superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave idly thinks that he'll need to retrieve that journal eventually. He'd passed it over to his Gustavlings as promised on return, though with edits made - and several of the most recent entries removed entirely, just for the sake of Maelle's privacy as much as anything else. It had been such an extension of himself at times that it would be strange to return to the Continent without it.

"Oh, you like it when I plan, do you," he deadpans back, but there's a quiet laugh in the undercurrent of his breath. He leans his head slightly into Verso's touch, the casual affection still new enough to be distractingly novel. "Don't worry- I'll do all the hard work."

Maybe he does like it when Gustave plans, so what!! It's a very Gustave thing to do, and it turns out that he's actually pretty fond of Gustave. "Ass," he says affectionately. "But if that's what you want, sure. I'll just sit around and be— what was it you called me? The most handsome man you've ever seen, bar none?"

This is perhaps a slight exaggeration of the things Gustave has said to him. Slight!!

"That pretty much sums it up," Gustave says agreeably, and he watches the ceiling for a moment with unfocused eyes, his mind clearly clicking along. "Hey," he says when the gears slow down a bit, "I think we need to be up front with Lune about Maelle's— condition. If I'm to actually get any input from her."

Eugh. Not a big fan of being upfront, but: "All right." If it's for Maelle's sake, he'll suffer through the interrogation this will likely lead to. Besides, he does trust Lune, even if that trust only seems to go one way these days. (Understandably.) "Then I'll tell her what I know."

Which is remarkably little, honestly, but unfortunately no one thought to ask Renoir more questions before he left the Canvas.

And, because he's incapable of not being a sadsack, he adds, "She might suggest you two take on the project without me. No real brainpower lost."

Gustave had been prepared for a little resistance, and he's relieved when it doesn't come. Maybe Verso is more willing to capitulate while sitting on the knowledge that he'll be gone from Lumière soon — he doesn't want to question it.

"Mmm," he hums instead, "maybe so. But morale would be at an all time low." He glances sideways at him. "Verso, she's not going to kick you off your own project."

"I know." He's, like, 40% sure, at least. The thought of having a frank and honest discussion with Lune about Maelle's condition makes him feel a little nauseated, so he falls back on flippancy instead. "I was hoping you'd fall to your knees in protest before that happened."

"No, I think Lune would like that too much," Gustave says dryly, but he's still watching him with a distant sort of concern. "I don't mind being the one to fill her in. I just wanted to make sure you were alright it with before I went and spilled any beans."

"Would it have changed anything if I said no?" he asks, and although the question itself is perhaps sharp, his tone isn't. The most important thing in the world to Gustave is Maelle—her well-being obviously takes priority over Verso's discomfort. He's not delusional enough to ever believe he could whine his way out of Gustave taking care of her as best he can.

Which is fine. If their situations were reversed, he'd gladly let Gustave endure any amount of discomfort if it meant keeping Maelle safe. He's not mad about it—the opposite, really—and he runs a quick but affectionate thumb across Gustave's cheek to express that, just in case.

"Gentlemanly of you to ask anyway."

Gustave is, just for a moment, caught off guard by the question, and it's clear he's not sure how he's meant to feel about it until Verso's following gesture of affection. "Yes, in fact," he says, "I could probably put off asking for her help for... two or three weeks before it would have a noticeable effect on what I'm able to do."

Gustave is relieved that he hasn't upset him, but he'll give him a quiet and apologetic smile anyway. A little more seriously, he'll add: "I'll do whatever I can to make you glad you kept me around." Almost anything at all, as long as it doesn't interfere with saving Maelle.

"Kept you around?" He raises an eyebrow. That's cute, but also a little sad. He does sometimes think of how things might be different if Gustave weren't around, the same way he thinks about how things might be different if he weren't, but on a purely selfish level he is glad that Gustave is around. It's less 'keeping' around and more being lucky that Gustave has chosen to stick around him at all.

"You've got it mixed up. I 'kept' Monoco around even though he smells like rotten Nevron feet." Monoco did nothing to catch these strays, but whatever. "I want you around."

It's somehow a little embarrassing to say, despite the fact that it feels so glaringly obvious. All the same, he bookends it with a little flippancy. "Who else would make me eggs?"

"I think you deeply underestimate the number of people in the world who would be willing to make eggs for you." Of course, their world is tiny and shallow and bafflingly artificial, and that's what makes him just a little bit sad. He shifts in to crowd Verso slightly, scattering a half dozen kisses his cheek and jaw and mouth, before he pulls back again to actually get up and out of bed.

"Another reason we'll have to be neighbors. I've never had this much trouble getting started in the morning."

Ugh, Gustave is very sweet. Verso feels a little bit as if he's found someone's loving golden retriever on the street and, instead of returning it to its rightful home, is keeping it for himself. Gustave can never know about this feeling, though, because he probably wouldn't be fond of being likened to a dog that Verso found wandering the road.

"Really? This is the quickest I've ever gotten up."

Not totally untrue. Usually, he spends a significant amount of time rotting in bed in the morning. Having Gustave around, despite the awkward turn the conversation took, has him downright chipper and ready to face the day.

He pushes himself up, swinging his legs around and off the mattress, although he doesn't stand just yet. "Hey," he ventures. "I've been thinking about going to see Maelle." Obviously. It has to happen eventually, and there are— things he wants to discuss with her before he absconds to the Continent to avoid his problems. Still, even though it has to happen, it makes him feel a little queasy. So, he raises his eyebrows, looking to Gustave for approval. Good idea? Bad idea?? Really, really bad idea???

It's enough to get Gustave to turn immediately back to the bed, though he feels like he's doing a pretty decent job of schooling his expression here. He lifts his hand to rest it against the side of Verso's head, an idle touch meant to be soothing — and thoughtless and impulsive enough that it's clear reflex.

"Yeah?" he prompts softly. "She'll be glad to see you. She's missed you." Gustave wonders, not for the first time, how much Maelle actually missed the man in front of him instead of the brother that was forever gone. It's an unpleasant thought he lingers on solely so there's no mental real estate available to think about how much she misses him, too, and how guilty he feels about this near-disappearing act from his own family.

"I can get Emma out of the house for a while, if you'd like a little privacy with her," he offers, already trying to find solutions to problems that haven't even manifested yet.

The reaction emboldens him a little bit. Okay. Sure. If Gustave thinks it's a good idea, then— well, that's a tad far for Verso to go, but it might be a tolerable idea. It'll always be more pleasant of an idea for Gustave than it is for him, because Gustave is painfully earnest and probably has no qualms with the idea of having an authentic heart-to-heart with Maelle—or anyone. Sincerity practically leaks out of his pores.

"Do those gears in your head ever stop turning?" he asks, although it's fond. Gustave is right to think he'll want Emma out. Gustave, too. Better that they talk alone, considering he's fairly certain there'll be at least some level of yelling and crying involved. He likes to think it'll just be from Maelle, but it would be wise to bet on both parties.

"I think I see smoke coming out of your ears." From the excessive thinking. He taps his foot against Gustave's. "How many steps ahead are you currently planning?"

It is, admittedly, a little easier to tease Gustave than it is to actually consider the details of something he finds very daunting.

"It's not like that," Gustave protests mildly, even if— yeah, it is a little like that. He's not thinking about steps as much as he's considering potential obstacles to the conversation ahead. (Or, more uncharitably: he's trying to head off any excuses that Verso might use to back out of his own plan to talk to his baby sister.)

Which isn't to say he isn't anxious as hell about the aftermath of the conversation itself. Verso's continued existence is one of Maelle's primary reasons for remaining here; she isn't going to take well to being told her family is splitting up again.

He's not going to be able to look after both of them at the same time, and that sucks. At the very least, Gustave can appreciate that he's in a relationship with someone who will never begrudge him for picking Maelle first. "It'll be alright. I know you miss her, too."

"Yeah," he admits, shrugging a little like it isn't as difficult as it is. Of course he misses her. He wants nothing more than for everything to be like it used to be before they confronted her father and she'd made it agonizingly clear that she couldn't be trusted to use the Canvas responsibly. They'd had some fun out there on the Continent, he thinks. It would be nice if things were different, if she could come with them. They could be a weird, fucked up family together.

"But she's been in good hands." Verso reaches out for Gustave's flesh hand, then pauses. "Good hand."

Ha, ha. Hand joke.

"You know her better than me," hurts a little to say, but it's true. Verso isn't actually her brother, and she isn't actually his sister. Gustave is more her family than he is. "Any tips?"

"I don't know if I do," Gustave says, and he folds Verso's hand into both of his own, like the metal and muscle are equal parts of him. It's not that he's trying to argue; it's just something he's thought about a lot. "I certainly used to. But now?"

He squeezes his hand gently, then lets it go. "She's had a whole life that I'm not sure I'm capable of even fathoming, honestly."

The question seems to eat at him, though, and he turns to sit lightly on the edge of the mattress next to Verso now. "Which I guess is to say— I have no idea. Just let her be mad at us, maybe? She'll get it someday."

Just let her be mad at us, Gustave says, like that doesn't kill him. Seeing Maelle upset is torture. He can still picture her tear-streaked cheeks that day in Lumière, hear her wobbly voice. Verso likes to think that Gustave would have taken his side if he were privy to the conversation, but he'd certainly looked like the villain from the outside.

He grimaces. "Ooh, that's a good one. You'll understand when you're older." Won't piss her off at all.

Gustave bumps his knee against Verso's. "I wasn't suggesting that you use those words, you know. Do you remember how angry she was at me after the cliffs?" When Verso had rescued all of them, but especially Gustave. When Maelle had screamed at him to run, and he'd shook his head no. "She's never going to be okay with it, but she understands better now than she did before, I think."

He hesitates, not sure if the next thing he wants to say is the right thing or not. He ventures on anyway. "Nothing you do or say— it's never going to make her love you less. If you're afraid of that." Or maybe that's just his own fear.

"I know," he says, although he doesn't sound very happy about it. She's never going to love him less because it's not really him she loves at all. It's not the portrait of someone that you really love, it's the subject of it. The fact that it's a recreation of someone you care for. He doesn't want to ruin the day with that, though, and he definitely isn't going to broach anything about the Stone Wave Cliffs after it nearly spoiled their whole morning.

So: "You're quite good at this emotional support thing," he says glibly, knocking their elbows together. "Are you just saying all of this so I'll think you're sensitive?"

Gustave chuckles softly, the sound somehow almost more weary than amused. He's staring down at his own hands in his lap, just for wont of anything else to focus on at the exact moment.

"I'm saying it because I also love you," he says finally, "and because I hate not being able to do these painful things for you. Trite advice is really the best I can do here."

Aw. Verso's heart grows three sizes upon seeing this despondent little Gustave. That's his pookie!! His chouchou, his mec mignon, his insert embarrassing French endearment here. He tilts his head and leans into Gustave's space in a bid to draw his attention away from those hands of his.

"What a coincidence. I love trite advice."

It is nice to receive it, if it's from Gustave. Even his trite advice sounds sincere and special, although it's hard to tell if that's by virtue of Gustave's particular brand of earnestness or if it's just because Verso has an embarrassing crush.

"It must be hard," he says, trying to reciprocate the emotional support thing. "Not being able to stick a turnscrew in something and fix it."

Wow but they're not testicle buds anymore? Rude, and also hurtful. Gustave laughs again, more sincerely this time, and shoves tokenly at Verso as if he minds his personal space being encroached upon.

"It is pretty difficult," he agrees, smiling slightly over at him. "But good company makes most things easier to bear. When were you thinking about—? Would it be easier if I told her I'll be going first?" He pauses, then awkwardly adds: "What if I told her first, I mean, I wasn't saying I'll be leaving before you."

Gustave is yet again spinning the hamster wheel of his mind. Verso wasn't really thinking about bringing their departure up with her at all. Sure, Gustave had gentle parented him into accepting that he has to tell her eventually, but he'd sort of been hoping he'd just... feel when the moment was right and blurt it out. No planning required.

Dry: "It definitely wouldn't be easier if you left first and I had to deal with her being deprived of you."

Sure, she'll still be deprived of Gustave, but at least Verso won't have to be there to bear the brunt of her distress. Poor Emma, though.

"But— maybe?" It isn't fair, though, to make Gustave have the hard conversation and then swoop in at the last moment to benefit from it. Besides, he imagines Maelle will be upset if he isn't the one to bring it up first. She'll know it was his idea. "No," is a little more decisive. "She'll want to hear it from me."

Which does not mean it will be easier, but it'll have to happen regardless. He pinches the bridge of his nose, warding off the headache that's quickly forming. "She might just Paint a dungeon to throw us both into."

"Merde," Gustave whispers, then sighs a bit melodramatically. He's not certain there's any more conversation to be had about the topic, at last until it comes to pass. Verso will, eventually, spill the beans with Maelle. It's going to be a disaster, but one they're both just going to have to weather. "Normal teenagers are already terrifying enough. Adding the power to bend reality as we know it really makes it feel unfair, you know?"

And then, in what is probably a stark sign that Gustave really is spending too much time with Verso, he tries to flirt with him to lift the mood. "Hey, c'mon. I think I'd enjoy being trapped in a dungeon with you." He pats Verso's upper thigh, like he's being consoling here. "Sounds— uh. Racy."

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