"I can't help but feel your voice would be much better suited for this than mine, but alright." Gustave flips back to the start, and he'll read for Verso in a soft, measured voice; it's not wholly unlike the time he's spent when he's volunteered time at the orphanage. Life was weird and sad for a guy with a death sentence who desperately wanted children of his own; it was one of the more worthwhile ways he'd occasionally spent weekends.
Occasionally he strokes Verso's head, gentle and fond between page turns. If left unchecked, he'll just keep reading until it's a more reasonable time to actually go to sleep.
It does get left unchecked, if only because at some point during Gustave's book-on-tape reading, Verso passes the fuck out to the soft sound of his voice. He usually has difficulty getting to sleep, but it's been a tiring day of pretending that everything is okay for Gustave's sake. There is, unfortunately, a little drool involved.
Actually Gustave is mostly just kind of tiredly amused that this is the second time he's lulled a Dessendre to sleep in pretty much this exact position (and the second time he's been drooled on, too.) Even sitting up in bed is more comfortable than some of the normal nights camping out on the ground during the Expedition; he'll settle in to sleep with his hand resting a little protectively (and a little possessively, too, to be honest) on Verso's side.
Wow! He sure would like to fall in love under normal, rational circumstances someday! Must be nice!!
There's light streaming in through the window when he wakes up, which is unusual, but it's not actually the thing that wakes him up. There's a knock at the door — which he blatantly ignores at first, but then it continues more insistently, and he blearily crawls out of bed, wiping the corner of his mouth and praying that Gustave didn't notice the drool.
When he opens the door, it's to the image of Maelle standing in the doorway. "Is Gustave here?" she says, and he'll admit only to himself that it hurts. "I know you aren't ready to talk yet," she continues, as if she's quoting him (because she is). "But we had this weird conversation yesterday morning and then he never showed back up at the house, and I know you, um..."
There's an awkward pause, during which it seems like she's waiting for him to fill in the nature of their relationship. Finally: "Talk? Sometimes. So I thought you might know where he is."
Half-asleep, unsure if Gustave even wants him to admit that he's here, and intensely aware of the fact that he'd never even buttoned his pants back up again yesterday, Verso's response is a very eloquent, "Uh."
Gustave is half-aware of Verso getting up to get the door, but he doesn't actually snap awake until he hears Maelle's voice. He grimaces then, and — for a brief, guilty moment — considers continuing to hide back here and letting Verso deal with it. And then he thinks of the way Verso had literally fled through his bedroom window instead of dealing with her face to face, and he pushes himself out of bed.
There's absolutely no hiding the way he's slept here in the exact same clothes that he was wearing before. "Maelle," he interrupts, approaching the doorway and trying to rub the crick out of the back of his neck. With a gentle hand he coaxes Verso aside, but even then he's careful to stand in a way that doesn't make it seem like he's suggesting she come inside.
It's a little odd, struggling between the impulse he has to shield both of them from stress, from upset.
"I'll be home in a little while. What do you need?"
It's shameful how quickly he steps aside to let Gustave speak to Maelle instead, but being face-to-face with her for even this short amount of time makes something twist in his stomach. Whatever lightened mood he'd managed to cultivate yesterday comes crashing down, a dark cloud settling over him as he watches Gustave and Maelle converse.
"Gustave," she says, relieved. "I was— worried about you. You said all of those things, and then you just disappeared." After spending the entire day holed up in his room. It's enough to give a girl who's terrified of loss an aneurysm.
"...I guess now I know where all that came from," she says, looking Gustave up and down, not necessarily accusatory—there's no malice behind it—but certainly implying that Verso persuaded him into it.
Edited (I don't know grammar) 2025-08-19 17:58 (UTC)
It's true that Gustave is depressed, and it's also true that he's spent some time struggling to reconcile the reality of the world. More importantly, though— he hasn't spent the last sixty-seven years being battered physically and emotionally by the canvas, hasn't spent a literal lifetime grappling with his own identity, with his two families' worth. Gustave is tired, sure, but he's nowhere near real exhaustion yet, nowhere near real despair.
"Maelle." Which mostly means that his tone is sharp, a little reprimanding when he says her name. "What do you mean, 'I said all of those things'? You think Verso is the reason I expect you to keep your promises?" It is no more or less severe than any other scolding he's ever given.
And, just like every time Gustave has ever scolded her, Maelle hangs her head — half in genuine contrition, half to try to make Gustave feel bad for scolding her!!!
"Don't reprimand me in front of Verso. He'll think you're mean."
He didn't say anything, for the record.
"I was just worried," she continues, eyes big and blue as she pouts. "I wanted to make sure you didn't skip town or something."
"Not yet," Gustave says dryly. He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, reaching out to fix Maelle's collar in a gesture that is fully fatherly reflex, before he folds his arms loosely at his chest. "But I am sort of thinking about running off to the Continent with your brother. Maybe eloping in the Grandis settlement? Not sure yet. He listens to me." He'll apologize to Verso in a minute for including him in the stupid sibling squabble he's having with her. "Go home, I'll come back later."
Maelle makes a face, clearly wanting to say that she does listen to Gustave but also knowing that she can't rightly argue that after everything. "You swear?" she still says, only partially ribbing. Verso isn't the only Dessendre with neuroses; it runs in the family.
Then, sighed: "Fine. But Emma's serving tartines, and we're not saving any for you."
Her eyes flick behind Gustave to Verso, and they share the sort of strangely intense gaze that only two people with the eyes of Husky dogs can before she steps back. "...Bye," she says, a little lingering.
When the door is finally closed again, Verso rubs his face. "Sorry."
Verso lives in a constant state of sorriness, but this time it's for selfishly inviting Gustave to stay over, for drooling on him in his sleep, and for shrinking away from Maelle like she's a Nevron and not his teenage sister.
"I should've said something," he argues. As in, anything at all. "But every time I see her, I—" Feel like he's killing her. Feel like she's killing him, by keeping him here. He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair, which he hasn't even gotten a chance to comb. He can only hope it's closer to charming bedhead than rat's nest.
"We didn't leave off on the best of terms," he finishes. Then, awkwardly, "...Morning."
As if Gustave hadn't been the one to ask to stay literally twice. He straightens up, shaking his head at Verso's argument, and he reaches to try to gently catch his wrist, to squeeze his hand. "Hey. It's alright. We've got a little time. I told you: we're going to figure this out." They've got vast stretches of time, but he means until it's an active crisis.
The pang in his chest is only growing more familiar. How do both of the Dessendres have him wrapped around their fingers? How does it feel like second nature to want to keep them safe and happy? Maybe it's the creepy blue eyes.
Verso's hair is a complete rat's nest, and charming on top of that. Gustave likes getting to see this part of him that he doubts very many others have, and he chuckles sleepily at the sight. "Good morning, mon beau. I'm not sure I'm ready to be up yet."
Time. All Verso has ever had is endless swathes of time. He frowns; now is probably not the right time to bring up that his 'plan B' is to get Gustave to convince Maelle to erase him from the Canvas.
"No," is his tired agreement. "Me neither."
He pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Although his heart isn't wholly in it, he nudges Gustave with his elbow. "Crazy night last night?" Reading a book and having Verso drooling on him by 8 P.M. is pretty wild!!
Well, Verso is in luck, as far as Gustave is concerned: he fully does not believe that Renoir is going to allow Maelle to kill herself in this canvas. If they end up needing to expel her like her mother, he's sure they'll end up as nothing more than ash the second she's safely out.
Anyway, he gently swats the elbow away. "You were extremely cute, I'll have you know. Very sweet looking."
When your 1,600 comment thread just abruptly ends with them both fucking dying.
Anyway, the swatting doesn't faze Verso, and the complimentary teasing doesn't seem to, either, although inwardly he's a bit mortified at the way he fell asleep in Gustave's lap while being read a bedtime story like a child. "Oh, I know. I'm very cute."
The embarrassment doesn't show on his face, but he does say, a little sheepishly, "Sorry for crashing like that." That definitely wasn't good host behavior. "Just tired, I guess."
"Verso." The way Gustave looks at him is genuinely a little bewildered. "Stop apologizing to me. That was— maybe the best night I've had since before the Expedition left. I don't want you to be sorry for any of it."
Guilt is a reflexive response to happiness at this point, but he acquiesces. "I'm especially unrepentant, then." It does feel gratifying to know that he'd given Gustave a good time, at least. Goal achieved. "So," he continues, "you think I listen to you?"
Gustave glances at the kitchen, thinks about making breakfast, and then decides that he really does want to try to get a little more sleep first. "I think you're exceedingly well behaved, considering you've probably spent more time around gestrals than people."
He's just going to head back to the bedroom and hope Verso follows.
Verso does follow, even though it sort of makes him feel like a little kid begging for attention. "Exceedingly well-behaved. Do you have to make me sound like a stray dog?"
"What, you don't want to be given treats and told you're a very good boy? That sounds like the dream, honestly." Gustave please stop talking. He takes a seat, yawning into his arm. "Come back to bed? Just give me half an hour, then I'll make breakfast."
Verso blinks a few times. Are you asking me to call you a good boy??? is probably not an appropriate conversational turn this early in the morning, and besides, Gustave shifts subjects so fast that he doesn't have the chance to respond. He swallows that particular question.
Maelle's appearance has fully broken the calming spell that the evening with Gustave had put him under, and there's no chance that he'll be able to relax enough to fall asleep again. He obeys the request regardless, perching on the edge of the mattress. "I have pajamas," he says seemingly apropos of nothing, before following up with, "if you wanted something more comfortable to wear."
He'd planned to offer last night, but he hadn't quite gotten the opportunity.
Gustave!! Just meant!! That snacks and validation seem nice!!! Dogs don't have to worry about the end of the world!
When he lays himself back down, it's on top of the covers, one hand out to sort of just vaguely make contact with Verso's leg. It's less that he's necessarily sleepy himself; he's just reluctant to start the day. "I appreciate the offer," he says, closing his eyes, "but I'll spend the rest of the day here if I change into pajamas just after waking up." It sounds extremely indulgent, lazy. Tempting. He does also feel like he's about to hit the upper limit of the amount of time he can linger here without irritating Verso.
Irritating isn't quite the right word, but Gustave is steadily approaching the upper limit of how long he can spend here while Verso acts like a normal human being who doesn't need intensive DBT. Seeing Maelle made that time limit inch closer. Guilt and resentment and guilt over the resentment swirl together in his gut, shoulders tensing.
"Yeah," he says distantly as he lies back, pulling the covers up over himself. "You look more devilishly rumpled this way." Then he closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.
Gustave reaches over for his hand, just in an echo of the way they once slept out on the Continent, but he won't chase if Verso resists. He dozes more than he sleeps; true to his promise he'll get back up after another half hour or so, murmur a few words of affection to Verso, and then make breakfast for them both before reluctantly starting the walk of shame home.
Verso will get a solid twenty-four hours to be miserable in private before there's a stubborn clanking at his bedroom window. If and when he opens the curtain enough to see outside of it, he'll find Monoco peering through the glass.
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superniceone) wrote2025-06-23 06:53 pm
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Occasionally he strokes Verso's head, gentle and fond between page turns. If left unchecked, he'll just keep reading until it's a more reasonable time to actually go to sleep.
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Actually Gustave is mostly just kind of tiredly amused that this is the second time he's lulled a Dessendre to sleep in pretty much this exact position (and the second time he's been drooled on, too.) Even sitting up in bed is more comfortable than some of the normal nights camping out on the ground during the Expedition; he'll settle in to sleep with his hand resting a little protectively (and a little possessively, too, to be honest) on Verso's side.
Wow! He sure would like to fall in love under normal, rational circumstances someday! Must be nice!!
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When he opens the door, it's to the image of Maelle standing in the doorway. "Is Gustave here?" she says, and he'll admit only to himself that it hurts. "I know you aren't ready to talk yet," she continues, as if she's quoting him (because she is). "But we had this weird conversation yesterday morning and then he never showed back up at the house, and I know you, um..."
There's an awkward pause, during which it seems like she's waiting for him to fill in the nature of their relationship. Finally: "Talk? Sometimes. So I thought you might know where he is."
Half-asleep, unsure if Gustave even wants him to admit that he's here, and intensely aware of the fact that he'd never even buttoned his pants back up again yesterday, Verso's response is a very eloquent, "Uh."
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There's absolutely no hiding the way he's slept here in the exact same clothes that he was wearing before. "Maelle," he interrupts, approaching the doorway and trying to rub the crick out of the back of his neck. With a gentle hand he coaxes Verso aside, but even then he's careful to stand in a way that doesn't make it seem like he's suggesting she come inside.
It's a little odd, struggling between the impulse he has to shield both of them from stress, from upset.
"I'll be home in a little while. What do you need?"
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"Gustave," she says, relieved. "I was— worried about you. You said all of those things, and then you just disappeared." After spending the entire day holed up in his room. It's enough to give a girl who's terrified of loss an aneurysm.
"...I guess now I know where all that came from," she says, looking Gustave up and down, not necessarily accusatory—there's no malice behind it—but certainly implying that Verso persuaded him into it.
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"Maelle." Which mostly means that his tone is sharp, a little reprimanding when he says her name. "What do you mean, 'I said all of those things'? You think Verso is the reason I expect you to keep your promises?" It is no more or less severe than any other scolding he's ever given.
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"Don't reprimand me in front of Verso. He'll think you're mean."
He didn't say anything, for the record.
"I was just worried," she continues, eyes big and blue as she pouts. "I wanted to make sure you didn't skip town or something."
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Then, sighed: "Fine. But Emma's serving tartines, and we're not saving any for you."
Her eyes flick behind Gustave to Verso, and they share the sort of strangely intense gaze that only two people with the eyes of Husky dogs can before she steps back. "...Bye," she says, a little lingering.
When the door is finally closed again, Verso rubs his face. "Sorry."
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He turns to face Verso, leaning back against the door. "What are you sorry for? I should have left her a note, I knew you don't want to see her yet."
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"I should've said something," he argues. As in, anything at all. "But every time I see her, I—" Feel like he's killing her. Feel like she's killing him, by keeping him here. He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair, which he hasn't even gotten a chance to comb. He can only hope it's closer to charming bedhead than rat's nest.
"We didn't leave off on the best of terms," he finishes. Then, awkwardly, "...Morning."
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The pang in his chest is only growing more familiar. How do both of the Dessendres have him wrapped around their fingers? How does it feel like second nature to want to keep them safe and happy? Maybe it's the creepy blue eyes.
Verso's hair is a complete rat's nest, and charming on top of that. Gustave likes getting to see this part of him that he doubts very many others have, and he chuckles sleepily at the sight. "Good morning, mon beau. I'm not sure I'm ready to be up yet."
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"No," is his tired agreement. "Me neither."
He pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Although his heart isn't wholly in it, he nudges Gustave with his elbow. "Crazy night last night?" Reading a book and having Verso drooling on him by 8 P.M. is pretty wild!!
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Anyway, he gently swats the elbow away. "You were extremely cute, I'll have you know. Very sweet looking."
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Anyway, the swatting doesn't faze Verso, and the complimentary teasing doesn't seem to, either, although inwardly he's a bit mortified at the way he fell asleep in Gustave's lap while being read a bedtime story like a child. "Oh, I know. I'm very cute."
The embarrassment doesn't show on his face, but he does say, a little sheepishly, "Sorry for crashing like that." That definitely wasn't good host behavior. "Just tired, I guess."
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He's just going to head back to the bedroom and hope Verso follows.
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Maelle's appearance has fully broken the calming spell that the evening with Gustave had put him under, and there's no chance that he'll be able to relax enough to fall asleep again. He obeys the request regardless, perching on the edge of the mattress. "I have pajamas," he says seemingly apropos of nothing, before following up with, "if you wanted something more comfortable to wear."
He'd planned to offer last night, but he hadn't quite gotten the opportunity.
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When he lays himself back down, it's on top of the covers, one hand out to sort of just vaguely make contact with Verso's leg. It's less that he's necessarily sleepy himself; he's just reluctant to start the day. "I appreciate the offer," he says, closing his eyes, "but I'll spend the rest of the day here if I change into pajamas just after waking up." It sounds extremely indulgent, lazy. Tempting. He does also feel like he's about to hit the upper limit of the amount of time he can linger here without irritating Verso.
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"Yeah," he says distantly as he lies back, pulling the covers up over himself. "You look more devilishly rumpled this way." Then he closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.
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Verso will get a solid twenty-four hours to be miserable in private before there's a stubborn clanking at his bedroom window. If and when he opens the curtain enough to see outside of it, he'll find Monoco peering through the glass.
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