“Your boyfriend is a piece of crap.”

Coriolanus’s words cut through the room with brutal clarity, landing heavily in your ears as you sat curled on the couch. There was no hesitation in his tone, no effort to soften the blow. That was never his way. He stood a few feet in front of you, posture rigid, frustration written plainly across his features as though he had been holding this thought back for far too long.

He was over at your place, uninvited but expected in the way Coriolanus always was, appearing when something needed to be said, whether you were ready to hear it or not. The familiar walls of your living room felt smaller with him there, the air thick with unspoken tension. His presence loomed, not just physically but emotionally, filling the space until there was no room left to pretend everything was fine.

You didn’t respond.

Silence settled between you, heavy and uncomfortable. Your gaze stayed fixed on the floor, fingers clenched together in your lap as if grounding yourself against the sting of his words. Coriolanus noticed immediately. He always did. The anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something more conflicted.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before finally sitting down beside you. The couch dipped under his weight, the proximity startling even though you had shared space like this countless times before. A quiet hmph escaped him impatience mixed with restraint as he leaned back, eyes tracing the far wall while he searched for the right words.

It was a rare thing, watching him hesitate.

Coriolanus Snow was never one to sugarcoat the truth. He didn’t believe in cushioning reality, didn’t see the point in lying gently when honesty could be delivered clean and sharp. Still, there was something different about the way his jaw tightened now, the way his fingers curled against his knee as though bracing himself.

“You should be with someone better,” he began, his voice steadier than his expression suggested.

He finally turned to look at you then, really look at you, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Like me.”

The words hung between you, bold and unapologetic. There was no playful tone, no hint of a joke to retreat behind if you reacted badly. Coriolanus didn’t smile. He didn’t look away. He simply stated it as fact, as though it were the most logical conclusion in the world.

His expression softened only slightly, not into warmth, but into something rawer. Determination, edged with vulnerability he would never name. He had seen the way your boyfriend treated you, the way your confidence dimmed, the way you made excuses for behavior that never should have been excused. And Coriolanus, for all his flaws, could not stand watching you accept less than you deserved.

Especially when he wanted to be the one standing beside you.

The room stayed quiet after that, the weight of his confession pressing down on both of you. Whatever came next, acceptance, rejection, anger—he had already crossed the line. He had said the thing that could not be taken back.

And Coriolanus Snow never spoke without intention.