It Burns For You

Memory and Devotion

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴢɪɴᴇꜱꜱ.

ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇᴅ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱ ᴀʟʟ.

The bruise on his neck aches as a nameless Avox blends skin-colored makeup into his neck to cover it up. Their touch is too forceful but it gets the job done and Coriolanus knows the importance of looking good for a camera.

He plays the part perfectly, he always does. He shakes hands and smiles politely at those in attendance. The soft click of a camera reaches his ears and Coriolanus hopes the Avox's work hasn't faded away.

The tang of the lemon drink being served burns at the back of his throat. It's your favorite, he remembers the many times he'd bring it to you at countless galas you had attended with him. Coriolanus found himself wishing that you were here, at his side sipping at your own lemon drink and laughing next to him.

No one is laughing tonight though. The mansion is filled with a strangling air of sadness as Coriolanus pretends to inspect the roses on the table.

Dinner passes slowly and Coriolanus fights to swallow the lump in his throat when dessert is served. The delicate cakes with powdered sugar on top are your favorites. The china plate underneath the sweet is staring at him in mockery with its light blue flowers and intricate gold trim.

His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as he bids your parents goodnight. Your father thanks him, something about being a wonderful partner and friend to you and Coriolanus can't look him in the eye, instead, he focuses on your father's shiny black dress shoes. Your mother gives him a warm hug and she almost smells like you as Coriolanus keeps his face devoid of all emotion.

Time is a funny thing. Coriolanus figures this out on the night of his 30th birthday. The city lights of the Capitol shimmer as he stares at them when he realizes how long it's been since he's seen you. He wonders what you'd think of him now. Sometimes he swears he can hear you voicing your opinions through the empty halls of the mansion. Moments like that have left parts of the mansion frozen in time but the sunroom has the worst of it. Coriolanus never goes in there yet he has an army of maids tending to it daily, keeping it devoid of dust and disrepair. Everything is just as you left it, from your books with the dog-eared pages to the slightly askew desk chair and the squished pillow you liked to put behind your back for support.

Everything is just as you left it, ready for your return, just as he is now as he sits at his desk, mind replaying the last moments he shared with you.

His heart was pounding as you struggled against him. Both of you had been a wild blur of limbs and metal in the dark as he gained the upper hand in the fight you had started.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

His enraged voice filled up the room as he grabbed at your hand and ripped the chain away from his neck.

Your answer is swift and unyielding as something plunges into his side. He feels blood soak into his shirt and lets out laugh. What a clever girl you were, using the paring knife that had been at breakfast this morning.

Sure, you were clever sneaking up on him and then stabbing him. But, if you had actually been smart, you would've used a bigger knife. If only you had waited, steak was being served for dinner later, now that knife would've been perfect, with its longer blade and serrated edge.