we can't make any promises now

Loren didn’t know what it meant to hear his name fall from the other man’s lips. But when Remi held out his hand the Launceleyn just stared at it. And when the alchemist reintroduced himself (as if they could start over when they both knew there was too much history between them, even if only one of them remembered it) the librarian flinched. He stood there for a long moment, wavering between past, present, and future. However he’d meant what he’d said, or thought, or implied about it being better this way. About how he just hurt everyone around him, despite every effort to the contrary. Remi was better off without Loren in his life. If that wasn’t the case then the gods probably wouldn’t have stripped the other man’s memories of the librarian. So the Launceleyn just shook his head and hugged himself, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood even through his clothes. He didn’t even notice. “You won’t feel that way soon.” Not once Remi got to know Loren again. LOREN Not quite an open book