If only Basil knew the implications of his words. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have anything he wanted to live for – he did just come into the possession of the cutest niffler he’d ever laid eyes on and Phil looked at him with as much love and wonder as Gus did to him – it was just… everything he held dearly was slipping through his fingers like sand. Basil had made it clear where they stood. How much longer would it be until Winnie cast him aside? Or until Sophia decided she’d had enough of England digging its claws into her until it drove her away? And Fig… Fig was already gone, it seemed, living a brand new life with her husband and son. Instead of replying he only heaved a heavy sigh; Gus’ heart was ponderous and there weren’t any words to explain that the past was all he had left.

It was something that they could argue about until they were blue in the face; Foxwood would go about his business, back to his family who adored him, find a wonderful girl who his entire world would revolve around while Gus would slip into the shadows of the past until he was all but been forgotten, allowing him to step back into the role of a curse breaker where he could do anything he damn well pleased, because in the end who would miss him? Really miss him? Everyone had lived perfectly fine before and would live perfectly fine without him again.

(Deep down though, Gus didn’t want to leave. He was just tired of being a consistent burden to the people he loved.)

While there was a refusal to believe that Basil would breathe a sigh of relief when Gus was finally gone, the redhead knew that Foxwood would feel a sense of a weight lifted without having to worry about sparing the redhead's feelings. But those were words that would remain heavy in his heart. Half of Gus had been afraid that Basil would shove him away when he stood up to hug him, but instead he seemed to melt into him; he sighed against him too. His stomach flipped, and he knew then that he wanted to stay in his arms forever. Here he was safe and sound. His question wasn’t immediately answered, or rather wasn’t answered at all, and Gus frowned against his shoulder. So it was just a temporary thing even if he wanted more. (More as friends, more than friends – it wasn’t like he could fall out of love with him that quickly. If he could, he would have the day he tumbled into Egypt, wide-eyed, heart broken and ready to take on the world.)

But neither seemed implausible and before Gus knew it, Basil had readily allowed him to pull him onto the floor, his own head tolled against his shoulder. He could stay here forever too, a limbo in which the past was behind him and the future didn’t have to exist.  Basil wasn’t breathing and Gus nearly lifted his head to look at him; it was unfair to either of them for him to try to step over a line the man had clearly drawn in the sand, but he instantly relaxed, melting further into him as the man’s cheek rested against him. His stomach flipped again and he felt his heartbeat beating in his throat, blocking his airway and ability to speak.

His mouth was suddenly dry and his palms sweaty, and as Basil spoke to tell him he wanted to be at the funeral, he swallowed around the blockage and nodded. “Okay.” There wasn’t much more Gus could say because then Basil finally addressed the part he wanted him to – the knot in his stomach tightened before releasing into a flurry of butterflies. Inhaling sharply, the redhead wasn’t sure if he was hearing anything correctly; there was an underlying implication on the word friends, although it was something Gus wasn’t going to try to dissect here and now, especially as his heart beat against his chest and inside his throat and ears, clogging them as he attempted to fully grasp what Basil Foxwood was trying to tell him.

Oh.

Oh.

Gus lifted his head and turned fully toward him. The kiss that was pressed against his knuckles was poetic; it was something he’d read about in books and something he’d seen gentlemen do for ladies they enjoyed the company of. A soft glow of pink dipped between his freckles. All the air left his lungs and for probably the first time in his entire life, Gus was at a loss for words and for a moment he didn’t respond to anything that Basil had said. He relished the idea of being in each other’s orbit – Basil Foxwood with his sun, his moon and his stars. A low noise escaped him before he clamped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “It was an awful few weeks, wasn’t it?” His fingers squeezed the ones still entwined within his. “I’m not proud of what I did –” Like get drunk for one, and worrying Sophia nearly to death in the process… writing a letter to Gringotts begging for his old job back, “I don’t want either of us to feel like that again."

Then, Gus wet his lips. “I would never ask you to give up your family. Or a future, if that’s what you want. I just want… you.” He whispered. “However I can get you. Even if it’s just supporting each other when we can.”

He’d take whatever Basil would give him, now and forever.

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