[ Gustave says his name, and Verso sways forward slightly, loves the sound of Gustave's voice around it, the tiny little shudder it still sends running through his spine -- even as it sounds different. Softer. Helpless. Verso can see straight into his eyes into his heart, just like he could two years ago, and he can see how much he wants this and wants him but also just how -- pained, it is. It's enough to catch him off guard, just for a moment, his lungs twisting in his chest.
Verso does his best. He cares about people. He has to make terrible decisions because of the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he tries to do best by people in his own way -- and it's difficult. Sometimes the Expeditioners just fade into numbers, just more and more of them throwing themselves into death, the the heavy reality of it fading into the background, becoming numb. Other times he just can't remember what its like to be one of them, again, their lives counting down before their very eyes, painfully limited and swift. And then other times, he doesn't quite realize just how much it would hurt to have someone vanish into thin air for years at a time, to so clearly and profoundly know that something had happened between them that made both your hearts sing -- and know that somehow, it wasn't enough.
He sways a little forward into Gustave's not-quite-touch, fingers curled into his mostly-unbuttoned shirt, that one single button still hanging on near his navel. Verso's hand against the rock shifts to rest quietly against his side, and his other hand lifts to skirt his fingers gently against his jaw. Every single time he's touched him today has been longing, desperate and horribly impatient, burning with a heat and want that threatened to devour him whole, and this. That longing is still there, that want, that hunger, but it's softer. Gentler. Giving permission for Gustave to pull away, if he wants, but if he doesn't. He's here. ]
You will see me again.
[ An echo of a promise that Verso remembers, that he's etched into his heart -- but that Gustave might not. And that's fine. Verso's fingers curve against his chin, thumb ghosting over Gustave's kiss-bruised lower lip. Merde, he's beautiful. He just wants to sink into him, drown himself in this, forget everything else.
A pause, and a small smile. Sad, apologetic. He's so sorry he hurt him. He's so sorry for all of this. ]
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Date: 2025-06-04 11:55 pm (UTC)Verso does his best. He cares about people. He has to make terrible decisions because of the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he tries to do best by people in his own way -- and it's difficult. Sometimes the Expeditioners just fade into numbers, just more and more of them throwing themselves into death, the the heavy reality of it fading into the background, becoming numb. Other times he just can't remember what its like to be one of them, again, their lives counting down before their very eyes, painfully limited and swift. And then other times, he doesn't quite realize just how much it would hurt to have someone vanish into thin air for years at a time, to so clearly and profoundly know that something had happened between them that made both your hearts sing -- and know that somehow, it wasn't enough.
He sways a little forward into Gustave's not-quite-touch, fingers curled into his mostly-unbuttoned shirt, that one single button still hanging on near his navel. Verso's hand against the rock shifts to rest quietly against his side, and his other hand lifts to skirt his fingers gently against his jaw. Every single time he's touched him today has been longing, desperate and horribly impatient, burning with a heat and want that threatened to devour him whole, and this. That longing is still there, that want, that hunger, but it's softer. Gentler. Giving permission for Gustave to pull away, if he wants, but if he doesn't. He's here. ]
You will see me again.
[ An echo of a promise that Verso remembers, that he's etched into his heart -- but that Gustave might not. And that's fine. Verso's fingers curve against his chin, thumb ghosting over Gustave's kiss-bruised lower lip. Merde, he's beautiful. He just wants to sink into him, drown himself in this, forget everything else.
A pause, and a small smile. Sad, apologetic. He's so sorry he hurt him. He's so sorry for all of this. ]
It won't take two years.
[ Just to be clear. ]