[ Verso mostly feels anguish and want and dread. This has happened before, he's pretty sure -- again, Gustave is far from his first relationship. The tensions aren't the same in all of them but they all had the same shape, and in the past, if he's honest, Verso hadn't fought to keep them very hard. When things started to slide this way and circle the same drain, he'd push back a little against it, but never too strongly, and in the end when they spiralled down he'd suffer the heartbreak and pick himself back up again.
The moment that felt like it was starting here, it felt a little like his world was going to fall apart. This time he wants to fight it, but feels like there's nothing he can do. And maybe he's wrong, he'd like to believe he's wrong, but if this is the way everything has gone before, then why does he think this will be different, when it's also been so much worse? They've reached higher heights, and he swears sometimes with him he's never felt his heart so soar so lightly, but he's never crashed quite like this, either, never felt himself hurtling so far.
Gustave says his name again, and Verso shudders, wanting to lean into it, kissing him deeper like he thinks he can taste it on his tongue, and when Gustave breaks the kiss enough to just cradle his head close, all he can do is shake his head. He clutches at Gustave's wrist, thumb pushing into his pulse, leaning into his familiar touch, cool metal and warm skin both. ]
Don't be. Don't.
[ What is there to be sorry for? Gustave is right, in a lot of ways. He has every right to be upset, to be mistrustful, to be unhappy with the way things have gone. He hates that he was crying, even for a little while, hates that he knows Gustave must be able to see it. ]
Just -- be with me. Mon chou, I've missed you so much.
[ Days apart and it feels like months and decades, because it feels like those days keep stretching and stretching and if Verso doesn't do something to keep him close that they might just stretch into forever. ]
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The moment that felt like it was starting here, it felt a little like his world was going to fall apart. This time he wants to fight it, but feels like there's nothing he can do. And maybe he's wrong, he'd like to believe he's wrong, but if this is the way everything has gone before, then why does he think this will be different, when it's also been so much worse? They've reached higher heights, and he swears sometimes with him he's never felt his heart so soar so lightly, but he's never crashed quite like this, either, never felt himself hurtling so far.
Gustave says his name again, and Verso shudders, wanting to lean into it, kissing him deeper like he thinks he can taste it on his tongue, and when Gustave breaks the kiss enough to just cradle his head close, all he can do is shake his head. He clutches at Gustave's wrist, thumb pushing into his pulse, leaning into his familiar touch, cool metal and warm skin both. ]
Don't be. Don't.
[ What is there to be sorry for? Gustave is right, in a lot of ways. He has every right to be upset, to be mistrustful, to be unhappy with the way things have gone. He hates that he was crying, even for a little while, hates that he knows Gustave must be able to see it. ]
Just -- be with me. Mon chou, I've missed you so much.
[ Days apart and it feels like months and decades, because it feels like those days keep stretching and stretching and if Verso doesn't do something to keep him close that they might just stretch into forever. ]