitting right in front of him. It must have been only minutes that he was gone from the party. “Go back to the party, Coryo,” he exhaled, his heart resuming its faster pace, “Why did you come up here?” Despite himself, Coriolanus was so close that he couldn’t help but lean into him, his head falling softly to his tummy, with a sigh, he’d missed being close to him so much that tears pricked at his eyes.
I know you. How else do you think I found you so easily? He really must have been gone only a few minutes, and the idea of Coriolanus noticing that quickly made his stomach twist. He pulled back, but his arms curled around Coriolanus’ waist, almost against his own will. He looked up at him, a question in his eyes, ready to fly from his lips, “What happens now?” Not with this moment, not with them. What happens now, that you have this power? “What are you going to do?”