The Scent of Roses || Coriolanus Snow

Chapter XXII

You woke up sore. The lower half of your body felt like you had been hit by a bus. Even your usually comfortable and welcoming mattress felt awful.

A dozen thoughts had been flowing through your mind after yesterday, the most prominent being what to do now. Coriolanus had fucked you until your legs gave out, and you hadn't yet grasped how deep of a pit you had dug yourself. A kiss was one thing; making out was another, and letting him eat you out was far beyond where you expected to go. Now, you had allowed him to penetrate you in a supply closet; how charming.

You pulled yourself out of bed, practically crawling from under your sheets. The sun was rising slowly, which made sense for how early it was. You'd returned to your apartment early, Coriolanus mocking you the entire way up the stairs for your legs giving out on every step. You wanted to smack him for it, but you doubted he would appreciate such physicality outside of intimate moments.

With little effort, he lifted you into your bed, threw the covers over your face, and set a full glass of water and a chocolate bar by your bed. You were lucky your sheets hid your face and body because you were blushing from head to toe and kicking your feet like a small child. He left as soon as he came, in more ways than one, and though you needed some recovery time, you always hated when he'd go.

It was hard to grasp that a few months ago, you were waking up from another night in Cedar's bed—a bed with no sheets, mattress, or even pillows. Your life was so painfully average, one far too many girls your age lived. As much as you hated to admit it, the games gave you a break. If you had never been a part of such an event, you never would've been noticed by Coriolanus. You also never would've been sore from the waist down, but that was a risk diminished by its reward.

You finally managed to get out of your crawling position to refill your water. At some point in the night, you chugged every drop of the glass Coriolanus filled for you, but you could feel you were severely dehydrated. It wasn't unlike you to feel a sort of regret after sex.

Usually, it was when you were left unnoticed and uncared for, lying in a messy yet barren room, wondering if there would be a day a guy loved you. You'd cry in those moments, wishing the day someone held you like you were a person and not an object would come sooner. Now, at this moment, you wondered if that day was coming soon or if you were now doomed to supply closets instead.

Neither you nor Coriolanus wanted to disclose your relationship. To you, that would mean facing horrific allegations of sleeping your way to the top or being a whore. That was something you could never handle or ever beat. You knew of people around you who became involved with those higher up than them.

They all had suffered the same fate of being bullied out of the public eye. It was best to keep these relations private, and you knew Coriolanus felt the same way. He was a strong, confident, and prosperous young man. Those around him could use his relationship with an Academy student to tarnish his career, and it could work.

You bit your lip, your throat growing thorns that stung you. It wasn't what you wanted, but somehow, you always found yourself with men too proud to admit they were connected to you. No matter how hard you tried, it always happened. Even when you had a perfect man before you, your eyes always deviated to men like Cedar and now men like Coriolanus. Though you didn't think they were alike, the way you felt now was as you had before.

It wasn't easy dealing with such strong emotions, and you could feel your body begin to shut down. You sat on the foot of your bed, taking a sip from your cup before placing it on your nightstand. One-half of you was euphoric about being with Coriolanus, feeling his body in every way and feeling him inside you. The other half was broken, damaged, and wanting something more than just sex. You'd seen that side of Coriolanus, but you hadn't seen enough of it.

You turned your gaze to the window at the head of your bed. The weather looked awful today, cold and dreary. People walked past each other on the street. Everyone was bundled in oversized coats, scarves, and hats. You usually loved people-watching, but in your current mental state, you were skating on disassociation. You diverted your attention to the buildings and noticed several signs and banners that hadn't been there before. They read the date Garnett would arrive in the Capitol for his celebration.

A week from today.

Your breath caught in your lungs, causing you to choke. You hadn't realized he would arrive so soon. Time felt so much slower than it was. You thought you had weeks before you'd have to face him, but as you pondered, the timeline made sense. Garnett would be nearing the neighboring Districts soon, and you wondered how he was holding up.

The Victory Tour seemed so damaging to one's sanity, facing the friends and family of the deceased tributes and telling them how venerable the Capitol was. It was barbaric, but you were playing those games yourself.

No matter what shape Garnett was in when he arrived in the Capitol, he would leave far worse, and that was your fault. You tried not to feel guilty about what happened, what you said, and how you wished you could take it back. But you didn't want to change the past for anything other reason than to protect Garnett.

If it had been any other boy from District 2, you might've not even cared. No matter what District, what reaping bowl, if any other name than Garnett Daybreaker, you would not have cared. So, did you even care now?

You shook your head. Of course, you cared about what he would say or do to you when he saw you again. The only plaguing fear you had was how he would react to hearing your name mentioned when the new changes were announced. The look on his face when he heard that you had sentenced him to worse punishment than death. Your hand trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stop the emotions from pouring out of you.

Despite your attempts, muffled sobs began to seep through the gaps between your fingers. Tears trickled down from your eyelids and painted your fingertips. You tried to hide it behind your palms, though your attempts were ineffective. Though you tried to keep your eyes closed, you always found yourself locked onto the banner for Garnett's tour.

Your mind created illusions of him seeing you for the first time in his life, seeing you stand on stage proud of your accomplishments. The disgust and horror in his eyes, watching someone he once knew and trusted betray him.

You dug your hands into your hair, pulling at your follicles as you tried to make the thoughts disappear. They engulfed your every waking moment, seeping into your skin and taking over your soul. You allowed yourself to succumb to the evil that had always been with you, small and insignificant, until you became involved with the Hunger Games. Your eyes widened as your body tensed viciously.

None of this evil had been known to you until you met Coriolanus Snow, who had just begun knocking on your door.