[ Verso keep saying he needs to leave and means it every time. Nine months ago the plan had been to leave Lumiere after a day or two, stopped by a moment of weakness in an empty concert hall and the man who'd just happened to be there to hear him. Today the plan had been to stay no longer than a day, to make sure no one sees him, this time, least of all his one painfully endearing audience member from all that time ago. Verso's plans rarely go well, and he's usually able to roll with the punches well enough to see where they land, but this has generally been an extraordinary failure even if Verso thinks, right now at least, he wouldn't want it any other way.
He'll still regret it later, when he's far away enough from this. When he doesn't have Gustave right here in front of him, when he can't still taste him lingering on his tongue. But when he is here, for as long as Verso lets him, he's just going to keep tangling him up more, and he leans back in, brushing another sweet kiss to his mouth. ]
Not that night.
[ He has to draw the line. As much as he hates to do so. For your own sake, he thinks to himself, but that justification really doesn't matter when Gustave couldn't possibly know it, and it barely does anything to make himself feel any better. ]
I would if I could.
[ If he was less of a coward maybe he'd be able to let that rest instead of trying to soften it, trying to add caveats. He is telling the truth here, at least, even if he's hiding a thousand things by omission -- he does regret that. He wishes he could. The gentle yearning in his voice for a simpler answer and a simpler time is as real as anything else. He draws a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, purposefully breaks his gaze from Gustave's to look away -- just at the garden. Where they are. The sun, starting to sink down. ]
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He'll still regret it later, when he's far away enough from this. When he doesn't have Gustave right here in front of him, when he can't still taste him lingering on his tongue. But when he is here, for as long as Verso lets him, he's just going to keep tangling him up more, and he leans back in, brushing another sweet kiss to his mouth. ]
Not that night.
[ He has to draw the line. As much as he hates to do so. For your own sake, he thinks to himself, but that justification really doesn't matter when Gustave couldn't possibly know it, and it barely does anything to make himself feel any better. ]
I would if I could.
[ If he was less of a coward maybe he'd be able to let that rest instead of trying to soften it, trying to add caveats. He is telling the truth here, at least, even if he's hiding a thousand things by omission -- he does regret that. He wishes he could. The gentle yearning in his voice for a simpler answer and a simpler time is as real as anything else. He draws a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, purposefully breaks his gaze from Gustave's to look away -- just at the garden. Where they are. The sun, starting to sink down. ]