Call it what you want

Not in the way you do. —In what way then? Suddenly the alchemist felt terrible, and not merely because of blood loss. Here he thought— —the way his hands hand grabbed and groped. —the way the buldge of his arousal pressed up against a man who was basically a stranger. But that wasn't what sent a cold wave of nausea through the alchemist. It wasn't even the lack of a beating heart. If Sam didn't feel any of what Remi did...then how could he possibly reciprocate? Worse, how could he possibly want this? —I don't mind, really. The words were like a slap across his already flushed and heated cheeks. It sounded like Sam was consenting to helping Remi in with some groceries, or using his strength to help move a particularly heavy piece of furniture. Not to— —"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry—" Closing his eyes to try and see through the fog the ascended had plunged him in, Remi flinched slightly as Sam's hand gently touched his knee. Raising a hand to brace himself against the cavern wall over Sam's head, the alchemist felt his fingers turning into claws and digging into the cold and hard surface of the cave. Something had to give. And at this rate, it was going to be his sanity. REMI Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?" I ask myself one too many times