we can't make any promises now

Loren suddenly smiled then, but there was no joy in it, only sorrow. With each passing moment it became more and more clear—to him at least, if not to Remi—that the Launceleyn’s presence here was a curse. Maybe not as bad as it could have been, given the circumstances, but unwelcome all the same. “So I was right. I am hurting you.” His voice was small, soft, and yet filled with the certainty of truth. Well, there was no changing the past, or returning what had been lost, either in time or in the other man’s memories. Now that Loren knew that the alchemist had forgotten all the pain, his own emotions were subdued as well, having been drained out of him because he couldn’t maintain the volume of such feelings for long. Still, as the Attuned apologized, the summoner found himself shaking his head wildly. “No. Don’t you dare apologize.” The desperation in his voice was palpable. “I’m the one who ruined everything. You did nothing wrong but loving the wrong person.” That had always been true. Loren had just been too selfish to admit it. He saw the alchemist’s gesture and aborted his latest attempt to escape. As the librarian waited patiently, he wondered what Remi could possibly want with the summoner. After all, there wasn't nothing left that could be said that wouldn't end up hurting one of them even further. However, when the other man finally spoke, Loren realized it was simply the alchemist’s kind heart—the one Loren had fallen in love with to begin with—letting the Attuned think there was still hope left for the Launceleyn. “It doesn’t matter what I want.” It came out in the barest of whispers. It never mattered, and he’d been naive to think anything otherwise. Well, he’d been punished for his folly, and so long as he remembered not to wish or dream he’d be able to keep others safe from the void that was his soul. Because the one time he’d chosen, he’d chosen wrong. Best to go back to being nothing more than a tool. All he cared about was making sure he ended up being used by the right hands. LOREN Not quite an open book