the things we hold are always the first to go
”Mm, I guess we do,” Ronin murmurs, though he’s still letting his fingers dance across Remi’s skin, as if to repair some past damages that he has no chance of getting close to. Still, if the Alchemist’s father were alive, little would stand in the Star’s way. ”Pfff, it was easy to make them proud of me to a point. Just had to lie,” he points out. ”And then my brother was always the golden boy, so... most of the attention wasn’t on me.”
Closing his eyes into the gentle touch to his cheek, Ronin is thoroughly unprepared for the fingers that try to wander up his nose. Spluttering and flinching away, he nudges his husband sharply. ”Remi,” he objects. ”I was about to ask how you managed to become so kind, but then you went and reminded me about your true nature.” He’s laughing, at least, shifting up to swoop a leg over his husband, sitting in his lap to pout down at him. ”How’d you like it if I stuck my fingers somewhere, huh?”
Closing his eyes into the gentle touch to his cheek, Ronin is thoroughly unprepared for the fingers that try to wander up his nose. Spluttering and flinching away, he nudges his husband sharply. ”Remi,” he objects. ”I was about to ask how you managed to become so kind, but then you went and reminded me about your true nature.” He’s laughing, at least, shifting up to swoop a leg over his husband, sitting in his lap to pout down at him. ”How’d you like it if I stuck my fingers somewhere, huh?”
