[SEASONAL EVENT] When you try your best but you don't succeed

Sam's response rang cavalier in his ears. Like icewater poured into the cockles of his heart and then frozen so that the expansion would force it apart just that much more. I suppose that makes sense. But it didn't. It absolutely didn't, and though Remi wanted to turn, wanting to scream for all he was worth that no, it did not make sense that Sam threw away all they had together because of one angry afternoon. It did not make sense that Sam would turn to the thing that he had seen first hand just how terrible and excruciating and hurtful it was, and that he would nonetheless choose it. But as much as he wanted to scream these things, to shake Sam for being so calm and fine, he was not actually the Sam that Remi had any right to be upset with.

He was not the Sam with the answers.

But now it was time for Remi to answer, and so, tugging his eyes away from the window, his soul fragile and naked, his heart ragged and broken, he answered in a word, unsure if he was telling the truth.

[say]"—no—"[/say]

His accent hugged the curve of the word, his lips soggy with the withheld whimper that desperately wanted to break free, his eyes shiny with the memory of what would never be.

Not after what you did.

All it took from Remi was one word for Sam to suddenly feel intensely unwelcome in the Guild Hall. Had he really been so awful a partner, their break so terrible, that Remi could not stand to get to know him now? His feet working for him he immediately walked to the door , a tear- lifted mumble of [say]"Oh. Alright. "[/say] the only thing he could bring himself to say.

Reaching the door he placed a hand on the frame and pushed it open, found that his legs just wouldn't quite leave into the street; that something in him hoped for a dramatic moment where Remi would suddenly regret his choice. That was what happened in the romance novels he read, closing his eyes tight and imagining how it would feel to be held, chased after, loved.

Frozen at the door he turned back to look at Remi for just a second.

If Remi knew that Sam had hoped for a grand gesture on the alchemist's part, he might finally have caved. Might have crumpled to his knees with a woeful declaration that whatever it was Sam needed, Remi could not be it. He could not always be the one who was strong, could not be the one who did the right things, could not be the hero from the tales the bookmaker read. He was just Remi; broken, boyish, flawed and, as it was becoming ever clearer, not the one.

Not the one who could fix this. Not the one worth loving. Not the one worth remembering and staying for.

Just...not the one.

Then it occurred to Remi that he'd never actually said the words out loud. Only in a dream and not even in that far away place that Ludo had taken from him had he ever said, [say]"—I did love you—"[/say] out loud. And just as he thought, as he'd always known, it was the last bit of weight that he could bear. Those three little words separated by that one little past-tense word.

Did.

And now we are strangers who loved each other at different times but don't remember it.

In the other room Aoife began to wake and stir and the sound of her immediately pulled at Remi's attention. Nodding to the stranger with his hand on the door and with the shards of Remi's heart beneath his feet, the alchemist went to care for the star-eyed girl.