A notice in the post should be enough.
Gus hadn’t even considered submitting a notice to the post – there wasn’t a single bone in him that wanted the condolences and pity that would flood in after, especially because the blasted owls would come here to deliver them. How was he supposed to live in denial if everyone around him knew something was amiss? The notice was just going to have to wait then.
(He was well aware that if he didn’t do it, Fig would take care of it. She always had a way with words in ways he didn’t; Gus was good at talking about his adventures, but Fig was phenomenal at spinning tales out of the ordinary. Seamus was a very lucky child to have a mother who could pluck story after story out of thin air on a dime; his dreams must be a stark contrast to his he quotidian realities, although Gus could only hope he embraced it. He was a Lissington after all, even if just by blood and not by name, and the need for adventure rippled through all their souls.
The need to run away from his own realities was part of his, but this time it was something that would follow him for the remainder of his miserable existence no matter how far he ran. Gus slunk further into the chair before he nodded. The thought of sitting at his desk writing the same words repetitively – painstakingly slow too, so they were legible, made his stomach squelch. “If it’s not an inconvenience to you. I know you’re busy.” A breath shuddered from his chest and he slowly raised his head toward him. “Thank you.” Even though the real thing he wanted to say was I’m sorry for uprooting your entire evening; you can kick me out whenever you want. His gaze lowered toward the teacup still nestled in his hands.
He chuckled quietly at the idea of not worrying about Fig; she had been his first friend – his best friend, too, even when he’d been shitty to her in every aspect, and on top of that, she was his little sister. She was married to someone he had never even met – Edward, Eduardo, Edison, Edwin, Eamon? He was a mystery to Gus and he could only pray that he treated Fig with the dignity and respect she deserved. Until they met face to face so he could size his brother-in-law up he’d worry for her. Hopefully Eidan would be just as supportive as Foxwood was for him. His fingers drummed against the side of the porcelain as Gus considered his words.
Would he be fine? When things went wrong and he felt like everything was crashing down around him, he was self destructive; but he’d come to Basil to prevent himself from spiraling down that path again. So, he sucked in a sharp breath of air before he raised his eyes to meet Basil, who was now in front of him. Gus wanted to reach out to take his hand, but Basil beat him to it by tangling his own hands in his robe. “Okay. I trust your judgment on clothing better than me.” He didn’t even try to smile, and the joke fell flat. Gus cleared his throat. He’d have to do this. “My scarf though… Do you still, um, have it? I want to, you know. He wasn’t one, but I still want him to… well.” Shrugging his shoulders, the redhead blinked back down at his legs. He knew what was trying to convey, and Basil was a smart man. He’d figure it out, too.
He almost laughed at the thought of him being strong. He was weak when it came to things that mattered, either running away from his problems or pushing them on to someone else; but that wasn’t a here and now argument. Instead he forced an uncomfortable smile. “I’m going to sell it, I think. Fig is married now, living with her husband, and what will I do with a house that large? I’m never going to fill it.” It was a fair statement – it was always going to be just him and maybe a house elf. Plus Phil, but the niffler was prone to sleeping above his head and would do just fine in a flat. But then Basil was repeating that he could do this, and his stomach flipped at the thought of Foxwood believing in him, even if he wasn’t able to decipher it was a truth or a lie. But then he went and lied through his teeth, spewing a world like always – Basil was going to redefine the damn word because Gus, as his stomach flipped and his heart broke even further, knew that he wouldn’t stick around.
Once Fig was home and Gus wasn’t in his space, Basil Foxwood would forget about him. The thought was a punch to the gut. He didn’t want to tell anyone either; it wasn’t that he didn’t want the support, he just didn’t want to have to put on a happy face eventually, when right now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay. “I don’t want to ever have to do this without you.” He finally breathed out. Even with his heart in pieces, they still beat for Basil Foxwood. He wished they’d stopped beating altogether. “I wish I hadn’t walked away from you, you know. Back then, now. Ever. I’m sorry that I did.” Gus swallowed hard, then, but he lifted his gaze and refused to look away from the grey eyes in front of him.
Despite the insistence of Foxwood, he would have taken a sip of the liquid anyway; Gus had no desire to flounce down this path again, but here was dredging up the past. Again. He was good at that. So he finally brought the cup to his lips and took a deep sip of it, thankful that Basil knew him well enough that it was almost too sweet to bear. (Not that too sweet existed for the redhead, but others would certainly argue that thought.)
Gus hadn’t even considered submitting a notice to the post – there wasn’t a single bone in him that wanted the condolences and pity that would flood in after, especially because the blasted owls would come here to deliver them. How was he supposed to live in denial if everyone around him knew something was amiss? The notice was just going to have to wait then.
(He was well aware that if he didn’t do it, Fig would take care of it. She always had a way with words in ways he didn’t; Gus was good at talking about his adventures, but Fig was phenomenal at spinning tales out of the ordinary. Seamus was a very lucky child to have a mother who could pluck story after story out of thin air on a dime; his dreams must be a stark contrast to his he quotidian realities, although Gus could only hope he embraced it. He was a Lissington after all, even if just by blood and not by name, and the need for adventure rippled through all their souls.
The need to run away from his own realities was part of his, but this time it was something that would follow him for the remainder of his miserable existence no matter how far he ran. Gus slunk further into the chair before he nodded. The thought of sitting at his desk writing the same words repetitively – painstakingly slow too, so they were legible, made his stomach squelch. “If it’s not an inconvenience to you. I know you’re busy.” A breath shuddered from his chest and he slowly raised his head toward him. “Thank you.” Even though the real thing he wanted to say was I’m sorry for uprooting your entire evening; you can kick me out whenever you want. His gaze lowered toward the teacup still nestled in his hands.
He chuckled quietly at the idea of not worrying about Fig; she had been his first friend – his best friend, too, even when he’d been shitty to her in every aspect, and on top of that, she was his little sister. She was married to someone he had never even met – Edward, Eduardo, Edison, Edwin, Eamon? He was a mystery to Gus and he could only pray that he treated Fig with the dignity and respect she deserved. Until they met face to face so he could size his brother-in-law up he’d worry for her. Hopefully Eidan would be just as supportive as Foxwood was for him. His fingers drummed against the side of the porcelain as Gus considered his words.
Would he be fine? When things went wrong and he felt like everything was crashing down around him, he was self destructive; but he’d come to Basil to prevent himself from spiraling down that path again. So, he sucked in a sharp breath of air before he raised his eyes to meet Basil, who was now in front of him. Gus wanted to reach out to take his hand, but Basil beat him to it by tangling his own hands in his robe. “Okay. I trust your judgment on clothing better than me.” He didn’t even try to smile, and the joke fell flat. Gus cleared his throat. He’d have to do this. “My scarf though… Do you still, um, have it? I want to, you know. He wasn’t one, but I still want him to… well.” Shrugging his shoulders, the redhead blinked back down at his legs. He knew what was trying to convey, and Basil was a smart man. He’d figure it out, too.
He almost laughed at the thought of him being strong. He was weak when it came to things that mattered, either running away from his problems or pushing them on to someone else; but that wasn’t a here and now argument. Instead he forced an uncomfortable smile. “I’m going to sell it, I think. Fig is married now, living with her husband, and what will I do with a house that large? I’m never going to fill it.” It was a fair statement – it was always going to be just him and maybe a house elf. Plus Phil, but the niffler was prone to sleeping above his head and would do just fine in a flat. But then Basil was repeating that he could do this, and his stomach flipped at the thought of Foxwood believing in him, even if he wasn’t able to decipher it was a truth or a lie. But then he went and lied through his teeth, spewing a world like always – Basil was going to redefine the damn word because Gus, as his stomach flipped and his heart broke even further, knew that he wouldn’t stick around.
Once Fig was home and Gus wasn’t in his space, Basil Foxwood would forget about him. The thought was a punch to the gut. He didn’t want to tell anyone either; it wasn’t that he didn’t want the support, he just didn’t want to have to put on a happy face eventually, when right now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay. “I don’t want to ever have to do this without you.” He finally breathed out. Even with his heart in pieces, they still beat for Basil Foxwood. He wished they’d stopped beating altogether. “I wish I hadn’t walked away from you, you know. Back then, now. Ever. I’m sorry that I did.” Gus swallowed hard, then, but he lifted his gaze and refused to look away from the grey eyes in front of him.
Despite the insistence of Foxwood, he would have taken a sip of the liquid anyway; Gus had no desire to flounce down this path again, but here was dredging up the past. Again. He was good at that. So he finally brought the cup to his lips and took a deep sip of it, thankful that Basil knew him well enough that it was almost too sweet to bear. (Not that too sweet existed for the redhead, but others would certainly argue that thought.)
![[Image: UkiVTG8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/UkiVTG8.png)