[ Verso isn't exactly expecting warmth, but that's -- colder than he expected. His stomach churns, and absurdly in his mind he reminds himself that even if he had the moment to consider letting Gustave just fall, it would've been for the sake of preserving secrecy, his family's safety, the possibility that Alicia -- that Maelle-- represents.
Not just to avoid a painfully awkward encounter with a man he'd stood up on a . . . meeting.
The hurt from that has clearly reached deeper than Verso thought it might. He'd sat in the front row seats in the opera hall, hours earlier than Gustave could've ever thought to arrive, soaking in the quiet. His mind going back and forth between staying just for a while, staying another night, leaving now, waiting a bit longer, leaving something, leaving nothing. What he'd arrived at, with the note, the music, seemed the best way out. But that was -- how long? Eight, nine months ago. Seeing Gustave up close now, for the first time full light, he remembers with startling clarity how brightly his eyes shone when he'd urged Verso for another song, the light pink dusting his cheeks when he'd asked him about the next night, stumbling on his words over and over. A night he'd genuinely thought of fondly, in the months since, even if he'd often kick himself for letting it happen at all whenever the memory surfaced.
None of that light is here.
Verso drops his hand awkwardly, instead taking a step back to give the man space -- watching as Gustave manages to push himself to his feet. He does seem well enough. Good. That's -- good. ]
You're welcome.
[ The teasing tone is gone now. Clearly not the mood. ]
Just -- stay careful, Gustave.
[ Verso takes another step back. There's some uncertainty in it ( ridiculous, he'd already been looking for a way out, why hesitate now when there's an even better reason for it? ), but the man isn't happy to see him again, and that had never been the plan, anyway. Maybe for the best to just leave now, happy enough to give him a few more years of life, let him go back to forgetting that they'd ever met. ]
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Date: 2025-05-23 06:29 pm (UTC)Not just to avoid a painfully awkward encounter with a man he'd stood up on a . . . meeting.
The hurt from that has clearly reached deeper than Verso thought it might. He'd sat in the front row seats in the opera hall, hours earlier than Gustave could've ever thought to arrive, soaking in the quiet. His mind going back and forth between staying just for a while, staying another night, leaving now, waiting a bit longer, leaving something, leaving nothing. What he'd arrived at, with the note, the music, seemed the best way out. But that was -- how long? Eight, nine months ago. Seeing Gustave up close now, for the first time full light, he remembers with startling clarity how brightly his eyes shone when he'd urged Verso for another song, the light pink dusting his cheeks when he'd asked him about the next night, stumbling on his words over and over. A night he'd genuinely thought of fondly, in the months since, even if he'd often kick himself for letting it happen at all whenever the memory surfaced.
None of that light is here.
Verso drops his hand awkwardly, instead taking a step back to give the man space -- watching as Gustave manages to push himself to his feet. He does seem well enough. Good. That's -- good. ]
You're welcome.
[ The teasing tone is gone now. Clearly not the mood. ]
Just -- stay careful, Gustave.
[ Verso takes another step back. There's some uncertainty in it ( ridiculous, he'd already been looking for a way out, why hesitate now when there's an even better reason for it? ), but the man isn't happy to see him again, and that had never been the plan, anyway. Maybe for the best to just leave now, happy enough to give him a few more years of life, let him go back to forgetting that they'd ever met. ]