we can't make any promises now

Well, now that tears had been shed and promises made, it was just awkward. A short silence stretched between the two of them, and Loren didn’t know how to fill it. After such a lengthy back and forth and period of intense soul baring (on his part at least), it seemed wrong that the day would just go on as normal. That the sun should shine and passerby would give him curious and concerned looks. So he just sat there for a moment as Remi stood up, wondering where they could possibly go from here. Then the other man offered his hand. The Launceleyn eyed it, wondering whether he dared to take it. Checking in with both his mind and his body—and his totally jumbled feelings for the other man—the librarian found himself frozen, rooted to the ground. It was safe there, and familiar. This new path he’d so stupidly agreed to held nothing but uncertainty and terror. However, that had been what his old life held as well, and at least taking a chance here held the possibility for redemption. So he realized that he should be asking himself whether he dared not to take it. There was only one way to find out. Gingerly, he reached out and placed his hand in the other man’s; Loren braced himself for an adverse reaction, but all he felt were the callouses on Remi’s fingers and palm. Still, when he stood up, the librarian made sure to place only the barest of pressure’s on the alchemist’s grip, and once the summoner had regained his feet, he let go immediately and took a step back, unconsciously running his other hand through his hair. His nerves needed an outlet, after all. “I know.” Standing there for just a moment, Loren looked at the sky, the ground, the surrounding buildings, anywhere but Remi. “So...now what?” The Launceleyn felt like an idiot for even asking. But obviously, as he’d told the other man, the librarian didn’t know the way forward. LOREN Not quite an open book