[ Verso runs his fingers through his hair, and he can feel it all the way through his body, rippling down his spine like he's stepping under a stream of warm water. He makes a small sound, his hand warm on Verso's chest, and kisses him again, a little more deeply. ]
I needed some way to bring you out quickly.
[ Before he left again. Before Gustave lost his chance. And he hadn't even been sure it would work, hadn't be certain Verso had been watching, where he was. It had been a complete gamble, much too risky.
He'd do it again in a heartbeat, he knows. ]
I would have caught myself if you hadn't shown up, you know.
[ Probably. Almost certainly. His reflexes are good and he'd been planning on utilizing this very same grapple point. It's not like... not like back in the cave, when he'd thought there was no other path to take, of course it isn't. It had simply been a means to an end.
He arches up lightly against the fingers that run along his spine, and it's bewildering, really, the fact that Verso is still here, that he hasn't tried to pull himself away, to make excuses. Maybe he really does mean it, that he'll stay, that Gustave can keep him, maybe—
Gustave stiffens, pulling away a little as his glance goes over Verso's shoulder and to the side, his hands stilling on Verso's body. ]
[ 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. ]
[ What he'd prefer not to admit to Verso — what he doesn't even want to admit to himself — is that there had been a moment, maybe a few, when he'd looked out over that height and thought: it would work.
Thoughts he's kept to himself, since those terrible moments in the cave when Lune berated him, bullied him into surviving. They found Maelle, they found Sciel, the mission continues, he has something to live for, even moments of real happiness, but sometimes... sometimes the weight of it all slips back over him, slow and insidious, and his heart stutters, it gets hard to breathe. Everyone they've lost, how far they still have to go, and there's only four of them now, what happens if they lose somebody?
(When they lose somebody. It'll happen. They all know it. They just don't know who, or how, or when.)
He doesn't think he wants to die, exactly, but there have been moments — not many, since the cave, but a few — where he's caught himself looking at a cliff, or feeling the weight of his pistol or considering the depth of some river or lake with a little too much quiet focus. He tries not to think about what more he might do than consider if Maelle weren't here, if they hadn't found her.
Verso... Verso doesn't need to know any of that. He's worried enough already, had been furious with it before, and they only just found one another. It's something else to live for, isn't it? The way it feels when he slowly runs his fingers up Gustave's spine, the warmth of him tucked against his chest, the way Gustave wants to hold on and never let go.
But, as usual, the choice is taken from him, never really his to begin with. Verso might not recognize that voice, but he does: it's Lune, by far the most awkward of the team to potentially find him entangled with a mysterious man who says he's over a hundred years old. He leans his head back against the rock, eyes closing with a sigh, then pushes forward to kiss Verso, long and deep. ]
For tonight.
[ He'd promised, and maybe... maybe it's a promise Gustave can actually hold onto. It turns out, in the end, he never had been all that good at protecting his heart. Not from Sophie, not from Verso.
It's with deep reluctance that he finally gets up, disentangling them, and puts himself back together as hurriedly as he can without accidentally slowing himself down by buttoning or buckling things wrong. He runs his hands through his hair, knowing it must be an impossible mess, and looks back at Verso. It feels strange to be the one leaving this time: like he had back at the opera house. And just like then, there had been a promise of tomorrow.
He doesn't know if he can trust it. All he can do is trust it, and hope that this time, his heart will go unbruised a little longer. ]
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no subject
Date: 2025-06-07 04:11 am (UTC)I needed some way to bring you out quickly.
[ Before he left again. Before Gustave lost his chance. And he hadn't even been sure it would work, hadn't be certain Verso had been watching, where he was. It had been a complete gamble, much too risky.
He'd do it again in a heartbeat, he knows. ]
I would have caught myself if you hadn't shown up, you know.
[ Probably. Almost certainly. His reflexes are good and he'd been planning on utilizing this very same grapple point. It's not like... not like back in the cave, when he'd thought there was no other path to take, of course it isn't. It had simply been a means to an end.
He arches up lightly against the fingers that run along his spine, and it's bewildering, really, the fact that Verso is still here, that he hasn't tried to pull himself away, to make excuses. Maybe he really does mean it, that he'll stay, that Gustave can keep him, maybe—
Gustave stiffens, pulling away a little as his glance goes over Verso's shoulder and to the side, his hands stilling on Verso's body. ]
...Do you hear something?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-07 02:13 pm (UTC)Thoughts he's kept to himself, since those terrible moments in the cave when Lune berated him, bullied him into surviving. They found Maelle, they found Sciel, the mission continues, he has something to live for, even moments of real happiness, but sometimes... sometimes the weight of it all slips back over him, slow and insidious, and his heart stutters, it gets hard to breathe. Everyone they've lost, how far they still have to go, and there's only four of them now, what happens if they lose somebody?
(When they lose somebody. It'll happen. They all know it. They just don't know who, or how, or when.)
He doesn't think he wants to die, exactly, but there have been moments — not many, since the cave, but a few — where he's caught himself looking at a cliff, or feeling the weight of his pistol or considering the depth of some river or lake with a little too much quiet focus. He tries not to think about what more he might do than consider if Maelle weren't here, if they hadn't found her.
Verso... Verso doesn't need to know any of that. He's worried enough already, had been furious with it before, and they only just found one another. It's something else to live for, isn't it? The way it feels when he slowly runs his fingers up Gustave's spine, the warmth of him tucked against his chest, the way Gustave wants to hold on and never let go.
But, as usual, the choice is taken from him, never really his to begin with. Verso might not recognize that voice, but he does: it's Lune, by far the most awkward of the team to potentially find him entangled with a mysterious man who says he's over a hundred years old. He leans his head back against the rock, eyes closing with a sigh, then pushes forward to kiss Verso, long and deep. ]
For tonight.
[ He'd promised, and maybe... maybe it's a promise Gustave can actually hold onto. It turns out, in the end, he never had been all that good at protecting his heart. Not from Sophie, not from Verso.
It's with deep reluctance that he finally gets up, disentangling them, and puts himself back together as hurriedly as he can without accidentally slowing himself down by buttoning or buckling things wrong. He runs his hands through his hair, knowing it must be an impossible mess, and looks back at Verso. It feels strange to be the one leaving this time: like he had back at the opera house. And just like then, there had been a promise of tomorrow.
He doesn't know if he can trust it. All he can do is trust it, and hope that this time, his heart will go unbruised a little longer. ]
See you soon.