[ Just like with Sophie, he's too late. He should have tried harder those years ago in the garden, should have... should have found some way to convince him, whatever it took. He's only just found Verso again, and all of it is already crumbling to pieces in his hands.
Verso leans in to press their foreheads together, swearing up and down that he's not really going, that he will be there tomorrow, and Gustave doesn't know how to believe him, or even if he's actually real, after all. There have been times, here, since the beach, when he's thought... when he's seen...
Verso isn't the only one who has appeared to him here. It could all just be some terrible trick of his own imagination.
(He already knows he'll be spending too much of tomorrow looking for flowers, looking for some delicate purple blossom to pluck and keep with him, just... just in case.) ]
Tell me why.
[ For everything Verso's asking, surely he can ask this in return? He cradles Verso's cheek in his hand, tips his head to find Verso's mouth with his own, wanting to feel him, to taste his lips and breathe the air from his lungs, just for a little while longer, as long as he can. It's gentle, but just like with his voice, there's an edge of need to it, of desperation. ]
Give me a reason why you can't come back with me, why I can't tell the others about you. Anything, as long as it's true. Give me something to hold onto.
[ Something that isn't that note, currently hidden in the pages his apprentices gave him: a note in Verso's handwriting with a cluster of musical notes safely tucked away along with a photograph of about the same size of a smiling woman with blue eyes and bobbed hair and a sweet, mischievous smile. He shakes his head again, mind whirling, trying to think of a single reason why Verso might tell him to keep this a secret and unable to come up with anything that makes any kind of sense.
Almost. ]
If you're... if you're in some kind of trouble... we can help. Let me help, mon cherโ
[ It falls thoughtlessly off his lips; he doesn't even notice it. ]
Whatever it is, let me help you. Let me... just, just come back with me.
[ He presses his forehead against Verso's again, hand curving at the side of his head, unwilling to let go, to let him go. ]
Plus il y a dโespace entre toi et moi et moins je respire... I only just got you back.
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Date: 2025-06-06 09:50 pm (UTC)Verso leans in to press their foreheads together, swearing up and down that he's not really going, that he will be there tomorrow, and Gustave doesn't know how to believe him, or even if he's actually real, after all. There have been times, here, since the beach, when he's thought... when he's seen...
Verso isn't the only one who has appeared to him here. It could all just be some terrible trick of his own imagination.
(He already knows he'll be spending too much of tomorrow looking for flowers, looking for some delicate purple blossom to pluck and keep with him, just... just in case.) ]
Tell me why.
[ For everything Verso's asking, surely he can ask this in return? He cradles Verso's cheek in his hand, tips his head to find Verso's mouth with his own, wanting to feel him, to taste his lips and breathe the air from his lungs, just for a little while longer, as long as he can. It's gentle, but just like with his voice, there's an edge of need to it, of desperation. ]
Give me a reason why you can't come back with me, why I can't tell the others about you. Anything, as long as it's true. Give me something to hold onto.
[ Something that isn't that note, currently hidden in the pages his apprentices gave him: a note in Verso's handwriting with a cluster of musical notes safely tucked away along with a photograph of about the same size of a smiling woman with blue eyes and bobbed hair and a sweet, mischievous smile. He shakes his head again, mind whirling, trying to think of a single reason why Verso might tell him to keep this a secret and unable to come up with anything that makes any kind of sense.
Almost. ]
If you're... if you're in some kind of trouble... we can help. Let me help, mon cherโ
[ It falls thoughtlessly off his lips; he doesn't even notice it. ]
Whatever it is, let me help you. Let me... just, just come back with me.
[ He presses his forehead against Verso's again, hand curving at the side of his head, unwilling to let go, to let him go. ]
Plus il y a dโespace entre toi et moi et moins je respire... I only just got you back.