[ There is something maybe a little charming in there that the first thing that Gustave could think of was also what he'd immediately thrown himself into. Just based on memory, maybe of how his Monsieur le pianiste had saved him from crashing from the rooftops two years ago, but it also has to come from some belief that Verso cared enough to save him, that keeping him safe would matter more than whatever it was that was keeping him hidden. He was right, of course. But that Gustave would think that so immediately, and be willing to stake himself on it . . . ]
I thought you might try something like calling my name, first.
[ It wouldn't have worked. But the determination that Gustave had climbing up this entire way -- he'd known what he was going to do before he started getting up here. Verso would like to think that at the end of the day, Gustave just believed that he would save him.
Its nice, almost as much as it breaks his heart. He doesn't deserve any of this. ]
I know you're not incapable, but -- It was a risk, a gamble, and all just to try and get my attention. [ That anger he'd had in that moment was genuine, white-hot and blazing. Gustave is a good man, beautiful and lovely, with people who love him, and the idea that he would even chance at throwing it all away just to get his eye -- it isn't worth it, he wasn't worth it. The anger has dissipated a little in everything they've done since, but some of it slides back here, if in a more teasing tone, chiding. ] Just -- please don't.
[ Even if Gustave had always thought he'd catch himself, always planned on it -- Verso can't know that. Verso can't help the way his heart leapt into his throat and how he'd dived for him like nothing else mattered, the fear that ran through him, the awful dread. He can't help the shadow of a memory of Gustave pressing a pistol to his own temple, smiling, his fingers on the trigger.
It feels a little too vulnerable to admit just how much that scared him. So he won't. ]
Next time I see you hurtle yourself off something, I'm letting you fall.
[ A blatant lie, but an obvious one, just a joke. Of course he wouldn't. He never could.
His fingers keep running up over Gustave's spine, counting every notch he can feel through his skin -- until the other man stiffens, glancing up. He pauses, turning his head slightly to the side, listening out: He's lived all these years out here, is well-tuned to the environment, its usual sounds, the calls and shifts of nevrons.
That's something different. Distant. A voice. Maybe even the ripple of chroma that he can sense, if he tries hard enough, echoes from a fight, or, no. Just a light in the dark. ]
-- I think we're out of time for tonight, Gustave.
[ He doesn't know each of your friends enough to exactly put a name to the voice, but that sure sounds like someone looking for you. It's unlikely they're coming up this way right now, but. They sure are looking. ]
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Date: 2025-06-07 06:43 am (UTC)I thought you might try something like calling my name, first.
[ It wouldn't have worked. But the determination that Gustave had climbing up this entire way -- he'd known what he was going to do before he started getting up here. Verso would like to think that at the end of the day, Gustave just believed that he would save him.
Its nice, almost as much as it breaks his heart. He doesn't deserve any of this. ]
I know you're not incapable, but -- It was a risk, a gamble, and all just to try and get my attention. [ That anger he'd had in that moment was genuine, white-hot and blazing. Gustave is a good man, beautiful and lovely, with people who love him, and the idea that he would even chance at throwing it all away just to get his eye -- it isn't worth it, he wasn't worth it. The anger has dissipated a little in everything they've done since, but some of it slides back here, if in a more teasing tone, chiding. ] Just -- please don't.
[ Even if Gustave had always thought he'd catch himself, always planned on it -- Verso can't know that. Verso can't help the way his heart leapt into his throat and how he'd dived for him like nothing else mattered, the fear that ran through him, the awful dread. He can't help the shadow of a memory of Gustave pressing a pistol to his own temple, smiling, his fingers on the trigger.
It feels a little too vulnerable to admit just how much that scared him. So he won't. ]
Next time I see you hurtle yourself off something, I'm letting you fall.
[ A blatant lie, but an obvious one, just a joke. Of course he wouldn't. He never could.
His fingers keep running up over Gustave's spine, counting every notch he can feel through his skin -- until the other man stiffens, glancing up. He pauses, turning his head slightly to the side, listening out: He's lived all these years out here, is well-tuned to the environment, its usual sounds, the calls and shifts of nevrons.
That's something different. Distant. A voice. Maybe even the ripple of chroma that he can sense, if he tries hard enough, echoes from a fight, or, no. Just a light in the dark. ]
-- I think we're out of time for tonight, Gustave.
[ He doesn't know each of your friends enough to exactly put a name to the voice, but that sure sounds like someone looking for you. It's unlikely they're coming up this way right now, but. They sure are looking. ]