we can't make any promises now

Becuase of the funeral—and lack of body—Loren ended up having had more experience with Edy’s sex toys than he’d ever wanted. ”Probably a wise choice.” The librarian had not been so wise or so lucky, though he’d been smart enough to scrub himself thoroughly after. Then, however, any camaraderie that might’ve begun to build between the two crumbled because Loren was an idiot. As the alchemist’s gaze shot the sky, the summoner’s sought the ground, and he scuffed at the ground below with his foot, needing an outlet for his guilt. ”You’re right. I’m sorry.” He should’ve learned to stay silent by now, but Remi kept prodding at wounds that were still so raw. When the other man called the librarian’s name—commanded Loren to look up—the Launceleyn did, albeit reluctantly. He stood there, quiet as last, wondering what the other man possibly wanted to say that hadn’t already been said. The summoner had said he should go, and he’d been right, but he’d allowed himself to believe that this was better, somehow, this mockery of how their relationship used to be. It was a lie, and he should know better than to lie to himself anymore. LOREN Not quite an open book

The tears the alchemist had cried. The hours spent trying to replicate the blue of Loren's eyes, only to find himself awash in a sea of paint that could never recreate what it was he had once seen there. The pieces of himself he'd given up for Loren and the parts he'd opened to him. The Launceleyn had once been the biggest part of his life, and his absence the most crushing. While it wasn't true that Remi had moved on so much as he'd been irrevocably denied closure, things were different now. Something it seemed both men were and simultaneously were not acknowledging. "Loren, I...I only know what it is like on this side. Only what it is to know some of my past, but not all. To feel..." Not wanting to break his gaze from Loren, fearing that it would give the other man discourse to look away as well and disengage, Remi merely sighed and settled into the discomfort. "...nothing close to what I should." Feathers appeared in his hair, but Remi simply let them. "Pretending it is fine, does not make it so." He continued in a voice rife with experience. Sam after all, had simply pushed on like the pair could simply fall in love again after what had happened. That it could all just be fast-tracked to how it was: it had ended in one of the most painful moments of Remi's life. "Nor does not acknowledging that things have changed." More clarity brought on by experience. Finding Ianto again had been so sweet and needed. But the fox and hawk pretended both that they might simply live in the skins of the men they were, and ultimately that too crumbled. Tears prickled the back of Remi's eyes to remember it all now, but still his all-too pale sea-foam stare remained on Loren. The former duke wasn't the only one with hard truths to speak. "You were the first man I ever loved, Loren." The alchemist's arm twitched as every muscle in his body suddenly tensed beneath the weight of hearing the sentiment spoken, especially to the man in question. "When you left..." His lips rose in a sad smile as his head tilted gently to the side. "...I was told there were months that I looked for you. Months I waited. " Pieces of the Launceleyn remained still even when memories of him were taken: telescopes in his shop. A pair of copper cups made so long ago on a beach in another world. Remi pulled in a breath and held it for a moment. "But I am not that man now. My memories were taken and with them...it all changed. I am not the man you knew, at least not entirely. This world has been anything but kind to me, but it has been good too." Steadying his gaze, Remi bit the inside of his lip for a moment, studying Loren. The soft blonde hairs dusting his cheeks, the depth of eyes growing ever more blue by the moment. The ruffle of pale hair still sticking up from where Loren's fingers had disrupted it earlier. "You..cannot keep looking at me like you do." He said in a voice only just above a whisper, holding it gently like mere shards of glass that might shatter at any moment. "I am not the one you hurt, and I am also not the one..." Remi hesitated; feathers sprouted and softly his fingers flexed at his side. "..I am not the man who loved you. Like I said, I only know what it is like on this side. But I know if we are to ever be...anything, it cannot start like this." REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Loren stood there, his watery blue eyes staring into Remi’s white and filmy ones. Every instinct screamed at the librarian to look away, but he held his gaze steady, hardly daring to even blink. The other man’s words settled deep into the Launceleyn’s nearly empty soul, reverberating there with an urgency that begged the summoner to do something, anything to escape. Still, he held himself still; even as he flinched when the alchemist admitted Loren was his first love, he kept staring, more scared of what might happen if he looked away than worried about continuing to put himself through this unique agony. Only when Remi finally finished, when Loren was sure that there was nothing more, did he finally close his eyes. They remained shut for a heartbeat. Then a second. A third. Then he lost track: all he knew was that when he finally opened his eyes again, the beat was slow and steady and his eyes were clear. ”Okay.” His voice came out in a painful rasp, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. ”I can give us a fresh start. I will give us a fresh start.” He had to give them a fresh start, for both their sakes. ”But not today.” It was spoken with more a sense of finality than he’d intended, but it fit. When Loren had said it would take time, he’d meant it. Even if the other man’s memories had been cursed to oblivion, the librarian remembered it all. So he’d need to find a way to come to terms with it all, find a way to stand next to the other man without flinching at every other word. But the Launceleyn couldn’t do that with Remi standing there, so familiar, but at the same time so clearly different. So Loren turned to go, again. However, he paused one last time, throwing a final glance back at the alchemist. ”If you need me for anything, anything at all, I will be there.” The summoner stood there, searching the other man’s face for a hint of something, though the Launceleyn wasn’t sure what. ”But Remi...I said need.” Not want. Because the librarian knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the alchemist would want to reach out the the Launceleyn. It was what made the other man who he was. And that meant Loren had to find some way to keep Remi away. It was what made the summoner who he was. That much hadn't changed. Finally, he left, as he’d wanted to do since the beginning of this whole mess. However, even though he was running away again, it strangely felt like he was running towards something instead. He just wished he dared to dream what it might be. LOREN Not quite an open book

Relief was sometimes like a tidal wave, crashing down with chilly delight and washing away ones's anxiety. What Remi felt as Loren agreed (conceeded? gave up?) was perhaps a close cousin to relief, but not as potent. A strange hybrid of hope and unsettled anxiety at what the future might bright, Remi felt his toes curling in his shoes wanting desperately for the outcome to simply be. Too long he'd lived a life of hurry up and wait, too long had anticipation nearly killed him. Despite the fact that asking for time was perhaps one of the most reasonable things Loren had said their entire conversation, still Remi's optimism pushed. It was why Loren's clarification hit him all the harder. He understood the difference between need and want...but he also understood that in a very objective way, Remi was no longer allowed to need anything from Loren. Not in any way that treated the Launceleyn as anything but a tool, which because of personality and magic, he'd rarely need to do. That was it then. The ball in Loren's court, and despite what seemed like some small victory or path forward, the alchemist wondered if he'd ever see the ball again. "Understood." Remi agreed softly, the barest whisper of the submissive man he used to be shining through as he nodded slowly. "You know where to find me." He added as the Launceleyn moved to leave in earnest now; the circle of their conversation finally closing in on itself for good. ~FIN REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences