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Coriolanus couldn’t sleep. He’d tried, but sleep would not find him. He lay awake in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling. You slept soundly to the right of him, exhausted from the evening’s activities. Your naked body was curled into his side, breathing quiet and even. Your arm was resting on his chest, dependent on him even in your sleep. The thought would have normally made him smug, but not tonight.
He moved his head to look at you, face cold and expressionless. This was not a man looking fondly at his wife, this was a man wondering why he willingly placed such a grand temptation right in front of him. He’d thought he could resist, but tonight proved different. He watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You looked so peaceful, so soft, so sweet. Too sweet for him. It was hard not to turn into a lovesick fool around you, and Coriolanus hated that you tested his self-control. He hated himself more for the moments that he did give in and decide to be vulnerable with you. No, not decided. He’d acted without thinking. This is why Coriolanus was awake tonight.
He’d come home from a particularly exhausting day at work and you’d been nothing but a loving, attentive wife. You were the partner that Coriolanus was not, you gave him the emotions that he could not always give you. You’d clouded his judgement; he had focused on nothing else other than you and allowed you to tear down his carefully made defenses. He hated that he let you, because now he was left with this feeling of… embarrassment? God, he’d told you he loved you, what was he thinking? Of course that wasn’t a lie, but that was not something he just said out loud.
Coriolanus gently moved your hand off his chest so he didn’t wake you before he sat up, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. His feet touched the floor and he ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He reran the night’s events in his head, cringing at his actions and words. You knew he was putty in your hands, didn’t you? You knew if you played your cards right at the correct time, you could use him, and the affection he had for you. And he’d pleasured you, he’d moaned for you, begged for you. You could make him beg, and he hated it. He’d stupidly given you leverage over him freely. Regret, humiliation, and self-loathing washed over him as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger.
What is she going to do now? She knows I’m weak.
What am I going to do now?
Coriolanus could not stop thinking about it to save his life. He had an image to maintain. President Snow–a merciless, cold, calculating, unemotional leader. Not whatever you had turned him into. He looked down at the wedding ring on his finger. Was keeping you a mistake? No, surely not. Coriolanus was entitled to his treasures and possessions. He just couldn’t let them control him. He was the one in control. Although his mind said the words, he couldn’t get himself to fully believe it. He twisted the ring repeatedly around his finger, leg bouncing quietly. He felt exposed, physically and emotionally. Coriolanus knew that you wouldn’t use any of your private moments against him, but the fact that you knew this about him didn’t sit well with him. It didn't sit well at all. Was this what you wanted? Would you expect this much passion every time you slept with him now? Want these genuine feelings of his? Or would you wake the next morning judging him, seeing him as someone smaller now? The most powerful man in the country, moaning your name. Coriolanus felt his cheeks burn red at the memory, clenching his jaw. He’d overdone it. Having sex with you was not the problem, he’d done it numerous times and not felt this way. The problem was that Coriolanus had made love to you, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
He removed his wedding ring, holding it between his fingers to examine it. You’d insisted on choosing his ring, since he had chosen yours. He didn’t see the significance at first, assuming that most male bands looked the same. He had recognized it when you’d presented him with it, the ring a clear testament to the thought and effort you put in. You loved him, and he loved you. But it wasn’t that simple. Perhaps it should be, but it wasn’t. He rolled the ring across his fingers, staring at the floor. He wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore.
“Coryo?”
He paused his movements with the ring, letting it fall into his palm. He hadn’t heard you wake up. His back was still to you and he made no effort to look at you.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, voice quiet.
He heard you shift and exhale tiredly. “Come back to bed.”
“I am in bed.”
You sighed, and he figured you’d rolled your eyes.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
He was silent for a moment. Coriolanus couldn’t cuddle with you right now, he needed time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was afraid of this vulnerability he had been displaying, and it was taking everything that he had not to lash out at you for no reason, just to prove that he wasn’t some emotional, infatuated dimwit.
“I’m not tired,” he replied simply, hoping that would be the end of it.
“When you came home you said you were exhausted-”
“I’m fine.” Coriolanus snapped, turning to look at her.
She said nothing as they locked eyes, and strangely Coriolanus felt the need to look away first. He absentmindedly fiddled with the ring in his hand.
He felt the bed dip as she neared him, sitting up in bed so she could look at him on his level. He could feel her gaze boring into him from her position to the right of him and he considered ignoring her. But that wouldn’t solve anything, and she was stubborn. Besides, Coriolanus didn’t back down, and he most certainly was not intimidated by his wife or his feelings. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak. You offered a tired smile, eyes softening. Coriolanus did not return it. You blinked, focusing on his body instead. You traced the scar that Coriolanus had gotten from Bobbin on his back, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes remained fixed on your face, studying your expression.
“When are you going to realize that I’m not going to hurt you?”
Coriolanus took his time to think of a reply. He could deny your words and tell you that you had no idea what you were talking about, but decided against it. However, your statement was still untrue, and he couldn’t have you thinking that him being afraid of you was the reason for his behavior.
“I do realize that.” he said, voice still somewhat guarded.
“Do you?” you asked, hand sliding down his back. “Is that why you’re overthinking in the middle of the night?”
Coriolanus said nothing.
“If this is about… earlier, my perception of you remains the same. And nothing you do will change my opinion of you.”
Coriolanus couldn’t help but scoff. Nothing? Surely you didn’t believe that lie. If Coriolanus invited you to an execution, a war meeting, or any day to day task that he did at work, your perception of him would change. He was sure of it.
You seemed to notice that he wasn’t buying what you were saying and sighed, hand returning to your lap.
“I know who I married, Coriolanus.” you said. “I know what you’re capable of.”
Coriolanus knew this to be true, but it was a hard truth to accept. You knew, and yet you stayed. It was strange to Coriolanus, that you chose to be with him. You were sweet, kind, empathetic… the exact opposite of what he is. How did you not complain about his lack of affection and openness? Why were you adamant on staying with him? Of course, Coriolanus would lose his mind if you left or something were to happen to you, but he could never admit that. He didn’t have to worry about scaring you away because you were so damn stubborn and wouldn’t leave his side. After all this time, he still couldn’t figure you out. He’d respect you if you weren’t so frustrating. Did you stay out of loyalty and devotion, or was it something else entirely? He closed his fist, ring inside.
“I’m not good like you,” he admitted, voice softer now. “I’m not kind.”
“I don’t need you to be.” you said, opening up his hand. “Cruelty and indifference are not the only things that make up you.”
You took his wedding band and slid it on his left ring finger.
“You’re quite complex, you know?” you chuckled. “Hard to keep up with at times.”
Coriolanus flexed his left hand, his ring catching a ray of moonlight and glinting in the dimly lit room.
Cruelty and indifference.
“It’s the only way to survive.”
“You don’t need to just survive with me. You can live, Coryo.”
His nickname always felt like a shot to the heart. You were the only person that called him that anymore.
“I don’t need you to do anything,” you said. “You don’t even need to say you love me. I know. The only thing I want is for you to remember that you’re safe with me.”
What you were proposing wasn’t… the worst. It was surprising to Coriolanus that you didn’t need constant affection and words of affirmation from him, that you could survive on the knowledge that he loves you alone. You understood him, didn’t you? He didn’t have to explain himself, you could just tell by looking at him. He felt threatened for a moment, but didn’t you assure him that he was safe with you?
Safe. Free from judgement. The words were almost too good to be true. You were claiming that you could love every single part of him, just like that. It was almost comical, but Coriolanus knew that you were dead serious. He looked at his wedding ring, rotating it so the ray of light moved across the polished metal. You weren’t stupid, you knew who he was, what he did, and why he did it. You knew he was a killer, cold and calculating. You’d married this killer.
But still… why?
Why did you love him? He almost asked you, but he knew that your answer would just be frustrating and unhelpful. He would never be able to see in himself what you see in him. But he didn’t need to. He needed to accept that he was safe with you. It just came down to whether Coriolanus trusted you or not. He took one good long look at you.
He nodded.
“Good.” you whispered, leaning in and giving him a chaste kiss.
You moved back to your side of the bed, laying down with your back to him. He watched as you got comfortable and pulled the covers over your lower half. He couldn’t help but stare at you with a sense of longing and perhaps a little guilt. You had to adapt to accept what he is, and even though he knew you knew what you were getting yourself into, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for not fulfilling the role of “loving husband” he’d told himself to play.
You’re safe, he reminded himself. You don’t need to change yourself for her.
He didn’t need to be vulnerable, but he didn’t not need to be either. You loved him either way.
Coriolanus believed this was true.
He wordlessly laid down in bed, moving so his back pressed against hers. He didn’t want to cuddle her, but it was nice to feel her bare skin against his. As if on cue, Coriolanus felt a wave of drowsiness overcome him and he yawned.
“Goodnight, Coriolanus. I love you.” You spoke, voice quiet but clear.
“Goodnight.” he replied.
I love you.