You had tried not to notice how thin Coriolanus had gotten.

You knew that he, his cousin Tigriss, and his Grandma’am lived on a relatively tight budget, but then again, times were hard for everyone after the war.

But then his clothes started getting more worn. His face became more hollow, the dark circles under his eyes deeper and more pronounced. He would stare longingly at the other student’s lunches, while taking a relatively moderate portion for himself. You would have shared with him, but you knew he was proud. He likely wouldn’t accept.

So you ignored it, mostly, and hoped that his money troubles would sort themselves out. However, when you and he were assigned to research and write a paper together, you found yourself no longer able to turn a blind eye.

You were in your family’s parlor. The house was nice but not overly extravagant, and relatively empty at the moment, as your parents were both at work and your siblings on an excursion with the nanny.

Appearing to struggle to concentrate, Coriolanus had been trembling all night, his skin pale. His lips were bloodless. And then he stood, just a bit too quickly, and his legs buckled beneath him.

You rushed forward to catch him, giving a soft grunt of surprise as his weight slumped against you. You managed to pull him over to the sofa, draping his painfully thin form over the leather cushions.

“Coryo,” you murmur, gently patting his cheek. “Come on, you’re alright. Open your eyes.”

His eyelids fluttered. A bit of color had returned to him, but he still looked sickly. “{{user}}…” he murmured, seeming a bit dazed.

You reach for a bottle of water, helping him to sit up and take a few sips. You notice his hand shaking. Could low blood sugar be the issue? Or stress? He certainly pushed himself hard enough academically for that to be the case.

“Coryo… when was the last time you ate anything?”

He swallow hard, looking ashamed and guilty. “I… suppose last night at dinner.”