[ It is a miracle. Its a bit less of a cosmic coincidence when Verso is aware of what he's done and what he's been doing, that he's been keeping tabs on Maelle this whole time, following all of them from afar. But it'd still been chance that had led Gustave to the opera house that night, that had Verso in Lumiere at all when he'd fallen from the rooftop nine months after. Some kind of miracle that the Alicia has managed to find the life she has, that her newfound brother does so much for her, and that that happens to be the same man who has so thoroughly captured his attention, and his heart.
More lies than he'd like. But still enough that he feels fortunate in a way he can't possibly deserve, especially with the way Gustave looks at him, with how sweet his kisses are, how achingly romantic his words are. He has no doubt that if he'd stayed in Lumiere, Gustave really would have plied him with wine and roses and anything he thought his heart desired, maybe while tripping over his own words all along the way.
He curves a hand gently through Gustave's hair, the softest sigh falling from his lips just from that alone -- he loves the way the strands part between his fingers, how the curls fall around his touch. His other arm winds around him, just to feel him, fingers tracing the line of his spine under his shirt as he kisses him back. ]
-- All of me.
[ Come to join the piece of him he left in Gustave's care without even understanding. Verso has been so desperately lonely -- the past two Expeditions have been difficult for him to interact with, to keep his distance from, especially when he knows he heard the name Gustave from the 34th at least once -- and they're always fleeting. Monoco is at his station, and Esquie he'd pulled away from for months at a time. His company had been the mountains, the fields of flowers, the wistful memories he carried with him, and the aching emptiness in his heart, touched with the hollow pang of regret.
He leans in a little to that hand against his chest. His heart beats, slow, powerful, strong -- and fluttering just a little under his kisses, enough to be noticeable. ]
It's a miracle I won't question and will be happy to just enjoy, mon chou.
[ In the terrible, fleeting time that Gustave has left . . . God, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve any of this. He's so sweet, so loving, so willing to trust and adore him for how little he knows. Verso's been too cowardly to leave him, so maybe the only mercy he has left to give is -- to hope that he dies or reaches his Gommage before he learns too much of the truth.
Something stirs in his stomach. Guilt and pain and regret for even thinking it. ]
-- But I think you've been letting yourself go. Off of the edges of perilous cliffs and buildings. [ A bit of a laugh, his hand stroking fondly through his hair. ] I'm going to have to ask you to stop doing that.
no subject
More lies than he'd like. But still enough that he feels fortunate in a way he can't possibly deserve, especially with the way Gustave looks at him, with how sweet his kisses are, how achingly romantic his words are. He has no doubt that if he'd stayed in Lumiere, Gustave really would have plied him with wine and roses and anything he thought his heart desired, maybe while tripping over his own words all along the way.
He curves a hand gently through Gustave's hair, the softest sigh falling from his lips just from that alone -- he loves the way the strands part between his fingers, how the curls fall around his touch. His other arm winds around him, just to feel him, fingers tracing the line of his spine under his shirt as he kisses him back. ]
-- All of me.
[ Come to join the piece of him he left in Gustave's care without even understanding. Verso has been so desperately lonely -- the past two Expeditions have been difficult for him to interact with, to keep his distance from, especially when he knows he heard the name Gustave from the 34th at least once -- and they're always fleeting. Monoco is at his station, and Esquie he'd pulled away from for months at a time. His company had been the mountains, the fields of flowers, the wistful memories he carried with him, and the aching emptiness in his heart, touched with the hollow pang of regret.
He leans in a little to that hand against his chest. His heart beats, slow, powerful, strong -- and fluttering just a little under his kisses, enough to be noticeable. ]
It's a miracle I won't question and will be happy to just enjoy, mon chou.
[ In the terrible, fleeting time that Gustave has left . . . God, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve any of this. He's so sweet, so loving, so willing to trust and adore him for how little he knows. Verso's been too cowardly to leave him, so maybe the only mercy he has left to give is -- to hope that he dies or reaches his Gommage before he learns too much of the truth.
Something stirs in his stomach. Guilt and pain and regret for even thinking it. ]
-- But I think you've been letting yourself go. Off of the edges of perilous cliffs and buildings. [ A bit of a laugh, his hand stroking fondly through his hair. ] I'm going to have to ask you to stop doing that.