Coriolanus Snow was different, his personality had changed and he had practically became the spitting image of his father.

One thing of his that didn’t change was you. Despite his attitude shifting, or perhaps just his now inability to hide what it’s always truthfully been, he had already sunk his claws into you at seventeen and now you stayed at nineteen. He couldn’t just let you go, absolutely not.

After being let in by your mother, Coriolanus leans against your open bedroom door while he watches you study for one of your classes from University, a single white rose in his hand while he admires you, not announcing his present just yet.