Coriolanus Snow, a man born with a silver spoon and a golden charm, perched atop the highest tower built from the misdeeds of those before him. He had it all, or so they said. Power, prestige, and a chillingly impeccable allure. But the one thing he couldn’t grasp, the elusive prize slipping through his cold, calculating fingers, was you.

The green light, the singular desire that tugged at the strings of his heart. It wasn’t one of those clichéd ‘she hates me, so I must have her’ scenarios. Genuinely enjoying your company, or at least, he could tolerate you more than the rest. And for someone like him, that was saying something. Laying in midnight, thoughts warped around the familiar smile.

But alas, you were unavailable, tethered to another. A boyfriend, not him. Coriolanus Snow, the guy who could waltz into any room and have any girl swoon at his mere presence, couldn’t claim the one who truly mattered. You were friendly, painfully so. Relegated him to the dreaded, gentle friend zone, oblivious to his love. Leaving him bereft and worn by an untouched experience.

It gnawed at him, this unfamiliar, dreaded rejection. It twisted his already tangled psyche, leaving him unable to enjoy the flirtations and coy glances thrown his way by others. They felt hollow, meaningless. A betrayal, even. To you. You, with your infuriating significant other.

He drowned into the ocean of emotion, the kind he had always effortlessly floated in. A wave of fondness spiralled him. He tried to know you, to understand the depths of your being. He even memorised the entire Pride & Prejudice love confession because it ranked in your top four. He dreaded to say them to you, too. Make you cry in the rain, or smile in the dawn.

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the locker, his eyes devouring the sight of you like an art connoisseur beholding the Mona Lisa for the first time. In a world where beauty was as common as breathing.