superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

There's very little more embarrassing than the speed at which his heart beats over a held hand. Thank god Gustave can't hear it, although it feels so deafeningly loud that it's almost shocking that he can't. He says nothing, looking into the fire in that companionable silence Gustave had been seeking ages ago, but his mind works overtime. Everything feels a million times more fraught and confusing, and he doesn't know how to ask about it without making things worse.

Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "You're not actually going to try to stay on the Continent, are you?" This, at least, is a question he feels equipped to ask. "It would break Maelle's heart."

Part of Gustave's unfortunately timed distance had come about because of an almost desperate need to sit with his own thoughts and examine them. He's never handled helplessness well, never had an easy time with the unknown, and the last few weeks have sent him spiraling into both for myriad reasons.

But Verso had broken down, had been held and held him back, and that had meant more to him than the sex. It was a problem, right? Why was it a problem? Verso had been clear about his boundaries early, and Gustave couldn't change them — so what could he do?

His fingers flex, move to interlace with Verso's. The answer doesn't come right away, but it's obvious he's taking great pains to consider his own words. "I missed— four long years with someone I loved because I was too afraid of the future to chase after her," he says. "There were other reasons, at first. But that's what it came to ultimately."

Gustave isn't in love with Verso. There's not been any time for that, no space. But feeling how desperate he'd been to do anything for the pain radiating off him the other night— he can't deny that he could be, someday.

He realizes that he hasn't actually answered the question, and he clears his throat a little awkwardly. "So I might stay on the Continent, yeah, if that's where you are," Gustave says with a confidence he clearly doesn't feel. "At least until you're sick of me following you around like a lost gestral kid."

Oh, wow, Verso is ruining Gustave's life without even trying. Mère de dieu.

He rubs at his face with his free hand, frustrated. It's very sweet, of course, and he likes it, but it's also crazy. Everything Gustave has done is for Lumière, and quite frankly, he rarely shuts up about it. Verso knows what's best for him more than Gustave does, and clearly, he's the only one here who's going to take responsibility for it.

He exhales, then squeezes Gustave's hand comfortingly, schooling his tone to the kind he uses when trying to reassure Maelle. There's definitely something questionable about using his Maelle tactics on Gustave, but at this point, it's probably the least questionable thing about this relationship.

"It's all right," he says, softly, "if you're... nervous about seeing her again." But don't throw it all away for the worst person alive!!!

It is with a strange little lurch that Gustave realizes it's not Sophie he's nervous about seeing — it's all of Lumière. He's spent his life thinking of it as the last bastion of safety and humanity after the Fracture, but still just a sliver of human life, of human history. It's hard to swallow how different the truth really is, to accept that all of human history as far as this world goes is pretty much the same age as Verso.

They are people. But also— they're just art. How is he meant to reconcile this? He will always love Sophie—she's a part of his makeup, just like Maelle and Emma—but trying to capture what they'd had before felt naïve.

All of that to say: Verso's answer makes him roll his eyes. "I'm not, actually. But thank you for the reassurance, mémère."

"I'm just saying if you were," he says defensively, and now it really does sound like he's arguing with Maelle, so he stops himself.

"You should go back to Lumière." This is not an I think, this is a fact. "Maelle needs you there."

She won't always be there; her time outside the Canvas may feel like moments to her, but it might be days or weeks or months for them. All the same, she'll expect Gustave there when she comes back. She'll expect Verso, too, but— he hasn't figured out that part of the equation yet.

"I'll be fine. To tell you the truth, I'm not as tortured as I pretend to be."

Edited 2025-07-30 17:19 (UTC)

It had just been an idea, really, more of a passing what-if than an actual plan. In truth, Gustave doesn't really trust himself to make any broad sweeping decisions like that, and he won't until he's got a more solid idea of what any given tomorrow might look like.

Verso's arguments rankle him enough that he won't point that out. Couldn't Maelle just paint her own personal Esquie to come seek him out wherever he happened to be? And then, even more than that: they were both mutually aware that they'd each move mountains if it meant Maelle's happiness and safety. What ruffled him the most is feeling like that's being weaponized against him.

Gustave purses his lips, expression terse as he stares through the fire. "My own happiness doesn't enter into the equation at all, then?"

Well, okay. He gets the sense he's probably not welcome to hold Gustave's hand right now, so he extricates his fingers from Gustave's grasp. Obviously, Gustave's happiness factors in here. It's a large part of it, actually. He'll be happy in Lumière, in his workshop, with his little apprentices hanging off of his every word.

"I didn't know it was your life's dream to control the Nevron population."

"My life's dream was to stop the Paintress," Gustave says, and it's a little wry, knowing what he knows now. "Maybe I just need enough room to think up a new dream."

This is, again, very cute. Very hopeful for the future, which is something he can't say he's experienced recently. Verso pinches his nose again, a tension headache forming. Gustave really has no idea how much stress he's putting Verso under!!

"And if I decide to go back to Lumière and be your Uncle Verso"—he is not going to be Uncle Verso, ever—"are you going to follow me like a lost gestral then, too?"

Gustave hesitates visibly, flexing his empty hand on his own knee like he's not sure what to do with it. Eventually, he leans back, crossing his arms in the way he does when he isn't sure what else to do with them.

"Depends on how much it'd bother you, I think," he admits. "But if you'd have me, yes, probably."

"That's madness, Gustave."

And it really is, although perhaps Verso is being unfair; after all, Gustave only has a slight inkling of what kind of a person he really is. Verso could end this in a second with a few truthful confessions, but—

He doesn't want to. Selfishly, he doesn't want Gustave to think poorly of him, even though it would be the right thing to do.

"...Everyone will think you're interested in your uncle."

Gustave laughs at that despite himself, blowing out a puff of air and rocking his head back to look up at the sky. He's not quite agitated, exactly, but it is taking an effort of will to keep from stubbornly reaching out to touch him again.

"I think my sister would probably ruin the 'favored uncle' plan, anyway, you know."

He doesn't know why he's chasing after this with both hands; it's not like him. Telling himself that does nothing to ease the prickling discomfort he feels when he thinks about Verso choosing to let himself evaporate from their lives.

"—a month in Lumière. To help us rebuild. And if you're miserable— I'll help convince Maelle that you belong anywhere else."

A month. It's plenty of time for Gustave to remember his real life, at least for some measure of real. It's entirely possible that he'll be so disillusioned with Verso by the end of it that he'll be glad for the out.

And it's very difficult to say no to those big brown eyes. Gustave should be forced to wear a blindfold around him, for fairness.

"—All right, twist my arm," he says, like he's not just viewing this as a momentary stay of execution for their relationship. Gustave doesn't have to know that. "It... would be fair to help rebuild." Considering how much of the destruction is his fault. "You know how fond I am of giving back to the community."

"Lucky community," Gustave says, tone dry, but there's no denying that something subtle in his posture relaxes. The worst part of this all is the possibility that Verso is right: that Gustave will return to Lumière and be drawn so fully back into it that all of his current doubts and fears vanish. Won't he feel foolish, then.

"Thank you," he says a little more earnestly then, and he reaches over to gently rest his hand on Verso's leg. "For humoring me."

The tension in Gustave's shoulders relaxes, and the same happens to Verso's. The stress and anxiety and dread is still there, but it does feel nice to push it off for a little bit. Like procrastinating on a project until the due date arrives, it isn't the wisest choice, but it's the one that feels the best.

"Oh, it isn't for free. I'm expecting five star entertainment from you for that month."

Gustave snorts, and isn't proud of his own abrupt and intrusive thought: maybe adoring Verso and Maelle is inevitable. Maybe it's coded right into their genes. He chases that away, quietly horrified at himself, his hand tightening slightly on Verso's leg.

"We've got these amazing things in Lumière," he says, holding up his free hand like he's imagining a marquee. "'Locking doors.' Can't wait to introduce you to all of their practical uses."

Verso's not quite sure how he went from trying to gracefully dump Gustave to promising him a whole month, but when he laughs involuntarily at Gustave's dorky, charming humor, he has an idea. Gustave makes things seem not so dire, somehow, like maybe there's a chance that everything isn't horrible forever. Verso, in all his selfishness, can't help but chase that feeling.

"Hmm," he says, staring into the fire as the corner of his mouth twitches up. "Never heard of them. Are they related to this fraternization I keep hearing so much about?"

You can't break up until you've both hit the streets of Lumière in matching slutty little ensembles, Verso, it's basically law.

The fact that they're on an even enough keel to joke around is a massive relief, anyway. Gustave wasn't sure how this conversation was going to go, but— the outcome could have been worse. "Mm. Frequently, yes. I'll have some stinging nettles brought into my room if you need a reminder of home."

Catch-22, no one could ever break-up with Gustave while he's wearing a slutty V-neck!!

The wilds of the Continent aren't home, but the concept of home is too heavy of one to discuss here, now. He's still recovering from Gustave having seen him at his most miserable and pathetic. He may never recover, honestly.

Instead, he keeps it light. "Sweet of you. But I'll admit, I imagined your room to be too full of nuts and bolts to be used for extracurricular activities."

"My bedroom is extremely normal," Gustave protests, then grows quiet for a moment. "Or was, I suppose. Emma said she'd handle my things if I didn't come back. Really the only time it felt like she actually believed in the mission."

He glances at the rest of the camp, then back at Verso, before he'll once again channel Sophie— hoping more than anything to summon her ease and elegance as he parrots the sort of thing she used to say. "Hey, lay down. Let me play with your hair." Surely eight thousand belts will make a nice pillow.

"Um," he says, very suavely. "Okay."

This is all— not new territory, but certainly territory that he hasn't tread in long enough that it might as well be. He scoots to the side, moving to hover awkwardly over Gustave's lap, a ridiculous echo of the way Gustave had been hesitant to rest his weight on Verso. He's not at all nervous about crawling into Gustave's lap, but putting his head into it feels significantly more intimidating.

"Family can be... challenging," he says to distract from how faltering he is, before finally setting his head down on Gustave's thighs. "But—ow—" The belts are very pokey. He readjusts. "—She's your sister. I'm sure she believed in you."

Not the mission, maybe, but at least her brother.

"Hard not to, when you have all the determination of Monoco detaching a Nevron foot." It's not pretty!!

Okay, maybe 'put your head in my lap' is the kind of thing that a young, beautiful woman can get away with saying without it being strange; it probably has a different vibe coming from a dorky, mustached man in his thirties. He's preparing to apologize, to tell Verso it's fine, but then he settles and— okay, yeah. Still kind of weird, but also nice, too. Gustave slides his hand into Verso's hair, sort of just gently petting him, and he can understand why Sophie was so fond of doing this to him.

"She believed that I was an idealist," Gustave muses, his hand steady, and then he exhales an abrupt laugh. "She hit the roof when I blew up my arm. Nearly got banned from my own workshop forever, you know."

The vibe of it coming from a dorky, mustached man in his thirties hadn't been unappealing, but it does feel strange. Always painfully aware of the way he's perceived, he can imagine Maelle or Lune or Sciel looking over and seeing this, and he isn't certain what they'd think. It's one thing to think the world's most questionable man is just sleeping with your friend, but it might be another to see him laying his head in said friend's lap.

He links his hands together over his abdomen and tries not to let himself get carried away. Instead, he thinks about how Esquie will probably be jealous that he wasn't invited.

"Mmm," he hums disapprovingly. "Well, I wouldn't know about that sort of thing. I've always been an angel."

Obviously not, but at least he never blew anything up.

Gustave is by nature neither a jealous nor a possessive man, but there's no denying that a small part of him is making an intentional statement here. If Verso is going to return to Lumière with them, if they're going to trial a thing, whatever shape that thing ends up taking — he doesn't want it to begin and end as some kind of shameful secret.

"What a load of absolute horseshit," Gustave says, tone affectionate as his hand sweeps gently over Verso's brow. "You know I had to fix all that shoddy work you did on the shield dome myself, right?" Spoken like Verso's involvement with the shield dome isn't the sexiest thing about him as far as Gustave is concerned.

"Shoddy seems harsh," he gripes, although— yeah, it was probably shoddy. He's not scientifically minded like Gustave, hasn't spent the better part of his life taking things apart and putting them back together. Creative, sure, imaginative — but the actual implementation probably left something to be desired.

"And you don't know it was my work. It might have been"—hell, he almost says Papa's—"someone else's fault."

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