HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 72

When Coriolanus finally got off the phone, he had to go throw up. He thought the nausea had resulted from his head hurting with a renewed violence, but purging his dinner did not alleviate the agony in the slightest—it only made everything worse.

Staring in the mirror, he didn't see a clammy face whose forehead was matted by blonde fringe. He didn't see its pallor, rheumy eyes, or chin stained with traces of vomit. All he could see were his mistakes.

He never should have asked her. But Gaia had pushed him. He couldn't have come alone. He should have just asked Tigris, even if he had to wrestle her from the Grandma'am's bedside. He never should have come at all. He should have stayed with his beloved grandmother. He should have used the excuse to justify his absence, to cancel. But no.

He never should have kissed her. But she had looked all wrong. She had been in tears. She had been so scared, and so sad. It was that longing in her eyes that'd had him—and her lips... He hadn't made sense of it there and then, but it had to be because she hadn't had anything decent to drink apart from the broth after she'd boycotted that dishwater. In that instant, all he had seen was the parched skin. In that instant, all he wanted to do was what he hadn't done on the trolley.

Even as he'd pressed himself onto her, he knew he shouldn't. Yet, it hadn't been what he knew that mattered—but what he saw.

That he was making things better. That he was making things right. That she wanted him. That she needed him.

Just as she'd needed him to catch her when she fell. Just as she'd needed him for warmth when she was cold. Just as she'd needed him to drag her under that table when she didn't know what to make of the siren that chilled his blood because they never conducted air raid drills anymore by the time she went to school.

She had needed him to save her. But it was because of her that there had been anything to save at all. If not for her curiosity, if not for that look in her eyes, they would be a couple of burnt corpses. So, really, who had saved who?

A bell pinged through the bathroom. Without lifting his eyes, Coriolanus knew the seatbelt sign had been activated. He just didn't know if they were genuinely that close to landing, or it was just his crew's way of luring him back out. Probably a bit of both, since they knew better than to actually check on him, and their proximity to the airport had been his pretext to get out of that awful call—with Midas Gold.

Hilarious how Coriolanus's own words had come back to haunt him.

Inhaling a bracing breath, he splashed his face with icy water, cleaning off puke, sweat, fatigue, and weakness. He gargled mouthwash twice for good measure before exiting, resembling the future president of Panem a tad more than when he'd entered.

Curled up on her side, Lilith was still blissfully asleep. He'd managed to ease her off him and even fully recline her seat. It wasn't totally horizontal given that it composed of adjoining sections, but transforming the bed entailed getting her off, and he had been disinclined to disrupt her rest—she had to be exhausted if she'd found slumber in that detention cell. Also, it was three in the morning. Barnes had been instructed not to disturb her.

Leaning over in his own reclined seat, Coriolanus whispered her name. Lilith didn't respond. Considering their earlier encounter, he was reluctant to attempt anything too drastic, but she was forcing his hand—literally. Gingerly, for it was the injured one besides, he tapped her upper arm and called her again.

A child-like noise escaped from Lilith as she stirred, only to flip over, moaning, "Five more minutes, Mae."

Mae? Her maid? Her tongueless, voiceless, Avox maid?