tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

Verso lets the hand linger for about a second more than is proper before dropping it. "I'd offer to send him over to your workshop, but I'm not sure I want to be liable for what he'd do to it."

[superniceone]

"I wouldn't dare steal your best friend from you." Gustave is— well, honestly, a little exasperated at himself by how sweet he finds that subtle hint of affection there. In response, he rests his hand briefly at the small of Verso's back while they walk, an idle and fond touch. "Though rebuilding it might be a good project for the boys."

[recreatable]

"Steal Monoco?" Lumiére is, at the end of the day, a tiny little city on a tiny little island, and the walk to the Hanging Gardens isn't very long. There's greenery around them soon enough, and Verso reaches out to thumb at a bit of ivy hanging from a wooden post. "I'd like to see you try."

[superniceone]

He thinks, just for a moment, that the deep flush of the foliage in the Ancient Sanctuary completely overwhelms anything that might grow here— and then feels a little odd, like he's actively betraying Lumière now. "Got my eyes on Esquie, actually. We are both fond of rocks."

[recreatable]

"Now that's not playing fair. Esquie's much easier to steal."

Everyone Esquie meets is his new best friend. Verso's just benefitted from that by virtue of being one of the only people Esquie ever met who lived. Besides, Gustave let Esquie pet his hair. That's an unbreakable bond, right there.

He steps further into the gardens, taking a seat on a bench underneath a flowering overhang of plants. One can see the Monolith from here, strangely blank and empty. "It's been a long time since I've been here," he muses. Pre-Fracture, maybe. His visits to Lumière post-Expedition Zero hadn't involved much sightseeing. "Hasn't changed much."

[superniceone]

"Feels a bit— manufactured," Gustave says in a tone that says he agrees, before he chuckles a little dryly at himself. "But I guess that's the point. Kind of strange, thinking back on it now. How many flowers this city grows." Maybe they'd just collectively felt some kinship in their transient nature.

He glances back at Verso, then smiles crookedly, trying to shake off the lingering melancholy. "Do you have a favorite?"

[recreatable]

Verso had liked the flowers they picked in the Ancient Sanctuary. He'd liked the way Esquie had preened after being gifted them, how the orange-red blossoms had matched Maelle's hair.

"The camellia," he plucks out of thin air, pointing. "Symbolizes perfection." Because of course he knows floriography. He's showing off. "And, uh, that one..." His index finger drifts to the right. "If I recall, it symbolizes... pinkness."

All right, he doesn't know floriography that well.

[superniceone]

Gustave's face crinkles in amusement, and he moves to sit on the bench next to Verso, maintaining the sort of polite distance Verso had kept when they were walking up. "Close," he says. "The flower's called a Fringed Pink. Means 'thank you.' Or something like that, at least."

He won't mention the time he'd spent up in these gardens with Sophie, the hours they'd spent talking about nothing, the time they'd wasted looking up the meanings of all the flowers blossoming here and playfully arguing about them. God, they'd been so hopeful.

[recreatable]

"No, I think I was right. It definitely symbolizes pinkness."

Now that Gustave is sitting next to him, Verso slips a hand into his pocket, a little nervous. "I have to admit something — I did have ulterior motives for bringing you here."

[superniceone]

The vaguely wistful smile on Gustave's face disappears. He's both straightening up and immediately jumping to conclusions. "There's no way I can change your mind?"

He thinks: it would be like Verso to bring him somewhere nice to tell him he's fucking off entirely, like that would somehow soften the blow.

[recreatable]

"—Sorry?"

Verso frowns, taken aback by the response. He hadn't expected Gustave to jump for joy, but he hadn't expected the reaction to be so instantly poor. It's a blow to his ego, certainly. Surely Gustave remembers what he'd said about needing a couple of days to work on his limerick, so now he's— what, unable to camouflage how much he actually dislikes Verso's poetry?

A little harsh. He smiles, although it's uncertain.

"Ouch. Is it that bad?"

[superniceone]

Gustave realizes he probably has it wrong when Verso reacts with confusion instead of contrition. "No, wait, I— maybe I should let you actually tell me what the reason is before I make assumptions."

[recreatable]

More visibly hesitant now than before, Verso unearths a small slip of paper from his pocket, carefully torn from his journal. "The, uh, limerick."

[superniceone]

"Putain de merde," Gustave whispers, abruptly embarrassed by his own reaction. He rubs his face with his hands, laughing tiredly at himself. "No, of course, sorry, I thought— it doesn't matter what I thought. Of course I want to see that, hand it over."

[recreatable]

The tension in Verso's shoulders evidently relaxes, and the corner of his mouth turns up. "So demanding," he teases, unfolding the paper. "I just made some tweaks for readability, that's all."

Except, upon handing the paper over, it's clearly not the same poem at all. It starts with the same line—there once was a man from Lumière, natch—but the rest is far less dirty and far more genuinely complimentary, romantic in tone albeit a little bittersweet. It's not a particularly long poem, but the faint pencil markings visible beneath the words suggest that it's been written and rewritten several times.

He gives Gustave time to read, although he's worrying his lip the entire time. "So," he ventures after a moment, "any feedback?"

[superniceone]

Raunchy limerick aside, Gustave is fairly confident this is the first poem that's ever been written about him. Fuck, he thinks, this is touching. And then fuck, he thinks: he was supposed to be able to let Verso go, when Verso decided it was time to go.

He reads it once, and then again more slowly, his eyes tracking the words and the ghosts of prior revisions beneath them. "This is— extremely unfair. I'm never going to be able to top this." His eyes cut up to Verso then; he's clearly touched. "Can I keep it?"

[recreatable]

Verso's smile is small, but he's obviously pleased that Gustave likes it. Of course, he'd done everything in his power to make sure that happened — hours making revisions, an atmospheric setting, covering up his horrible hair. Gustave's approval wasn't really left up to chance.

All the same, it's a relief. It's easier to write down feelings through poem or song than it is to express them verbally, but it's still just as intimidating to have someone actually see them. Baring his soul, like he'd said.

"It would be a poor gift if you couldn't." Canting his head, he adds, "It's yours."

[superniceone]

Gustave has emotional whiplash and it's his own fault. He shouldn't have let this start until things were fixed. He's worried about the end of their world as they know it; he's worried about Maelle poisoning herself by running away to Lumière, a place that is somehow less real than her own world. And now he's sitting in the shade of the Hanging Gardens, surrounded on all sides by carefully cultivated flowers, receiving a love poem. Written just for him, in fact.

He's tried not to make any assumptions about how Verso feels about evidence of their relationship outside of private walls, but he's going to reach forward now for his hand, squeezing it tightly in his own.

"I thought you were leaving early," he confesses, sheepish now that he understands Verso's angle. "It was— uncharitable to assume. Sorry. This is— lovely."

[recreatable]

"Oh," he says, and now it's his turn to feel sheepish. Worse than sheepish. His conversation with Monoco about leaving as soon as his month here is up runs through his head, and he feels a pang of guilt. Stumbling over his words: "No, not... early."

But still leaving. The elation he'd felt sinks a little; it's challenging to stay upbeat when constantly torn between making Gustave happy and making it easier for him when Verso inevitably goes. Part of him does want to stay, but he knows better than to trust his own selfish desires. He shouldn't even be lingering here this long in the first place, trying to make Gustave like him when the only person that benefits is himself.

Quickly changing the subject, he says, "Now that I've been your muse, I expect to have a combustion engine named after me."

[superniceone]

Not early, Verso says, and Gustave smiles a little wistfully, pulling his hand to his mouth to softly kiss the back of his fingers before he lets him go. Despite everything, he can't beat his own stupid idealism: maybe, if he can convince Maelle to go, he can convince Verso to stay.

"You might have to wait a bit. Lune actually has me looking into synthesizing Nevron abilities the way Monoco does," Gustave says, sounding a little good-naturedly beleaguered. "It's not going to get anywhere, but I promised her I'd have a think." And there's no point, either, other than doing it just because they can. It's not like they have a larger world to defend themselves against.

[recreatable]

Damn. He can't even get a combustion engine in return for his poem.

"Is that what you were working on?" Before Verso so rudely interrupted him and took him away from his math, that is. "I hate to say it, but I'm not sure even Monoco knows how he does it."

[superniceone]

"Hypotheticals of hypotheticals, but yeah." Gustave leans back on the bench, smiling politely at a couple strolling by near them. "I'd need— so many more samples than what I actually brought back to make any progress. But it's something to keep me busy."

[recreatable]

"—You brought dismembered Nevron legs back?" Ew???

[superniceone]

"No? I collected a few small tissue samples. Thought it might come in useful for research after we harvested that Bourgeon skin." He gives him a look. "What?"

[recreatable]

That's gross. No less gross than whatever diseases Gustave probably got from having wilderness sex, but still pretty gross!!! Verso has to laugh.

"I just didn't know you were such a mad scientist, that's all." He can imagine Gustave looking at Nevron tissue under a microscope, and it's unfortunately endearing. "Should I be worried that you're going to lop off my finger to study regeneration?"