superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave wonders, not for the first time: why is he so certain that Maelle's life is more important than everyone else's? Is it really the right thing to do, to ask her to leave, knowing it might be consigning them all, his apprentices included, to oblivion? And, after a bare moment of consideration, he lands on the same answer he always has: the 'why' doesn't matter. Things cannot continue as they are if it means draining her like parasites.

"I always make that face when my dates are interrupted," he deflects, before adding a little apologetically: "I'll be fine. No reason to bring the mood down." He's so good at doing that accidentally; it feels like a bridge too far to do it on purpose.

Verso frowns at him, unhappy with the answer. For all the times he's brought the mood down, surely Gustave has earned at least a few times of doing so himself, too. He taps Gustave's ankle with the side of his foot.

"I've heard great reviews of talking about your feelings," he says, half-teasing, half-sincere. "Besides, you know I relish an opportunity to make myself look sensitive and caring."

Gustave levels a look at Verso, as if quietly asking are you certain you want to hear this, before he reaches over to thieve a bite from Verso's sandwich. He's not really super hungry anymore, but whatever he can do to keep the tone light when he continues on. "I was talking with the boys when the final Gommage happened," he says evenly, "and Adrien— reached out for me, like he hoped I could help him. Just realising I'm zero for two between the beach and the party. Nothing serious."

"Oh," he says softly, looking a bit hangdog.

It's difficult to know how to comfort someone when the thing that traumatized them is your doing. He can't say I know, it was so terrible when he's the one that turned his back on them at the pier so he didn't have to watch it happen. Even as he'd watched petals float by on the wind, he'd felt like it was the right thing to do. It's a wonder Gustave doesn't hate him.

"You did everything you could have done to protect them," he finally settles on. "Both times. It wasn't your fault."

"I know, I know," Gustave says softly, and he slides his foot against the side of Verso's, leaning it there. He hesitates, his eyes distant again. "For so long I thought about how easily it could have been me, dead on that beach. Or Maelle. That was— I was meant to be protecting her, you know? But it doesn't matter. Just— genuinely, realistically."

He exhales a breath, makes a face.

"But about my birthday."

It rankles a little, how quickly Gustave escapes the subject. Makes him wonder if it's out of general discomfort acknowledging these things, or if it's because he doesn't feel like Verso is someone he can confide in. Like maybe he sees this whole relationship as the same as everything else here: something pretend to throw themselves into to cope. Verso pushes the remnants of his sandwich around on his plate and lets Gustave change the topic.

"I didn't realize it was so soon," he admits, because they've never talked birthdays. It just didn't come up. "You're not giving me very much time to get you a gift."

It's not a lack of trust, though he'd struggle if asked to actually put the issue into words. Gustave's problems feel almost offensively miniscule compared to Verso's. Here he is, shaken by the deaths of people who are once again walking around, eating and breathing and living; it seemed cruel to complain about that to someone who'd watched his most of his family eradicated before his eyes not that long ago.

"I don't really celebrate," he admits, and lays his metal arm across the table to rest his fingers lightly against Verso's sleeve. "That was a fun bit of trivia more than a request for a party."

A fun bit of trivia. It's a mystery how someone this dorky can be this hot.

"It doesn't have to be a party," he concedes. "...Unless you want a party." Which Verso would feel incredibly awkward at, but he'd go!!! Love is suffering through uncomfortable social engagements, probably. "But it's worth celebrating somehow, I think."

All right, fine, he'll do the overly sentimental holding hands across the table thing. He brushes Gustave's metal fingers with his. "I guess birthdays must have been pretty fraught events for you."

"Please don't," Gustave says, holding up his other hand — palm out — as if in self defense. "I am sincerely all partied out."

He seems to consider something then, brow furrowed in thought. "But if you were serious about wanting to meet Emma properly, it might not be a bad day to do it. She does usually buy me a cake."

"I was serious. I'd like her to have an impression of me that isn't moping or trying to have my way with you." A beat, considering. "Although I can't promise going without the latter." Just trying to realistically plan ahead.

And as part of that realistic planning ahead, he considers the fact that Maelle will certainly be there. And she should be—she's Gustave's most important person, and it'll be a good opportunity for one last hoorah with her before taking off. He just has to work around it.

"I won't say anything to Maelle about our travel plans until after," he decides, partially because he doesn't want to ruin Gustave's birthday and partially because he dreads being stuck with her after having that uncomfortable conversation. "It won't leave much time for her to adjust before we go, but maybe that's for the best."

Gustave's shoulders shake very subtly with a laugh at that, because he's fairly certain Verso is going to keep an Extremely Respectful Distance between himself and Gustave whenever they're a two building radius of either of their sisters— but pointing that out just seems like tempting fate, so he keeps that to himself.

"If you'd prefer to wait, sure," he says, briefly squeezing Verso's fingers with metal ones, before he pushes the plate with the remains of the sandwich a few inches toward him, a silent request to eat a little more. "It'd be really nice if any of these questions felt like they had easy answers." Should they stay or go, when to tell Maelle, the best way to protect her. Nothing felt good, simply necessary.

It's not exactly that he'd prefer to wait. His preference remains to not tell Maelle at all; if not for Gustave, he might have just left a note. But he doesn't trust that the conversation with Maelle won't turn into a blowout argument, especially once she realizes he's taking Gustave away from her, too. Ugh.

He picks at a bit of crust. "It's okay if you're having second thoughts," he says, even though it's totally not okay and he'd crash out about it. He'd do that privately.

"You're the one I'm worried about having second thoughts," Gustave says, and his expression says he's telling the truth. "I'm not just going to sit around and— let this place eat away at her, but there's no good way to study what I need to study out here." There are so many partially dangling threads he wants to try to pull in the vain hope that they might turn up useful, somehow, starting probably with the way Nevrons are able to lock chroma in place.

He doesn't expect to find an answer; he just really, really hopes he can.

"But— restaurants and night life and— you know, locking doors." Gustave smiles a little lopsidedly at him. "I'd be kind of shocked if you weren't tempted to stick around for a little while longer."

He doesn't really feel like he deserves restaurants and night life and locking doors. This whole Continent trip is like a twisted sort of self-harm, except Gustave will be there now, which throws a wrench in that plan; he definitely doesn't deserve Gustave's company, either, but he's way too selfish to turn it down.

"I do like locking doors," he says, before finally taking another bite.

After a moment of chewing thoughtfully and swallowing, he says, "Say you do get out there and do your research and invent some device that"—a vague wave of his hand, because he's not really sure what the aim here is—"filters the chroma from Maelle's blood." She wouldn't necessarily be psychologically healthy, but at least she'd have time to heal mentally without paying for it physically. "What will you do after that?"

The idea of time as an open-ended concept had once been a pleasant daydream. What would he do with a life unchained from the Gommage? What else was out there to discover? He had felt like a small but important piece in the chain of human history, and the world outside the safety of the dome unimaginable.

The thought now fills him with a heaviness that isn't quite dread, but isn't too far off, either.

"Am I meant to have a plan?" he asks a little wryly, cutting his eyes down. "Realistically, if I had to guess?" He hums quietly. "I'll probably spend the rest of my life working on repairing a functioning train system across the Continent. Be nice if I lived long enough to see it really come together." It's hard to break himself of the habit of thinking of himself in past tense, or of measuring his own value in what he's able to leave behind for the generation to come after his.

Verso's not sure quite what he expected. I don't know would be a fair answer. He'd maybe also sort of expected come back to Lumière and live the exact same life I was living before. He hadn't expected trains, though, and he can't help the twitch of his mouth, the way a grin spreads across his face unbidden.

Gustave really is the perfect man.

"—Yeah, I'd like to ride a train again." Even more so if it's across a railway system that Gustave designed. That's hot as fuck!!! "You'd love them. You feel like you can go anywhere, be anyone." Probably more Verso's interest than Gustave's, but— "Plus, engines are cool."

Just realistically: if Lumière is allowed to have a future, expanding to the Continent is going to be necessary. The fragment of it they were left is home, but it's also extremely claustrophobic. He won't ever see a thriving population live to take advantage of a working rail system, but it's always been about planting the seeds.

Verso's smile catches him off guard, makes something in him unclench. He'd been thinking about it from a purely utilitarian point of view— but it's a nice thought, the idea that his work might bring joy, too.

"I was going to see if I could build a working model of one for you before you left," he admits, a little embarrassed by it as he shakes his head. "But now I'm not certain I'll have the time. For your birthday, maybe."

Internally, he's kicking his feet and giggling.

"I don't really celebrate," he explains. The years sort of blur together after a while, and besides, it's not like they mean anything. Another year alive isn't exactly an achievement when there was never any other option. "I don't need more reminders of how old I am." Ugh. And so much older than Gustave. Deeply problematic.

"...But I could make an exception if monsieur l'ingénieur will be there with his fancy new model train."

"Hey, I can give a little gift without making it a whole celebration, you know. I'm honestly not sure I want to find out what a gestral party looks like." A lot of fighting, he imagines. It's always a lot of fighting.

He's just glad Verso's mood hasn't completely plummeted tbh!!

"And anyway, aren't I the one who should actually be worried about birthdays for now?" At least until he somehow convinces Maelle to let Verso live and age like a normal person. Lol, lmao, etc. "Can't say that I've ever moisturized even once. I do hope you're fond of wrinkles."

"I think you'll look even more handsome with age," he says, just adjacent of shyly, because he's trying to be genuine here. Just as Gustave has been robbed of watching friends and family get older, the people that Verso meets have gotten younger and younger; it'll be nice to watch someone age for once. Teasing: "And if you hate the grey hair, I'm sure the gestrals won't mind dyeing it." He's pretty sure Gustave is going to be all gestral-ed out on the Continent.

He's silent for a few moments, picking at his sandwich again. Then, he says, "I've been thinking about some things I need to take care of before going." Mostly one thing in particular, but he can't decide if it's the right thing to do. Seemingly apropos of nothing: "Have you seen Sciel's husband again?"

The remains of his sandwich are quickly becoming a nervous pile of picked-off crumbs. "Does he seem the same to you? Even though Maelle didn't have his chroma to work with?"

Gustave is stricken abruptly by the notion of how surreal this little lunch date is, actually. He and Verso, sitting out in the open air of a cafe in Lumière, flirting with and teasing each other. It was a type of normal that he was certain he'd never see again after he officially donned his Expedition uniform.

"Je t'aime," he says softly, his only response to the remarks about aging, and he leans back to flag down a server to take the remains of their meal before Verso can pulverize the rest of it. "And he does. He— struggled, a bit, when he first came around—" Many of the people who weren't freshly Gommaged seemed to have trouble reconciling their own existences, somehow, but it eventually passed. "—but he seems like he's doing well now? Sciel certainly doesn't have any complaints."

He tilts his head slightly, searching his expression. "Someone you'd like to bring back?" It seems like a natural extension to that question.

"Some people, yeah," he says vaguely, shrugging noncommittally. Now that he doesn't have a sandwich to mutilate, he stares into his drinking glass like there'll be an answer to his dilemma at the bottom of it. "One, mostly."

Although maybe it's wrong not to try to bring everyone he'd ever met back. Maybe it's wrong to bring any of them back. How can he really know if Maelle is really reviving someone or simply making a close recreation based on someone else's memories? There's already enough people in this Canvas with that baggage. He can't be responsible for making more.

At the same time, there's something obscene about getting a second chance when some people never even got to take advantage of their first. "I told you about Julie."

Gustave is genuinely a little horrified at the rush of jealousy that statement brings. It's hypocritical— childish, even, especially considering that he doesn't even really know what the relationship was like between them. Maybe what makes him stumble is the direct comparison to Pierre, the lost and found love of Sciel's life.

It's a lot of feelings to unpack suddenly, he decides, but now isn't the time. "Uh, yeah," he says, trying to recall. "You said you had an argument at the end. You never really said much more than that."

"Yeah, um." He stumbles over his words a little, hesitant to outright lie to Gustave's face. It feels less awful to prevaricate, so he does. "I can't help but feel responsible for what happened to her."

Very true. Probably because he is responsible, though.

By way of explanation: "We were fighting right before— and she was so young. She had her whole life ahead of her."

"Yeah, of course." Gustave isn't sure he can remember anyone in his adult life who didn't feel much too young to go. Uncharitably, he wonders how much Julie's possible return contributed to the array of Verso's other very, very good reasons for blatantly running away every time Gustave got too close.

He swallows that down, focuses instead on being glad that Verso is opening up to him about this, even if it's just a little.

"I hate to point out the obvious," he says after a moment, "but you should probably ask Maelle before you let her know we're leaving. She might be a little too annoyed with either of us for favors after that." And because, fight or not, she's going to be waking up in a strange new version of the world; it's probably best for all parties involved if Verso doesn't just have her resurrected before abruptly disappearing off into the woods.

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