The white sheep of the family
Great racking sobs tore through Loren, though even now they were silent: after all, if anyone heard his weakness, they’d probably hurt him. As Remi was, by pulling this last truth out of the summoner. He’d warned the alchemist that they were walking a dangerous path, more than once, and the other man had kept walking blindly and naively down it. And the Launceleyn had let it happen, vainly hoping that it would work out in the end. But he should’ve known better. It never did, as he was toxic to everyone around him despite his every effort to the contrary. He knew that, even if Remi didn’t. Loren should’ve been stronger for both of them, shut Remi out, as the Launceleyn had known instinctively from their reunion. As he’d tried. He’d tried.
Because now there didn’t seem to be any way forward. The scars had been wiped from his skin, but those had been trivial in comparison to the ones that lurked just beneath the surface that he so carefully presented to the world. ”I-I did. Or...I th-thought I had…” Surely he had. But honestly in that moment, he couldn't remember any more than the other man could. The Launceleyn's mind was so shattered that he couldn’t remember if he’d ever actually said the words, or if he’d been this scared sniveling thing quivering on the floor of the pit that just thought about his emotions but had never been brave or reckless or selfless enough to tell the other man how Loren felt. To express what was in his heart of hearts, what little of it there had been left, which even now felt completely gone.
This was definitely not a case where late was better than never, if the broken pieces of his soul and the way Remi’s wings curled around the alchemist were any indication. Loren closed his eyes and sought that dark and cool place in his mind where he’d retreated for so long. It felt infinitely preferable to living with this agony for another instant. And if he left again maybe he could spare the other man any more pain. That would be best for everyone.
Because now there didn’t seem to be any way forward. The scars had been wiped from his skin, but those had been trivial in comparison to the ones that lurked just beneath the surface that he so carefully presented to the world. ”I-I did. Or...I th-thought I had…” Surely he had. But honestly in that moment, he couldn't remember any more than the other man could. The Launceleyn's mind was so shattered that he couldn’t remember if he’d ever actually said the words, or if he’d been this scared sniveling thing quivering on the floor of the pit that just thought about his emotions but had never been brave or reckless or selfless enough to tell the other man how Loren felt. To express what was in his heart of hearts, what little of it there had been left, which even now felt completely gone.
This was definitely not a case where late was better than never, if the broken pieces of his soul and the way Remi’s wings curled around the alchemist were any indication. Loren closed his eyes and sought that dark and cool place in his mind where he’d retreated for so long. It felt infinitely preferable to living with this agony for another instant. And if he left again maybe he could spare the other man any more pain. That would be best for everyone.
Will blood tell
