One Shots | Coriolanus Snow

one: love of one kind, or another

ONE SHOT

This is a "scene" that was supposed to be in the book (White Hearts) but I decided to skip it for reasons. Also its another time line — this would take place in a movie. Anywho, with the lack of fluff in the real book, at least in this alternate-reality, here ya g :) Also works without reading the book, I guess!

~*~

One can promise actions, but not feelings, for the latter, are involuntary. He who promises to love forever or hate forever or be forever faithful to someone is promising something that is not in his power."

Friedrich Nietzsche

Second day of the 10th Annual Hunger Games | "Control Room", Capitol Academy

They don't sleep throughout the night. Of course they don't — anyone who would fall asleep while the fate of their future was decided before them is not a student worthy of the Academy, much less worthy of the spot in between the twenty four mentors.

No one leaves the room for longer than ten minutes, and although some heads do lie down on the tables next to the monitors, neither pair of eyes ever dropped from the biggest screen in the room.

Not yet, not tonight.

There are ten of them left now. The rest of sits have freed up, leaving the ten of most promising students to their devices – to fight the urge to fall asleep.

Coriolanus Snow sits in the right corner of the room, sipping coffee (black) and intently watching the screen, waiting for any news of his tribute — of his future — and whether his ambitions have survived the night.

Well. He is half-watching. He would be watching. He wants to watch, but the tired eyes keep shifting where they shouldn't — to a girl whose head is laid in her hands, two meters before him, red hair tangled. To a girl to whom he doesn't wish to speak to, much less think about. To the girl who is single handedly playing with his future, endangering it, threatening his ambitions and — and  yet, and yet, and yet...

Coriolanus Snow, were anyone to ask, hates Rose Claude and her presence in his life. Even if he didn't use to. Even if at once they were friends, before all the other things were said and before they stood still, looking in each other's eyes. Before some kind of love between the two was shielded by ambition and coldness.

Fire and ice.

Red of the blood and White of the snow.

Not good enough, it seems, because Coriolanus cannot stop himself from stealing looks at the girl who looks too tired to be here right now — a girl who, although he is sure has not closed her eyes for the last night (too ambitious, too idiotic) — is clearly suffering from something and lacking the slightest ability to raise her head.

But Coriolanus shouldn't worry about that, so his eyes go back to the screen again. He tries to enjoy the taste of black coffee. When Lucy Gray finally comes back on the screen, although sleeping, he focuses on forming some kind of plan and strategy to get what he wants.

Well— he cannot get what he wants, he'd think (if he were honest) looking at the redhead before him.

Rose, meanwhile, is struggling with keeping her eyes open. It's not even the tiredness that started to wash over her eyes eight hours ago and doesn't seem to stop (fair enough), but the overwhelming heat that overcame her this morning. She's fairly sure, if she has enough will and strength to raise her hand to her forehead, it would be burning up. But that's not an information she wishes to hear, so she ignores any and all the feelings (together, incidentally, with ever-present irritation by the boy two spaces behind her) and resorts to lying in her hands and praying for the sickness to stop.