[ Maybe he'll go on a week-long bender, trying to put some distance between himself and his broken heart.
But he can't, and they all know it. He still has so much work to do on the latest iteration of the Lumina Converter, and he's scheduled to go out to the eastern farms with three of his apprentices in a few days to pilot their design for a high-yield crop harvester robust enough to work through multiple fields in a day while harvesting delicately enough to preserve the plants. ]
I think you'll hurl at the sight of a bottle, so... yeah.
[He's barely managing bread. She looks down at his hands, thoughtful.]
I thought you would marry her, some day. [You and everyone else that ever saw them, Maelle.] You both seemed so happy. I don't understand what happened.
[Maybe he doesn't, either. She's sure her remarks aren't helping him feel any better.]
[ He does feel sick: his head swims and there's a stabbing pain radiating through his temples. His stomach feels the way it did when he and Lucien and Catherine took a tour of Expedition 39's ship, out in the harbor. Everything... sloshing.
Maelle's comment doesn't help. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he sets the plate and glass aside so he can lean down and rest his elbows on his thighs, face in his hands. He is not, it turns out, too dehydrated for his eyes to prick once more with hot tears, though he wills them not to well out.
Muffled: ]
I thought so, too.
[ He hadn't just thought he would, he'd planned to. There was a ring, down at one of the jewelers in the market... it'll stay there, now. ]
[Oh. Maelle watches him, worried for a moment he may just get sick again, but it's actually worse than that. The sadness is threatening to overtake him. She reaches out to put a hand on his back, but a moment later thinks better of it and just scoots in closer to hug him.]
You always do what's best. Even if it hurts you. [He never complains about anything. So, maybe he earned the right to get absolutely trashed last night, and now he has the right to be sad. There's a lot to be sad about, and Sophie is a terrible loss, however it's happened.] It'll be okay.
[ She curls around him, small and warm, and he takes a deep breath, lifts a hand from his face so he can slip his arm around her, holding onto her like he used to hold onto his stuffed animals as a child. ]
Always, huh?
[ He certainly doesn't feel that way right now, but Maelle's looked at him with near-hero worship almost since she came to live with him and Emma. He'd rather flay himself alive than disappoint the belief she has in him, even on his worst days. Even today. ]
Yeah. It will.
[ It's an effort, but he manages to find a shadowed semblance of a smile for her. ]
How could I not be okay? I have you and Emma and my apprentices and my work. I'm a rich man.
[If Maelle is sure about anything, it's him. From the day they met, he felt like what she'd imagine home to feel like. It was such a strong and loud feeling, and it hasn't faded at all since. In fact, it's only grown. She adores him. It's there in the way she squeezes him, as if she could rid him of the heartache that way.]
We'll help you be okay. [Starting with this: keeping a hangover from taking him, and company so the sorrow doesn't suffocate him.] I don't have anywhere to be today. [And given that he's newly single--] Neither do you, so...
[ He grimaces, but she's right. He usual plans can safely be set to the side to begin gathering dust. ]
We could go down to the harbor.
[ It isn't yet being decorated for the Gommage or the festival, which he prefers. They'd still be staring out at the Monolith, too far away to hit with stones or even a shot from his pistol, but the sound of the waves might be soothing and he knows Maelle enjoys prowling among the ships. ]
Yeah? You think you can manage being out and about?
[It's a gentle tease, but with some real concern behind it. And what if, against all odds, they bump into Sophie? Or someone else that's curious about what happened decides to pry when Gustave seems a hair away from more tears?
Maelle doesn't want to have a bite record. The running away is already something she's trying to put behind her. Would it be worth it? Probably, yet...]
It's that or stay cooped up in here to wallow. And wait for Emma to come back and lay into me.
[ Emma will understand, when he tells her, but Maelle... Maelle is still so young. And she'd been an orphan, herself; he'd never quite been sure how to broach the topic with her, this dream of his, of children. A future past himself.
Who knows? She might agree with Sophie, that it's cruel to bring children into this world only to leave them a few short years later. ]
But no running along the rooftops this time, not unless you want me to lose my breakfast from five stories up.
cries about a timeline where gustave had kids and she gets to be a big sister
[Once he and Sophie became a thing, she did wonder. Long ago, people dated, wed, had children--grandchildren, even. It was simply what people did. But as time went on and there was no mention of children, Maelle simply assumed they had no interest. She could do the math, figure out how long they would have with a baby. Would that child become her responsibility, one day? To raise them in Gustave's stead? It was dizzying to ponder at such a young age, and now... she sees there would be no point. It didn't happen. Won't happen, now, given the time left to him.
It would make her sad to know it was something he longed for. He's a wonderful parent. The absolute best. As fortunate as she is to not have to share him, it's tragic that she's the only one to be raised by him.
Some time is better than no time at all.]
You're gross. [She says with a laugh.] No running. A slow walk, for your health. Emma will be impressed you got outside.
[ At least he can still make Maelle laugh. That's one small sliver of brightness to an otherwise gloom-ridden day. ]
Emma will just be happy I'm not making a mess of her living room.
[ His memories of the night before are... hazy... but he's reasonably sure it had involved stumbling around their home, stomach lurching, with a strong possibility of ruining the carpet or sofa.
He does his best to give her his usual teasing, disbelieving look. It falls a little flat, but maybe she won't mention it. It's far easier to rally for Maelle than it is for himself. ]
You can go slow? You could probably get there and back before I've even made it to the market.
[He's not himself. She can tell, even through the hangover. He's trying his best, of course. It didn't take long for Maelle to realize that he always put her first, protecting her from worry. But worry is inevitable when you care for someone.
He'll be okay. He may not have Sophie, but he has her and Emma.
Maelle leans into him harder. She has to remind herself to not jostle him too much, lest she want to see him make a mess.]
I have to make sure you don't pass out on a bench. I'll go slow.
[ The arm he has loosely around her in turn tightens as she leans against him, warm and solid and loving. She might not understand, not really — and he can see in her face, in her eyes, that she doesn't — and she'd always liked Sophie, but he knows where Maelle's loyalties lie. The three of them, her and him and Emma, created a whole where before there had been only pieces.
This little family is the best thing he's ever helped to build. Even if it's the only one he'll have.
He leans against her in turn, the mussed brown waves of his hair pressed against the soft red of hers. ]
[It feels good to hear him say so. He's always taken such good care of her. If she can give him even a fraction of how he makes her feel, then she'll be glad. They're family. There are so many broken and pieced together families because of the Gommage, and Maelle's been a part of too many of them to count. This one has always been special. Maybe because it was supposed to happen.
She turns, a little precariously balanced on the edge of the bed, so she can properly hug him.]
We love you.
[It may be the first time she's admitted she loves him aloud, but the love has been there for some time. Maybe it's cowardly to say we, grouping in Emma. Still, it rattles her nerves to say it. Like she'll lose this, now that she's put out into the world the truth. Yet she takes a breath and continues.]
[ His breath punches out of him, like he's been hit in the gut during a sparring session, and his insides lurch, but this time it isn't because he feels sick. It's something so much larger than that, like everything in him shifted all at once.
Maelle's arms around him, her small body pressed to his side. We love you. ]
I—
[ His throat works, feeling suddenly thick, and he blinks fast. Tears might come too easily today, with his heart so fundamentally shattered and the rest of him feeling so shaken and tender. He reaches to curl the fingers of his free hand over her upper arm, leaning his head against hers. ]
I love you, too.
[ And she could take it as meaning both her and Emma, if she wanted, but he means it every way it can be meant: he loves this bright, shy, sparkling girl who has brought so much to their lives. To his life. ]
[It's the best thing she's ever heard him say. Maelle is surprised to feel the sting behind her eyes--she's happy. So happy her emotions want to escape down her face, but she smiles, regardless. Her eyes close as she hugs him tighter.
He must have known there was love between them, just as she has, but if hearing it makes her feel better, she can only imagine how he feels when his heart is so sore.]
Always.
[The echo is a whisper. Always, even after he's gone. For as long as she'll live. She takes a breath, wishing he hurt less. He's too kind to hurt so much.]
Four years until Sophie's Gommage. Just the thought threatens to break his heart all over again, to drown him in grief for something that hasn't even happened yet. ]
Me too.
[ And yet... even if he'd tried to stay with her for those four years, he'd have been miserable. He'd always want the thing she's so adamantly against, and it would only drive them apart again.
But he can't imagine trying to start over again with someone else. (Five years.) ]
[Maelle knows better than to say he can find someone else. He and Sophie were special, and that's not going to be a comfort when she worries he might cry. If he cries now, she'll cry, and he'll feel worse for it. She knows him too well.]
Eventually, yeah. I'll take care of you until then.
[And after, as much as he lets her. She squeezes him with her slender arms again.]
[ She squeezes him and he makes a soft sound – oof — more for her benefit than because he really needs to.
(He still feels terrible, though. That hasn't changed. What he needs far more than a walk to the harbor is about a gallon of water and to sleep for another three to four hours straight.
And her request is... harder than he'd like to admit to acquiesce to. His broken heart is a collection of painful shards in his chest, and wine gives him a little blissful numbness, even if it's only temporary. ]
[If she weren't so sure squeezing him any tighter would end up with him spewing out whatever is left in his stomach, she would do it again. The oof noise he makes always tickles her.]
Gustave...
[Even a slow walk to the harbor seems ambitious, to her. If he drinks more wine today, Emma might suggest leaving him out on the streets until he sobers up this time. It will only compound how bad he must feel.]
[ He sighs, a full-body motion that leaves him curled even further. If it were just him, he could be as self-destructive as he wants.
But it isn't just him, and it isn't even him and Emma, who would understand in a way Maelle can't, not yet. It's him and Emma and Maelle, young and brilliant and loving, who looks at him like he's her hero. He can't let her down. ]
[She loosens her embrace enough to rub his back, trying to soothe as he's undoubtably done for her when she felt unwell from either a nightmare or an illness. He's heartsick, and has a hangover, and Maelle thinks she might have to call the shots, now. At least until Emma is home.]
[Gustave always keeps his promises to her. Maelle cherishes that, but he's... in a state. Tomorrow, or the day after--they have time. So she just nods.]
Yeah.
[She gives him a smile before crawling behind him to do him the favor of fluffing his pillow, and she makes a face because it smells a little bit like sweat and wine.
[ He groans, eyes closing, before he shifts to pull his legs up onto the mattress and lie back against the pillow she's thoughtfully adjusted for him. ]
Ha, ha.
Maybe.
[ It's definitely a possibility. He settles his head back into the soft down and lifts his artificial hand to his forehead, sighing at the touch of cool metal to his flushed skin and aching head. ]
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[ Maybe he'll go on a week-long bender, trying to put some distance between himself and his broken heart.
But he can't, and they all know it. He still has so much work to do on the latest iteration of the Lumina Converter, and he's scheduled to go out to the eastern farms with three of his apprentices in a few days to pilot their design for a high-yield crop harvester robust enough to work through multiple fields in a day while harvesting delicately enough to preserve the plants. ]
Water's probably a good choice for right now.
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[He's barely managing bread. She looks down at his hands, thoughtful.]
I thought you would marry her, some day. [You and everyone else that ever saw them, Maelle.] You both seemed so happy. I don't understand what happened.
[Maybe he doesn't, either. She's sure her remarks aren't helping him feel any better.]
... are you really sure it's over, Gustave?
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[ He does feel sick: his head swims and there's a stabbing pain radiating through his temples. His stomach feels the way it did when he and Lucien and Catherine took a tour of Expedition 39's ship, out in the harbor. Everything... sloshing.
Maelle's comment doesn't help. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he sets the plate and glass aside so he can lean down and rest his elbows on his thighs, face in his hands. He is not, it turns out, too dehydrated for his eyes to prick once more with hot tears, though he wills them not to well out.
Muffled: ]
I thought so, too.
[ He hadn't just thought he would, he'd planned to. There was a ring, down at one of the jewelers in the market... it'll stay there, now. ]
But I'm sure. We need to... go our separate ways.
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You always do what's best. Even if it hurts you. [He never complains about anything. So, maybe he earned the right to get absolutely trashed last night, and now he has the right to be sad. There's a lot to be sad about, and Sophie is a terrible loss, however it's happened.] It'll be okay.
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Always, huh?
[ He certainly doesn't feel that way right now, but Maelle's looked at him with near-hero worship almost since she came to live with him and Emma. He'd rather flay himself alive than disappoint the belief she has in him, even on his worst days. Even today. ]
Yeah. It will.
[ It's an effort, but he manages to find a shadowed semblance of a smile for her. ]
How could I not be okay? I have you and Emma and my apprentices and my work. I'm a rich man.
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[If Maelle is sure about anything, it's him. From the day they met, he felt like what she'd imagine home to feel like. It was such a strong and loud feeling, and it hasn't faded at all since. In fact, it's only grown. She adores him. It's there in the way she squeezes him, as if she could rid him of the heartache that way.]
We'll help you be okay. [Starting with this: keeping a hangover from taking him, and company so the sorrow doesn't suffocate him.] I don't have anywhere to be today. [And given that he's newly single--] Neither do you, so...
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We could go down to the harbor.
[ It isn't yet being decorated for the Gommage or the festival, which he prefers. They'd still be staring out at the Monolith, too far away to hit with stones or even a shot from his pistol, but the sound of the waves might be soothing and he knows Maelle enjoys prowling among the ships. ]
The fresh air might help.
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[It's a gentle tease, but with some real concern behind it. And what if, against all odds, they bump into Sophie? Or someone else that's curious about what happened decides to pry when Gustave seems a hair away from more tears?
Maelle doesn't want to have a bite record. The running away is already something she's trying to put behind her. Would it be worth it? Probably, yet...]
I'm in if you are.
[She'll protect him.]
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[ Emma will understand, when he tells her, but Maelle... Maelle is still so young. And she'd been an orphan, herself; he'd never quite been sure how to broach the topic with her, this dream of his, of children. A future past himself.
Who knows? She might agree with Sophie, that it's cruel to bring children into this world only to leave them a few short years later. ]
But no running along the rooftops this time, not unless you want me to lose my breakfast from five stories up.
cries about a timeline where gustave had kids and she gets to be a big sister
It would make her sad to know it was something he longed for. He's a wonderful parent. The absolute best. As fortunate as she is to not have to share him, it's tragic that she's the only one to be raised by him.
Some time is better than no time at all.]
You're gross. [She says with a laugh.] No running. A slow walk, for your health. Emma will be impressed you got outside.
they would both love it so much!!
Emma will just be happy I'm not making a mess of her living room.
[ His memories of the night before are... hazy... but he's reasonably sure it had involved stumbling around their home, stomach lurching, with a strong possibility of ruining the carpet or sofa.
He does his best to give her his usual teasing, disbelieving look. It falls a little flat, but maybe she won't mention it. It's far easier to rally for Maelle than it is for himself. ]
You can go slow? You could probably get there and back before I've even made it to the market.
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He'll be okay. He may not have Sophie, but he has her and Emma.
Maelle leans into him harder. She has to remind herself to not jostle him too much, lest she want to see him make a mess.]
I have to make sure you don't pass out on a bench. I'll go slow.
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This little family is the best thing he's ever helped to build. Even if it's the only one he'll have.
He leans against her in turn, the mussed brown waves of his hair pressed against the soft red of hers. ]
You take such good care of me.
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She turns, a little precariously balanced on the edge of the bed, so she can properly hug him.]
We love you.
[It may be the first time she's admitted she loves him aloud, but the love has been there for some time. Maybe it's cowardly to say we, grouping in Emma. Still, it rattles her nerves to say it. Like she'll lose this, now that she's put out into the world the truth. Yet she takes a breath and continues.]
Very much, Gustave.
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Maelle's arms around him, her small body pressed to his side. We love you. ]
I—
[ His throat works, feeling suddenly thick, and he blinks fast. Tears might come too easily today, with his heart so fundamentally shattered and the rest of him feeling so shaken and tender. He reaches to curl the fingers of his free hand over her upper arm, leaning his head against hers. ]
I love you, too.
[ And she could take it as meaning both her and Emma, if she wanted, but he means it every way it can be meant: he loves this bright, shy, sparkling girl who has brought so much to their lives. To his life. ]
Just as much. Always.
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He must have known there was love between them, just as she has, but if hearing it makes her feel better, she can only imagine how he feels when his heart is so sore.]
Always.
[The echo is a whisper. Always, even after he's gone. For as long as she'll live. She takes a breath, wishing he hurt less. He's too kind to hurt so much.]
I'm really sorry about Sophie.
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[ Breathed out, as his glance lowers.
Four years until Sophie's Gommage. Just the thought threatens to break his heart all over again, to drown him in grief for something that hasn't even happened yet. ]
Me too.
[ And yet... even if he'd tried to stay with her for those four years, he'd have been miserable. He'd always want the thing she's so adamantly against, and it would only drive them apart again.
But he can't imagine trying to start over again with someone else. (Five years.) ]
I'll be okay. Eventually.
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Eventually, yeah. I'll take care of you until then.
[And after, as much as he lets her. She squeezes him with her slender arms again.]
Just no wine for a little while, okay?
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(He still feels terrible, though. That hasn't changed. What he needs far more than a walk to the harbor is about a gallon of water and to sleep for another three to four hours straight.
And her request is... harder than he'd like to admit to acquiesce to. His broken heart is a collection of painful shards in his chest, and wine gives him a little blissful numbness, even if it's only temporary. ]
What about no more wine... tomorrow.
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Gustave...
[Even a slow walk to the harbor seems ambitious, to her. If he drinks more wine today, Emma might suggest leaving him out on the streets until he sobers up this time. It will only compound how bad he must feel.]
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But it isn't just him, and it isn't even him and Emma, who would understand in a way Maelle can't, not yet. It's him and Emma and Maelle, young and brilliant and loving, who looks at him like he's her hero. He can't let her down. ]
...All right. No more wine.
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[She loosens her embrace enough to rub his back, trying to soothe as he's undoubtably done for her when she felt unwell from either a nightmare or an illness. He's heartsick, and has a hangover, and Maelle thinks she might have to call the shots, now. At least until Emma is home.]
And, maybe... we go to the harbor tomorrow.
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[ He slips his arm from around her and straightens a little, trying to ignore the way his stomach sloshes and his head pounds. ]
I think... maybe I should rest for a little while longer. But, uh...
[ He had promised, after all. ]
We'll go to the harbor later. Maybe in the evening, when it's all lit up.
Tomorrow at the latest. Okay?
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Yeah.
[She gives him a smile before crawling behind him to do him the favor of fluffing his pillow, and she makes a face because it smells a little bit like sweat and wine.
Maelle just flips it over.]
Think you'll need a bucket?
[She's only half joking.]
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Ha, ha.
Maybe.
[ It's definitely a possibility. He settles his head back into the soft down and lifts his artificial hand to his forehead, sighing at the touch of cool metal to his flushed skin and aching head. ]
Just... give me a little while.
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I wonder how the "hey I'm going with you on Expedition 33" convo went 😭
sounds like a good nomination for a next thread....
I was hoping you'd say that!! I'm on it 🫡
opens my arms to them!