tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

"Resent isn't the word I'm thinking of, no."

I would rather have danced with you is a viable reply, but he doesn't have the right to say it, and besides, Gustave would probably point out that they very much could have danced together if only Verso hadn't cut him off. It's too complicated, too hard to explain.

"But I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say that it was charming."

[superniceone]

Gustave considers that for a moment, finally turning his head to just look at Verso. Studying him, like he might be able to strip a few layers off to help him understand better the way his mind works.

"I think," he starts quietly, "that it's pretty silly that you still obfuscate everything you say. Feels a bit late for that."

[recreatable]

"It's not— everything," Verso says weakly. It's just most things. He's prevaricated since long before he met Gustave; sometimes he thinks it must be sketched into his very being, an intrinsic quality of Verso's that got passed down to him.

He sighs. "Force of habit, I guess." That's easier to say than that it's a deep-seated facet of his personality, which he supposes is again obfuscating. But he's taking baby steps — he fumbles through, "I... liked it. The jealousy."

He hadn't been certain Gustave had any real affection for him at all, honestly, or if he'd just attempted it out of his own habit. It had felt good to be liked on his own merit, and not as a stand-in for someone else.

[superniceone]

Gustave considers what he's learned since he's sat down at the trunk of this tree, facing north to Verso's west. They'd been betrayed, but it hadn't been out of malice. It felt like the inconsequential parts of their relationships with him were — probably, mostly real. It wasn't nothing.

He isn't sure when he's going to trust Verso again, if he can; but that doesn't make him evil, doesn't somehow inoculate Verso against the tension and anxiety of the situation. Gustave runs his hand through his hair, visibly torn about what to do. After a moment, he twists to face Verso properly, reaching out to clumsily pull him into the sort of embrace he'd employ with Maelle on her worst days.

"Just hold still here for a second," he grumps, a quiet command.

[recreatable]

"I'm not complaining," he's sure to say as he remains very still, "but I'm not sure if this logically follows." Gustave should be breaking his neck right now, honestly.

[superniceone]

"I need a hug after today, and you're the closest person available." If Verso can tell glib lies, then so can Gustave. It's awkward as fuck, but who even cares at this point.

[recreatable]

"Okay," Verso says, because he's not sure what else to say, and pats Gustave on the back awkwardly. He's not quite sure if this is an attempted rekindling of their relationship(?) or just a mental break after discovering everything about the world Gustave knows is fake. Maybe both, considering he'd have to have the latter to do the former. "I guess it wouldn't be very cordial to deny you. Monsieur."

[superniceone]

It's neither of those, or at least not intentionally. Whilst it's true he'll be regarding pretty much everything Verso says with scrutiny for the foreseeable future, he also doesn't hate him, and he has no idea how to communicate that with words.

There's no suggestiveness to it, no stroking or wandering hands, though it is fairly tight as far as embraces go. Gustave makes a sound of complaint as he rests his chin on Verso's shoulder.

"This is going to get very awkward if you don't actually hug me back, you know. I can wait it out." Back pats don't count when you're being corporally cuddled.

[recreatable]

"Yeah, it's not at all awkward now," Verso says lightly, but he places a hand on Gustave's back, reciprocating for a moment before pulling away.

"You really should go. She's the one who needs a hug."

And, as much as he'd like to be the one to give it, he can acknowledge that their relationship is— complicated. There are some fraught feelings there. Not like with Gustave; their connection is simple.

[superniceone]

"I think Maelle and I have said all we need to say to each other tonight." He leans back, shaking his head slightly at Verso. "But if you're not ready to talk to her yet- she can be patient."

[recreatable]

"We've talked." You don't know his life. Not extensively, but as much as they'd needed to get things back on track. Maelle had seemed particularly enthusiastic about protecting the Canvas and bringing back her friends, and he hadn't had it in him to do anything other than assist her. "She's difficult to say no to."

[superniceone]

Gustave casts a sidelong glance at Verso, quiet and considering. "She's stubborn as hell, it's true." He shifts, shifting to bring his pack to his lap, digging through for his journal. Distracting himself, obviously, before he asks: "Let me know. If you're ever open for - convincing."

He's going to assume it was a platitude, a deferment made with the assumption that they would never live to see this day together. Gustave hasn't untangled his own feelings about this new reality enough to know what he wants, yet, but - it's good to know what's on the table when making plans.

[recreatable]

Verso raises an eyebrow. "I should let you know that you aren't as hard up as you clearly think you are." Have some standards, man. He's a traitor, a liar, and he's basically Gustave's brother-once-removed. Surely at least one of those things is a dealbreaker. "It would be the gallant thing to do."

[superniceone]

Honestly, he hasn't had the mental space to consider if they're deal breakers yet or not. Gustave keeps thinking back to Verso's question, the intense way he'd asked what he'd be willing to do for Maelle—

If he were in Verso's shoes, would his choices have been that different?

"You're allowed to just say 'no,' you know. You don't have to convince me I don't want to."

[recreatable]

He wants to say that if I wanted to say no, I would say no, but... he probably would try to convince Gustave that it was him who didn't want to. There's not a problem in the world he's ever thought he couldn't charm his way out of, disinterest included. Disinterest isn't the problem, though.

"Are you always so suspicious of someone trying to be gentlemanly?"

[superniceone]

Gustave thinks about that for a moment, before he rocks forward to push himself to his feet. "No," he says, "just you, I think. Goodnight, Verso. Let me know if you come up with an actual answer."

It's neither heated nor hateful; just tired in that slightly overwhelmed way.

[recreatable]

Well, he can't say it's not fair.

Verso should probably ask Gustave not to go, then explain everything. No equivocating, just blunt honesty. Tell him it's not you, it's me, and that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve good things, and that it would be better for Gustave (and everyone else here) to wipe his hands of Verso altogether before he causes more suffering.

Instead, he just lets Gustave go. It's several nights before he tries to get Gustave alone again. It's been a long day; Maelle has just spent most of it trying to play volleyball with Gestrals. Verso tried, but he got hit in the face. He crouches by the fire, a respectable distance away as he warms his hands against the evening chill.

"You'll be a hero back in Lumière," he says, canting his head toward Gustave's journal. "All that knowledge. They'll build a statue of you."

[superniceone]

Gustave gives him space. It might be more difficult if he weren't still so often lost in his own head, consumed by thoughts about the newfound nature of the world around them. (And of Maelle, how the thought of losing her makes it hard to breathe, but if she has a different life to be living somewhere else—)

He snaps out of it, clearly a little surprised, before he shakes his head no. "No one wants that, least of all me. Not particularly useful information now anyway either." Gustave glances down at the book, then at Verso's face, inspecting. "I see the nosebleed stopped."

He watched you take that volleyball in the face, man.

[recreatable]

Verso wipes under his nose self-consciously. "That just happens sometimes, when you headbutt the ball."

He wouldn't know. He's not sporty. Sciel was kind enough to assure him that his nose still looks as charming as ever, though, and only a little swollen.

A shrug. "Maelle seems to be having fun." She'd certainly laughed at his misfortune.

[superniceone]

"I don't think I had that much energy when I was sixteen. I feel like I'd remember that." Gustave similarly declined, much preferring to watch than actually play.

He leans in to feed the fire; it's clear there's a question on the tip of his tongue, and he's not sure how to phrase it without coming off as accidentally accusing or judgmental: what do you want would definitely just lead to Verso fleeing. Instead, a Little awkwardly, he just remains silent after that.

[recreatable]

Yeah, he sees that question dying to get out. "You should have told me that I needed an excuse to talk to you. I would have done some light dismemberment."

[superniceone]

Gustave half-heartedly flings a palm full of sand at him at the remark. "No, I was just— I wondered if this conversation was business or pleasure, is all." He pauses, then hastily adds: "You know what I mean by that."

[recreatable]

The corner of Verso's mouth curls up, and he flicks some sand in Gustave's direction with his thumb and forefinger. It doesn't even make it to Gustave. He lowers himself to sit, then, once he's reasonably certain Gustave isn't about to tell him to piss off.

"Just thought I'd spread the gossip," he says with a shrug, voice light. "Sciel is planning on having Maelle bring her husband back." Obviously, he's seeking Gustave's opinion on this, but he couldn't possibly say what he means.

[superniceone]

Gustave looks slightly surprised by the news, though in truth he's more just caught off guard by hearing this through the (very short) grapevine instead of from Sciel directly.

"Pierre was a good man," he says, tipping his head back in thought. "She deserves the happiness." There are so many people gone that he'd love to see again, but there's a dull throb in his chest at the sea of cognitive dissonance in his thoughts; he's never truly grappled with existentialism before, so worried about the ones to come after that he never spares much thought for himself.

[recreatable]

He has his own thoughts on bringing people back from the dead, but— Maelle just did it several times over, and they don't seem too torn up about it. Recreations of people from outside the Canvas are perhaps a special case.

"Are you planning to do the same, then?" Maelle would probably do it even if Gustave didn't ask. She'd do anything to make him happy. "Settle down with a brood of ten children?" That's what he wanted, as Verso recalls.