This must be Verso’s worst idea yet. She’s sure of it.

Tapping her fingers impatiently against her forearm, Clea lets out an indignant huff and then pulls her straw hat down more to cover her face from the sun. She is wearing a white summer dress. An old piece of clothing that she wouldn’t mind getting dirty. And she is barefoot - as she prefers.

She’s been waiting for almost an hour now. Judging by how Verso usual is, he should’ve arrived at least ten minutes ago. And depending on that important thing he needs her to hear that made him specifically write down this spot for her - near the lake in the jardin closest to their manor, in that one secluded spot hidden by trees and bushes they used for … different things in their past - Clea really expected him to arrive earlier than usual.

What secret does this idiot brother of hers deem this important, this grave to make her wait for so long?

She scoffs one more time and sits. On the three pieces of luggage she brought with her.

Everything of hers that wouldn’t raise eyebrows if it went missing for a few days.

And then her thoughts run away from her, and she now taps her arm faster, more aggressively.

Maybe Verso just fooled her.

Maybe Verso is sneaking out his stuff as well.

Maybe he encountered Papa and Maman on his way out, and now he’s caught and forced to explain why he—

“Clea! I hope you didn’t wait for— wait, why do you have luggage with you?”

Her head snaps up and she sees the carefree smile Verso just wore be replaced by a confused gaze. Stepping closer to her, wearing his usual summer suit. He holds his arms behind his back.

No bags. Nothing.

“You.” Clea jumps on her feet and her growl immediately makes Verso take two confused steps back. She angrily points at him, and their size difference doesn’t matter because he just looks like a meek midget compared to her fury.

“I-I’m sorry, I got held up.”

“Explain. Now.”

“Okay, okay! I will just — sit back down or something, please Clea.”

“No. I am tired of your damn secrets.”

“Fine! Here, I wanted to show you—”

Verso has the gall to smile again as he procures something from behind his back. It’s…

“… Putain.” Clea curses, wide eyed - as the being in front of her stares at her with even wider emerald eyes.

“Not ‘putain’. She’s called Stereoco! Stereoco - meet Clea, your big sister.”

Clea is going to fucking murder him. Right in front of the cutest white, brown and black spotted kitty she has ever laid eyes upon.

“Verso — you absolute moron, THIS is why you told me to meet you in our secret spot on such a short notice? A CAT?”

Her brother pouts. “Again, Clea. Not just ‘a cat’, but our new family member! Didn’t you always want one?"

“Yes but with Monoco and Noco-”

“They are totally chill with each other!” Verso exclaims, trying to get some of his excitement to spark over to his grumpy older sister as he’s now holding the kitty close to his body. The feline lets out a yawn and welcomes the embrace, curling up to his chest. “I tried introducing them - and they get along with Stereoco. Isn’t that amaze-”

“I thought you wanted to run.” Clea looks down on the grassy ground beneath him, her words making Verso suddenly turn silent.

“Run…?” He whispers, gaze falling to her luggage once more. His eyes widen as it dawns to him. And he turns a shade paler.

“Merde, Clea - I-”

“Didn’t think as far, yeah I figured. You never do.” She utters bitterly. “All your planning and scheming always falls apart on second notice, idiot.” Her shoulders are slumped as she speaks the words. And her cheeks turn rosy in embarrassment at her own misunderstanding of the whole situation.

“Clea…” Verso’s eyes twitch as he seeks words, apologies, anything. But nothing seems appropriate. He swallows thickly.

The cat wriggles in his arms and he sets her down. Stereoco - that name is one only Clea’s stupid brother could choose - stretches cutely and then starts cleaning her paws. Both stare at it for a while longer.

“Would you… want to?” Verso finally asks with a low voice.

A turn, closing her eyes, and Clea sits down on her largest piece of luggage.

“No, you didn’t prepare anything.”

“Yes, of course not today, but —”, he approaches her again, slower this time. “—if I did ask you to meet here again. And… prepared.”

“It would be stupid to do it like this - at daytime, not close to a street where a carriage could pick us up from, no distraction planned that would hold Renoir and Aline off longer, no place for Alicia to stay…” Clea sets one leg on a smaller bag, now sitting in a wide stance.

“You thought a lot about this.” A fact Verso simply states. His expression turns sad. “With the war approaching…”

She nods. “There wouldn’t be much time left to execute such a reckless, stupid plan.” Her eyes meet Verso’s, ice cold. “And you didn’t answer your own question. Would you want to run away?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out of him immediately. It shocks Clea.

Verso closes the distance to her fully, leaning down with his hands on the luggage she sits on and bracketing her with his arms.

“I thought about it. A lot. Taking the next train to Italy. Or towards eastern Europe. Anywhere where they don’t know us, without a war against the writers approaching and where we could be together…”

Clea reaches up, her fire quelled as she brushes a lock out of Verso’s face, ever so gently. His expression… without a mask. Something he only shows her in the rarest moments.

Full of pain. Tired.

She hates to see him like this.

Clea whispers against his lips. “Then let us plan for real.”

His breath hitches at that, seeking her eyes and daring to let his feelings for her show.

His undying love for his sister.

They seal the promise with a searing kiss, before returning quietly to their life. A kitten in Verso’s hand, sneaking it back into the manor while Clea has to secretly hide her luggage from the maids and her family.