The feeling of bile trapped somewhere in his esophagus was asphyxiating as the seconds trickled past. Every moment that he wasn’t speaking, wasn’t trying to explain what Gus was seeing, was another grain of sand in the hourglass counting down to their doom. Blue eyes finally focused on him and Basil was sure any second now Gus was going to tell him to get out. He didn’t, instead capturing Basil in the grasp of those deepest baby blues. Ever since they’d met, Gus's eyes had always held a remarkable depth, as if containing an entire galaxy within. They emitted an inviting warmth, drawing others like moths to a flame and creating a sense of being seen and understood. Meeting Gus's gaze always felt like establishing an unspoken connection, transcending words and entering a realm of profound understanding— until Basil opened his mouth and realized they were on entirely different planes of existence. No matter how much he might wish they could communicate on sight and expression alone, they were both terrible at giving the other the benefit of the doubt, a facet of their messy relationship that Basil deeply regretted. He didn’t know how he was supposed to trust Gus, and frankly, he wasn’t sure Gus would ever trust him again either.
When a hand reached out to him suddenly, Basil felt his whole world stop spinning.
It was symbolic, that gesture, even if Gus hadn’t meant for it to be. Grey eyes looked from the extended offering to Gus’ familiar, exhausted looking face, and back again. Everything in his heart pinched. He wanted to accept it, he wanted this to be easy, but of course it couldn’t be. What would it mean if he accepted that outstretched hand? Would Gus think he’d come here to start… something? That wasn’t necessarily the case! He just couldn’t stand this. They still had to talk about it, discuss, decide… Basil felt the panic begin to rise in his chest again. It was swelling to the point of bursting, ready to lift him right off the floor and splatter him all over these tidy walls. Before the feeling could consume him, the brunette stepped forward and accepted Gus’ outstretched hand thinking only of a lifeline. (Lissington… could be his lifeline too, right?)
That was what they were here to find out.
His feet carried him to the couch where Basil hesitated. He was stiff as a board, his grip too tight on Lissington’s hand. Before he could decide if he wanted to sit or not there was a question, adrift in the remaining space between them. Basil plopped his ass down abruptly, a good distance from Gus, but refused to let go of his lifeline.
“Why didn’t you ever send that letter?”
“I…”
The truth should have been obvious, but it danced on the fringes of Basil's awareness, eluding his grasp. He had always been afraid of losing Gus, even before fully understanding what that fear entailed. The brunette sucked in a small breath, uncertainty lingering in the air.
(Wanna run away, man, fuck this town.)
“It wasn’t a love letter,” he finally deflected, grey hues flickering away from that expectant face. “Please don’t misunderstand. It was just… an attempt at comprehension.” Comprehension of the unnatural, erratic sensation he was starting to now perceive as love. Affection. Whatever.
(I'm just five minutes away from burning this whole shit down— )
A heavy silence settled, leaving Basil to wrestle with his thoughts. Amidst the swirling sensations in his stomach, he sought solace in the fact that Gus had reached out first, but he had come here to say something specifically. It was time to force it out.
“Gus… I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings.” His heart leapt to his mouth again and Basil had to force himself to swallow it back. To keep talking. “I… I know I’m not always the most forthcoming with my thoughts or sentiments. I only brought these here so that you could have a clearer picture of—” me. “A clear picture.” His heart fluttered in his chest, causing him to pause briefly. He swallowed hard, voice tinged with hesitation. “We’ve never talked about any of this before. And I just… I don’t want to let it sit unresolved until it fades into the background.” I can’t live like that anymore. “I’m not… asking you for anything. Not to forgive what happened with Victoire, or even to be friends again. I just… I needed you to know.”
As Basil let the words hang in the air, a mix of vulnerability and apprehension washed over him. The weight of expectation still hung in the air, and he couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled deep within his being. He had finally expressed what had long remained shoved in the darkest parts of his mind, but the aftermath felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure of what lay ahead.A wave of uncertainty crashed over him, engulfing the flicker of courage he had summoned to speak up. The potential consequences of his confession loomed large, casting a shadow of doubt over his heart. Would Gus understand the depth what emotions lay behind those memories or would the reminder, the images themselves, drive them further apart? The unknown outcome fueled his anticipation, tinged with a gnawing anxiety that tightened his chest.
The air hung heavy with the weight of possibility, the unspoken consequences weaving a delicate tapestry of what-ifs. Basil fidgeted with Gus’ fingers, gaze drawn back down. He didn’t dare close any of the distance between them, back still straight as a rod.
(We're a beautiful mess,
That's the ugly truth.)
Gus Lissington & this one wins