[ That gentle deep and aching yearning in Gustave's voice, in his eyes, when he talks about wanting to hear him play -- putain, Verso really is the worst type of person, to have left him. He had no choice, but maybe he could've done more to make him understand, or maybe he should've done less so that Gustave would've forgotten him before long. In the two years since, Verso had a fervor of playing the piano more than he had in years right after returning from Lumiere, but as the time wore it faded away again -- its' been months, mabe a full year. Playing made him miss having someone to hear it. He's grown used to plucking a flower or two every time he passes a field, especially those with purple flowers, keeping them somewhere and watching them slowly wilt away.
Any part of him that would feel some quiet happiness from knowing that Gustave had thought of him just as much is drowned under the weight of guilt for the obvious pain its caused him. But right now, at least, when he looks at him, when he thinks he's looking at a version of him that's he's imagined for himself out of desperation or yearning or both -- it seems like Gustave gets a real comfort from seeing him. From hearing him.
The least he can do is to use that to keep him alive. God, after all this time, and thinking he might've even already been gone -- he doesn't want to lose him again.
He can feel the tension wound in Gustave's arm start to relax. Giving in, just a little -- or at least keeping it at bay. Delaying it a while longer. Verso will take it. He places a steady pressure on his arm, slowly tries to urge him to lower the gun -- pointed away from him, away from anyone, just. Put it down. Stop holding onto it so tightly. Gustave starts listing off names, and he nods. He doesn't know each one. But he doesn't have to. ]
I know. I know. [ His other hand is still trembling, thumbing over his cheek, drawing him in as he brushes a kiss against his lips, his cheek, his jaw. ] I know. I'm sorry. They're gone.
[ He doesn't know if all the names Gustave are listing are gone. But judging by the bodies he'd had to go through on the beach to find him. And this woman, beside him -- Catherine. His grip firms a little over Gustave's jaw to guide his head back, to look at him and not the body beside him, or the bodies behind him, or everywhere else, swaying forward to press a kiss to his lips and then staying close. ]
But you're not alone.
[ There are other tracks. Other trails. Gustave has him, of course, but whether or not he can stay, whether or not Gustave can wake up enough from his shock and his grief to realize the man in front of him might be real -- he'll follow any trail he can find as far as he can, to find what remains of his Expedition. He'll do anything, right now. ]
Maelle -- [ shit, he probably shouldn't have said that, but the regret passes in an instant. Putain, this is more important. ] -- Maelle is safe. You will see her again. You will see me again, I'm promising you this.
[ His trembling hand slides from his cheek to the back of his neck. Pulling him a bit closer as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. ]
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Date: 2025-05-30 11:28 pm (UTC)Any part of him that would feel some quiet happiness from knowing that Gustave had thought of him just as much is drowned under the weight of guilt for the obvious pain its caused him. But right now, at least, when he looks at him, when he thinks he's looking at a version of him that's he's imagined for himself out of desperation or yearning or both -- it seems like Gustave gets a real comfort from seeing him. From hearing him.
The least he can do is to use that to keep him alive. God, after all this time, and thinking he might've even already been gone -- he doesn't want to lose him again.
He can feel the tension wound in Gustave's arm start to relax. Giving in, just a little -- or at least keeping it at bay. Delaying it a while longer. Verso will take it. He places a steady pressure on his arm, slowly tries to urge him to lower the gun -- pointed away from him, away from anyone, just. Put it down. Stop holding onto it so tightly. Gustave starts listing off names, and he nods. He doesn't know each one. But he doesn't have to. ]
I know. I know. [ His other hand is still trembling, thumbing over his cheek, drawing him in as he brushes a kiss against his lips, his cheek, his jaw. ] I know. I'm sorry. They're gone.
[ He doesn't know if all the names Gustave are listing are gone. But judging by the bodies he'd had to go through on the beach to find him. And this woman, beside him -- Catherine. His grip firms a little over Gustave's jaw to guide his head back, to look at him and not the body beside him, or the bodies behind him, or everywhere else, swaying forward to press a kiss to his lips and then staying close. ]
But you're not alone.
[ There are other tracks. Other trails. Gustave has him, of course, but whether or not he can stay, whether or not Gustave can wake up enough from his shock and his grief to realize the man in front of him might be real -- he'll follow any trail he can find as far as he can, to find what remains of his Expedition. He'll do anything, right now. ]
Maelle -- [ shit, he probably shouldn't have said that, but the regret passes in an instant. Putain, this is more important. ] -- Maelle is safe. You will see her again. You will see me again, I'm promising you this.
[ His trembling hand slides from his cheek to the back of his neck. Pulling him a bit closer as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. ]
Can you trust me in that, Gustave?