[ Verso has spent too much time these past two years thinking about Gustave. In a hundred little ways, things that remind him of him, a thought of how he could have said something better, a way that he could have spared him some pain or made something between them work. He's also thought about what it was about the man he really did find so enchanting, just how and why the stranger he'd watched for years but only known for a few hours had managed to calmly stroll past his most fiercely guarded walls and carve a place for himself within.
He reached many different answers. All of them, he thinks, at least a little true. But the one he keeps coming back to most of all, was what he remembers calling disarming in his head. Gustave is a man like any other, must have his secrets, his own walls, the things he will not say or cross. But in the way he looked at him so earnest, so open, inviting him in -- Verso could not help but sink in. To a man who lives that way, someone he doesn't even dare to think to want to be because he doesn't understand what it would mean. Someone he could never be.
And here. In awful circumstances -- the stench of blood and decay thick in the air, Gustave utterly alone in his despair, talking to ghosts and teetering on the edge ( Verso is so afraid he's making things worse, but he knows if he hadn't been here, Gustave may already have been gone ). He's just as earnest here. In what he believes are the fading last images of his mind, all he can think to do is to pour his heart out and try desperately to make peace with guilt he's carried with him these past years. And for what? Not saying goodbye to a man who tore his heart out and left it to bleed?
It would be infuriating how open he is, if it weren't taking Verso's already broken heart and shattering it further.
And -- he can't help himself. There are things he never thought he'd say. But he's searching for anything, anything to keep him here, to make it so he doesn't have to lose him again when he's here on the Continent and he could keep watching him and keep him close for all the time he has left, to pull him back from the brink. A man that good, who shines so brightly, deserves at least that. ]
I'm here.
[ He says it, but it's weak. He hears the way Gustave's mind is circling, cycling, doesn't think he can change his mind there. So he just -- talks. ]
-- There is nothing to forgive you for. Mon chou. [ His voice is halting, sentences broken. He feels like he's speaking through lungs filled with water, like he's struggling not to drown as he talks. He tastes the salt sting of his own tears at the corners of his mouth. ] There are -- a lot of reasons I couldn't stay with you in Lumiere. That I knew you would hate me for. And if I was stronger, I would not have hurt you the way I did.
But I couldn't help myself, Gustave. You made me feel -- a way I haven't, in in over fifty -- in over fifty years. [ He's saying too much. He's saying too much. But he can't -- if Gustave is dying here, if he can't pull him from the brink, then at least maybe he can die knowing more of the truth. And even then, not all of it. Even then, Verso thinks bitterly to himself, there are still lies and lies and lies. ] And I treasured that. I still do. I don't regret it except for how it's hurt you.
[ His head is spinning. His lungs seem to fill even more. His grip is still too-tight over Gustave's, over the gun. His other hand clutches desperately at Gustave's metal one, clutching it closer to his face. Afraid of letting go.
Too much about himself. Something else. He needs -- he needs to try everything. ]
Maelle. Please believe me, I would not lie to you about her. [ He would. He did. He is still lying. But -- he would not lie about this. She is safe and well. ] I did what I could for her, and then I came back for you.
If you cannot stay for me, mon cher fleuriste, then please. For her.
And --
[ He clutches that hand closer. His heart is beating so loud in his chest that he swears Gustave could feel it, that he swears he feels like every dead heart in this room is beating with his own pulse. ]
If you cannot stay. Then I --
-- Please. Wait for me.
[ Wait for the Monolith. Wait for all this to end. Wait for the end that he will lead Maelle too without her knowing. Wait for Lumiere to have the happiest day its ever known, a celebration of life that can go on without end, freedom from the shadow of the Paintress that has stolen every future from them for generations on end --
Wait for when Verso, too, can finally be free. And when everyone gets washed away, they could find each other then. ]
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Date: 2025-05-31 02:09 am (UTC)He reached many different answers. All of them, he thinks, at least a little true. But the one he keeps coming back to most of all, was what he remembers calling disarming in his head. Gustave is a man like any other, must have his secrets, his own walls, the things he will not say or cross. But in the way he looked at him so earnest, so open, inviting him in -- Verso could not help but sink in. To a man who lives that way, someone he doesn't even dare to think to want to be because he doesn't understand what it would mean. Someone he could never be.
And here. In awful circumstances -- the stench of blood and decay thick in the air, Gustave utterly alone in his despair, talking to ghosts and teetering on the edge ( Verso is so afraid he's making things worse, but he knows if he hadn't been here, Gustave may already have been gone ). He's just as earnest here. In what he believes are the fading last images of his mind, all he can think to do is to pour his heart out and try desperately to make peace with guilt he's carried with him these past years. And for what? Not saying goodbye to a man who tore his heart out and left it to bleed?
It would be infuriating how open he is, if it weren't taking Verso's already broken heart and shattering it further.
And -- he can't help himself. There are things he never thought he'd say. But he's searching for anything, anything to keep him here, to make it so he doesn't have to lose him again when he's here on the Continent and he could keep watching him and keep him close for all the time he has left, to pull him back from the brink. A man that good, who shines so brightly, deserves at least that. ]
I'm here.
[ He says it, but it's weak. He hears the way Gustave's mind is circling, cycling, doesn't think he can change his mind there. So he just -- talks. ]
-- There is nothing to forgive you for. Mon chou. [ His voice is halting, sentences broken. He feels like he's speaking through lungs filled with water, like he's struggling not to drown as he talks. He tastes the salt sting of his own tears at the corners of his mouth. ] There are -- a lot of reasons I couldn't stay with you in Lumiere. That I knew you would hate me for. And if I was stronger, I would not have hurt you the way I did.
But I couldn't help myself, Gustave. You made me feel -- a way I haven't, in in over fifty -- in over fifty years. [ He's saying too much. He's saying too much. But he can't -- if Gustave is dying here, if he can't pull him from the brink, then at least maybe he can die knowing more of the truth. And even then, not all of it. Even then, Verso thinks bitterly to himself, there are still lies and lies and lies. ] And I treasured that. I still do. I don't regret it except for how it's hurt you.
[ His head is spinning. His lungs seem to fill even more. His grip is still too-tight over Gustave's, over the gun. His other hand clutches desperately at Gustave's metal one, clutching it closer to his face. Afraid of letting go.
Too much about himself. Something else. He needs -- he needs to try everything. ]
Maelle. Please believe me, I would not lie to you about her. [ He would. He did. He is still lying. But -- he would not lie about this. She is safe and well. ] I did what I could for her, and then I came back for you.
If you cannot stay for me, mon cher fleuriste, then please. For her.
And --
[ He clutches that hand closer. His heart is beating so loud in his chest that he swears Gustave could feel it, that he swears he feels like every dead heart in this room is beating with his own pulse. ]
If you cannot stay. Then I --
-- Please. Wait for me.
[ Wait for the Monolith. Wait for all this to end. Wait for the end that he will lead Maelle too without her knowing. Wait for Lumiere to have the happiest day its ever known, a celebration of life that can go on without end, freedom from the shadow of the Paintress that has stolen every future from them for generations on end --
Wait for when Verso, too, can finally be free. And when everyone gets washed away, they could find each other then. ]