we can't make any promises now

Actually, Loren was meant to be a tool, a weapon in service to the crown of Northwind, nothing more, nothing less. That had been what his family had molded him into, and it was only when he strayed form that preordained path that the problems began. “I was supposed to be a lot of things, Remi, and I failed at all of them.” Left hand of the family; savior of his kin; friend to Ronin; and, most of all, Remi’s lover and partner in all things. Strangely enough, the librarian didn’t sound bitter, just resigned. It helped that he felt so empty inside. Giving the other man an inscrutable look, the Launceleyn considered his reply. “If you say so. But then I have to ask, what are you doing, Remi? Here, with me.” Surely the alchemist had more pressing concerns than a ghost from the past that the curly-haired man didn’t remember and that didn’t even want to be here. If the summoner hadn’t been recovering from overuse of magic, maybe he would’ve seen this coming, maybe he could’ve prevented his reaction. As it was, when Remi’s hand closed around Loren’s arm, he panicked; twisting, he threw himself out of the other man’s grip with a strangled shriek. “No!” He moved away in a tangle of limbs, and, in his uncoordinated retreat, tripped over his own feet. So down he went, slamming into the ground, though he broke his fall properly, like he’d been trained. Still, this didn’t stop him from scrambling backwards on his hands and knees until his back was to the wall again. He focused on his breathing then, trying to get it in some semblance of order. At the same time, he fought off the rising anxiety within him. It had just been a passing touch, and Remi had obviously not meant to hurt him. Unconsciously, he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, rocking himself slightly where he sat. Slowly, ever so slowly, he managed to control himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice still sounds slightly frantic, and his mouth was dry, so he swallowed, trying to regain some moisture. “I don’t like to be touched.” Although he’d thought he’d gotten over that—with Remi, at least—either it had returned during his time away or it was a reflex that needed to be constantly tested in order to break the habit. Loren didn’t know. And he had no intention of testing it any time soon. LOREN Not quite an open book