[If Clive were to ask Verso why he's never said anything to the Lumierans, he would offer the whole truth, the selfish and the selfless, the determined and the defeated. Terrified the whole time, certainly, and he'd be surprised if he could look Clive in the eye through the whole of it, but he knows he can't give meaning to any of the promises and vows and dreams and fantasies he's made if he can't commit to being honest.
Another thought to add to their ever-increasing arsenal of later. When they have time. When they have energy. When, perhaps, they have nowhere else to hide from each other. Or, at least when he doesn't.
So, when Clive pulls him close, Verso's all too happy to bury his face in the crook of his neck, warm and cosy, Clive's skin still smelling of the sandalwood oil Verso had incorporated into the soap when he washed his hair. An acknowledging hum follows, one that rises into a note of intrigue at the end.
Lumiere isn't a place Verso has ever really wanted to tour, knowing that everything that was once familiar is gone and everything that remains is home-but-not home, its own scar on the landscape, in a way, for what it speaks of Aline's incessant desperation. But the thought of walking hand-in-hand through the streets, learning about all the places that touched Clive and shaped him into the man he is – that casts Lumiere in a different light. One that he does want to see shine.]
What if I could promise you wouldn't have to?
[How, exactly, he would manage that he keeps to himself. Not to be mysterious or sneaky or anything like that, but rather so that he doesn't come across as trying to encourage him to agree. He just wants him to know what's possible.]
no subject
Another thought to add to their ever-increasing arsenal of later. When they have time. When they have energy. When, perhaps, they have nowhere else to hide from each other. Or, at least when he doesn't.
So, when Clive pulls him close, Verso's all too happy to bury his face in the crook of his neck, warm and cosy, Clive's skin still smelling of the sandalwood oil Verso had incorporated into the soap when he washed his hair. An acknowledging hum follows, one that rises into a note of intrigue at the end.
Lumiere isn't a place Verso has ever really wanted to tour, knowing that everything that was once familiar is gone and everything that remains is home-but-not home, its own scar on the landscape, in a way, for what it speaks of Aline's incessant desperation. But the thought of walking hand-in-hand through the streets, learning about all the places that touched Clive and shaped him into the man he is – that casts Lumiere in a different light. One that he does want to see shine.]
What if I could promise you wouldn't have to?
[How, exactly, he would manage that he keeps to himself. Not to be mysterious or sneaky or anything like that, but rather so that he doesn't come across as trying to encourage him to agree. He just wants him to know what's possible.]