A/N: Chapter 3 for youu. It's quite a bit longer and has some fluff
Again, thanks so much for the reviews - Special thanks to SkyWriter9 for including this story in your community!
To Turq8, totally agree, I never believed that either. If people base it on him wearing eyeliner, they should remember the other Capitol men; Cinna's probably wears the least. If it's the whole designer thing...well, that's just stereotypical ;P
Disclaimer: If I were Collins, Cinna would live eternally
Hope you enjoy~
"Portia, wait. Portia!" Cinna rose a second too late to intercept her, dropping his sketchbook onto the stone floor. He managed to slip into the apartment before the slider whisked closed, only to have Portia's bedroom door shut him out.
The young woman collapsed on her bed, tears stinging her eyes. She wiped them away furiously and her hand came away moist. She pressed her lips shut on quiet sobs, shocked by her uncontrollable reaction. "Go away, Cinna." She choked out, burrowing into her covers.
She sensed more than heard him lean against the door, picturing his forehead pressed against the styled wood. "Let me explain, please." He murmured wearily.
Portia shut her eyes as if it could block out his voice. She didn't want to hear it. She felt an unreasonable sense of betrayal, but not because of the obvious implications Cinna's design had toward the Capitol – rather, because he was going to risk his neck and let her watch clueless from the sidelines.
"That way, I don't hurt anyone but myself. Promise." His words came back to taunt her and she realized she should've seen this coming. It was all too like him, that damn selfless side that had always kept her at a distance when it mattered most.
And now, fear for him threatened to swallow her whole, tugging her into a pit of despair. Cinna was about to pull the perfect move. President Snow was ruthless, but he would be unable to fault anyone but Katniss's own stylist.
She had never truly realized the extent of her feelings until that moment, when the tears finally spilled over and poured down her cheeks.
She couldn't figure out how Cinna managed to override the locked signal, but he was suddenly by her side, scooping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. She clutched his shirt and inhaled his scent as if it was something she had been starved of. Her partner slid into the bed, whispers of comfort falling on her ears as he tried to soothe the young woman.
Portia realized her breath was coming in short intakes as she tried to control the outpour of emotion. Cinna pressed lightly against her, placing feather-light touches of his lips against her forehead, cheek, and nose. She sensed his alarm and tried to quell it, but was unable to form more than a whimper. She simply clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck.
Accidently or otherwise, his lips skimmed across hers. There was a brief lapse, dark blue eyes flying open to meet his gentle green. There was infinite concern there, mixed with caring and…love?
He lowered his head, pressing his lips more firmly against hers; he knew she needed this. She responded with an almost desperate sorrow. He pulled her close until there wasn't an inch of space left separating them, yet his movements remained characteristically controlled. He wasn't one to take advantage of others, and it was this continued concern for everyone but himself that finally snapped Portia back to reality.
She pulled away, teeth clenched and eyes briefly closed. He was the one in potential danger – he should be worried for his own well-being.
The young stylist finally brushed her hand through Cinna's short brown hair. "Don't you know how much you mean? To so many people." She finally murmured. "Please." The whispered word came heart-wrenchingly quiet. She heard his answer before he voiced it.
"I need to do this, Portia. For you, and Katniss, and future generations who need a better world to live in."
There, slipped in subtly, was his pro-rebellion admission. In a way she had already known. And somehow, she was voluntarily treading the same thin line.
For the first time, the full impact of what that meant hit her like a ton of bricks. It meant putting your life on the line, and dangling your heart out in the open for anyone to come along and shatter.
.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.
Portia was never aware of falling asleep, but she woke in Cinna's arms before the artificial morning birds had begun to trill. Her eyes grazed his face, beautiful and innocent in the peace of sleep.
She carefully extracted herself and stumbled out onto the balcony, welcoming the regulated cool air. Her foot kicked over a leather-bound square and she cautiously bent to retrieve Cinna's sketchbook. Portia flipped through the pages again, coming across a section she hadn't seen the night before. More Mockingjay designs, but this time they were of a high-powered suit. Scribbled at the tail of one page was a short message: "I'm still betting on you."
There was movement behind her and she turned to see Cinna, watching her uncertainly as if he expected another emotional breakdown. She forced a less-than-reassuring smile and offered the book for him to take. Eyeing it for a moment, her partner took it from her grasp and tossed it onto a chair before opening out his arms.
Portia fell gratefully into his embrace and the silence barrier between them broke. "You've been holding out on me." To her relief, she pulled off the accusing tone without breaking.
"Considering the utter enthusiasm you seemed to have for my idea, I admit I probably should have told you sooner." She pulled back just enough to glance up. His gaze held an affectionate tease. "Quite honestly, I thought you were about to take a swing at me." He glanced meaningfully at the battered book and Portia grimaced at the mental image. She wasn't sure all too sure that it wouldn't have been past her last night.
He failed to hide a small smile at the flush on her cheeks, blooming beneath a splattering of sun freckles.
Portia's blush darkened at his suppressed expression and she abruptly propped the sketchbook up. "These designs, Cinna." She said, indicating the ones she had just discovered. "They're meant for Katniss to see later on, aren't they?" He nodded affirmation. The young woman fingered the heavy white pages. "I'd like to leave her a note. Maybe from the both of us." She pulled out a scrap of loose-leaf from her pocket.
Her partner offered a quick smile and moved forward, providing a pen. With his help, they settled on a brief message. Portia tucked it into the book with care.
Two hands suddenly enveloped hers and she found Cinna staring at her with regret. "I am sorry about one thing, Portia." He murmured earnestly. "I broke my promise." She watched him, puzzled. "The day we met." He shook his head and exhaled in a soft sigh. "I promised never to hurt you." She dropped her gaze, unsure of how to respond.
Cinna tapped his fingers under her chin. "Head high, Portia. It could all work out. Nothing's ever set in stone."
A/N: And that's the end of Part One. As always, I'm ever grateful for reviews. & I'm not a huge fan of saying I won't put up a new chapter 'till I get so many, but I'm really striving for a total of 10 before Part Two. Up to you guys, though - I'm too attached to this story to stop now (:
