REMI
the bastion
Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do
Set me ablaze like you do
Remi snorts, short and breathy. "Reckless is our love language," he agrees, though his grin dims a little as they reach the wagon, the half-joked words left to trail behind them like seafoam. He steps forward, still amused, still curious—but the emotion that curls up from Ronin the moment their hands brush is enough to stop him mid-stride.
The grief is sharp. It scrapes against his senses like wind through broken glass, and without realising it, Remi holds his breath. The latch opens, the wood groans, and the moment shifts, and...he finds he suddenly can't speak.
The watercolour gazes of children they’ve loved—still love, will always love—stare back at him with eyes too bright, too alive, to belong to memory alone. Seren’s hair like starlight. Enzo’s crooked smile. Aoife. He stops. His body stills in a way it rarely does, even his breath held hostage by the sudden and devastating quiet inside him. Then, without thinking, he reaches for Ronin.
His hand finds his husband’s with the kind of grip that would break lesser men, but the way his fingers tighten is less about strength and more about desperation. As if clinging to him might keep the ghosts at bay, even now. "I didn’t know," he whispers, the words dry and cracked. "About Seren wanting a studio.."
He swallows hard, then pulls Ronin into him, arms wrapping around the other man like they’re on the edge of a cliff and the drop is real, and close, and hungry. Remi’s eyes press shut, his forehead resting heavy against Ronin’s shoulder as he exhales against the ache rising behind his ribs.
The grief is sharp. It scrapes against his senses like wind through broken glass, and without realising it, Remi holds his breath. The latch opens, the wood groans, and the moment shifts, and...he finds he suddenly can't speak.
The watercolour gazes of children they’ve loved—still love, will always love—stare back at him with eyes too bright, too alive, to belong to memory alone. Seren’s hair like starlight. Enzo’s crooked smile. Aoife. He stops. His body stills in a way it rarely does, even his breath held hostage by the sudden and devastating quiet inside him. Then, without thinking, he reaches for Ronin.
His hand finds his husband’s with the kind of grip that would break lesser men, but the way his fingers tighten is less about strength and more about desperation. As if clinging to him might keep the ghosts at bay, even now. "I didn’t know," he whispers, the words dry and cracked. "About Seren wanting a studio.."
He swallows hard, then pulls Ronin into him, arms wrapping around the other man like they’re on the edge of a cliff and the drop is real, and close, and hungry. Remi’s eyes press shut, his forehead resting heavy against Ronin’s shoulder as he exhales against the ache rising behind his ribs.
I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you
If that gets me closer to you
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.
