LOREN
No Loren didn’t know that for sure. But he had knowledge of his past relationships, knowledge that Remi obviously lacked (though the summoner couldn’t imagine the alchemist thought the Launceleyn was good at relationships or at not hurting people based on how Loren had acted since his return). And what that knowledge told the summoner was that he screwed it up, somehow, inevitably, eventually.
It was just about the only thing he knew for sure.
Still, he couldn’t deny the other man’s statements, so Loren just stayed silent. And he was glad he did: Remi suddenly deflated, the anger pouring out of the alchemist, leaving concern in its place. Then the other man’s hand came up to cup the Launceleyn’s cheek, and though he knew it was wrong, that he shouldn’t accept it, he leaned into the touch slightly, turning his head almost imperceptibly to press his skin against the other man’s palm.
When Remi’s thumb moved, albeit barely, Loren felt his own hand come up to try and lay it on top of the other man’s. The summoner knew he didn’t deserve this and that staying like this would cause them more problems than it was probably worth just to bask in the comfort of the alchemist’s touch, but the Launceleyn did it anyway. He’d need the support for the conversation that they were about to have. ”Can you?” It came out without a hint of doubt or accusation, just a questioning tone, one mirrored in the look Loren gave Remi. The alchemist was married to one of the summoner’s former friends, and the two of them had a family together. So as much as both of them might want to believe there was a way forward from here, the summoner was still convinced the best approach was to remove himself from the picture.
Because it was much prettier without him mucking up the background.
And as for loving another, well, the issue wasn’t that Loren couldn’t love. He could. And that was the issue: he was terrified of what he’d do to someone he loved. After all, the only person he’d loved unconditionally was Remi, and the Launceleyn had been too cowardly to say it, and because of that weakness he’d destroyed something that might have been beautiful.
Surely it had to be better to keep his selfish and destructive desires to himself, whatever Remi might think.
It was just about the only thing he knew for sure.
Still, he couldn’t deny the other man’s statements, so Loren just stayed silent. And he was glad he did: Remi suddenly deflated, the anger pouring out of the alchemist, leaving concern in its place. Then the other man’s hand came up to cup the Launceleyn’s cheek, and though he knew it was wrong, that he shouldn’t accept it, he leaned into the touch slightly, turning his head almost imperceptibly to press his skin against the other man’s palm.
When Remi’s thumb moved, albeit barely, Loren felt his own hand come up to try and lay it on top of the other man’s. The summoner knew he didn’t deserve this and that staying like this would cause them more problems than it was probably worth just to bask in the comfort of the alchemist’s touch, but the Launceleyn did it anyway. He’d need the support for the conversation that they were about to have. ”Can you?” It came out without a hint of doubt or accusation, just a questioning tone, one mirrored in the look Loren gave Remi. The alchemist was married to one of the summoner’s former friends, and the two of them had a family together. So as much as both of them might want to believe there was a way forward from here, the summoner was still convinced the best approach was to remove himself from the picture.
Because it was much prettier without him mucking up the background.
And as for loving another, well, the issue wasn’t that Loren couldn’t love. He could. And that was the issue: he was terrified of what he’d do to someone he loved. After all, the only person he’d loved unconditionally was Remi, and the Launceleyn had been too cowardly to say it, and because of that weakness he’d destroyed something that might have been beautiful.
Surely it had to be better to keep his selfish and destructive desires to himself, whatever Remi might think.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
