[ His eyes press closed as Verso sways forward, brushing his lips over a spot at his temple: not his mouth, not his jaw, not his throat. It feels like a goodbye, and Gustave swallows, curves one hand at the side of Verso's neck, the other gently over his ribs.

He does know the answer; of course he does. He would simply have asked if he'd thought some other answer would be forthcoming.

Gustave leans forward before Verso can sway away again, catching his mouth in a warm, gentle kiss, unwilling to let reality seep fully between them. His voice, when he speaks, is a low murmur, brushed against the man's lips. ]

Come back. Let me take you to dinner, and... and tell you my stories, and listen to you talk about music, or whatever you want.

[ His lips part, but he has just enough pride left still that it doesn't come out: please. ]

I just... I would really like to... It's been a long time since...

If there's any way things could be different, you know, I'd like... I'd like....

[ But he's made himself clear, even if his words are failing him now. He shakes his head at himself again and curves his hand at the corner of Verso's jaw. ]

You know what I'd like.