Chapter Eight | Which seeks to bolster all it holds divine.

"Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear,

And she as much in love, her means much less

To meet her new beloved anywhere."

2, 9-12 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

When Gloss invites her over to his apartment the next time they're both in the Capitol some months later, Elara isn't expecting company. It would have been nice if he'd warned her that his sister would be there too. She might have saved herself some embarrassment.

The moment he opens the door, she throws herself at him, pulling him into a kiss that actually ends up pushing him back a bit in surprise. Of course, Gloss is quick to recover; he drags her firmly against him and tangles his fingers into her hair, kissing her as if he's a man starved. In a way, they both are. They haven't seen each other for months.

She won't tell him, but she missed him more than she thought possible.

He won't tell her, but he feels the same.

"So this is the girl you're holed up with whenever you come to the Capitol?" a voice sudden asks. It's dry and sarcastic, with plenty of judgement. It comes from a woman Elara's met only once before, during her Victory Tour in District 1.

She pulls away from Gloss quickly, peering over his shoulder at the tall blonde woman who is watching them from the kitchen doorway. To her horror, she feels herself blush. She hadn't realized he had company! What if he'd let her go on to do what she had wanted to do? Elara glowers over at Gloss with a raised eyebrow, but the man only laughs.

He seems to think that the situation is hilarious. He doubts he's laughed so hard in his life. He even has to lean against the wall to catch his breath, which neither women seem to find comical. Elara spears him with an unamused glower, while Cashmere just rolls her eyes before turning to her and sarcastically inquiring, "Elara Winston. We've met before."

Elara clears her throat awkwardly and mutters, "…Yeah. That's me."

Suddenly she feels a bit inadequate in the face of this blonde haired beauty. Like her brother, Cashmere has also gained a strong reputation in the Capitol. The pair of them are Panem's most beloved Victors, most likely due to the fact that they are a sibling pair – the only siblings who have won the Games two consecutive years in a row. Their fame is legendary, and like Gloss, Cashmere is utterly gorgeous.

She strikes an imposing figure. Her hair shines like sunlight, and her bright eyes are mirrored reflections of Gloss's. She is feminine in a way Elara is not – curvier, more physically desirable. It's fairly clear to see why the Capitol has named her their Goddess.

Finally catching his breath, Gloss chuckles, "Well this is nice. Want a drink, Winston?"

Elara's response is a frigid stare that makes him raise an eyebrow, his gaze shining with amusement at her plight. Honestly, she's half caught between being angry at his clandestine ways and uncoordinated at the thought that he's so amused at this strange turn of events. She should've known he'd pull a stunt like this. She knows him well enough by now to know that he's more of a trouble maker than he lets on.

Cashmere sashays into the fold with an imperious, "I think we could all use a drink. I need something strong to erase the sight of you hanging all over my brother."

The towering glance she sends Elara makes her feel rather small by comparison. Still, she isn't one to let her confidence be shaken so easily. Raising her chin stubbornly, Elara snarks, "He didn't seem to mind."

Cashmere blinks at her with hard eyes, and Elara stares right back in challenge. Off to the side, Gloss just crosses his arms with a wide smirk and watches the show down as if it's the most entertaining thing since television was invented.

"Don't mind her, Winston. She's always had an overprotective streak. Older sister complex," he adds, and throws an arm over Elara's shoulders to lead her further into his apartment. She doesn't really need a guide at this point. She could probably navigate this place with her eyes closed – not that she intends on saying anything about that with Cashmere glaring at them.

With a scoff, Cashmere steps into the kitchen and says, "Can't blame me. You're a total idiot half the time. Especially right now." And she throws Elara a hard look that tells her why she thinks that Gloss is being an idiot. It doesn't take a genius to realize what Cashmere's getting at.

Elara purses her mouth. She supposes there's some truth to her words. Her and Gloss probably are idiots for getting so involved with each other, even if their affections don't transcend the bedroom – or so she tells herself.

Gloss snorts as he searches through the cabinet for a few glasses, and drawls, "I told you already, Cash. Winston and I have a special relationship and it's none of your business."

Cashmere rolls her eyes, "Yeah? Well considering the fact that Snow's been extending your schedule, I'd say it is. He clearly knows something's going on between you and – "

"Wait, Snow's been doing what?" Elara cuts in, face morphing into an expression of surprise. She hadn't been aware of that. Gloss hadn't mentioned anything to her.

She turns to look at him with a demanding look in her eyes, to which he merely raises an eyebrow. He opens his mouth to reply to her, but his sister cuts him off with an annoyed, "Oh this is just wonderful. My brother's the one getting punished for your stupid affair, or whatever it is you call it, and you're getting off scot-free?"

Elara pauses with a frown and mutters, "…Well, I have been coming to the Capitol more often, but – "

"You didn't stop to wonder why?" Cashmere asks sarcastically. Elara feels at once silly for not thinking more into the reasons behind the increased amount of invitations she's been getting in the recent months. She awkwardly falls into silence and clears her throat. Cashmere just laughs, "You're not as smart as Flickerman makes you out to be, Winston. Genius, my ass. I don't know why my brother seems to like you so much. I don't see anything worthwhile."

With that, the blonde Goddess floats from the room, leaving the two of them alone. Several moments later, the front door slams as Cashmere makes a rather dramatic exit. Elara barely manages to fight back a grimace at the loud, ricocheting sound.

Across the kitchen, Gloss stares at her with an unreadable expression, before calmly saying, "It takes a while for her to warm up to people. Just ignore her for now."

Elara's sharp eyes flicker over to his. Her expression is tight, and he sighs. Before he can say anything else, though, she says, "Maybe we should stop this, Gloss."

Her words seem to shock him, because he falls silent and just stares at her. His jaw clenches, but his movements are calm when he puts the empty glasses he'd collected onto the counter. Elara just stands there and waits for his reply, crossing her arms because she feels a bit awkward, standing in the middle of his kitchen and declaring that they should stop their strange, undefined relationship. To be honest, she has no idea what they even are, and therein lies yet another problem. Does she really want to keep going down this path? Is it worth the pain? Her mind tells her it's not, but her heart…

Well, that's another matter entirely.

Almost a full minute goes by before Gloss coolly says, "I don't care what Snow does to me. I like being with you. You make me feel…like I'm living. Like there's hope for me still."

His eyes flick up to hers, and once again they stare at each other silently as his words sink into her. Her heart thuds in betrayal, because she feels the exact same thing, and it's a little terrifying because that must mean that she likes him a little more than she'd thought.

Elara lowers her head to stare at the floor, fingers clenching into the sleeves of her jacket, which she still hasn't taken off yet. She slowly asks, "…Will your sister be coming back?"

He sees the question for what it is: acceptance. With a quiet smile, Gloss ducks his head for a moment and responds, "Nah. She's got her own place."

Then, glancing back up at her, they're both rather caught off guard with the fact that the atmosphere between them is suddenly a little awkward, in a pleasant way. It's a fresh feeling, as though they're starting over from the very beginning. As though they're doing it all for the first time. Elara smiles slowly at him and turns. As she walks to where his bedroom is, her jacket falls to the floor with a rustle of fabric. Gloss presses a smile down, watching her as she disappears into his bedroom. He thinks it's strangely perfect, how comfortable she's gotten around him. It's so different from the awkwardness she'd exhibited during their first few nights with each other. He loves that she no longer feels the need to cover herself up around him.

He lingers there for only a moment before chuckling and taking the bottle of liquor and two of the glasses and following her into the room. Personally, he feels that the night has already been a success. Cashmere will warm up to her eventually. He knows his sister well enough to realize that she isn't nearly as stand-offish as she likes to portray. And, well, if the night keeps going in the direction it currently is, Gloss thinks he could get used to this.

In the heat of the moment, as he lowers his mouth to Elara's and covers her body with his, he doesn't think that's such a bad thing. And later – when they pour the liquor and idle in the bed and joke about their lives in a far more lighthearted manner than they probably should, he doubts he ever will.

Yes, Elara Winston snuck up on him, but as he pulls her closer and sighs out at the feeling of her skin against his, he doesn't care.

"You had quite the night, didn't you?" Cashmere's voice drawls to Elara the next morning. Elara is already sitting in the public viewing room, where several other mentors are idling. She's got a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her and is in the process of swallowing a sip of coffee when the Victor from District 1 ambushes her, throwing herself onto the couch beside Elara with a rather undignified sigh. Undignified for someone as elegant as Cashmere Augustine, anyway. Elara chokes a bit in surprise, both at Cashmere's abrupt entrance as well as the nature of her inquiry, and turns to face her with a glowering expression. In response, Cashmere merely raises a dry eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware I was being so…obvious," Elara grumbles, feeling suddenly quite guilty about the night she'd had. The sponsor she had secured for Matilde wasn't exactly gentle with her, and Gloss's reaction when she'd gotten back to the Tribute Center had been less than stellar.

Cashmere just waves a hand and replies, "You weren't. I can just read you better than you think." Then, when Elara graces her with a dubious look, she shrugs and concedes, "Gloss is in a bad mood this morning."

Ah. That explains it. Elara can't particularly blame Gloss, of course. She'd have the same reaction if he'd spent the night with someone just to get a sponsorship for his tribute. She had thought, though, that they'd reached a concession since then. He'd stayed nearly the whole night in her arms, and when he'd left early that morning to return to his own suite, he had kissed her solidly on the mouth despite her being only half awake. Her drowsy reciprocation to his kiss had made him chuckle breathily. He hadn't wanted to leave – a fact that he'd made quite clear when he didn't immediately try to wrangle himself out of her tight, possessive hold.

Elara glances behind Cashmere to see if her brother is in the vicinity. Where one of them is, the other is sure to follow. To her subtle surprise, though, Gloss is nowhere to be found.

"He told you, then?" Elara haltingly wonders, taking a bite of her bagel just to give herself something to do. She's not sure how to react to this news, mainly because she's a little confused as to why Gloss is in a sour mood to begin with. If anyone knows the answer to that, it's his sister.

Cashmere hums, taking a sip of her own coffee as she looks over at the large screen that's currently showing the Career pack rationing some of their food for a breakfast of their own. "He didn't even need to. He only ever gets riled up like that when you're involved." She sends Elara a knowing look.

With a certain childish petulance, Elara mumbles, "You make it sound like that's a bad thing." She does, after all, quite like the sight of Gloss riled up.

Cashmere snorts. "He's jealous. You know he doesn't like the thought of you with someone else, however forced it is. He lo – " she cuts herself off quickly, swallowing the word as if its cursed, and gives the room a furtive look-over to see if anyone's watching them. The other Victors who are here hardly give the pair a second glance. Chaff's got a few of them wrapped up in a card game over in the corner, and they're loudly gambling away.

Elara stares at her friend with understanding eyes. The word that Cashmere had been about to say is rather obvious, and equally as forbidden. Victors can't just go around spouting things about love. That is a dangerous road to go down. Still, despite Elara's inner knowledge that love is exactly what bridges the gap between her and Gloss, she is somewhat surprised to hear that Cashmere sees it just as clearly. She rarely allows herself to think too hard on what she feels for Gloss. That, too, is a dangerous road.

"He didn't seem angry with me before," Elara murmurs, saving Cashmere from her stumble. The look of relief that Cashmere sends her is short-lived, though.

She sighs, "You know how my brother is, Elara. He only gets emotional about something when he's got time to think about it. He's backwards like that."

Elara purses her lips. She stares down at her breakfast with a careful expression, then looks up at Cashmere and says, "Maybe I should go talk to him."

Cashmere just shrugs unhelpfully and responds, "He's in the suite. It's his day to go out and get sponsors, so he's probably getting ready."

Pausing a moment as she gets up, Elara carefully wonders, "…Is he alone?" She's referring to the District 1 escort and stylists more than anything, but the question is loaded nonetheless.

Cashmere snorts in barely hidden amusement and drawls, "Last I checked." Then in a quieter voice, she demands, "But keep your hands off him. He needs to hunt down sponsors and you'll just distract him."

Elara can't help the smirk from gracing her mouth at the thought. She sarcastically quips, "He's the one you need to say that to, not me." The twinkle of mirth in her eyes just makes Cashmere scoff. She isn't fooled.

Elara makes her way to the elevator, where she presses the button for District 1. Cashmere's words follow her as she exits the elevator and walks down the hallway to where the suite is located. She struggles to think of what to say to him, but she falls short. When it comes to Gloss, she finds that it's better to wait and see what his mood is before planning speeches, because he has a startling tendency to catch her off guard. She suspects he does it on purpose.

She knocks on the door for propriety's sake, but doesn't stop to wait for him to answer it. He's most likely in his room anyway. She checks the other rooms before she makes her way to his, though, just to make sure they are indeed alone. Not that she's planning for anything to happen, but all bets are off when the two of them are alone together – something she's learned fairly quickly from the very beginning.

When she makes her way around to his room, the door is cracked. She nudges it open quietly and her eyes land on his form where he stands in front of his dresser, fixing the cuffs of his button up shirt. It's untucked and unbuttoned, something she realizes when he turns around at the sound of her entrance.

His eyes land on her briefly and Gloss immediately purses his mouth and turns back around, this time walking over to the mirror to start buttoning the shirt. She'd like to tell him not to, but instead she just murmurs, "Cashmere mentioned you were a little…off this morning."

Her choice of words makes him snort. Their eyes clash through the mirror, and he sends her an unreadable glower. "Cashmere needs to stay out of my business," is all he says in response, and Elara falters a bit because she suddenly wonders if she should have just stayed away to give him time to cool down.

With a wry expression, she dryly says, "Well then. I guess I'll go make sure she knows that." She makes to leave, intent on giving him the space he clearly needs, but to her surprise he catches her upper arm before she can, and closes the door with his other hand as he turns her to face him.

Gently pressing her to the closed door, Gloss mutters, "You're not going anywhere, Winston."

She swallows thickly at the sudden rush of desire she feels for him, and reaches up to fix his collar. His shirt's still half undone, but she's loathe to fix that, too. Instead she just brushes her fingers into his hair, smoothing out the messy strands as she whispers, "Are you angry with me for last night?"

The question makes him clench his jaw. She's sure his answer will be a resolute 'yes', but instead Gloss just presses their foreheads together and grasps her waist tightly. His voice is hoarse when he breathes, "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at this whole system – that you're forced to be with other men instead of me – "

She cuts him off with an abrupt kiss, sliding her mouth over his before he can finish his words. She doesn't really need him to. She understands his plight perfectly, for she feels it just as strongly as he does. The moment she forcefully tugs him down to kiss him, Gloss responds fiercely to her. He drags her roughly against him as if he's merely been waiting for her to act in this manner, and deepens the kiss within seconds, keeping her pressed between the door and his body.

It's funny how a kiss can be so distracting. Her focus is immediately diverted. He captures all of her attention immediately, without even trying. Within moments, Elara is lost to him just as surely as she's ever been, and even when he loops his hands beneath her thighs and heaves her up into his arms, she can't stop him. It's physically impossible. She wants him too badly for the thought to even cross her mind.

His hand scrabbles over the doorknob and twists the lock. It clicks into place with an audible snap. The moment it does, he's pushing them across the room, lips still furiously connected, and shuffles them into the bathroom. Elara finds it rather difficult to keep up with his actions – until she slides down his body and watches him pull away to turn the shower on. Then, frowning in confusion, she asks, "Gloss?"

He doesn't verbally respond. Instead he just wrestles with his shirt and heaves it over his head with one swift movement before coming back to her. He sweeps her into another heavy kiss before she can say anything more, and by then, Elara's halfhearted complaints vanish completely. It's a little hard to pull away from him when his hands are pushing the fabric of her shirt out of the way and smoothing over the planes of her back – and up, to grapple with the clasp of her bra. When his hands insistently slide around her to grasp her breasts, Elara is well and truly distracted.

Not quite distracted enough, though, to murmur, "Cashmere told me to keep my hands off of you cause you need to get sponsors – mmm – "

He pinches her nipples gently and bites her lip, effectively cutting her off with a drawling, "Well she didn't tell me that."

Elara chuckles and moans, "Funny. I said the same exact thing."

His eyes blaze into hers as he smirks, "She should know better. When have we ever been able to keep our hands off each other?" And, as if to prove the truth of his own words, he drags her shirt up and off her.

She pushes her bra away and reaches for him, pressing herself against his bare chest. They both sigh at the feeling that rattles through them, though the sound disappears quickly around the noise of the shower. She's happy that the Capitol hasn't yet invented a quieter showerhead, because it comes in handy in certain instances. The sound of rushing water overpowers the soft satisfied noises that they make as they sink into each other's arms.

His hands slide over her, shucking her pants away until she's completely bare. In turn, she wrestles with the zipper of his trousers with frantic intent, because she can feel the hardness beneath her fingers and she wants nothing more than to make sure that he's as bare as her. Gloss pulls back to watch her with a dark, amused expression. His eyes gleam with the hint of his desire, especially when she growls in annoyance and settles for shoving his trousers halfway down his hips and reaching in to pull his length out.

His eyes flash at her frustration and he takes pity on them both, pushing the trousers down and kicking them off as he bites back a moan. She's touching him firmly, fingers sweeping over his erection with long, slow strokes that make him weak in the knees.

"We don't have much time," he warns her, palming his hand up her hip until he reaches her breast.

He massages it firmly, loving the way her taut nipple feels against his hand and the hum of pleasure that breaks through her voice when she hoarsely responds, "Let's not waste it then."

He tips her chin up to kiss her. Their hands smooth over each other's bodies, delighting in the skin to skin contact. It's been months since they've been able to be with each other like this – bare, that is. The last few times had been frantic and needy, hardly gentle. Quick couplings are all they are afforded during the Games season, and usually, they don't have time to bother with removing all their clothes. He very much likes the sight of her without any, though. From the heated look in her eyes, he knows the feeling is mutual.

Within seconds, Gloss is heaving her up and pressing her against the wall, and her legs are wrapping securely around his waist. He slides into her gently, slowly filling her up. They idle for a moment like that, pressed so close. His forehead rests against hers, and the only sound they hear is the sound of their gasping breaths and the water that hits the shower floor several feet away.

When he finally moves, they both huddle closer together, fingers grasping as they imprint their love against the tiled wall. She clings to him like a sapling, muffling her moans against his broad shoulder as he pushes his hips into hers. She tries to meet him halfway, but the position makes it rather difficult so she just ends up drowning against him. He doesn't seem to mind.

They truly don't have much time to spend in this moment, so when their ends hit them, they don't try to drag them out. Elara presses her fingers down to her clit to work herself faster, moaning vividly when Gloss shoves them away and replaces them with his own. He spins her into a climax that makes her forget how to breathe, and in turn, it takes him only seconds to groan and reach an end of his own.

When she shakily sinks back to the floor, Gloss gathers her up against him and they stand together like two entwined trees. Silence cascades around them, broken only by the sound of the shower. She thinks she's never felt more at peace than when she's in his arms. He makes her feel safe and protected, as if nothing could ever harm her.

After a few minutes of total silence, Gloss turns his head to look at her. He catches her eye, and they stare at each other. There's something in his gaze that makes her pause, something that has her heart beating faster. She thinks she knows what it is, but she dares not speak it aloud.

He dares not, either, even when he starts to whisper, "Elara, I…" But he cuts himself off before he can say it, and she reaches up to caress his face.

Turning his chin, she gently kisses him. He sinks down into the kiss like a man starved, breathing heavily as she takes him against her. His hands are tight, grasping. She doesn't speak for a long while. But when she does, her voice is hoarse.

"I know, Gloss," she breathes. To her horror, her eyes fill with tears that she refuses to shed, and she blinks them away before he can see. But he does. It's hard for him not to notice her when he loves her so much.

It is as tragic as it is beautiful, their love, for even speaking it aloud is something that has become forbidden to them. No one would hear it, in this small room with the shower that washes away the sounds they make, but it doesn't matter. They've reached an unspoken agreement over the years that they never say the word aloud. It will only hurt them all the more to confess their love verbally, only to know that they cannot fulfill it as they wish to.

He stares at her, reaching up to brush his thumb below her eye, and sighs out heavily. There's nothing to say, really. All he can do is hold her and let his actions speak for themselves. And they do – they do. For she knows that he loves her even if he doesn't tell her outright, and she desperately hopes that he knows too.

Instead of speaking, Gloss just tucks her against his body and buries his face against her neck, memorizing the feel of her. It will be a memory he will be glad to have, when the long nights of separation once more creep up between them.