Chapter Twenty Two | To find the center of thy sunken earth;
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite."
2.2, 133-135 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare
Elara feels strange, standing in front of Gloss's door wearing an outfit far fancier than she normally would. Clothes are seen as more of an optional trapping when it comes to this apartment. Half the time Gloss struts around without a stitch of clothing on at all. It's a sight she happens to appreciate, which makes her feel all the more strange to be wearing so much.
Expensive gowns are a creation of the Capitol and they belong to the life she is forced to live here, and she can't claim to have ever worn one outside of an interview of a photoshoot. She's certainly never worn one on a date before. Well, not a date that she had agreed to go on willingly, and not because she is being paid for her company.
Come to think of it, Elara's never actually been on a real date in her life. Not that she thinks this is one. Is it?
She's…nervous. God, why is she nervous? It's just Gloss. Just him and dinner and maybe some drinks afterwards and definitely sex after that. It's not like they haven't done it all before. It just feels different somehow. More serious.
How is it that sex feels more serious when it goes along with dinner and drinks and conversation?
Her hand is shaking when she lifts it up to the door. She can't stand in the hallway forever. She doesn't want someone seeing her in front of Gloss's door like this. She already feels self-conscious enough has it is.
"It's open!" she hears him call when she hesitantly knocks. The familiar sound of his voice makes her feel a little better…until she opens the door and gets a good look at the sight of his apartment. She barely manages to shut the door behind her, she's so shocked.
Her nerves come back at full force as she stands there, wringing her hands in front of her and studying the scene that's laid out.
The table is set with expensive dishes and draped with linens that look brand new, shining with metallic threads that are woven into the fabric and gleaming like gilded silver in the dim light. There's soft music playing in the background, a swaying sort of sound that should by all accounts put her immediately at ease. It doesn't, of course. Her nerves just skyrocket all the more, wrangling together into knots that she can't seem to loosen.
Candles are everywhere. They flicker cheerfully from the living room to the small dining area and seem to extend into the kitchen too, from what she can see from her position in the hallway. They lend an ambient atmosphere to the room, as if their twinkling flames are brandishing the very emotions that curdle up her throat. God, she's nervous.
As if the very romantic sight of his apartment isn't enough, Gloss's sudden appearance nearly makes her jump. He's…God, he looks fantastic. Crisp button up shirt, loosened at the collar to show off the slightest hint of skin. Black trousers that look very good on his hips, finished off with a belt that matches the patent black leather shoes he's wearing. His hair is perfectly tousled. His eyes shine when he sees her, the edges of them crinkling up just so with a rare smile.
"Hey," he greets, pausing for a split second before sweeping in to kiss her cheek. His movements are a little stilted, as if he isn't sure what he should do. He's never really been on a date either – not a real one. Bringing the odd woman to a bar back in District 1 isn't quite the same. He's definitely out of his comfort zone, but he does a superb way of hiding it when he gestures to the room and asks, "What do you think?"
His voice is a little proud, a little smug, as if he believes he's cultivated the most romantic scene imaginable and is just as surprised as she is that he'd been able to pull it off. Having never made any kind of effort like this before, he thinks he's done a pretty good job, overall. Women like candles and soft music, right?
Elara isn't really sure what to say. Not that it isn't the most romantic thing she's ever walked in on of course. No one's ever done anything like this for her before, which is exactly why she flounders. She doesn't know how to handle herself in this foreign situation. Her relationship with Gloss had, up until this moment, been strictly casual. At least, they had never gone out or had dinner like this. They're comfortable in each other's apartments by now, and they eat together often enough, but this…well, this is a hell of a lot more.
It certainly isn't casual sex and one night stands. It suddenly feels like they're more than just occasional lovers who part ways more often than they cross paths.
She stares at him. Gloss raises an eyebrow at her and lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, clearing his throat awkwardly and muttering, "You hate it that much, huh?" Her silence makes him shift restlessly. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and adds, "Maybe I went a little overboard with the candles."
He sweeps his eyes over the apartment and makes a face, suddenly wishing that he hadn't spent the last half hour setting them up. Maybe he shouldn't have put on this music, either. It's starting to sound a little cloying.
Elara laughs awkwardly and says, "It's nice. Really."
He looks utterly unconvinced, and she can't blame him. She isn't being very convincing.
He grunts and turns around, walking over to the radio and pressing a few buttons to turn it off. Only – he never listens to music, and he had only just bought this fucking radio that afternoon for the sole purpose of tonight, and he hasn't really figured it out yet and there are so many stupid fucking buttons on this damned thing that he forgets which one will shut it off.
What a sight he makes, fumbling with a radio. He's the great Gloss Augustine and he can't even figure out how to work a damned stereo. He's so busy fumbling around that he doesn't even realize that Elara is beside him until she's grabbing the collar of his shirt, spinning him towards her, and leaning up to kiss him.
For a moment, he fumbles with that, too, until she drags him down into the kiss and takes him to an entirely different world. She has a way of doing that, he's noticed.
"I like it, really Gloss," she whispers against his mouth, eyes fluttering as she lifts a hand to cup his neck. She presses her body into his and breathes, "I've just…never done anything like this before."
He exhales heavily and curls into her arms, kissing her cheek as he embraces her. She's wearing a soft sort of perfume that he breathes in as he lowly mutters, "You know, usually people go on dates first, then have incredibly mind-blowing sex later. We've been doing this out of order."
She pulls back to playfully inquire, "Incredibly mind-blowing, hmm?"
He smirks down at her, and all of the sudden the stilted awkwardness of before drains away in the crease of his smile. She purses her lips to dampen her own grin and pulls him back against her, hiding it in the collar of his shirt.
"Be honest. Did I go overboard? I've never done this before either," he says, eyeing the candles and wishing he could just throw the lot of them away. He feels a bit silly for putting them out to begin with.
Elara looks around the apartment and hums, "It looks amazing, but…I don't need all of this."
He catches her eye and quips, "Well what do you need, Winston?"
She sends him a coy smile and plays with the top button of his shirt, watching his eyes shudder with a particular darkness that she's grown very familiar with.
"Just you," she tells him, and he breathes out steadily, as if he isn't sure what to say to that but definitely appreciates hearing it nonetheless.
Elara laughs and steps away, walking over to the stove. "It smells amazing in here. What's for dinner?"
He follows her, caging her in against the edge of the chrome as she looks down at the pan. His hand curls around her hip, edging low over her thigh as he deposits a kiss to the back of her neck. She shivers.
"I'm starving," he growls to her, and she shivers again but makes an effort to pull away.
"Gloss," she complains, narrowing her eyes on him. "We're on a date, remember? We're not having sex."
He pauses, then frowns and asks, "…Not even later tonight?"
The surly tone of his question makes her laugh aloud, and he chuckles, joining in. She shakes her head at him and hedges, "We always end up in bed together eventually. Stop being so childish."
This time, he's the one who narrows his eyes. "Childish? Seriously?"
She smirks and gestures to the food in the pans. "Serve me dinner already. I'm hungry – and not in the same way you are."
He rolls his eyes and mutters, "That's a lie and you know it. You're worse than I am half the time."
She smirks wider but doesn't comment, instead walking over to pour them some wine and bring it over to the table. She takes a seat, waiting for him to plate their dinner, and drawls, "I didn't know you owned a tablecloth."
Over at the stove, Gloss pauses and carefully responds, "I didn't." He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. His silence is telling.
Elara looks over at him and slowly adds, "I didn't know you owned a radio, either."
His eyes lift to hers. He repeats, "…I didn't."
The smile she sends him then is soft and delicate, and he's suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss over the curve of it.
It isn't the candles or the music or the table that inspires her heart to race in her chest. It's not the gleaming silverware or the folded napkins that makes her breath shallow out and her body fill with warm, efflorescent emotions.
No, it's none of that. It's the fact that he had put so much thought into this. Gloss, who rarely ever thinks so far ahead, who never does anything that isn't necessary and hardly talks about his emotions unless she drags them out of him. Gloss, who is secretly endearing and romantic even though he tries his hardest not to show it.
It's the fact that he isn't trying to hide it right now. That he's showing her all the hidden edges of his heart for once, instead of pushing them out of sight.
He rolls his eyes at the look she sends him and mutters, "This is the only time I'm doing this. Ever."
She chuckles and leans back as he puts her plate in front of her and sends her a narrowed look. She just purrs, "Maybe I'll manage to change your mind by the end of tonight."
His response is a mumbled, "The only way you'd manage that is if you're wearing something really hot under that dress."
He pulls his chair out and is in the process of sitting down when Elara smirks, "Well, I think it's pretty hot, but I guess you'll have to be the judge of that when you take the dress off."
He very nearly misses his chair as he goes to sit in it, and she laughs aloud at him.
Swallowing thickly, he growls, "I thought you said no sex tonight."
She just smirks wider and breezily says, "I said not before we have our date."
He lifts his fork and twirls it around his hand. "…But after the date we can have sex?"
She rolls her eyes. "Gloss, when do we ever not have sex? Besides, I bought the most erotic pair of lingerie I could find for this. You're not the only one who prepared."
His eyes darken.
"The most erotic pair?" he repeats, musing over her words as he sweeps his gaze over her figure like he's trying to see through her gown.
She shifts a little beneath his scrutiny and starts cutting into the chicken on her plate. "You have to wine and dine me if you want to see it. And maybe a dance. I've never danced with you before."
He incredulously asks, "A dance? What do you think I am, a fucking romantic?" She laughs at him and glances over to the radio, and he glowers, "I knew I shouldn't have bought that damn thing."
But they do dance, later on. She doesn't even have to force it out of him – much. He sweeps her around the room with surprising finesse, clearly far more experienced than he wants to admit, and he even seems to have fun when he spins her around and dips her a few times, much to her shock.
He likes the lingerie, too, when he finally manages to wrangle her dress off, but as for what happens after that, well…
Lovers often have a way of transcending the limitations of words.
"The next Games are only a month away," Elara murmurs over the rim of her coffee mug, catching Gloss's eye as they sit in a pool of sun in her kitchen. He glances at her and hums before turning his attention back to the TV, which he'd turned on only a few moments before. He's sitting on her couch with his arm strewn over the back of it. She watches him from the kitchen and sighs, wondering how they'd gotten so…normal. This quaint setting should not exist in their lives. Morning coffee and news is a thing for ordinary people, and they are far from ordinary. It's a beautiful thing, though, and she'll take what she can get.
"They're already making a big deal about it," he drawls, sarcasm taking root in his voice.
She shrugs. "Well, it's a Quarter Quell. It's not surprising."
He scoffs, but she knows that he agrees because he doesn't say anything further.
She takes another sip of coffee and glances at the time. It's ten o'clock. She's leaving for District 5 in a few hours. Gloss will be staying in the Capitol for another week before he goes back home. At least they won't have to wait as long as they usually have to, to see each other again. Of course, mentoring for another Games never breeds the best moments in their strange relationship, but still. If it means she gets to hold him again, then so be it.
"What do you think the catch will be this time?" he asks her over the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice. He glances over his shoulder at her and says, "For the 50th, they reaped twice as many tributes, right? That was Haymitch's year."
She nods and stands up, walking over to the couch to sit down beside him. As she tucks her legs up, she murmurs, "I don't know…but I do know that Snow isn't happy about Katniss and Peeta." She trails off and looks over at him with a frown.
He frowns back. "If you start over-thinking this, then you're gonna make me over-think it too."
She quips him a dry smile and drawls, "That's never a good thing."
He scoffs and pushes her a little, and she yelps as she nearly spills her coffee. Gloss looks entirely unapologetic. He even snickers at her.
"Well whatever happens, I'll be seeing you in a month, which isn't so bad," he tells her after a moment, looking over to catch her eye.
She makes a face at him. "Isn't so bad? That's an eternity!"
Gloss laughs again, nudging her with his elbow. "I'm so glad you think so. Now I won't feel like an idiot when I start missing you."
She laughs too, but it's a soft sound, cultivated from the intense heartache that she knows she'll start feeling the moment she gets on the train that will take her away from him. Sometimes she thinks she's selfish, wanting him so much. She's got Amelia to think about, after all. But she just can't help herself.
She puts her coffee mug onto the table and nestles into him, pressing her face against his shoulder and curling her legs over his lap. She doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't need her to. The spaces between their silence speaks heavy words.