Falling for Snow | OC x Coriolanus Snow

Chapter 9

The early morning light streamed through my window, casting a gentle glow on my room. Despite my attempts to drift back into the embrace of sleep, my mind refused to surrender to its rhythmic lullaby. In a pointless effort to ward off fatigue from the impending school day, I found myself arranging the disarray on my desk. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I surveyed the chaotic aftermath that had accumulated over time.

My gaze wandered beyond the confines of my room to the winter scene unfolding outside. Delicate snowflakes danced gracefully, creating a serene spectacle in the December air. The world outside was adorned in a pristine white blanket, a canvas of tranquility. And yet, amidst this wintry beauty, a single thought dominated my mind—him.

The snowfall was a constant reminder, an ever-present echo of his name—Snow. How fitting, I mused, for his presence to linger like an unspoken promise in the chilly air. It was as if destiny had conspired to intertwine his essence with the very elements around me. I couldn't help but marvel at the irony. As memories of our time together flooded my thoughts, a twinge of melancholy settled in my chest. Those moments, now relegated to the past, seemed almost too good to be true. A nostalgic ache tugged at my heart, and an involuntary sigh escaped my lips. I missed him, missed the warmth of shared laughter and the comfort of his presence.

Amidst the falling snowflakes, a revelation dawned upon me. The realization struck like a gentle awakening—I was falling for Snow. In the quiet solitude of that winter morning, surrounded by the ethereal dance of snow, the truth became crystal clear, and my heart embraced the growing emotions, much like the snow settling on the ground outside.

➶ 𓆉｡˚ ✧ ༉‧₊˚.

As I settle into the familiar contours of my assigned seat, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. Gratitude fills my heart for having navigated through the day's classes without the need to engage in conversations or draw undue attention. The clock ticks its way down to our final class, casting a subtle sense of anticipation over the room. Amidst the shuffling of papers and hushed whispers, I can't help but sense Coryo's longing gaze, a silent plea for my attention. Yet, I steadfastly averted my eyes, shielding myself from the vulnerability that his words from the other day had stirred within me. The memory of his words lingers in the recesses of my mind, a delicate dance of emotions that I'm not ready to confront, at least not at this moment.

I'm only with her because of the paired assignment, nothing more. The words kept echoing in the corners of my mind, a stinging reminder that it was all because of the assignment. Each syllable appeared to dance with a cruel grace.

"Bea," he implored, reaching out to capture my attention. His eyes, pools of vulnerability, met mine, and the urgency in his voice tugged at something deep within me. "Can we talk, please?"

Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, I reluctantly allowed my thoughts to dissipate like morning mist. Mr. Highbottom's impending class loomed on the horizon, but at that moment, it seemed insignificant. The world outside our conversation ceased to exist.

A heavy sigh escaped him when he realized the distance I had maintained. His eyes shifted, avoiding the rejection written on my face, and reluctantly, he turned his attention to the front of the room. The ache in his voice lingered, resonating within the fragile space that had unfolded between us.

Mr. Highbottom, a figure of authority, rose gracefully from his chair, capturing the room's undivided attention. As he began his lesson, an electric anticipation filled the air, yet my focus remained fixated on the unspoken connection lingering in the atmosphere.

As the class drew to a close, a palpable energy buzzed through the room, eager students yearning to break free into the liberating embrace of the hallway. Mr. Highbottom, adorned with a benevolent smile, reclaimed the spotlight. "I've completed the task of checking all your papers," he proclaimed, his gaze sweeping across the room before finding us. "It brings me great joy to announce that Coriolanus Snow and Beatrice Blake have achieved the highest points. Congratulations."

At that moment, my heart raced with an unexpected fervor, a fluttering sensation coursing through my veins. Elation surged within me as our names echoed in triumph, exactly as my earnest prayers had desired. Yet, amid the celebratory cheers, a tide of wistfulness enveloped me, conjuring memories of shared moments with Coryo as we meticulously crafted the essay together.

As the thunderous applause cascaded through the room, wrapping us in a cocoon of euphoria, I felt Coryo's eyes tracing the contours of my being. The harmonious symphony of our classmates' cheers seemed to fade into the background as his gaze bore into the very core of my existence. The pulse of my heart quickened, fluttering with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. I hesitated to lock eyes with him, afraid that the vulnerability etched in my gaze would lay bare the intricacies of the emotions entwined within me, emotions that I fought valiantly to conceal.

After the class, in the wake of the victorious moment, Coryo approached me with a plea in his eyes. "Talk to me, please," he begged, his voice carrying a vulnerability that tugged at my heartstrings.

Summoning every ounce of bravery within me, I mustered the strength to lock eyes with him. A storm of contradictory feelings churned inside me, creating a tempest of uncertainty. Before my rational thoughts could put up a defense, raw and unfiltered truth escaped from my lips, "You're the last person on earth I want to talk to."

The weight of my confession lingered in the air like a heavy secret, and with determined steps, I briskly walked away. The gravity of my words settled into the hollowness of my chest, leaving behind an ache that mirrored the tangled complexity of our connection. At that moment, all I craved was the solace of home, a refuge from the swirling emotions that now danced in the aftermath of our tumultuous encounter.