"The very best part of the Expedition was spending time with both of you." No matter how brief, no matter how sad. Her hand slides up Maelle's back, settles on the back of her neck. "Don't you worry about me, Maelle. I'll be here every minute I can."
A hug could never be awkward, to Sciel; Verso has certainly tried her. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking about when she first met Maelle, when she was this tiny, fickle little person who could barely be pried from Gustave’s side. So long ago. She’s grown up so much since.
“You’re so sweet, but we should go,” Sciel says. “I don’t want to leave Lune alone, and I don’t want you to meet my fake husband.”
Two things that are true, and a third thing left unsaid: she just really does not want to be in this house another night.
Maelle lets go with a nod. A rejection, even as gentle as this, always stings--but it's part of learning to put herself out there, she reasons. It's fine. It's not about her.
"Okay. You still have a lot of suitcase space." Might as well fill it if she can.
Sit Maelle does. Her leg is pressed to the side of Sciel's, no space between them.
"It's not the same, but I remember you sitting with me." Remember, because a lot of the time after Gustave's death is a haze. She remembers it in moments. Esquie's hug. Lune's head down by the fire. Sciel sitting with her in silence. It was nice to have someone beside her even if she didn't have anything to say. "It helped."
“That’s more than okay,” Sciel says. She wouldn’t want Maelle to ever be anyone other than Maelle. “And he is! And he doesn’t complain when I cry and get snot all over him. I’ll try not to do the same on you, though.”
Sciel hums her agreement, thumb running back and forth across Maelle’s back. Ruminating on what makes a family feels tough in this moment, enough to turn her stomach, but if she is to have one, she’s glad it’s this lot.
“You are very, very selfless,” Sciel assures her. “Still, I’ll try, since you’ve made an exception.”
"You're very selfless, too. I hope you know that."
She settles back in for a hug, sneaking her arms around Sciel's middle again. It feels like the most she can offer, lacking the wisdom and kind words Gustave would surely have.
“I should hope so, I put in a lot of practice on that,” she says, which is all the humour she can muster right now. She takes Maelle back into her arms, glad to have someone to hold onto when her heart hurts so badly. “I wasn’t, always.”
"That's hard to imagine. I've heard plenty of stories about Gustave when he was my age," she says, tipping her head up to Sciel for this story time she hopes to distract her with. "What were you like?"
Mm. There’s a flicker of humour there, a sympathetic hum –– she loves that little-girl version of herself still, and carries her with her.
“I was anxious all the time,” she says. “I felt like I never knew how to turn my mind off of worrying, and I didn’t know how to sit quietly or think before I spoke, either, so I was always being reckless with others’ feelings.”
If that's not familiar. Maelle feels like all she does lately is worry, mostly about Gustave, thinking he'll disappear when she's not looking or Renoir will do something or any other number of terrible things. It's so difficult to be away from him. It hurts.
“I do worry,” she says. Probably far less than she probably should, but she hasn’t overcorrected, either. Mostly. “I just know how to soothe myself now, so it doesn’t make me spiral or panic or act out.”
"What's that like?" Maelle jokes, squeezing her. A dry joke. Sciel is admirable. One day, maybe Maelle will have her head better on her shoulders, or at least not feel like she's constantly drowning in worry.
“So peaceful,” she says, and guessing what Maelle is angling at: “You’ll get there someday. I’m sure you can already see the difference between yourself now and when you were a little girl.”
"Thanks to Gustave," she's quick to supply. "And likely more thanks to Gustave, moving forward. I don't think I'd see a positive difference if not for him."
"Most of the credit. I did some of it, definitely." Gustave and his patience. Maelle, as far as she's concerned, simply lucked out with someone who didn't get easily overwhelmed by her oddities.
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"I can stay tonight," she says. Easier, when it's her offering, when she feels it's for someone else. "We can find something to do."
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“You’re so sweet, but we should go,” Sciel says. “I don’t want to leave Lune alone, and I don’t want you to meet my fake husband.”
Two things that are true, and a third thing left unsaid: she just really does not want to be in this house another night.
“We’ll have a sleepover another time, hmm?”
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"Okay. You still have a lot of suitcase space." Might as well fill it if she can.
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“It can wait,” she says. “I think you’re right, and I should take a minute. Sit with me.”
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"It's not the same, but I remember you sitting with me." Remember, because a lot of the time after Gustave's death is a haze. She remembers it in moments. Esquie's hug. Lune's head down by the fire. Sciel sitting with her in silence. It was nice to have someone beside her even if she didn't have anything to say. "It helped."
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“It was the very least I could do, given all the times Gustave sat with me after I lost Pierre and our baby,” she says, softly.
Maelle is his baby, after all.
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"Gustave is excellent at sitting. I squirm. I hope that's okay."
She gives her a small smile, teasing.
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They're real family, aren't they? As real as they can possibly be without being blood. Sciel and Lune are just missing the paperwork.
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“You are very, very selfless,” Sciel assures her. “Still, I’ll try, since you’ve made an exception.”
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She settles back in for a hug, sneaking her arms around Sciel's middle again. It feels like the most she can offer, lacking the wisdom and kind words Gustave would surely have.
"You always look out for everyone."
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“I was anxious all the time,” she says. “I felt like I never knew how to turn my mind off of worrying, and I didn’t know how to sit quietly or think before I spoke, either, so I was always being reckless with others’ feelings.”
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"Now it's like you don't worry at all."
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“Don’t give him all the credit. You did plenty.”
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