but that was then, and this is now
For all that Remi had expected this to be difficult, he hadn’t quite braced himself for how much it would hurt.
Not because Mateo is cruel—because he isn’t—but because the words land in a way that makes Remi feel like he’s standing in the wreckage of something long since broken, only now realizing just how much of the damage was his own doing. Which was of course to say all of it.
Mateo looks away, and Remi feels the weight of it like an iron hand around his ribs.
The breath leaves Remi’s lungs like the tide pulling away from the shore. It isn’t anger, it isn’t frustration—it’s just grief. A quiet, raw thing that sits low in his chest, too big to name, too old to be surprised by. For a moment, he nearly tells Mateo that isn’t true. That of course he isn’t forgotten. That he could never be forgotten. But he knows better than to say it now, to try to patch over something that has already left scars.
His gaze catches on the smudge of silver at the corner of Mateo’s eyes, the way his hands rub tiredly against them, and gods, does he want to reach out. But that, too, is something he no longer has the right to do. Instead, he takes a slow step back as Mateo gestures to the box, his voice rough and unsteady. Remi nods, the movement small, measured. "Okay." He doesn’t press, doesn’t push for more than what Mateo has already given him, even if part of him aches to do just that. "Then I’ll wait."
The words barely settle before a voice from inside calls for Mateo—Flora, sharp and clear, and Remi has to fight the knee-jerk instinct to ask if she’s alright. Of course she is. She’s strong. She has Mateo. And right now, neither of them need him to be the one asking.
Instead, he exhales softly, gaze flickering once more over his son before he steps fully back into the dim torchlight. "If you need anything, I'm just a channel away. " He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t wait for a response that might not come. With one last glance, he turns and walks away, leaving the gift on the threshold, the space between them just as wide as it was when he first knocked.
Not because Mateo is cruel—because he isn’t—but because the words land in a way that makes Remi feel like he’s standing in the wreckage of something long since broken, only now realizing just how much of the damage was his own doing. Which was of course to say all of it.
Mateo looks away, and Remi feels the weight of it like an iron hand around his ribs.
The breath leaves Remi’s lungs like the tide pulling away from the shore. It isn’t anger, it isn’t frustration—it’s just grief. A quiet, raw thing that sits low in his chest, too big to name, too old to be surprised by. For a moment, he nearly tells Mateo that isn’t true. That of course he isn’t forgotten. That he could never be forgotten. But he knows better than to say it now, to try to patch over something that has already left scars.
His gaze catches on the smudge of silver at the corner of Mateo’s eyes, the way his hands rub tiredly against them, and gods, does he want to reach out. But that, too, is something he no longer has the right to do. Instead, he takes a slow step back as Mateo gestures to the box, his voice rough and unsteady. Remi nods, the movement small, measured. "Okay." He doesn’t press, doesn’t push for more than what Mateo has already given him, even if part of him aches to do just that. "Then I’ll wait."
The words barely settle before a voice from inside calls for Mateo—Flora, sharp and clear, and Remi has to fight the knee-jerk instinct to ask if she’s alright. Of course she is. She’s strong. She has Mateo. And right now, neither of them need him to be the one asking.
Instead, he exhales softly, gaze flickering once more over his son before he steps fully back into the dim torchlight. "If you need anything, I'm just a channel away. " He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t wait for a response that might not come. With one last glance, he turns and walks away, leaving the gift on the threshold, the space between them just as wide as it was when he first knocked.
the bastion
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
