❝ It annoyed me that I could act like such a carefree child, and it made me want to lash out at the weeds, who knew nothing but to grow taller. I wanted to try to be a good girl.
coriolanus snow x fem!oc
academic rivals to lovers
Time doesn't make it easier. You just turn more and more numb.
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He asked with a glimmer of hope, leaning against the bars that kept them apart, "Do you have more food?" His hands clung tightly to the rusted metal, as if he longed to reach out and touch her hand, but he resisted, aware of the potential consequences.
In the eyes of the Capitol, he was deemed a worthless potential murderer, and if he dared to lay a hand on their beloved Princess, no matter how pure his intentions, he knew he would be instantly gunned down.
Tempest delved into her bag, extracting a delectable assortment of boiled potatoes, summer squash, and baked ham. Reaper's mouth watered uncontrollably as she unveiled an ever-growing array of culinary delights. "I wasn't certain if you would like any of this," Tempest admitted, her voice tinged with timidity. "Hence, I brought a little bit of everything. I trust that's acceptable."
"More than acceptable," he didn't waste any time before devouring the food.
Tempest let out a soft laugh, not because he was hungry, but because of the joy that radiated from his face. Every now and then, she forgets just how young he is until he acts like the child he is supposed to be. "I'm glad," she smiles charmingly.
Reaper's words made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion as he mentioned, "I thought about it," but then he clarified, "the interview."
"Oh!" Tempest says in realization. "And what decision have you made?"
Reaper leaned back, his expression almost thoughtful. "I've decided that the interview is a waste of time," he said, his voice low and measured.
Tempest's brows furrowed again, this time in concern. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Reaper looked away for a moment before meeting Tempest's gaze again. "'Ion think I'm ready for that kind of attention," he said. "Spent my whole life knowing the same things. Farming, climbing trees, family. I've always kept that close to me. 'Ion want to have to share it, not with anyone, 'specially not the Capitol."
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. Tempest couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that Reaper wouldn't be sharing his story with the world, but she knew that his decision was more important than anything else.
Tempest nodded, understanding where Reaper was coming from. She knew that he had been through a lot in his life, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable or unsafe. "I get it," she said.
"I'm sorry—-"
Tempest quickly interrupts, her smile widening as she shakes her head gently. "No need for apologies," she assures. "I thought I would have been upset if you declined the interview. Deep down, I may have had a selfish thought that it would reflect poorly on my mentoring abilities, but that's not the case at all. I don't feel any anger, sadness, or disappointment. Sharing your story with the world isn't necessary to make a difference. You've already made a significant impact on my life, and I'm certain you've touched the lives of others as well."
"Thank you, Tem," he said, just above a whisper. "Think I'd go insane without you here."
Despite the tears welling up in her eyes, she musters a smile as she looks at him. In that moment, she truly sees him for who he is - not just a tribute or a boy from District Eleven, but as Reaper. "Don't make me go all mushy now," she jokes. "It's unlike me."
"I think it's exactly like you," he disagrees.
It seems like she finds the statement quite amusing. Tempest is confident that anyone else would have found it equally hilarious. Her class, Coriolanus Snow, whom she had criticized earlier, would have definitely burst into laughter if he had heard what Reaper said.
The space between them is filled with a moment of mutual respect. It is not uncomfortable or unfamiliar, but rather their customary manner. Out of nowhere, Tempest clears her throat, capturing Reaper's undivided attention. Even if a multitude of stars were shimmering above, he would not have been able to disregard her.
"I have a question," she sounds small, not like herself. "But I want you to answer me honestly."
"What?"
"Coriolanus said, that Dill said that——" she shakes her head to cut herself off. "Did you kill a peace keeper?"
Reaper appears uneasy, as though he fears Tempest's judgment. He averts his gaze from her, hoping to evade any expression of disgust when he reveals the truth. "Yes," he whispers.
As he gazes at Tempest, he realizes that she doesn't seem as uncomfortable as he had anticipated. Perhaps hurt, but not repulsed. "Why?" she inquires.
"My mother has a chair," he starts. "It was under the yellow drapes, across our front picture window. It apparently was her 'ma's, and she sat in it everyday."
Tempest is drawn to his words.
"She'd do her cross stitching there, day in and day out. She's sit there, always smiling. She wanted to appear happy, I think. And she'd tell me: Reaper! Be happy!."
A careful hand reaches through the bars, clasping the boys in her own.
"She was right, it's better to be happy if you can be. But my 'pa beat her two or three times a week. All because he couldn't defeat what was attacking him."
She gently squeezed his hand.
"My mother, my poor mother, such a good woman. Wanting to be happy. Telling me to be happy. Reaper, smile! Why don't you smile?"
He carefully squeezed her hand back.
"And then, she'd smile, to show me how. And it was always the saddest smile I'd ever seen."
He is close to tears, but in vain does not allow one to fall.
"One day, 'pa got home. The cat was going crazy. Never liked him. And he threw it. Across the room. And I watched as 'Ma smiled."
He intakes a shaky breath.
"Life had beaten her down, over and over. I ain't never wanna be like that. Smiling if I ain't happy. Smiling to just smile. So when that peacekeeper started beatin' me, I snapped."
Tempest pulled him as close as she could towards the bar. "You are so brave," she commended, daring to run a hand through his hair. "And I am so sorry."
