His dorm room was utterly quiet.
The only sounds were the wind lightly slapping thin branches against his window, making a pattering cadence, and the clicks of his keyboard as he wrote.
No music, no background TV, no annoying roommates, and therefore…no distractions.
He leaned back in his chair, chewing on a nail.
Then, he ruthlessly deleted half of what he'd written, shaking his head.
It had been barely mediocre; not worth editing at all. Best to start entirely over. If he wanted to impress his professors above his classmates, all of whom were equally impressive in their own right (but none so as impressive as he), Coriolanus would need to write a term paper worthy of a Noble Prize.
He just had his finger on the proper place in his book when he heard the stomping of feet through the dorm halls.
Coriolanus stiffened, trying to ignore it.
Boorish savages, he thought distastefully. Just because one was born in the higher echelons of society did not mean they were graced with elegance or more valued traits like silence, and most of his classmates were born proof of that.
You'd think that people wearing sneakers sold for the average month's rent would wear them with more carefulness, but no, everyone thundered through the halls like a pack of wildebeests.
Coriolanus inhaled sharply.
Soon they'd be gone, and he could return to his work.
He put his head down, squaring his shoulders, and tried to tune them out.
The door of his room opened with a clang.
Coriolanus gripped the spine of his book so hard it was in distress of tearing, refusing to turn around.
"I thought you were going home this weekend," Coriolanus said, staring intensely at his screen.
Sejanus threw his backpack on his bed.
"Dad had a function, last minute." Sejanus said, "Why are you holed up in here?" He asked with a frown.
Or, Coriolanus was sure he was frowning. He hadn't turned around to check.
Sejanus was 'new money', something his father prattled on about constantly, usually in regard to it being worse than someone poor.
"Those without money know their place; the Plinths are masquerading as one of us, trying to grasp something they know nothing of."
His father's tirade rang through his head.
Of course, no one was openly mean to the Plinths, not when they held the biggest fortune of anyone at the Academy, even more money than the Snows.
Not that anyone was supposed to know that, or was ever going to.
Sejanus was worse than a doe-eyed puppy. He'd been assigned as Coriolanus's roommate from first year on, and despite all Snow's attempts to shake his this bother of a human, somehow he always ended up back on the opposite side of Coriolanus's room.
It was nothing short of infuriating.
Snow wasn't raised to be publicly rude; quite the opposite. Snows were raised with decorum, charm, and a certain affable nature that meant it would have been in poor taste to treat Sejanus poorly.
Plus, his father was at the helm of the blasted Plinth Prize, something Coriolanus could not afford to snub.
So, it was only snappish near passive-aggressiveness that Coriolanus could manage with Sejanus, always biting his tongue from something truly toxic.
"English paper. Professor Click's." Coriolanus replied shortly, wanting to waste as little time on Sejanus as he could.
In public, he was Sejanus' best friend, especially in front of teachers. In front of friends, out of the view of Sejanus, he was biting and annoyed. In their dorm, he tried to keep the discussion to a minimum. It helped that the world had pinned Coriolanus as serious and hard-working and let Sejanus know as such, meaning he always had a well-built excuse to keep his head down and quietly work.
"I know that you know Lord of the Flies by heart," Sejanus laughed, "Your dad probably read it to you instead of other bedtime stories."
Coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to admit the truth in that statement, have his childhood be played for the punchline of a joke.
"It's worth an eight of our first quarter grade," Coriolanus reminded, "I certainly could get into any Ivy with my name, but I'd rather have them know me for my brain."
"And it's now due for two weeks," Sejanus whined, "C'mon, man. Now that I'm back, you said we'd hang out soon."
Coriolanus winced hard.
He had promised that, knowing that Sejanus would be gone this week and he'd be gone the next two, hoping that Sejanus would eventually just…forget.
He turned around, spotting the door to their room slightly ajar.
"For god's sake, close that!" He snapped, going to stand. Sejanus blinked.
"Why-,"
His question was halfway uttered when someone else threw the door open, and it seemed the entire senior year class of boys was shoving themselves into Coriolanus's room.
This is why. You give our classmates the misinterpretation we have an 'open door' policy, Coriolanus thought viciously.
"Why are you still in your rouges?" Festus asked, scratching his head, referring to their red academy uniforms.
"What else would I be in?" Coriolanus asked, sizing up his classmates. They were wearing casual outfits, and he spotted Pliny tucking a flask in his jacket pocket.
It was not for his classmates to know that Coriolanus practically lived in his Academy clothes because they were clean and nice and were laundered professionally every week, as compared to his personal items that were tearing at the seams or just mildly discolored.
"Don't tell me you're not coming!" Festus asked, eyes wide, "Jan; knock some sense into him, why don'tcha?"
Faintly, Coriolanus pulled up a memory of his classmates whispering earlier today about some adventure out on the town they were planning.
Something idiotic, no doubt. Not just for the fear of being expelled, but because Coriolanus couldn't possibly imagine what the town just outside their academy had to offer his ilk anyway. It was probably dirty, rundown, and likely full of farm folk.
Why the hell would Coriolanus ever want to spend any time there?
"Coryo, you gotta join!" Sejanus said, "It'll be fun!"
I highly doubt that.
"The paper-,"
The whole group of boys groaned.
"We know you'll get the best score anyway," Felix shook his head, "It's not like you need to spend hours on it."
"Can't help it I'm a scholar," Coriolanus chuckled, "You know my Dad would skin me if I get less than an A." He decided to play it off casually, friendly. Maybe if he threw them a proverbial human-esque bone they'd leave him alone.
"Look," Festus came, slinging an arm around his shoulder, "The earlier you start disappointing the fam, the faster you can do the fun shit."
"My dad's not like yours," Coriolanus said with a hint of bitterness.
"Look, man, it's a thing. The whole Senior 24 are going. You really want to be the only one not there?" Pliny urged.
This made Coriolanus pause.
He narrowed his eyes.
This Senior 24, the 24 best students, was a large deal. Not quite an acceptance to any college of choice, but something that was noticed. And, something that was a…symbiotic relationship. You gave a helping hand to those in the 24 post-Academy, and all others that would come after. Just like he could network with any previous Senior 24s as he made his way in the world. Just a quick text could open back doors most people would only dream of receiving.
Coriolanus didn't want it getting back that he wasn't a team player, unwilling to fully commit to this.
He knew people's academic careers that had been sabotaged for far less.
"Fine," He relented with a deep sigh.
He was already fucking regretting it.
The hoard of goons lingered.
"I need to change," He said, and at once, everyone filed out, leaving him alone with Sejanus.
Coriolanus opened his closet doors, fingers grasping the edge of the wood, inhaling hard. He felt a panic rise within him, but he swallowed it down like bile in his stomach, telling himself that he had no reason to panic.
It could be said that Coriolanus Snow hated surprises, which was wholly true. He liked to plan ahead for every minuscule moment, but mostly, he hated being caught unaware.
If only this little night on the town could be next weekend, he thought as he clenched his jaw tightly, then he'd have time to call Tigris.
His cousin was studying fashion at FIDM in New York, just an overnighted FedEx package away for when he needed to impress, pull out the stops. It was solely because of her that Coriolanus managed to maintain his good graces, and put on the show he was able to. Not only was Tigirs a master seamstress, but she was at the forefront of every fashion moment, and Coriolanus was able to reap the benefits of being the most well-dressed and socially aware of his classmates.
But he had nothing to wear tonight.
His fingers trailed down one of his button-downs. It was fraying at the hem (he'd need to send it to Tigris soon; maybe two more wears out of it) and a pair of black pants. Simple. Elegant. Non-fussy.
He grasped them from his wardrobe and changed in the tiny bathroom. When he came out, he narrowed his eyes at Sejanus, standing there in his tee-shirts, hoodie, and jeans.
He couldn't understand for the life of him why someone with all the money in the fucking world dressed so fucking poor.
Not poor in the way that Gaius Breen wore those hideous Grey Goose sneakers that were made to look like someone fished them out of a dumpster in the projects. No, Sejanus is always dressed in bargain-bin shirts and pants, something so laughably pedestrian that anyone may mistake him for a Make-a-Wish kid hanging around with the big dogs.
But maybe that's what he wanted. It was no secret he wished he was back at his pathetic public school that he'd transferred from, and spat in the name of everything Coriolanus grew up idolizing.
God…if Coriolanus could get his hands on the sort of money Sejanus had…well…
"Ready?" Sejanus asked brightly, not noticing the way Coriolanus's jaw clicked tight at his appearance.
Coriolanus checked his hair in the mirror, but in reality, he was reminding himself how foolish it was he hadn't gone to the caf to eat earlier, and now he'd have to buy something while he was out.
It's not like he couldn't afford it; sure, he was pinched tightly on new clothes, hardly having the pockets to drop a thousand or two each time a new designer line was released, but a $10 or even $20 meal was loose pocket change.
Still, Coriolanus didn't spend money meaninglessly, not if he could help it.
He'd learned a lot from watching his father piss away the Snow family fortune, and he had the opinion that if he could be head of the household, things would be different.
"Let's get this over with," Coriolanus muttered under his breath.
"God, Coriolanus, why do you always gotta look like you're posing for a magazine editorial?" Festus sighed when he approached, "Don't you own like…one pair of jeans?"
He didn't, as it so turned out.
Here's the thing; Coriolanus could play his cards right, say that he cared for posterity and tradition and all and continue wearing his father's vintage things that were so, so in right now. Or, be lavished by the good of his cousin and wear the newest styles before they hit the runway. But what he couldn't do was buy a pair of jeans and a basic white tee.
Do you want to know why?
Coriolanus knew for a fact that the jeans Fesus wore were $4,000 and the simple, cotton tee in a non-offensive color of beige was $590. Add in his shoes, jacket, and of course, his watches and rings and he was going out for a casual night dripping in just shy of $10,000…and this was what one wore when they didn't care if one got grease-stained.
Coriolanus could not afford this and it would be so clear right away if he showed up wearing anything less.
If he knew how to sniff out the prices of his classmate's fashion, he knew that they did too.
So, no, Coriolanus didn't own a pair of jeans, just like he didn't own any sneakers, hoodies, or sweatpants, other than the branded Academy ones he was given for gym class.
"Coriolanus looks sharp. He just wants all the ladies focused on him," Sejanus said, slapping Coriolanus's shoulder.
Like he needed Sejanus coming to his rescue.
The thought made him shudder.
"I think he looks incredibly handsome," A voice behind them purred. Coriolanus turned to see Livia Cardew sashaying toward the oak tree they were gathered around, wearing a skirt that barely covered her ass and a shirt just tight enough to leave little to the imagination.
Fortunately for Coriolanus, he couldn't stand her.
She looked as hot as Satan but was as mean as him too.
He knew his father thought they'd be a 'smart match'; he had to listen to his dad's unhelpful ramblings over summer break about how he, Cassius Snow, had asked Coriolanus's mother for her hand in marriage right after graduating, so Coriolanus should consider it's about time for him too.
"We're not in the stone ages, anymore," Coriolanus rolled his eyes, "And that's not how it's done."
But he knew it was. He knew that all the smart mothers were vying for the best matches. Sure, no weddings would happen until after college, but long engagements were all the rage these days.
Coriolanus couldn't stand Livia. He didn't think he would marry for love, of course, but he couldn't imagine hitching himself to someone as dreadful as her.
Be it as it may, some quiet part of Coriolanus whispered that the reason he hated her so much was that when he saw her…he saw himself reflected back, all his worst parts.
Livia was simply not afraid to show her true self.
"Keep dreaming, Cardew," Coriolanus growled.
"I don't know why you try," Persephone Price shoved Livia away from Coriolanus, "He dresses like he's out of a black and white movie."
"There's something dashing about that, though," Livia purred, "My own James Dean."
Coriolanus gave a visible shudder, and some of the boys behind him snickered.
Most of the girls, Coriolanus didn't give any attention to. There were only three girls in his class he gave any thought to, one of which was Livia, and that was sheer hatred.
Then, there was Lysistrata, standing closely, but quietly.
She was silent and careful, always watching, much like Coriolanus himself. She was always dressed neatly, even if it wasn't the most traditional. Most of all, she was kind…a forgone trait in most of his classmates, and certainly nothing the rest of the 24 seemed to possess, sans maybe Sejanus. He had to think there was more, however, some deeper grit, otherwise she wouldn't have made it this far.
And then there was Clemmie.
She was the only one he'd ever briefly considered a proposal for, if only because he knew they worked well together. They'd been partners on practically every assignment since the 7th grade, and he'd found Clemenisa to be fair and hard-working.
Well, Coriolanus wouldn't have stood for her as his partner had she not been.
That's all a marriage was, wasn't it? A continual partnership, a tenuous agreement, a long back-and-forth forever of compromises and concessions.
If neither of them got any wrong ideas about it, yes, perhaps Clemmie could be the next Mrs. Snow.
But this was all theoretical and frankly, Coriolanus would just rather…not.
He didn't have time to be distracted by girls, sans for two; Tigris, and of course his sister Candida, who was five years his junior.
Sweet as Candi, Coriolanus would tease, tugging on her golden ringlets. If Coriolanus's heart was only able to dole out one soft spot, it was for her.
He felt fiercely protective over her, stemming from some trauma surrounding her birth in which she and Coriolanus's mother nearly didn't make it out, and everyone knew that you could say what you wanted about Coriolanus, but Candi was off limits.
Gaius made that mistake three years ago, and his nose has always been cracked at a funny angle since then.
It's the only time Coriolanus ever got served detention, and he's proud of that. Proud of his ability to stay clear of the Dean's office and that if he had to get one, it was defending Candi's honor.
Other than that, girls weren't even a thought in his mind, no more than the boys were. They were all lumped together as one mass of annoying, chatty, catty people who would sooner kick you down at the knee than offer a hand if it meant getting ahead and getting the Plinth Prize.
None of his classmates were in need of the scholarship, but everyone needed his collections. The most hated man here, he happened to be the richest and the most well-connected. Getting the Plith Prize was the difference between grinding through your own meager connections and starting your six-figure life from the moment you graduated.
They all wanted it…but no one needed it the way Coriolanus did.
It wasn't entirely a selfish yearning, he often told himself. As the Top 24 made their way down the long road that would take them into town, Coriolanus reflected on how this want was selfless, something he was well aware was not his forte.
You see, if he could just restore the Snow family fortune to the glory it once was, he could make sure Candi was always taken care of. He'd do anything for her. He'd give the clothes off his own back to assure her safety and comfort. And not just Candi; he'd make Tigris a household name when it came to celebrity fashion designers. Anyone who was anyone would be clawing to get one of her dresses for Met Galas or for their movie premieres or to have the chance to be caught in one of her gowns by the paparazzi.
And his Grandma'am! She deserved to have as many rose gardens, rose topiaries, and rose mazes as she talked about from her youth! The garden she tended to at his family estate was pitiful; she was owed a full-time staff whose only job was attending to her wide flowerbeds.
Of course, his mother would reap the benefits too. Coriolanus knew it saddened her so to not be able to stay up with the latest styles the way her friends did. She was meant for a life of luxury, a life that was promised to her at the marriage to Coriolanus's father that he had not upheld.
Coriolanus thought about how he'd be a hero for this to his kin.
He could almost taste it.
But perhaps the most satisfying part of all of this?
When Coriolanus won the Plinth Prize and it was his money that he could decide how it was spent, his pathetic excuse of a father and uncle wouldn't get a single cent.
They pissed away the good fortune they were born into…they deserved to reap what they sowed for the rest of whatever miserable existence they lived on. It wasn't fair that Crassus and Bacchus were given the keys to the kingdom at their birth and that they so poorly mismanaged an entire legacy that their sons and daughters bore the burden of their fuck-ups, that unless Coriolanus stepped in to fix this, would make the once illustrious Snow namesake synonymous for 'a mistake of behemoth proportions'.
Thinking about his father in any capacity made Coriolanus seethe with unbridled anger, so sharp and thick that he had to bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood.
"You look like you want to murder someone," Sejanus said, popping up behind him.
Coriolanus blinked.
They were near to town.
"No," Coriolanus said, erasing his anger from his face, forgetting himself for a moment, "I have allergies. Holding in a sneeze."
"One helluva sneeze," Sejanus snorted, eyes wide.
"Oh, haven't you heard?" Livia asked with a sneer, "Coriolanus isn't human; he would never sully himself with such pedestrian things like sneezing or having a beating heart."
She was still pissy about the way he'd dismissed her. She had such fragile feelings, Coriolanus thought, holding in a smile. He was glad to see this bothering her.
"Wait, are we talking about you, or me, Cardew?" Coriolanus asked, forcing a near-casual smile, but there was a danger in his tone.
"I admit to my faults," Livia said, placing a manicured hand on her heart, "Coriolanus likes to pretend he's one of us."
Coriolanus clenched his fist in his pockets.
The worst thing would be to be othered, to seem different.
Luckily, no one listened to anything Livia prattled on about.
"He is one of us," Senajus said dutifully, like a puppy waiting for scraps, "He's here, isn't he?" He asked, slinging an unwelcome arm around Coriolanus's shoulders.
"I suppose. But let's see how he handles a grimy dive bar," Livia said with a sparkle in her eyes, practically sparking at the idea of seeing him sit by a sticky countertop.
She wasn't wrong…Coriolanus was dreading it all.
They filed inside in a group. If their intention was to be discreet, they were failing.
However, they all paid a cover, and the owners likely figured a group from the Academy spent money like throwing away tissues and would make their trouble worth his while.
It was a good bet.
Already, Heavensbee was trying to buy a top-shelf cocktail, with a bottle that likely never saw the light of day due to the price tag.
Coriolanus slowly loitered through the space, ducking through hazy cigarette clouds and keeping an eye on all his classmates as much as he could. Sejanus shadowed him, and they found a space near the back that didn't seem to have much foot traffic, so was moderately clean.
"What do you want?" Sejanus asked, waving down a waitress.
To leave and go back to the dorm.
"I'm fine."
"Awe, come on," Sejanus whined, "We're all having a good time."
"I prefer to have my mind clear," Coriolanus said with a defensive shrug.
Sejanus rolled his eyes as the waitress bounded over, a perky college-something girl. Sejanus immediately charmed her with his boyish smile and soft tone.
"We'll get a platter of fries, some of the wings, and two rum and cokes."
Coriolanus tried to protest.
"And don't let him tell you otherwise," Sejanus finished, flicking his fingers at his friend, "I'm covering it. Stop being such an ungrateful friend," He teased with a wide grin.
Sometimes…Coriolanus wondered if Sejanus knew that he was counting his pennies.
If he did…that would just make things a million times worse.
But Sejanus was insistent on letting this food and beverages come to the table, so Coriolanus tucked in.
God, he was starved.
"I think there's a live band," Senajus said, idly dragging a fry through ketchup, jerking his head back towards the stage.
"Oh, goodie," Coriolanus said, scrunching up his nose. He really was meant to be tortured tonight, wasn't he?
He spotted a banjo sitting in the corner.
They were just living through a cliche, weren't they? Seedy bar with off-key country singers and sharp liquor that burned on the way down? It was something Coriolanus had only ever experienced in books and film.
"If they're bad, we'll just get more drinks," Felix said, coming to join the pair, three drinks carefully balanced between his hands.
"You're already there it seems," Coriolanus said, trying to push down the judgment in his tone.
"Oh, fuck off. It's not just for me," Felix said, waving Clemmie over, along with Persephone.
"I personally think musicians are attractive," Persephone purred, eyeing the stage.
"You want someone who likely showers in a river and drinks kombucha by the galleon?" Coriolanus asked, disgusted.
"Just for something for one night, what's the harm?"
"Sexually transmitted diseases."
Persephone hit his arm, "You're no fun!"
"I've been saying this for years," Sejanus hit Coriolanus's shoulder, "Think if we get him drunk enough tonight, we'll see who he really is?"
Never in a million years.
"I'm fun," Coriolanus pretended to be deeply offended, "I'm also making sure that there's now Snow bastards or uncomfortable medical visits to explain to parents."
That is, if he had any interest in that at all.
Which he did not.
"Ooh! The band!" Clemmie hit Persephone's arm, "There's a tall drink of water in there, I'd say!"
Coriolanus didn't hide his shudder.
Someone tapped the microphone. Coriolanus wasn't facing the stage but was looking back at the bustling bar, as it squealed with feedback.
"Hello, ya'll. Lovely to see so many of you…we're so happy to be here. Let's give up a warm round of applause for my lovely band; we're The Covey !"
As everyone turned with anticipation toward the band, Coriolanus inhaled sharply.
He only had to survive a few songs before he could get out of here, and well, he'd gotten some food out of this. Greasy pub food, but what the hell?
He counted to three in his head.
One…two…three…
And then, forcing a friendly look on his face, he turned around too.