Oh, what a cliche, to be sat in the corner of the Academy's Annual Prom and be staring at you longingly, watching the way the silky fabric of your gown clings to your hips and glides across the floor. It should be him dancing with you, not that hothead with his hands on your waist.

You and Coriolanus had grown up together, and he regretted not taking the plunge into a relationship that wasn't strictly platonic with you. You did, too, although you'd never admit that to him.. You were happy with your current boyfriend. No one needed to know about the bruises on your wrist, or the harsh words he spoke to you.

You laughed at one of your partner's jokes, and Coriolanus took another sip of his posca. He should've stayed home and studied for that history test next week.