Gus inclined his head at him as Foxwood confirmed their friendship, even if it was just a temporary one while he worked on piecing himself back together; the man kept a hold of him as if he thought the redhead was going to run – even if he wanted to it would be impossible for him. There was no one else in the world who would step up and arrange a funeral, and there was nowhere on the entire globe Gus could hide from the truth. He shuffled his feet with a desire to jump back into his arms, to bury his face into his shoulder and hold on for dear, but inside he found his fingers tremulously rubbing the fabric of his sleeve. (There was no doubt that the professor was going to have to replace his robes sooner rather than later, as he was going to wear the fabric thin if he kept that up.)
His body relaxed when Basil guided him to chair, and he hummed quietly as he sat on the edge; even at nearly thirty there was an innate desire to curl in on himself rather than sit like a normal person would, but he wasn’t sure the man would appreciate having dirty feet against the fabric. Rather, Gus leaned forward and rested his elbow against his thighs before dropping his head into his hands, fingers digging into his hair. As each second ticked by, the empty confusion that had filled him began to drain, merely to be replaced with a deep melancholy that was settling into his bones, feeling each crevice and nook with something so overwhelming he wasn’t sure he was ever going to smile again.
Lifting his eyes then to prevent himself from spiraling down that path, Gus watched as Basil made a pot of tea; it was something mundane and it felt domestic, to be sitting in his living quarters watching it happen, and had he been here for any other reason he may have allowed his imagination to run wild. What it would be like to have this forever. But no, they were just temporary friends (probably until Basil could figure out a way to kindly ask him to leave), and Gus was going to milk every moment he could. He missed him more than he was willing to admit to anyone; ever since Basil had come back into his life things had been tense, but better than they had in years. It warmed his heart to see him jump into action when Gus needed him, even if Gus hadn’t been able to extend the same courtesy when he’d found Foxwood in the woods some weeks ago. He was selfish.
He sighed again as he scrubbed his hands over his face, only lifting his head as Foxwood finally addressed him.
Accepting the saucer then, Gus straightened his back as he stared down at the inviting liquid; it smelled overly sweet, just how he liked most liquids (everything outside of gilly water, although there had been a time many years ago he’d drop a sugar cube into it for some kind of taste), but his stomach squelched at the sight of it. Instead of taking a sip, he wrapped his fingers around the mug and blew on the rising steam. “Thanks.” He mumbled, taking note of the extra items Basil had put in to help cure some of his ailments; it made sense for him to have the calming draught, especially as the man’s cheeks tinted because, but dredging up the past seemed like it would only end in ruin. Gus had had enough of that today.
Gus leaned his head toward the hand settling against his shoulder and sighed. Then he finally took a sip of the tea; it warmed his chest and settled into the pit of his stomach, but somehow it didn’t feel foreign. The numbness he’d been feeling since this morning was beginning to wear off.
“I don’t even know where to start. I went by the house and did everything I could there…” The house elves had been upset too, as they helped cover the mirrors and draw the curtains. Placing family portraits face-down had taken ages because each one held a memory that he felt he should take the time to reminisce on. “I spent the morning doing what I could –” Only because someone who’d watched him crumple had stepped him through the process, but even then Gus had been hardly listening; the fear of missing a step and being shunned for it was something else that weighed in the back of his mind. His shoulders slumped as he shifted to stare down at the tea again.. “But do I send invitations out? How am I going to get the house ready from here? I don’t… I don’t think I can even go back inside without them in it.”
Shaking his head, that had been a lot to throw at Basil at once, Gus maneuvered himself to be able to look at his face. “I can’t get in contact with Fig. She doesn’t even know yet, but I know she'd have everything planned to the last detail if she did.” He sighed again as he closed his eyes. “What do I even wear now?” He hadn’t realized by that time he’d started shaking again, and the tea sloshed around in the cup, but luckily didn’t spill over the side. He wrapped both hands around the tea before he took a long sip of it to let his mind catch up with what his mouth had been saying.
“I can’t do this, Basil. I can’t –”
His body relaxed when Basil guided him to chair, and he hummed quietly as he sat on the edge; even at nearly thirty there was an innate desire to curl in on himself rather than sit like a normal person would, but he wasn’t sure the man would appreciate having dirty feet against the fabric. Rather, Gus leaned forward and rested his elbow against his thighs before dropping his head into his hands, fingers digging into his hair. As each second ticked by, the empty confusion that had filled him began to drain, merely to be replaced with a deep melancholy that was settling into his bones, feeling each crevice and nook with something so overwhelming he wasn’t sure he was ever going to smile again.
Lifting his eyes then to prevent himself from spiraling down that path, Gus watched as Basil made a pot of tea; it was something mundane and it felt domestic, to be sitting in his living quarters watching it happen, and had he been here for any other reason he may have allowed his imagination to run wild. What it would be like to have this forever. But no, they were just temporary friends (probably until Basil could figure out a way to kindly ask him to leave), and Gus was going to milk every moment he could. He missed him more than he was willing to admit to anyone; ever since Basil had come back into his life things had been tense, but better than they had in years. It warmed his heart to see him jump into action when Gus needed him, even if Gus hadn’t been able to extend the same courtesy when he’d found Foxwood in the woods some weeks ago. He was selfish.
He sighed again as he scrubbed his hands over his face, only lifting his head as Foxwood finally addressed him.
Accepting the saucer then, Gus straightened his back as he stared down at the inviting liquid; it smelled overly sweet, just how he liked most liquids (everything outside of gilly water, although there had been a time many years ago he’d drop a sugar cube into it for some kind of taste), but his stomach squelched at the sight of it. Instead of taking a sip, he wrapped his fingers around the mug and blew on the rising steam. “Thanks.” He mumbled, taking note of the extra items Basil had put in to help cure some of his ailments; it made sense for him to have the calming draught, especially as the man’s cheeks tinted because, but dredging up the past seemed like it would only end in ruin. Gus had had enough of that today.
Gus leaned his head toward the hand settling against his shoulder and sighed. Then he finally took a sip of the tea; it warmed his chest and settled into the pit of his stomach, but somehow it didn’t feel foreign. The numbness he’d been feeling since this morning was beginning to wear off.
“I don’t even know where to start. I went by the house and did everything I could there…” The house elves had been upset too, as they helped cover the mirrors and draw the curtains. Placing family portraits face-down had taken ages because each one held a memory that he felt he should take the time to reminisce on. “I spent the morning doing what I could –” Only because someone who’d watched him crumple had stepped him through the process, but even then Gus had been hardly listening; the fear of missing a step and being shunned for it was something else that weighed in the back of his mind. His shoulders slumped as he shifted to stare down at the tea again.. “But do I send invitations out? How am I going to get the house ready from here? I don’t… I don’t think I can even go back inside without them in it.”
Shaking his head, that had been a lot to throw at Basil at once, Gus maneuvered himself to be able to look at his face. “I can’t get in contact with Fig. She doesn’t even know yet, but I know she'd have everything planned to the last detail if she did.” He sighed again as he closed his eyes. “What do I even wear now?” He hadn’t realized by that time he’d started shaking again, and the tea sloshed around in the cup, but luckily didn’t spill over the side. He wrapped both hands around the tea before he took a long sip of it to let his mind catch up with what his mouth had been saying.
“I can’t do this, Basil. I can’t –”
![[Image: UkiVTG8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/UkiVTG8.png)