[ Verso leans into Gustave's touch, immediately recognizes the way he tucks some locks of hair back over his ear -- wonders if Gustave is seeing that gentle flower there, in his imagination. The same one Verso has kept pressed between the pages of his journal, still a little wilted and faded but kept preserved the only way he knew how.
Gustave has clearly thought about him so much, in these years past, so much of it just falling from his lips now, eager to tell what he thinks is someone in his mind's eye, and. It all hurts to hear, but Verso can listen, wants to listen, can at least do so much for him after hurting him so deeply.
For everything he wants to tell him, Gustave says. And Verso wants to stay. He wants to stay here with him the way he didn't at that garden, at the opera house, protect him as he comes back to his senses, see the look in his eyes ( hopefully more amazement than horror but -- who can tell ) as he slowly realizes the man in front of him is real, after all. But just like before, he can't stay. He shouldn't stay.
At least now he'll always be near. And that promise -- that promise will be a true one.
Carefully, he covers Gustave's hand over his face with his own, curving callused fingers over Gustave's where he's touching delicately at the corner of his mouth. Taking hold of his hand, gentle and affectionate, pulling it more fully towards his mouth so he can press a kiss over his knuckles, lips brushing over cuts and scrapes. ]
You will.
[ Just a murmured affirmation. This is a promise, Gustave. He will keep it. ]
Listen to me, mon chou. You aren't alone. [ There has to be other survivors nearby. He will find them, and guide their path here. This awful pit of death is -- not a pleasant place to be, but the nevrons don't tend to come in here, either, and it's a safe enough spot for him to sit a while and try to regain his senses, easy enough for Verso to keep some tabs on him while he does his best to find someone, anyone else that lived. ] Rest a while, but not for too long. Once someone finds you, you should press on.
Keep pressing on, and you'll find Maelle. You'll find me.
[ He squeezes over Gustave's hand, looking back at him. He doesn't think he can do what Gustave does, just show a thousand things in his eyes alone, open up his heart and soul to show him everything he feels -- but he hopes Gustave can see this. That he means it. That they will see each other again. That he's so, so sorry for everything, for every hurt he's caused -- but that never forgot him, either, these past two years, and that just seeing him again is making something ache so painfully and so sweetly he doesn't know how to put words to it at all. His monsieur le fleuriste. ]
Promise me? [ A quiet murmur. He knows what he has to do, but he's still a little afraid to leave him, again, again, again. ] That you will do this, for me.
That you will continue.
[ The way of the Expedition, the mission he himself helped form, all those decades ago. ]
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Date: 2025-05-31 10:38 am (UTC)Gustave has clearly thought about him so much, in these years past, so much of it just falling from his lips now, eager to tell what he thinks is someone in his mind's eye, and. It all hurts to hear, but Verso can listen, wants to listen, can at least do so much for him after hurting him so deeply.
For everything he wants to tell him, Gustave says. And Verso wants to stay. He wants to stay here with him the way he didn't at that garden, at the opera house, protect him as he comes back to his senses, see the look in his eyes ( hopefully more amazement than horror but -- who can tell ) as he slowly realizes the man in front of him is real, after all. But just like before, he can't stay. He shouldn't stay.
At least now he'll always be near. And that promise -- that promise will be a true one.
Carefully, he covers Gustave's hand over his face with his own, curving callused fingers over Gustave's where he's touching delicately at the corner of his mouth. Taking hold of his hand, gentle and affectionate, pulling it more fully towards his mouth so he can press a kiss over his knuckles, lips brushing over cuts and scrapes. ]
You will.
[ Just a murmured affirmation. This is a promise, Gustave. He will keep it. ]
Listen to me, mon chou. You aren't alone. [ There has to be other survivors nearby. He will find them, and guide their path here. This awful pit of death is -- not a pleasant place to be, but the nevrons don't tend to come in here, either, and it's a safe enough spot for him to sit a while and try to regain his senses, easy enough for Verso to keep some tabs on him while he does his best to find someone, anyone else that lived. ] Rest a while, but not for too long. Once someone finds you, you should press on.
Keep pressing on, and you'll find Maelle. You'll find me.
[ He squeezes over Gustave's hand, looking back at him. He doesn't think he can do what Gustave does, just show a thousand things in his eyes alone, open up his heart and soul to show him everything he feels -- but he hopes Gustave can see this. That he means it. That they will see each other again. That he's so, so sorry for everything, for every hurt he's caused -- but that never forgot him, either, these past two years, and that just seeing him again is making something ache so painfully and so sweetly he doesn't know how to put words to it at all. His monsieur le fleuriste. ]
Promise me? [ A quiet murmur. He knows what he has to do, but he's still a little afraid to leave him, again, again, again. ] That you will do this, for me.
That you will continue.
[ The way of the Expedition, the mission he himself helped form, all those decades ago. ]