Chapter Text
Maelle
It was when Gustave walked in one late afternoon, with black bruising plastered across his right eye, that Maelle's suspicions first arose.
"Gustave, your face," she gasped at the sight. "You have a black eye."
"Yeah, it's bad isn't it?" He went to touch it and winced in pain. "Verso said it would bruise."
She was surprised to hear that name from Gustave's mouth, she barely saw the two of them ever interact. Gustave was always busy in his workshop, and Verso was usually practicing the piano, or doing whatever else he got up to in his free time. As long as he wasn't trying to kill himself since removing his immortality, he was free to do as he pleased.
"You were with Verso?" She questioned.
"Yeah, he came by the workshop," Gustave replied, his face turning a little red, his expression turned to a grimace.
Cogs turned in Maelle's head. Gustave had met with Verso and came back looking beaten and bruised. His irritated expression, and flushed face, indicated that he was seething with anger from their interaction. It lead her to only one conclusion, the two of them had fought. Over what, she wasn't sure.
Verso always had a certain temperament, his patience thinly veiled behind the masks he wore. Her prolonged stay in the canvas had made matters worse, but after agreeing on her leaving date, which would be only two months away, she thought his mood had settled.
She knew her guardian wasn't the sort of man to needlessly get into fights, especially not physically. It was most likely Verso that started whatever conflict there was between the two of them.
She didn't want them arguing or fighting. If this was how they behaved while she was still here to witness the aftermath, she worried how much further they would take things after she left. Papa had agreed to not destroy the canvas if she left, but only on the condition that she never returns to it. She didn't want to leave knowing her brothers would be at each other's throats.
"What happened?" She asked.
"Nothing, just an accident," Gustave grumbled.
He was being dismissive. Of course he didn't want to tell her that they weren't getting along, he knew how much that would break her heart.
"How's Verso?" She asked, expecting him to tell her he's in a similar or even a worse state. That metal arm could really pack a punch.
"He's fine."
Either Gustave hadn't fought back, or he was avoiding talking about it, saving her from all the gory details.
Gustave retreated upstairs, likely in search of a healing tint and some rest. If she couldn't get answers out of him, she would need to have a word with Verso.
Gustave
He'd hoped no-one was in, but Maelle noticed him as soon as he entered, and of course she pointed it out immediately.
"It'll leave a nasty bruise," Verso had said in that smooth deep voice that left Gustave wishing Verso would lean in closer and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.
Part of him was grateful for the accident, though he wished he had a healing tint on hand. He'd never seen Verso so panicked before. For a brief moment after tripping and falling face first into the table edge, everything went black. When he opened his eyes he found himself staring up at Verso's gorgeous face, and watched as his expression changed to that of relief.
Then, Gustave realised he was on the floor, his injured head cradled in Verso's hands and resting on his thighs. Verso's touch was surprisingly soft and gentle as he pushed a lock of hair from his forehead to get a better look at the damage.
He'd had a hunch for a while, that Verso liked him. It would explain the frequent visits that held no real purpose, and the way he looked at him fondly. The calm and ease that seemed so natural when they were alone together, but often turned tense when others approached, as if Gustave had become a safe space for him after a painful hundred years of living.
He could feel his cheeks heating just thinking of the man. There was something between them, something neither of them had the courage to speak of, he was certain of it. Next time, he decided, when they met, he would tell him.
His head was throbbing in pain. He appreciated Maelle's concern, but he really needed a healing tint and some rest.
She asked him what happened. If only his apprentices had tidied up properly after their visit earlier, he never would have tripped on that contraption that was left out. No, he couldn't blame the boys, it was his workshop, his responsibility to keep it safe, for them and himself.
Then she asked about Verso again. He's incredible. He's kind and caring, though a little rough around the edges. He's perfect in ways he probably doesn't see himself.
There was no way he was about to say any of that to Maelle. Plus, he was too tired, and in too much pain to carry a conversation.
"He's fine," he simply said before retreating upstairs in search of a healing tint.