tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

"Who's dramatic now?" he asks, but he's smiling faintly, a little tug at the corner of his mouth. It's a relief, honestly, to get all of this off his chest. It doesn't necessarily make anything better, but it does make it feel a bit more bearable. A burden shared and halved, as the case may be.

"I've made," he says, "a lot of mistakes."

If he could go back, he's not sure his choices would bring him back here. There's so much that he wishes he could undo, and personal happiness is a sacrifice he would have to make—but the sentiment of wanting things as they are regardless of the shit circumstances they find themselves in is shared. He reaches out, grazing Gustave's bicep with his fingers. "But you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me."

It really would have sucked if he just let Gustave die, or something. Man.

[superniceone]

For once, Gustave is the one slightly staggered by the weight of the admission. That feels like a much bigger deal than a spur of the moment confession of love, and he struggles with it for a moment. "I won't tell Monoco you said that," he starts, and then—concerned but not displeased—he blurts: "I've barely done anything for you." How awful were these other Expeditioners???

[recreatable]

"One of the best things," he corrects. Monoco's still his boy.

Verso withdraws his hand after that, amused and bemused at the idea that it's supposed to be about Gustave having done something quantifiably beneficial rather than having merely kept him company after seven decades of bone-deep loneliness. "And sure you have." He crosses his arms again, staring out at a flickering streetlight, thoughtful. For once more contemplative than miserable: "I think you're the first person to love me instead of him."

[superniceone]

Verso phrasing it like that makes it a little harder to argue against. Gustave hums low under his breath and decides not to voice his immediate thought: that it's something very few people have had the opportunity to do, given Verso's circumstance. Instead, he just shuffles over so that he can lean his own shoulder into Verso's.

"Doubtful that I'll be the last," Gustave says. "You might not believe me yet, but you're pretty easy to love." It wasn't as if Gustave had fallen for him on purpose, after all.

[recreatable]

Oh, please. Nothing about this has been 'easy' for Gustave. For the sake of maintaining the moment, Verso gives him a knowing look, but doesn't argue.

Gustave's weight against his is a pleasant feeling, warm. He's spent a very long time without any real human touch save for rushed wilderness hookups; despite how little familiarity he still has with this casual physical intimacy, it does feel good to have Gustave close to him, and he leans his body a little closer too, shoulder to waist to hip.

"So are you," he says softly, if Gustave isn't already full up on confessions for the night.

[superniceone]

Falling in love with him that been so easy that it'd started happening before Gustave had identified the feeling. Convincing Verso that he deserved to be cared for was the complicated part.

They're away from the party now, but a group of people drifts near them on their way toward the music. Gustave leans a little more solidly into Verso, almost protectively, and he seems relieved when they're hardly noticed.

"Am I?" he says, not sure if that's a confession of feelings or just a general statement. "Emma might disagree. Loving me is the most stressful thing you can do, according to her."

[recreatable]

Verso lets out a sudden, involuntary laugh—Emma is so right. Then again, he can hardly ever remember loving anyone in a way that wasn't stressful; 'love' and 'worry' are two very closely intertwined feelings ins his heart. "Yeah," he admits.

'Easy to love' and 'stressful to love' are not mutually exclusive, though. It had been very easy to be endeared and very difficult to create distance. The moment they'd met, part of him had wanted to resent Gustave for having everything he didn't, but it had been impossible. Too earnest, too genuinely kind, too dedicated to Maelle. The jealousy remained, but any dislike had faded quickly. Alarmingly quickly.

"You're right. It's been harrowing." A sidelong glance, and an elbow to Gustave's ribs. "But I like to think I've at least been attractively tortured about it."

[superniceone]

"Everything you do is attractive," Gustave says, like it's the most exasperating possible thing about him. "That's why I didn't want to come out dancing. Did you see how quickly Lucien started homing in on you? Ridiculous."

It's— okay. That is definitely Verso confirming his feelings in a way that's roundabout but pretty unmistakable, and Gustave smiles just slightly. It changes nothing about the world around them, about their future— but it's still nice to hear, nice to hold onto.

"I bet," he says after a moment, "we could hear enough of the music for one dance up in the gardens. I practiced — all afternoon, actually, I'd rather not let it go to waste."

[recreatable]

Unfortunately, Gustave having practiced dancing after their little lesson is the cutest thing he's ever heard in his life. Despite having looked absolutely miserable only a few minutes earlier, his eyes brighten a little with amusement and pleasure. Less 'scary Husky', more 'regular Husky who's excited about going on a W-A-L-K'.

"Did you?" He grins, charmed as he imagines Gustave practicing his steps. Did he put on music, or just count out the rhythm? Was it alone, or did he rope his sister in? It doesn't matter; either way, it gives Verso a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

"All afternoon? You should know that my expectations are sky high." He pushes off the bookshop storefront, glancing back at Gustave as he holds out a hand for him to take. "Maybe you'll be the one teaching me now, monsieur."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a mock-annoyed sound, but he'll take a Verso's hand, oddly touched by the offer after such an objectively stressful night. "Alright, maybe for a couple of hours, not exactly all afternoon," he protests, like 'a couple of hours' is any less objectively embarrassing.

"I just thought it would be nice to manage one dance with you," he says, giving his hand a little pull, apparently already aware of the closest entrance to the gardens from where they are. "I don't like to let my effort go to waste."

[recreatable]

Verso allows Gustave to lead the way, primarily because he's still a little spent from attempting emotional openness and honesty. He needs a moment to recharge so that he can be properly charismatic when they dance. If Gustave doesn't swoon, it'll be a failed evening in his books.

So, he lets Gustave be his guide for once, following without any complaint. "Just be careful of my injured leg," he jokes, embarrassment at having made such an obvious excuse entering his voice. "Wouldn't want you to have to carry me back."

[superniceone]

Verso isn't the only one sort of spent — it's been a Long Fucking Day in every possible way — but Gustave is happy enough to lead them up some narrow stairs.

"You can stand on my feet if you'd like," he says, tone dry but still in good humor.

[recreatable]

"You know," Verso says as they start up the stairs and toward the gardens, "the first time I asked a girl to dance, I was so nervous that I stepped on her feet three times."

At least, that's the memory he has of it. He was young enough that it must not have really been him—but is it even an authentic memory of anyone's, or is it just something that his mother thought would add a suitably coming-of-age flavor to his backstory? He pushes the thought out of his mind, unwilling to linger on unpleasantness when Gustave has given him a second chance to salvage the evening.

"...And she wasn't half as good-looking as you are," he concludes. "So I'd be careful with your feet."

[superniceone]

"I had an... unyielding crush on a girl when I was young. She was a few years older than me, the daughter of my parents' friends. She came around fairly often when they did."

The story has little to do with dancing, but everything to do with embarrassing himself, and he's both cringing and laughing as he recants it.

"I was so nervous about asking her out that I was— sick. Sweaty. And then when I finally worked up the nerve, I threw up all over her. Turns out the 'sick and sweaty' part had actually been a stomach flu."

Gustave scans the roof for a suitably empty space, quietly hoping no one else had the same idea. "I'm quite a catch, it turns out."

[recreatable]

Ooh, Gustave really likes them older, huh. Cougar hunter over here.

If the aim was to make Verso laugh by embarrassing himself, it works. It's amusing, yes, but also incredibly endearing. Not the vomit—that part's a little gross—but the sheepishness with which he tells it, the complete earnestness. If something like that ever happened to Verso, he'd probably take it to his nonexistent grave, but here Gustave is telling it freely.

"I would have thought so," he says as he breaks away from Gustave to step a little closer to the ledge, peering down at the party below. Gustave was right; he can still hear the music up here, albeit faintly. "I would've seen you here and said something like—"

He turns his attention back to Gustave, affection tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Gustave, right?" As if this is just another night pre-Fracture, as if they're meeting for the first time and Verso isn't a billion years old and too messed up for this. "I, uh, couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

[superniceone]

If Gustave laughs, it's because the approach catches him by surprise. The way he flusters a little is genuine, but he's also amused; whilst the attraction is very obviously mutual, he can't imagine that Verso would have looked twice at him if the circumstances were different. More normal.

"It's alright," he says with a little laugh. It's too sweet not to play along. "My sister put you up to this, didn't she? She thinks being a wallflower is a sin."

[recreatable]

Verso's grin grows wider, pleased that Gustave is giving this stupid little pretend scenario the time of day. Part of him wishes that this could have been the way they met, before every good thing in his life was put on a ticking timer. Another part of him knows that it would have just prolonged the inevitable, but he lies to himself as easily as he lies to others, so he disregards the truth of that.

"Ooh, that obvious?" he says, grimacing as if he's been found out. Even in this fake scenario, he knows that he would be lying. Emma wouldn't have told him to do anything, but he'd readily use her as an excuse to get closer to Gustave.

"I've been tasked with forcing you out onto the dancefloor." Despite being far too old to be doing anything boyishly, he gives a boyish grin, one that's self-aware of how charming it is. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied."

[superniceone]

Gustave slips into self-indulgent thought of his own, allows himself to think about what this sort of life might have been like. It's a pleasant little daydream—one where Verso is able to smile like that without effort, where his laughter is easy and unburdened by second-guessing and self loathing.

He would have been utterly defenseless against this charm, he thinks.

"I don't know," Gustave sighs, like he's being really put upon here, and he offers out his hand for Verso to take. "I've got one dance in me, I guess. I'd hate for you to have to suffer Emma's wrath, after all."

[recreatable]

Verso tugs on Gustave's hand, pulling him in so that he can press his other palm to the small of his back. "Very selfless," he teases as he begins the dance, relatively effortless on his part. Although it's been ages since he's danced with anyone—save for the small practice in his living room—his body remembers the steps, muscle memory from countless parties where he was anything but a wallflower.

"So, Gustave," he says casually, leaning in like he has to talk over the music when in reality it's just selfishness. "I hear you're a very successful inventor."

If they're going to pretend their lives don't suck, they might as well go all the way into fantasy. "Singlehandedly made a machine that turns water into wine? Impressive."

[superniceone]

"Just white," Gustave answers, tutting once like he's disappointed in himself. "I'm still working on red, but it'll happen soon. I can feel it." He's trying not to watch his feet, his back a little too rigid, but it's obvious he's very earnestly trying.

"And I've heard whispers about you all night. You're quite the genius composer, aren't you?" Focused as he is, he gives their joined hands a squeeze. "I hear your arrangement of Chopsticks has changed lives."

[recreatable]

Verso lets out an involuntary huff of laughter at that, exasperated and fond. What a dick. He told Gustave about Chopsticks in confidence!

"Only a few lives," he says with a little shrug, because he's very modest. His hand presses more firmly into Gustave's back, urging him to relax and follow Verso's lead; perhaps an impossible task, considering he's not sure if he's ever seen Gustave fully relaxed in the entire time he's known him. A coil, tightly wound.

"I don't know, though." Even in his most indulgent fantasies, he can't quite imagine a world where he doesn't feel like something is missing. "It's been a while since I wrote something."

His mouth twitches with sentiment, though, and he says, "Guess you could say I've been looking for a muse."

[superniceone]

It's true that Gustave isn't quite relaxing, but — he does trust Verso, so he'll lean a little more into his guidance. He's genuinely pretty fucking surprised when he realizes he's kind of having fun here.

"Well," he stalls, his eyes scanning Verso's face with open fondness, "if you need someone to brainstorm with you, I'd be honored." But they're close, and Gustave will partially drop character just long enough to murmur: "You smell nice."

It's been driving him weirdly crazy off and on all day, the fact that he's smelled like Verso's shampoo enough to instill a strange sort of yearning in him.

[recreatable]

Born to be annoying: "Bold way to come on to a man you just met." But the sentiment is returned, so a moment later he adds, "So do you."

He'd sort of liked the way Gustave smelled even when he most frequently smelled like blood and wilderness, but since returning to Lumière, Gustave has smelled like fresh laundry and soap and—now—the fancy shampoo that Verso had decided to splurge on. Floral top notes with a woody, masculine base; it smells better on Gustave's hair than his own, somehow.

"It suits you." The scent, that is. "You're going to have to come around and— use my shampoo again."

[superniceone]

Gustave's shoulders shake with poorly suppressed laughter. Tonight has been — well, a fucking roller coaster, really, but isn't it always? Not just with Verso, but in general. Maybe it was naive to think that their lives would ever hit a truly even keel. Regardless... he's having fun.

"Monsieur," he says, mock-scandalized, happy to match that annoying energy. "You mean to suggest I abandon my current beau for you? I think you're the bold one."

[recreatable]

Verso raises his eyebrows, then laughs. Sure, why not? He'll steal Gustave away from himself.

"He left you here all on your own," he points out, like that wasn't what he was about to do to Gustave when he'd tried to foist him off on Lucien. He's kind of a bad beau, as it turns out. "Where any handsome rake could sidle up and charm you."

There's a crescendo in the music, and although it's not exactly a traditional part of the dance, Verso lifts his hand to spin Gustave out. "But I'm open-minded—your boyfriend can come, too."