Falling for Snow | OC x Coriolanus Snow

Chapter 10

Coriolanus' POV

As I look back at the way I've treated Bea lately, a wave of regret washes over me, clutching at my heart like an invisible hand. The truth that the hushed tales surrounding her and Sejanus were nothing but made-up stories crashed into me with the force of a heavyweight. I scold myself for being swayed by baseless gossip, and I can't help but feel sorry for the undeserved coldness I aimed her way. It dawns on me how easily I let jealousy, my weakness, take control, leading to a tangled mess of emotions. Now, I find myself yearning to undo the knots I've unwittingly tied around our connection, desperate to mend the warmth that once existed between us.

I remember that one evening, as I strolled home, a serendipitous glance into her room revealed a captivating sight. Bea's study table, strategically positioned by her window, showcased her engrossed in a book. The revelation of her living in our neighborhood wasn't news to me; my habitual routes home often led me past her house. The morning she arrived late, I found myself fervently defending her to Mr. Highbottom, serving as living proof of her dedicated study session the previous night.

My awareness of Beatrice precedes our direct interaction. Entranced by her loveliness, I harbored a silent mission to befriend her. Yet, my obliviousness to my own emotions became apparent when I witnessed her camaraderie with Sejanus in class. A subtle jealousy, unwarranted but undeniable, seeped in as they collaborated joyfully. The mere sight of their happiness ignited an unexplainable resentment within me. It dawned on me that my occasional coldness towards her stemmed from this irrational envy, a flaw that lay within me rather than any wrongdoing on her part. She wasn't officially "my girl," but the mere thought of someone getting close to her stirred an inexplicable turmoil within me.

In the labyrinth of emotions, the revelation of Beatrice's alleged romance with Sejanus had thrown my world into a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. The mere thought of her entwined with someone else, even if it was just a baseless rumor, ignited a fire of both anger and sorrow within me. Our collaborative moments had been the highlight of my existence, and the idea of her sharing such intimacy with another had left me frigid toward her. Now, the once warm connection had shifted, and it was she who emanated a frosty aura in my direction.

The words I had blurted out in the cafeteria weighed heavily on my conscience. In truth, my feelings for her stretched beyond the confines of our academic alliance. The assignment merely served as a pretext for the proximity I sought with her. Gratitude swirled within me for the essay, for it had provided a gateway into her world. Yet, the juxtaposition of closeness and distance left me grappling with conflicting emotions.

As Bea rose from her seat during lunch that day, her reaction to my ill-considered words became palpable. Regret coursed through me like a chilling wind. Determined to mend the unintended damage, I trailed after her, but her swift pace outmatched my pursuit. Despite surrendering the chase, I harbored no intention of conceding defeat. The allure of her presence beckoned me to bridge the emotional gap that had inadvertently formed.

And so, I walked the familiar path to her home, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of my own heart's urgency. My steps quickened, driven by a deep desire to unravel the tangled threads of misunderstanding that had woven themselves between us. Each day without her had stretched into an eternity, an absence that haunted my every waking moment. The ache in my chest yearned for resolution, and I carried the heavy burden of blame for the torment that had shadowed our days of separation.

Standing nervously before the door, I gently lifted my hand and tapped on the wooden surface, the echo resonating with a blend of anticipation and longing. From within, the soft cadence of approaching footsteps reached my ears, and I steadied myself for the encounter that awaited beyond the threshold. In a twist of fate, the one who swung the door open wasn't the object of my visit, but rather, a woman whose face mirrored the one I longed to see—her mother. The familial resemblance was unmistakable, etched in the contours of their shared features.

However, as my gaze met the gentle lines in her mother's eyes, a subtle warmth lingered, hinting at a reservoir of understanding that transcended the familial ties. In this unexpected rendezvous, I sensed a potential avenue not only to mend the strained connection between us but also to win the acceptance of the woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to her daughter.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she inquired, her lips curving into a welcoming smile.

"I'm Coriolanus," I replied, extending my hand for hers, and she accepted the gesture. "I'm Bea's classmate."

Recognition sparkled in her eyes, a radiant smile gracing her lips as she beckoned me into their home. The ambiance within engulfed me like a familiar embrace, a sanctuary reminiscent of the comfort found in my house. Against the winter's icy exhale outside, the air inside whispered of warmth and coziness. Bea's mother kindly extended a glass of water, a simple offering laden with unspoken messages of hospitality. Gratitude surged within me, expressed through words of thanks, silently hoping that within the haven of this shared space, threads of understanding and connection would weave themselves anew.

Seated across from me, Bea's mother inquired, "What brings you here, Coriolanus?"

"I just wanted to talk with Bea," I replied. "Set things... right with her," I added, and she nodded. I couldn't help but wonder if Bea had confided in her about school, about the pain I had inadvertently caused. As the thought lingered, a subtle intimidation settled over me, facing Bea's mother eye to eye. Yet, at that moment, a deeper resolve blossomed—a determination to mend the hurt and rebuild what had faltered between Bea and me.

Bea's mother acknowledged with a subtle nod, her eyes carrying an unspoken understanding. "She's in her room. I'll just go and get her," she stated warmly.

My nervous nod echoed in response as she gracefully made her way upstairs to fetch Bea. Alone in the anticipation-laden silence, I could sense the accelerated rhythm of my heart, each beat resonating with the fervor of an unspoken connection. The air seemed to thicken as I sat there, waiting with bated breath for the moment Bea would descend those stairs.