Work Text:
It was the sort of warm, heady day of early fall where you could practically taste the earth wanting to bury you. The near-constant rainfall had brought the smell of soil up from the ground until the air was thick with it. The drizzle of raindrops that fell on Sejanus as he rushed up the stairs of the school science building might as well have been droplets of dirt thrown down by an invisible hand. Earth fallen to earth. It made Sejanus feel as if he were still underground, held tight by its embrace. Even the building itself made him think it — as he ducked inside the doorway he was surrounded by walls of dark granite, probably mined from back home in District Two.
He had always loved visiting the mines. He knew it was silly — Strabo had told him so, many times. Even as a child he had known of the poor working conditions endured by the miners. Strabo had made sure that he did; he had explained, over and over, every reason he had for moving the family to the Capitol, and “ensuring that Sejanus could have a bright future away from the exploitation of the districts” had been at the top of the list.
Not that he needed Strabo to tell him that. He was friends with many of the miner’s kids. But despite it all, they had all loved getting to visit the mines and caverns of District Two on their school trips. At lunchtime they would have a full hour to play in the gaping caves and narrow, craggy tunnels. It had been their own new, magical world to explore. Their own wonderland. Sejanus had never felt so in awe and yet so safe as when he was surrounded by these ancient walls of glittering stone.
If he had been back home, he might have been on one of those trips now. Instead, he was sprinting down the halls, trying to make it to science class before he became even more late than he already was.
They were choosing lab partners today that would last through the rest of the year. Last year he had to work alone. He had arrived to the Capitol halfway through the first term, and no one had wanted to take on a third group member. But surely, surely this year could be different? If he arrived in time, if they hadn’t already chosen partners again by the time he got there… maybe not everyone would want to partner with a friend they already had?
The halls were quiet. Class must have already started, and he could hear nothing but the echo of his footsteps in his new school shoes. Then as he flew around the corner so fast he nearly tripped, he thought he could hear something else. Was that Miss Aurelius, their new science teacher?
“Alright, everyone, I’d like one person from each group to come up to the front and take a microscope. The other can take the box for your other supplies — only one for each group, alright?”
There was a rustle of activity. Sejanus sprinted even faster. When Miss Aurelius spoke again her voice was a lot clearer — Sejanus could see the closed classroom door, right there up the hall —
“Now, today we’re going to be extracting DNA from strawberries. Can anyone tell me why you might want to extract something’s DNA?”
“To make mutts,” came the prompt answer. “Like they used in the war.”
“Very good, Lysistrata. Now, the methods they use in Citadel are much more advanced than this, but we’ll be able to give you a good look at the DNA under the microscope. Everyone turn to page twenty-seven of your textbooks—“
Sejanus didn’t quite manage to slow himself down enough as he turned the knob. He came practically crashing through the door. Everyone turned to look at him — his classmates, Miss Aurelius. Even a flock of birds out the window cawed in surprise and turned to look at the commotion. Sejanus felt his cheeks burning up.
“I’m so, so sorry, Miss Aurelius — there was a building collapsed on our street, we couldn’t get our car out of the driveway for a while —“
He knew as he spoke that he was doing himself no favours. Even the families of a few of his classmates — the richest in all of Panem — could not afford a car, or couldn’t afford to maintain one, after the shortages during the war. The fact that a kid from the districts could was the source of a lot of resentment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Arachne elbow Livia beside her and mutter something behind her hand; everyone nearby erupted into giggles. Sejanus felt his cheeks getting, if possible, even hotter.
“That’s alright, Sejanus,” said Miss Aurelius. “The pairs have already been made for the year, I don’t think we have anyone spare — would you like to join one and make a three, or would you prefer to work alone this year?” The again went unsaid.
Sejanus scanned his classmates. Maybe Lysistrata, she had never quite been mean to him — or Festus, he would sometimes include Sejanus in his jokes, even when they were at Sejanus’ expense —
But Lysistrata wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Festus, when he did, shook his head and mouthed, “Sorry,” before looking away again. Sejanus’ heart fell.
“Um. I can work alone,” he said quietly. He took a microscope and his box of supplies to the single, empty desk, sized big enough for two.
He reached inside his bag for his textbook and pens, ignoring the box of sweets tucked underneath his pencil case. Finely made artisan chocolates and candies, ordered specially by Strabo for the day. He had said that they would help to “break the ice” with the other students and help him find a partner for the year.
Sejanus had never intended to use them, though. At nearly ten years old, he had already learnt that no one would take bribes to be his friend.
He was just flipping through his textbook to find the right page when he heard a quiet “psst” by off to the side.
Probably just someone nearby getting the attention of a friend. Gossiping about something or other behind the teacher’s back, maybe. He ignored it. Here was page twenty-seven — he could skip the introduction to go straight to the instructions —
“Pssst! Hey, Sejanus!” someone said quietly. Sejanus looked up to see Coriolanus, seated on the table pushed up next to his, smiling brightly as he leaned over to talk to him.
“Uh. Hey?” said Sejanus, intelligently.
“You’re the smart kid, right?” asked Coriolanus. “I mean, you got one of the best science marks in our year last year, and you were working alone for all of it.” Just as Sejanus was wondering if the whole thing was devolving into an insult, he added, “That’s pretty impressive, really.”
Sejanus stared at Coriolanus for a second as he tried to figure out what to make of him. Coriolanus had never talked to him, much — never mocked him like most of the other kids had, which Sejanus appreciated, but they’d never had much to do with each other. And now he was — what exactly, coming over to give him compliments?
“Uh, I guess?” said Sejanus. “I mean, yeah, I did pretty well last year, I think.” He didn’t like to brag about it — he certainly knew that wouldn’t help him make friends — but he did well in his classes, and science was probably his best.
“Look,” said Coriolanus. “Me and Clemmie arranged at her party last week that I would pair up with her, but she’s sick today, she won’t be here all week. Do you wanna pair up today? I promise I won’t hold you back,” he added jokingly. “I’m pretty good with this myself.”
“Oh! Uh. Sure?” Sejanus felt his face heating up a little. He could swear he used to be better at talking to people than this. “I mean, yeah, that would be cool! Thanks.”
“Awesome,” said Coriolanus, flashing him a bright grin. “Okay, so I think one of us should mash up the strawberries while the other mixes up the extraction liquid…”
They chatted a little as they worked. Mostly about the steps of the experiment, but here and there they would joke about schoolwork or one of their teachers. Coriolanus laughed so hard at one of Sejanus’ jokes about Dr Gaul, a scary woman from Citadel who occasionally taught guest classes, that Miss Aurelius had to give him a little shushing gesture to stop him disrupting the class.
Sejanus felt a warm glow forming in his chest. How long has it been, since he’d joked around with a classmate like this while they worked through an assignment? Probably since he’d left District Two. He’d forgotten just how nice it felt. He found himself watching Coriolanus almost more than doing the assignment. Trying to see if he could make Coriolanus give him that bright smile again…
Once they had separated out the white globs of DNA, they carefully spread them out on little glass slides, so they could see the individual strands when they put the slides under the microscope. Coriolanus whistled lowly when he saw Sejanus’.
“Wow. You really are good at this, aren’t you? Yours might be the neatest in the class.” Sejanus looked around and saw this was probably true; Coriolanus’ wasn’t bad, but some of his classmates had made a right mess of them. Livia was currently trying to scrape hers off the floor.
“Thanks,” Sejanus said, bashful and happy. If there was one good thing to come of his marksman training with Strabo, it was that Sejanus had very good hand-eye coordination and was good at delicate tasks. Still, it was one thing to know, objectively, that he was good at this. It was another one entirely to have one of his classmates admit it so freely. He thought he might be glowing about this all week.
They sat side by side all through Miss Aurelius’ lecture on DNA and genotypes at the end of the class. Sejanus turned hopefully to Coriolanus as the bell rang; maybe they would even go to lunch together.
“I can’t wait for lunch,” said Coriolanus cheerfully as he was packing up his bag. “I swear, I’m so hungry I could have two of whatever they’re serving…”
Sejanus thought for a moment, then said, “Really? Because if you are…”
He brought out the box of artisan sweets and took off the lid. “I have some of these to share?”
Coriolanus’ eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Sejanus smiled. “Take as many of these as you like, there’s no way I could have them all on my own.”
Coriolanus took a cluster of candied nuts covered in chocolate and practically moaned as he took a bite. “This is amazing,” he said as he chewed. “I love this. Incredible. I can really have more of them?”
Sejanus grinned at the expression of pure delight on his face. “Really! I think I have a spare tin in here — I can put half of them in for you?” Coriolanus’ eyes lit up.
“You know,” said Coriolanus, as he picked out chocolates and candies to put in the tin. “You should pair with me and Clemmie for the year.”
Sejanus almost dropped the pencil case he’d been putting back in his bag. “You’d really do that? What would Clemensia think?”
“Sure,” said Coriolanus easily as he took a macaron. “Between you, me and Clemmie we’ll have an easy road to getting the best grade in the year. I don’t know what she’ll say, but I’ll convince her if she says no.”
There was a snap as he closed the lid on his tin of sweets. “I can be pretty persuasive,” he said with a wink.
Sejanus felt his heart stutter at the wink, just a bit.
“Oh, and bring more of those sweets!” Coriolanus added as he put the tin in his bag and swung the bag onto his shoulder. He started walking off towards the door while Sejanus was still packing away his things.
Sejanus felt his heart fall a little — he didn’t want to join Sejanus for lunch, then — but quickly pushed it aside. Today was a good day. One of his best, maybe, since he had arrived in the Capitol. He wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.
Still, in that moment any little thing he could do to delay Coriolanus leaving seemed worthwhile.
“If you like those, you’ll love my Ma’s cooking,” he called. “She’s a whiz in the kitchen, the best cooking I’ve ever had is by her. I could bring you something, if you want?”
“Great!” Coriolanus called back. He turned and Sejanus saw it again. That smile of his, bright and gleaming, like sunlight glinting off snow. Like he had become the sun, personified in a person. “I’ll be counting the days. See ya, Sejanus!”
Sejanus realised, years later, that he had a tendency to fall fast and easily for any boy his age who did something nice for him. He’d been that way since even before the Capitol — after Marcus had helped him with a bruised finger by gathering snow from the windowsill to bring down the swelling, he’d been mooning over Marcus for a month.
But in the Capitol it became so much more pronounced. Probably, he supposed, because Sejanus experienced far fewer acts of kindness here.
But he didn’t know that now. All he knew was this: he was staring at Coriolanus across the room. His eyes were bright blue, highlighted by the cool, watery light from the window by the doorway and accented by the gold of Coriolanus’ hair and the yellowing leaves of the tree outside the window. They looked like sapphires, or aquamarines. Something unspeakably precious pulled up from the earth.
Sejanus met those eyes and felt like he was back in one of the caverns of District Two. In awe and yet safe, all at once. On the precipice of some new world.
He felt in that moment that he could get lost in Coriolanus completely. He had never known it was possible to bury oneself in a person.
“Bye, Coriolanus,” he whispered. Coriolanus waved, and then he was gone.
—
The lights strobed through the underground party in wildfires of pink and blue and green. The pockets of light and dark were mesmerising; the throng of people and the towering walls and columns were revealed in a dazzle of colour before being swallowed by the encroaching shadows. Sejanus tapped his finger on his paper cup in time with the pulsing music, watching the dancers sway and whirl in their tight cluster of sweating, glimmering bodies.
He had to hand it to Festus. Although he had not been to many parties, Festus’ sixteenth birthday was one of the best he had seen so far. Not something slap-dash and gaudy, like seemed to be the standard for illicit parties of Capitol youth, but a truly astonishing marvel. It was set in a huge, sprawling cut out in the mountain rock below the arts quarter, supported by concrete columns that stretched far above their heads. An old tank for holding large amounts of liquid, apparently — maybe water, or maybe fuel for aircraft used during the war.
The space had an immensity that swallowed you up until you felt that you could drown in it. The party was large, but beyond the glittering jewel of the crowd and the speakers and the tables of drinks, there were still large swathes of darkness unclaimed by people or light. A wonderland steeped in mystery and glamour. Sejanus felt like he was standing in some adult version of his childhood escapades in the caves and mines back home.
It was also one of the wildest parties Sejanus had ever seen. Festus had somehow managed to sneak in an exorbitant amount of alcohol, despite the restriction on drinking until age seventeen. For many of his classmates, this was their first time truly drinking; not just a sip at the dinner table with their families, but the chance to become truly, outrageously drunk.
Sejanus was tempted. A dark sort of loneliness dogged his steps more often than not, these days. And the older he got, the more it began to be accompanied by a growing sense of helplessness. The more he saw of the Capitol, the more he really understood, the more he felt disgusted by his place here but powerless to do anything to change things. For himself, for the Districts, for the avoxes and the other downtrodden here in the Capitol — anyone.
He watched Strabo grow more and more ruthless as he competed with other arms companies. Strabo said, again and again, that they needed to be if they were going to survive here. “Protecting our family requires sacrifice,” he would say wearily over dinner. “We have chosen our place here, Sejanus, and now we need to fight to keep it.” But Sejanus had seen the reports on his desk that Strabo tried to hide. He had seen the number of workers who had died to build the railway to the new munitions depot in District Two. He had seen the increasing rates of lung scarring by silicosis in the quartz mine Strabo had recently acquired to expand the business into the mining sector.
Strabo said that he had protected more lives than many of his peers in the Capitol would have done, and this might even be true. But a death was a death, and Strabo seemed to accept without question the necessity of violence to maintain their wealth. And so Sejanus wondered — was he doomed to become his father? When he inherited the family empire, after all of Strabo’s careful training, would he be drawn to make the same choices? Had there been something in his father all along, or was it power that corrupts?
So the chance to forget all of that and feel something new, even if only for a night, was very, very tempting. But so far, he was still nursing his first cup of posca.
Dark thoughts hadn’t been the only thing on his mind, lately. And he was wary that if he threw his wits to the wind then he would try to make a very, very big mistake.
“Hey, Sejanus! What are you doing, moping in that corner?”
In the dim, strobing lights and the colourful, bejewelled domino masks that all the guests wore, it took Sejanus a second to recognise Festus himself, in a sequined tuxedo and a glimmering pin that proclaimed ‘birthday boy!’ in multicoloured rhinestones.
“Taking in the scenery,” said Sejanus easily, taking a sip of his posca. “Why, do you have any better plans?”
“Dude, I did not get you an invitation to this party so could ‘take in the scenery’,” said Festus, using exaggerated air quotes. “Go dance around! Get wasted! Go make out with someone on the dance floor! I know you’re not Mr Popular or whatever, but the world is yours for the taking.”
Sejanus leaned forward to place a hand on Festus’ arm. “Why,” he asked, making his voice low and adding a flirtatious edge. “Are you offering?”
He knew the other boy would take it as a joke. But some part of him hoped… Festus was not the person in this room he had eyes for, but he was handsome enough and was one of the few people in this room Sejanus knew well who had never mocked him for being District born. There was a glimmer of attraction there that Sejanus could see crystallising if Festus took him up on the offer.
But Festus simply laughed and started walking back towards the dance floor. “Yeah, right,” he said cheerfully, and pointed a finger at Sejanus as he said, “Go get yourself a girl, Sejanus!”
He quickly disappeared into the whirling crowd.
“Sure, I’ll get right on it,” said Sejanus, sarcastically and quietly, even though Festus was already out of range to hear him.
He could give it a proper try, he knew. Dancing around, flirting, seeing if it turned into anything more… If a party wasn’t the perfect place for cultivating the mixing of teenage hormones, where was? He could have his first kiss right here, under the neon lights.
But of course, most of the boys here would be looking to kiss a girl. And out of the ones who were more like him… well, there was always a certain discomfort that came with being the outsider. No one would want to make that worse by being seen as queer and making out with the district kid.
So watching was… fine. It was fine, for now.
And it wasn’t like there wasn’t a good view.
Sejanus lost him, for a moment, in the spin of people and lights. The masks certainly didn’t help; they turned everyone here into strange creatures. Some new, mutated version of themselves. Sejanus couldn’t recognise some of his classmates, cloaked as they were in coloured light and dense shadow.
He recognised Coriolanus, though. He thought he would recognise him anywhere.
He hadn’t always been head over heels for Coriolanus, since that moment of kindness in science class. His attraction came and went in waves. He’d think that he had finally gotten over him, that he could finally see Coriolanus as nothing more than a friend. That was all they could ever be, he realised, so why torture himself with longing?
He’d never seen any indication that Coriolanus felt the same way. He’d never even seen anything to suggest that Coriolanus liked boys. He was determined not to ruin one of the only good things in his life on a chance that could only end badly.
And then something would happen that fanned the flames of his desire into an inferno. Stone crushed by pressure into a new form that was that much stronger and harder to break. This party was one of those times.
When he’d first glimpsed Coriolanus among the glitter and the lights, he knew he was done for. He was gorgeous — dancing with wild abandon, graceful but fierce, dyed amethyst purple or jade green or a mesmerising rainbow of colour like an opal by the ever changing lights. The mask added just the right amount of mystery and charm. He wore a simple suit in black with accents of gold, and somehow it worked for him better than the flashy sequins and riots of colour worn by most of their classmates. In their bling and finery, Sejanus saw the outfit almost more than the person. In the suit, Sejanus could not help but see Coriolanus.
He could not, in fact, help but to see nothing but him.
Coriolanus danced between different people, never lingering much. Eyes always looking to the next thing. Wanting to make the absolute most of this party, Sejanus had overheard him saying.
There he was again. Looking over the room with all the authority of a bird surveying the skies. Over the crowd, over the table of drinks, then a little to the right and — oh. Oh, he was looking at Sejanus, now.
Sejanus felt the spark of their locked gaze over the room. As immovable as the columns that held up the ceiling. Every time Coriolanus looked at him, he always looked away — no need to risk the secret, but now, now…
It might have been the posca or the wanting that coursed through his veins, but Sejanus looked back.
The moment stretched on for an age, and then Coriolanus was gone, lost to the crowd and the shadows.
Sejanus took a moment to take a deep breath and collect himself. That was stupid, he told himself firmly. What did he expect, for Coriolanus to see him staring and then… come over? See everything Sejanus wanted written on his face and waltz over to kiss him — to do more — right then and there?
Avoid him for the next fortnight, more like, if he realised what Sejanus was thinking. And that was if he was lucky.
Maybe he should go. Clearly, keeping the drinking to a minimum wasn’t enough to keep Sejanus from making bad decisions. He downed the last of his posca and had just put the little paper cup in the bin when he felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder.
Coriolanus. He turned and saw Coriolanus, resting his hand on Sejanus’ shoulder with a bright gleam in his eye.
“Hey there, stranger,” said Sejanus, hoping for dear life that Coriolanus couldn’t feel the heartbeat racing in his chest. Did he sound alright? Maybe a little breathless, but he could blame that on the alcohol, couldn’t he, not nerves?
“What are you doing here, all by yourself?” asked Coriolanus, tilting his head to the side with a grin. So similar to what Festus had said, but with Coriolanus it seemed different. He was far drunker than Festus had been, so there was that — he slurred a little at the end of some of his words, and he was swaying lightly on his feet.
But it was also the way he pressed into Sejanus’ space. Not just his hand, but his body pulled in towards Sejanus’ as if by gravity. Sejanus’ throat went dry.
“Thinking of leaving, actually,” said Sejanus honestly. Getting out of here before he messed up this friendship; wasn’t that what he was supposed to be doing? “Though Festus just came over and gave me a lecture about how I should be dancing and making out with people, so that territory’s already covered in case that was your plan…”
“Mmm. Maybe Festus is right, and you should be,” said Coriolanus. He tightened his hold, ever so slightly, on Sejanus’ shoulder.
Are you offering? The words were on the tip of Sejanus’ tongue. But he could not bring himself to say them, even as a joke.
Coriolanus’ eyes were so, so blue. Iridescent in the lights.
“How much have you had to drink?” asked Sejanus. Deflecting. His voice was quieter than he’d meant.
Coriolanus leaned in closer and whispered, “Just the right amount.”
He slid his hand over Sejanus’ shoulder. Down the length of his arm; over the pulse point of his wrist. When their fingers were entwined he stepped back, held up Sejanus’ hand and said, “Sejanus? You should dance with me.”
Sejanus went with him. He would have done anything Coriolanus had asked.
Coriolanus led them to a corner of the space just at the edge of the extent of the lights. They were two creatures in shadow; he could barely see Coriolanus except for a glint here and there as a stray beam of gold or red glanced off his hair or the lapels of his suit.
In the dark, and in the masks, they could have been anyone. Anyone at all. Coriolanus took his other hand in the dark and said, “Well? Show me what you’ve got.”
They danced so closely together that Sejanus could not help his head from spinning. Clothes brushed together — bare skin grazed on skin — Coriolanus kept on reaching out to touch his hand, his shoulder, his waist —
Coriolanus rocked his hips and Sejanus felt their bodies touch. Sejanus was light-headed. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d thought. Or maybe what was having this effect on him was Coriolanus —
The next song was slower, and Coriolanus’ gaze was fixed on Sejanus. Sejanus felt the coloured light brush over his own face. Right over his eyes. He wondered wildly if it had half the crystallising effect on his face that it had on Coriolanus’.
There was an imperceptible shift in Coriolanus’ expression. The same look he always had when he’d decided on a goal and would let nothing get in his way.
“Pretty,” Coriolanus teased, tracing a finger over Sejanus’ cheekbone. It was teasing. He had to be teasing. He settled his other hand on Sejanus’ waist — pulled their bodies flush together —
It didn’t mean anything. Sejanus knew that, it couldn’t. Coriolanus had seen him looking — he couldn’t want Sejanus himself, he just wanted someone who wanted him — and he was drunk, Sejanus didn’t even know if he’d remember this the next morning —
It didn’t matter. Coriolanus tilted Sejanus’ chin and guided him into a kiss, and Sejanus had never needed anything more in his life than to kiss him back.
Coriolanus tasted of blackberries from the flavoured posca. He was firm as he tilted Sejanus’ head slightly back. Sejanus had to find something to do with his hands — he rested one tentatively by the collar of Coriolanus’ shirt, and Coriolanus moaned into his mouth as his fingers brushed collarbone —
It was sloppy. Sejanus was inexperienced and Coriolanus was drunk — as they parted for air and surged back together again they almost missed each other’s lips.
But it was perfect. Sejanus almost cried out as Coriolanus bit into his lower lip. Coriolanus whispered, “Too much?” with a gleam in his eye like a dare, and Sejanus shook his head and said,
“Don’t. Please don’t stop, don’t you dare.”
Coriolanus didn’t stop. He grinned and took Sejanus’ lips between his teeth — took the top button of Sejanus’ shirt between his fingers so he could undo it and put his lips on Sejanus’ neck —
Bury me, thought Sejanus. Make the walls of this place the earth around his grave. If he died here he would die happy. Coriolanus could taint the kiss with all the poisons in the world and Sejanus would thank him.
They danced together for the rest of the night — if you could call it dancing.
The next morning they ran into each other at the gates of the Academy. Coriolanus gave Sejanus a wave as they fell into step.
“Wild party last night,” said Sejanus lightly. He had to know — if Coriolanus really remembered anything —
“You could call it that,” said Coriolanus with a groan. “My head is absolutely killing me, I can’t remember a thing. Remind me, will you, to never drink that much posca again?”
“Done deal,” said Sejanus. He let the disappointment glance off him like fallen snow. He was prepared for it. And, besides — he was glowing so much that he didn’t think anything could ruin that night.
“You know,” he said, eying the way Coriolanus winced at the bright sunlight that slipped through the cloud cover. “There’s probably still time before class to grab a coffee together, to help with the hangover? There’s a new place down the street that opened last month. They do great pastries, too.”
“Can’t, sorry,” said Coriolanus apologetically. “I was so out of it this morning I left my wallet at home, can you believe it? Keys, too. Can’t get back inside to fetch it until Tigris comes home from work.”
“Oh, it can be my treat,” Sejanus offered. “Unless you’re already full from home—“
“Hey, I’ll never be too full for free food,” Coriolanus joked. “If you mean it, lead the way. I can pay you back tomorrow?”
“Nah, I told you it's my treat, didn’t I? It’s the least I can do for you, really.”
Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at the comment but didn’t argue as they turned back from the gates to walk down the nearby street.
The sunlight streamed onto their shoulders like gold. It really was the least he could do, thought Sejanus, after a night like that… Every touch had turned him to precious metals. Even if Coriolanus didn’t remember it, Sejanus wanted a way to say thank you.
Besides… It was an excuse to spend more time together. And if a coffee, a pastry and a wounded heart were the price he had to pay for Coriolanus’ company, he would pay it gladly.
—
Marcus’ body was not hung from the beams, as it had been when Sejanus had stormed out from Heavensbee Hall. When he stepped out from behind the makeshift barricade and into the Arena, he thought at first that he could see no body at all; then his eyes adjusted to the weak moonlight and he saw a heap on the floor, glinting red where the light shone the brightest.
The body was awful. So bloody that he barely looked like a person, let alone like the boy Sejanus had known in District Two. Seeing it on the cameras had been bad enough; now, standing before what had once been Marcus, Sejanus felt a new wave of anger and despair come to swallow him whole.
The body was also, unmistakably, now a corpse. There was a new wound in his neck and a gathering of flies that dispersed as Sejanus knelt by his side. Another tribute must have killed him before Sejanus had arrived. Lamina, maybe; she was the one sleeping at the top of the structure that Marcus had once hung from.
Sejanus hoped he would have the chance to thank her, before he died. He had come to the Arena knowing that he might have to strike the killing blow, but he had not really known if he had it in him to be the one to kill Marcus, even as a mercy.
But Lamina, or another tribute, had, and he felt touched beyond words or thanks for the bloody act of kindness. That Marcus had someone there for him in the end. However brutal, however hard to bear. A stranger had shown him mercy in the darkest time of their life.
Sejanus might have cried with the weight of it, if he hadn’t spent all his tears hours ago. Now, he mostly felt numbed by greif, like his body was turning to stone.
He rolled Marcus onto his back. Started to arrange his limbs like Sejanus had seen in funerals — lying on his back, with his hands folded over his heart — but Marcus would not cooperate. His limbs as stiffened as if they had crystallised in place. Sejanus felt as if pushing too far would cause the limbs to snap. Yet another injury that Marcus had never deserved; where would it end?
He found that perhaps he had not finished his tears after all. He could not manage even this simple thing to give Marcus some dignity in death.
He had his breadcrumbs, though. He opened the package he’d brought, took the breadcrumbs in one hand; stood to scatter them over Marcus and whisper the burial rites.
All the while he could not help but picture Marcus as a child. Organising a game of hide and seek in the caves. Laughing at a classmate’s joke. Bringing Sejanus a cup of snow for a bruised finger.
It should have been Sejanus, brought to die in the Capitol. It should have been him.
He kneeled by Marcus’ body again when he was done. What else was there to do? He half wanted to go and pick a fight with a tribute — his death would be much quicker, that way.
But this was where the camera was. He needed to make his death matter.
When he heard footsteps he thought it was a tribute, at first. Then he heard the voice whisper out in the dark.
“Sejanus? It’s me.”
It was Coriolanus. Every time, it was him.
Sejanus couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. “You really can’t stop rescuing me, can you?”
“Can’t do it,” said Coriolanus. His voice was warm; he joined in with Sejanus’ laugh under his breath.
“They sent you to fish me out?” asked Sejanus. “What madness.” He had imagined Peacekeepers, maybe, here to drag him out by force. But to send another boy… and Coriolanus, no less?
He got to his feet. Stared over Marcus again; he could not help but to wonder what Coriolanus thought of the whole thing. “Did you ever see a dead body?”
“A lot. During the war,” said Coriolanus. He stepped so close to Sejanus that the two boys nearly touched. Sejanus trapped down on the instinct to take his hand. To comfort himself or Coriolanus; he wasn’t sure. What sort of memories must this be bringing up for him? Sejanus was reminded, again, of just how sheltered he himself had been during the war and after it.
“I haven’t so much. Not this close. At funerals, I guess. And at the zoo the other night, only those girls hadn’t been dead long enough to stiffen up.” It was one thing to know, intellectually, that the muscles of a dead body would stiffen and fuse after death. It was another to feel Marcus resist his touch in the way a living body never could.
It was one thing to go to a funeral; it was another to see a dead body laid out where it had died. He wondered what sort of final rites the tributes would be given after the Games, if any. Would Sejanus himself be among them, or would Strabo use his bottomless wallet to get Sejanus special treatment yet again? Surely the latter, he thought darkly.
“I don’t know if I’d rather be burned or buried,” he confessed. “Not that it matters, really.”
“Well, you don’t have to decide now,” said Coriolanus.
“Oh, it won’t be up to me,” said Sejanus. “I don’t know what’s taking the tributes so long to find me. I must have been in here a while.”
He looked at Coriolanus for the first time. Coriolanus met his gaze, but his eyes kept flickering off to scan the Arena, and there was a tenseness in his body like he was ready to run. His breaths were coming quicker, and in his eyes Sejanus saw the panic of a hunted animal.
He was terrified, Sejanus realised. Coriolanus was terrified, and yet he stayed here for him.
“You should go, you know,” said Sejanus. He could not save the tributes, but he wanted Coriolanus to live.
“I’d like to,” said Coriolanus, with that measured weight to his words that always meant he was considering very carefully what to say to bring a situation to his advantage. “I really would. Only there’s the matter of your ma. She’s waiting out front. Pretty upset. I promised I’d bring you to her.”
It was nearly the right thing to say. Sejanus felt tears pricking at his eyes. “Poor Ma. Poor old Ma. She never wanted any of this, you know. Not the money, not the move, not the fancy clothes or the driver. She just wanted to stay in Two. But my father…” But his father. Where does he even begin, with his father. “Bet he isn’t here, is he? No, he’ll keep his distance until this is settled. Then let the buying begin!”
“Buying what?” asked Coriolanus. Sejanus nearly laughed again.
“Buying everything! He bought our way here, bought my schooling, bought my mentorship, and he goes nuts when he can’t buy me.” Sejanus had qualified for the mentor program on his own, but he felt certain that Strabo had paid to have him given Marcus. If only he had known how that would backfire. “He’ll buy you if you let him. Or at least compensate you for trying to help me.”
“You’re my friend,” said Coriolanus. Reassuringly. Hopefully. “He doesn’t need to pay me to help you.”
Despite it all, Sejanus felt warmth bloom in his chest. He laid a hand on his shoulder — he couldn’t help it, he had to touch him one last time — and said, “You’re the only reason I’ve lasted this long, Coriolanus. I need to stop causing you trouble.”
Coriolanus shook his head and answered, “I didn’t realise how bad this was for you. I should have traded tributes when you asked.”
Even someone as observant as Coriolanus must miss things sometimes, Sejanus thought ruefully. Aloud, he only said, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does, really.”
“Of course it matters,” Coriolanus insisted. He leaned in closer to Sejanus and begged, “Come out with me.”
“No,” said Sejanus. Even Coriolanus would not sway him. His mind was made up. “There’s no point. There’s nothing left to do but die.”
“That’s it?” Coriolanus pressed. “That’s your only choice?”
“It’s the only way I might possibly be able to make a statement.” He needed Coriolanus to understand this. “Let the world see me die in protest. Even if I’m not truly Capitol, I’m not district either. Like Lucy Gray, but without the talent.”
“Do you really think they’ll show this?” Coriolanus asked bluntly. “They’ll quietly remove your body and say you died of the flu.“ There was something dark to his tone. “They’ve all but blacked out the screens now.”
Sejanus felt his heart fall. Idiot. How had he not thought of that? “They won’t show it?”
“Not in a million years. You’ll be dead for nothing, and you’ll have wasted your chance to make things better.”
“What chance?” asked Sejanus.
“You have money,” said Coriolanus. Sejanus opened his mouth to protest but Coriolanus said, “Maybe not now, but one day you’ll have a fortune. Money has a lot of uses. Look how it changed your world. Maybe you could make changes, too. Good ones. Maybe if you don’t, a lot more people will suffer.”
“What makes you think I could do that?” asked Sejanus. Did Coriolanus really believe it?
“You’re the only one who had the guts to stand up to Dr Gaul,” Coriolanus pointed out.
It was true, thought Sejanus. For everything he hadn’t been able to do, at least he had done that. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for that.”
Coriolanus put a hand on Sejanus’ arm. Even here, in the Arena, Sejanus felt his heartbeat speed up. “We’re being surrounded. I’m going. Come with me. Please,” Coriolanus begged. “What do you want to do, fight the tributes or fight for them? Don’t give Dr Gaul the satisfaction of beating you. Don’t give up.”
Sejanus stared down at Marcus for a long moment. Coriolanus believed in him. He really did. If he was right, and Sejanus really could change things if he lived… “You’re right,” said Sejanus slowly. “If I believe what I say… It's my responsibility to take her down. To end this whole atrocity somehow.” He didn’t know how. He didn’t know if it was possible. But with Coriolanus by his side… Maybe he had a chance.
He looked around the Arena with fresh eyes. Coriolanus had said they were being surrounded. They had to get out of here, quickly, before he put Coriolanus in any more danger. Before he put himself in any more danger, Sejanus realised with a strange pang. But he could not leave with just the two of them. “I won’t leave Marcus.”
Coriolanus didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get his feet.” And Sejanus realised, with a stronger rush of feeling toward Coriolanus than he had ever felt in his life, that he loved him.
The broken roof of the Arena stretched above their heads. Once, back when Sejanus had been in Two, he had been caught in the bombing of one of Strabo’s aircraft hangers, built into the rock of the mountain. The roof had caved in and left a gaping wound in the ceiling that sky spilled through like blood. It had been the first and only time during the war that Sejanus’ life had rested on a knife’s edge.
He had laid there, broken rubble on his chest and blood streaming from a cut on his scalp, and thought: This is it. I’m done for. This place would be his grave.
He had thought the same thing when he had entered the broken Arena with the intention to lay down his life. But Coriolanus — always, always it was Coriolanus — had come for him to dig him out from the rubble.
Maybe one day he would be six feet under, when he breathed his last. Maybe pressure would compress his bones to limestone. His body folded resolutely into the earth.
But today there was blood in his veins, a body in his arms he needed to take care of, and a friend by his side to help guide him back home.
—
His execution was scheduled for mid next afternoon. They told him to get some sleep, in the meantime, as if this was something that mattered.
It did not. That was a good thing, Sejanus supposed darkly, because he had not managed to close his eyes since they had told him the time when his life would end.
What mattered was feeling the beat of his heart, pattering beneath the shirt on his chest. What mattered was the feeling of salt water on his cheeks and the ache in his back from lying too long on the stiff, thin mattress. These were signs his body was still alive. That he still existed in this world in some way, however small.
What might have mattered is the stack of paper and a single pencil they had left on his tiny bedside table. He was allowed to write a final message to someone, if he liked; they would do their best to try to deliver it to its recipient.
“Thought we’ll check it first, of course, to make sure you’re not sneaking messages to more rebel scum like yourself,” had said the Peacekeeper who had chucked the pages messily onto the floor as he’d been shoved into his cell.
Sejanus kept staring at the stack of paper. Picking up the pencil and then putting it back down again; tapping the stack on the table to neaten the edges and then messing it up again. He’d crumpled one page in frustration and thrown it at the wall. It still lay on the floor, half inside a thin bar of moonlight from his single, narrow window.
What was there to say? How could you compress all the words of a lifetime into one letter?
Ma already knew everything he had to tell her, anyway. She had helped him pack all his things, when he had been readying himself to leave for Twelve. They’d ended up crying on Sejanus’ bed together for hours, talking in the gaps when they found themselves too tired for tears.
They’d talked — and cried — about everything. The twenty years that would pass without them ever seeing each other. Their years in the Capitol. He thought she might have been also crying with a bittersweet happiness, even, that he would be able to escape the place that was supposed to be their salvation.
He’d said as much to her. That he was terribly, impossibly sad to be leaving her, but that leaving the Capitol might be what saved him. That he wanted her to think of him happy in Twelve, because there was every chance that he would be, with his best friend by his side and a new world ahead of him.
And she had smiled, but she’d told him to be careful. There might be cruller things in Twelve than he would ever expect, she’d said.
Sejanus had protested — it wouldn’t be perfect, he knew that, but anything would be better than the Capitol. He could make a real difference there. Become a medic, rather than the heir to a munitions empire.
And she had said, “I know. My dearest, I know you’ll try your best, and I’m so, so proud of you. But you will still be under the Capitol’s rule.”
Then she had taken his hand, and grasped it so tightly that he had not been sure that she would ever let go. And she had told him of a secret that she shouldn’t know. Knowledge Strabo had sworn on the pain of death to take to his grave, that she had pieced together from hidden documents and things he’d muttered in his dreams.
She said that District Thirteen had not been destroyed at the end of the war. She could not guarantee what state they were in, but they were alive, and they were due north of Twelve.
And she had said, “If you need to, Sejanus — if staying in Panem is going to be the death of you — then I want you to run.”
I tried, Ma, thought Sejanus. He’d really, really tried.
And as for Strabo, he already knew what Sejanus would say to him, too. There was nothing Sejanus could write that he hadn’t said in heated conversations over the dinner table.
That left Coriolanus. And Sejanus had no idea where to start putting words together for him.
Tap, tap, tap. There was a knock on the door. Quieter than the usual, like someone was trying not to be heard. Sejanus thought wildly of the rebels, but — no, that couldn’t be right. There was no one left to come for him.
Tap, tap, tap. It occurred to Sejanus that whoever it was might be waiting for him to let them in.
“Come in?” he said. His voice came out hoarse.
The door squeaked open. There was a man on the other side, about Sejanus’ age, dressed in a Peacekeeper uniform. Sejanus stood up from his bed. He had no clue what to make of this — hadn’t they said that he wouldn’t see another soul until they took him to his execution?
The Peacekeeper nodded at him. He looked around the cell. Appeared to take in the untouched stack of paper. And he said, “A bit hard to write, isn’t it, cooped up in here like this? Some fresh air might do you good.” And then he smiled, of all things, creating little dimples in his cheeks.
“Bit hard to get fresh air, under the circumstances,” said Sejanus.
The Peacekeeper opened the door wider. “Well, yes,” he said. “But prisoners are entitled to an hour's worth of time in the courtyard each week… And I don’t think you’ve had yours yet.”
He winked and said, “It’s not really supposed to be at two in the morning, but… I won’t tell if you won’t?”
The smell of fresh earth enveloped them both as they stepped into the tiny courtyard by the cells. Three walls were plain brick of the cell block, but the fourth was a wrought iron fence topped with barbed wire. Sejanus thought he could make out the forest through the gaps. In the dark the trees looked almost like stalagmites, rising up from the caves of his childhood.
Sejanus stared at the Peacekeeper as he locked the door behind them and stood surveying the scene. Now that he looked, Sejanus thought he recognised him — maybe as someone he’d seen around base? He had a distinctive cast of freckles over his warm, brown skin, and a crescent shaped scar on his upper lip.
“We’ve met before, right?” asked Sejanus. “I don’t think I know your name, but you look familiar.” Memories started to emerge from the back of his mind. “You covered for one of the new recruits when she dropped her rifle on the way back from Arlo’s execution, didn’t you?”
The Peacekeeper nodded. “That was me. Everyone calls me Terrazzo, around here — for the freckles, you know,” he said, gesturing to his face. Sejanus could see the similarity between his skin and the speckled stone. “And because I’m from District Two.”
“You’re from Two?” Sejanus’ heart leapt and twisted in his chest. “How has it been, since —“
“Since you left?” asked Terrazzo. At Sejanus’ look of surprise he said, “I remember your last name, Sejanus Plinth. It’s been… strange. I think your father’s had more of an impact than even he realises. There’s been a lot of talk about whether our industry’s going to switch to being the military more than mining, behind the scenes. Lots of split opinions about that.”
He gave Sejanus a curious look. “Were you trying to write to him, for your letter? Your father?”
Sejanus laughed darkly. “No, he’s heard everything I have to say to him a long time ago. My Ma, maybe,” he said bleakly. “But she knows everything I’d write to her too, I think.”
“Might be worth writing to her anyway,” said Terrazzo softly. “It can help, sometimes, to have something physical to hold onto when someone you love is gone. Especially if it has words they’ve written for you. But, if you don’t mind me asking… Were you thinking of writing one for your friend Gent?”
This was the nickname Coriolanus had earned around base. “You two seem close,” said Terrazzo, watching Sejanus carefully.
“We are,” said Sejanus. “We…” Were they? Sejanus had used to be sure of it. But if Coriolanus had really… “I’d like to write him one. I really would. But something happened that… changed things. When I was arrested.”
“Are you together?” Terrazzo asked bluntly.
“What?” Had they really looked it, around base? Sejanus had no idea where to start unpacking his feelings about that. “No, no, we —“
“It’s alright, if you are,” said Terrazzo. “Sorry, that came off a bit strong. I’m not accusing you, Sejanus. If anything…” He hesitated, then said, “I would understand. If you were.”
The two stared at each other across the courtyard for a long moment. “We weren’t,” said Sejanus, more quietly. “But not for a lack of wanting, on my part.”
He sunk onto the ground against the brick wall of the courtyard. After a moment, Terrazzo sat down lightly beside him.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Sejanus confessed. He had never told anyone the full extent of his feelings towards Coriolanus. He thought Ma might have guessed it, but he had never gone as far as to say the words. Now they were an avalanche that spilled from his tongue.
“We were never that close, growing up. But he was decent to me — he never mocked me like the other kids, for being district. And then… sometimes, he was kind. There were so many times in my life when he was just… there, right when I needed him.”
Sejanus felt his eyes sting as he said, “And then the last few months… I thought everything was changing. We were getting closer — he saved my life, he called me like his brother —“ He almost laughed at the irony of that.
“I loved him,” said Sejanus. “And I know it wasn’t the way I felt for him, but I thought he loved me too. He’s — he’s smart, and he’s thoughtful, and he makes you feel so special when he pays attention to you… And he has this way of looking at the world like nothing is impossible. Like when he sets his sights on something, there’s nothing in the world that could stop him. It makes you feel like you could do anything, too.”
Terrazzo let the silence sit for a while. The two of them sat side by side in the dark, watching the moonlight flicker occasionally through the shadows. Then Terrazzo said, “And also… he’s hot, right?”
Sejanus gave a startled laugh before he could stop himself. Terrazzo grinned and elbowed him in the side. “I do have eyes, Sejanus.”
“I mean…” Sejanus felt his cheeks heating up — his whole body, really — but he was grinning too.
“So what happened, then?” asked Terrazzo, once the two had settled down. “Is he straight? Just not interested?”
“I don’t think I ever figured that out,” Sejanus confessed. “I always had thought he didn’t like boys at all, but then he kissed me at a party —“ Terrazzo wolf whistled — “But he didn’t remember it afterwards, so he said, and he never tried anything again. And I never wanted to mess up what we had, so I never pushed.
“Anyway,” said Sejanus, “He has someone else, now. And I’m happy for him, really, but…”
“But?” asked Terrazzo, when the silence had stretched on long enough.
Sejanus swallowed. “But I think he might have turned me in.”
Terrazzo’s face fell. “Oh, Sejanus. Sejanus, I’m so sorry. Do you know for sure?”
“No,” said Sejanus quietly. “It could have been Spruce when he was captured, maybe, confessing under duress. Or I wasn’t as careful as I thought I was, somewhere along the way. It could have been anyone. But Coryo was the only one I told that I was planning to run.”
He did not say the next part out loud. But he had been wondering, over and over, why Coriolanus himself was not headed for the gallows. If it had been Spruce who had condemned him, then why only him? Coriolanus had been the one to kill Mayfair. How would the Peacekeepers know about the attempted breakout but not the death that had sprung from it?
He had been overjoyed, at first, to find out that Coriolanus had been spared. His first night in his cell, the thought that Coriolanus would survive had been a light in one of the darkest nights of Sejanus’ life. But then his sleeping mind had processed the information at hand, like the crushing of earth into crystal.
And when he had woken up to the weak dawn light, he had thought: It would make sense that they did not know what Coriolanus had done, if Coriolanus had been the one to turn him in.
The part of him that wanted to spill truth from his lips like a rockfall wanted to tell Terrazzo this, too. But he did not know the man, and so he didn’t know if confessing Coriolanus’ murder would prompt Terrazzo to send Coriolanus to hang.
Despite everything he may have done, Sejanus did not want Coriolanus dead.
Aloud, he said miserably, “I don’t know what’s real or what’s not, anymore. I keep thinking — if he could do that, if he could send me to die —“
Sejanus cut off short. He was going to die. The crush of panic made him want to cry or scream or both.
“If — if he could send me to die,” said Sejanus, more shakily. “Then I don’t know what else he could do. I keep thinking back to every moment I’ve had with him, and thinking — did he really mean it? Or was I just being — naive, and self-indulgent, and — and —“
He couldn’t keep talking. His throat was closing up with the weight of it all. In the classroom, when they had first really talked — had Coriolanus been serious, when he said he wanted to partner for the grade? He had already known, really, that the kiss at Festus’ party surely couldn’t have been about Sejanus at all — but what had been going through Coriolanus’ mind when he’d done it? Had he been thinking about how easy Sejanus was, how desperate —
And then there was the Arena. He had always known that Coriolanus had been sent by Gaul in to fish him out. But he had thought Coriolanus was there because he wanted to be. Because he believed in Sejanus, and he wanted him to live.
“Hey,” said Terrazzo, reaching over to gently touch his shoulder. “I certainly don’t think you’re being self-indulgent to believe that someone cares for you. I think I’d care for you a lot, if I was your guy. And if he was faking it? That’s on him, not on you. And, besides… Personally,” he said softly, “I don’t think that if those actions didn’t mean anything to him, they didn’t mean anything at all.”
Terrazzo’s Adam's apple bobbed in place as he paused and seemed to consider his words. “Do you remember Marcus, from your school year back in Two?”
Sejanus’ head shot up. “Yes,” he said, not sure what other words could explain what had happened between him and Marcus. Where was this going?
“He and I dated, a few years ago,” said Terrazzo. Sejanus could not stop himself from gasping. “And this year, in the Games… I’m not sure if you watched any of it, but…”
“I know,” said Sejanus softly. “I saw what happened to him.”
Terrazzo nodded unhappily. “I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to. And I was already here, our access to television on base is terrible. But from what his family wrote to me… well, you said you saw. Him strung up. The tribute from Seven — Lamina? Her cutting him down. Killing him.”
He stared at his hands. “I still don’t know why she did it. Mercy, or just to take out a competitor? But I think… it would have mattered to Marcus. A moment of mercy in a time like that. And so I’ve decided that it matters to me. No matter what her reason was.” He looked back at Sejanus and said, “I know it’s not fair, to think what your guy might have done to you. But he doesn’t get to decide what his actions mean to you. You do.”
The two were silent, for a while. They leaned together, slowly, so that their shoulders brushed. Sejanus felt and thought so much that he thought he would break apart. Was Terrazzo right, that Sejanus could simply… decide that it mattered, what Coriolanus had done for him? And then there was the revelation about Marcus…
Then Terrazzo’s shoulders started shaking. “Fuck — I’m sorry, Sejanus, ignore me —“
Sejanus shook his head and pulled Terrazzo up against his side, and Terrazzo said, “I just wish we’d gotten Marcus’ body back. That’s all. That way we could at least give him the rites, before he went on his journey.”
“Oh,” said Sejanus. “Terrazzo — I did. I snuck into the Arena to see him, after he’d died.”
Terrazzo’s head snapped up. Then he crushed Sejanus into a hug. He felt as strong and as brittle as stone. “Thank you,” he said into Sejanus’ chest. Sejanus felt tears seeping into his shirt. “Thank you, Sejanus —“
He separated so that he could look Sejanus in the eye, and said, “I’ll perform the rites for you. I’ll get myself in the group that buries you, it’s always a group of Peacekeepers that do.” Sejanus felt his eyes sting with a fury and knew he was moments away from breaking down. And Terrazzo said, “And, if you want… I can try to get Coriolanus in that group, too.”
Sejanus really did break down, then. He sobbed into Terrazzo’s shoulder and clung to him like the earth. And he nodded, between the tears and the gasps, and said, “Please. Please, I want you both there.”
And he did. He thought of acts of mercy — Terrazzo knocking on his door, Lamina with Marcus, himself with the breadcrumbs in the Arena — and he thought, this matters. Maybe this was all that ever did. And he thought of every act he’d seen by Coriolanus.
He did not know if he could love him, if his worst suspicions were true. He did not know if he should. If Coriolanus was the person Sejanus feared, then there might be a lot about him that was not kind or merciful. But when Sejanus’ body was lowered into an unmarked grave, he thought his bones would rest easier if Coriolanus was there to take care of them.
He wanted the child who had called to him in science class to wrap him in his burial shroud and fold his hands over his chest. He wanted the boy who had kissed him under the iridescent lights to sprinkle breadcrumbs over his body and speak the burial rites. He wanted the man who had saved him and called him brother to take up the shovel and throw the dirt into his grave. Earth fallen to earth.
Even if these actions had not mattered to Coriolanus, they mattered to him. And so he thought: Bury me, Coryo. If Coriolanus had tied the noose, then he could finish what he’d started.