superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave hates that he's shut down often enough on this Expedition that he's able to recognize its approach, but at least he's got enough warning to know he needs a few minutes alone to recalibrate. His primary focus is, of course, on Maelle, what this means for her and her future. Second comes the worry about everyone else in Lumière; third comes thoughts about the rest of the Expedition team, and then from there the million other things that have changed about his perception of their world.

He doesn't let himself dwell on Verso until it's almost too late in the night to even bother approaching. He'd lied so effortlessly and flawlessly at practically every turn; Gustave finds himself wondering despite himself if any of it had been authentic.

He isn't sure he can muster up the energy to care about feeling betrayed right now, his affect a bit flat as he stops to stand near him. "Explains the way you look at her."

He didn't really expect Gustave to come rub his back and tell him that he's so brave to sacrifice everything for family, but he'd hoped for something a little more than an inexpressive face and dull tone. At least if Gustave came to yell at him as Lune did, he'd get to use it to wallow in his own self-hatred some more.

His back is against a tree, legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped in his lap. Verso looks up at Gustave, but only for a brief moment. "I did want to tell her." So badly, at times. Gustave has no idea how it had felt to watch Maelle look at him as if he'd hung the stars while Verso was just a stranger to her.

Gustave has little interest in yelling and even less in consoling, and he watches him for a moment before taking a seat of his against a neighboring side of the tree trunk.

He's not wary of him, exactly; just uncertain about where they stand - not him and Verso, necessarily, but Verso and the rest of the Expedition. "I'm honestly a little surprised you didn't kill me," he says after a moment. "Must have been a strange situation for you."

Well, Verso's not fucking telling him that he seriously considered doing just that. Some secrets can stay buried.

"Yeah," he says noncommittally instead. "...But it's good she had you." He'd felt jealousy the likes of which have never been felt before watching them together, but— during those 16 years in Lumiére, she deserved to feel loved, cared for. He's relieved that she did.

Gustave hums quietly at that, because - well. It's a good answer. He's relieved to know Verso's entire personality hadn't been a carefully curated mask. "Yeah," he agrees, watching the sky, too in his own head to really absorb much of what he's seeing. "We must have sounded like idiots to you," he settles on eventually. "Naive."

If the vibe weren't so somber right now, Verso would probably laugh. Does Gustave imagine him as a moustache-twirling villain, laughing at the naivete of people who couldn't possibly know better? He was ignorant once, too. He had a bright-eyed idealism once, too.

Surely Gustave doesn't care to hear all that, so he lands on, "You sounded hopeful."

Verso has always been an enigma, opaque from the beginning. Gustave isn't sure what sort of secrets he'd been expecting him to have been hiding, but his wildest imagination never came close to this. It's been an incredibly surreal twenty-four hours.

"We were," he says, for lack of better answer. Quiet again, and he takes a low, careful breath. "I don't know how you want us to feel about you."

Verso wants to be liked, obviously, but that doesn't feel particularly realistic at the moment. Maybe not ever. Lune might hold a grudge for eternity. "Honestly," he answers, a little sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd feel any way about me."

Translation: He hadn't planned on having to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Gustave swears softly under his breath, feeling an uncomfortable bubble of emotion he's not immediately and fully sure how to even identify. "Was anything about any of your time with us- true?" There's a rough sort of edge to his voice. "Or were we just a means to your end. That's what I'm asking."

He had trusted! You!!!

Yes, Gustave, it's hard not to snark, the handjob was all part of my dastardly manipulation. Unfortunately, he's fairly sure that irreverence would strike out with Gustave right now.

"I was just trying to do the right thing." It isn't an answer, exactly, but he isn't certain how he possibly could answer that. Yes, large parts of it were all a lie. He tried to ingratiate himself in the hopes that the Expedition would unwittingly help bring about their own demise. He still cut off a hand to talk to Gustave, anyway.

It's inane, the way Gustave thinks now about Verso's deferred affection. After the Paintress, he'd insisted, and Gustave had allowed that to become a private thing to look forward to.

He'd been willing to let them all be erased from existence without a word of warning or explanation; he's not going to assume 'a handjob in the woods' is beyond reason if it means sticking close to someone who meant something to Maelle.

"Okay." His head hurts. "And what are you going to do now?"

Gustave's asking, he thinks, because he's afraid Verso is some moustache-twirling villain, and that he'll do something to jeopardize their existence again. Despite everything, Verso feels the urge to put him at ease. Old habits die hard.

"Our mother's out of the Canvas," he explains; Maelle had claimed it was hidden from her and that she wouldn't return, and he supposes he has no choice but to believe her. Maelle had also claimed that she would use the Canvas responsibly, unlike Maman, and he has no choice but to believe that right now, too. "I'll help Maelle with whatever she needs."

What comes after that, he's not certain. No more torturing Maman with his existence, no more Gommages to try to rescue her from herself. Maybe Maelle will see fit to erase him, when this is all over.

A pause, before he can't help himself. "I liked you. All of you."

It's not quite that. More than anything else, Gustave is starting to accept that there aren't any mustache-twirling villains in the first place, even though the existence of one would make all of this so much simpler. He thinks about that final walk with Soph, the tentative empathy she'd had for the Paintress even then, and it makes his heart hurt.

"Past tense?" He doesn't really have a point in asking, his head knocked back against the bark of the tree. It's just - easier, to stay here.

"Well, I'm not sure it's requited at the moment." He's aiming for wry rather than pathetic, although he's not sure he entirely hits the mark.

Gustave is silent for a long moment, like he's absorbing those words, before he doubles over to press his face into his hands. "I can't believe I slept with Maelle's actual brother. This is such an- insane situation." He means all of it, not just their weird dynamics.

"You didn't know any better," he says, and the worst part is that he's genuinely trying to make Gustave feel better about it. It's not like he's the one who did it while fully aware of the uncomfortable intertwining of their family trees. Verso should probably do some self-reflection about that, but he's absolutely not going to. "You thought I was just a... mysterious and handsome stranger."

"You were that." Gustave isn't sure what point he wants to make, what he's trying to communicate - if it's anything at all. This is so insignificant in the scope of everything else, but maybe it feels like this is one thing he might actually have influence over.

He closes his eyes, as if that's going to help him think. "I considered us friends. I hope you did, too."

Dry, he asks, "Past tense?"

Verso doesn't linger on that because, well, fucking obviously. No one's ever wanted to be his friend after the truth came out. Superficial charm only goes so far.

He leans his head against the trunk of the tree, bark scratching at his hair. "I think that's Esquie calling you." It's not, but it's only fair to give Gustave the sort of outs he always gave himself.

Gustave is silent for a long moment, but he's unmoving. Focused, in that intense way he does at times, and vaguely he wonders if this is what a migraine feels like.

"You've only ever been on Maelle's side, haven't you. Since the very beginning. I can't hate you for that."

Yes, and no. Maelle, of course, deserves a mother who lives in the real world. She deserves a family that's moved on, that doesn't blame her for things that were never her fault. Kicking Aline out of the Canvas was certainly a step in that direction. Part of it had been selfish, too, though. He'd wanted it all to stop.

"Oh, I don't know. Lune's doing a good job of it."

"This may come as a surprise, but Lune and I are, in fact, different people. Is this where you let us know that all Expeditioners actually look the same to you after so long? Because that would be the worst twist yet."

It's not funny. He knows it isn't funny, but he's at a strange loss.

Oof, it's not funny. Verso turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. "I'm trying to generously allow you to hate me." It's pretty rude that Gustave isn't letting him, actually.

"I don't know what good hatred has ever done me, honestly." And then, maybe a little more seriously: "You're Maelle's brother. It might be rough on her if we can't at least be cordial."

Oof, again. Hatred might be better than cordial, but Verso just rests his head back against the tree trunk, acquiescent. "All right. Cordial." A pause. "Monsieur." You know, since they're being so cordial.

"I said at least cordial," Gustave says, unable to keep the mild exasperation out of his voice. "Don't call me monsieur."

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