never the muse

[always-the-artiste]

except from upcoming chapter ten of say his name. sorry for leaving on a cliffhanger lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76768636/chapters/200941091

Text in image:

♩♫♩♫♩

Eventually, they dried off and stumbled towards the bed. A watery sunrise, pale and grey, desaturated the colours of the room until Gustave pulled the curtain closed. He peeled off his damp clothes and wrapped his arms around Verso, who shivered despite the thick covers. They slipped into a fitful sleep, lost somewhere between true rest and groggy lucidity. Vague snatches of dreams blurred together as Gustave held Verso tight against his chest. The flashes smelled of iron and clumped together like congealing blood, but sometimes, small beauty survived in the gore.

Once, Gustave dreamt of Verso playing his beloved piano. The location shifted from their apartments, to the opera house, to the willow tree fountain in Montmartre. The linen of Verso’s shirt bloomed with fresh blood. It smeared from his fingers to the white keys, dripping onto his composition book. But as he played he laughed—

—and the joy on his face was the most beautiful thing Gustave had ever seen.

♩♫♩♫♩

[always-the-artiste]

verso and gustave from my fic say his name

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76768636/chapters/200941091

[always-the-artiste]

in turn of the century lumière, gustave agrees to pose for a mysterious stranger. while he becomes entangled in verso's life and lies, sparks fly

♩♫♩♫♩

say his name is a belle époque au with no paintress, no canvas world, and a living verso dessendre

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76768636

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works