the monsters turned out to be just trees

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

"Not once." Remi whispered, his breath hitching as he tried to form trembling lips around the words. It was one of the few retellings of his history with the Launceleyn he knew for an absolute fact. He hadn't given in the summoner's needs quickly enough, and when he did? When he promised him everything that he was, sealing it with a proclamation of love (the first the alchemist had ever made)? It...had devolved into a pleasure that went unfilled. And the next time? There were claw marks on the wall of the alchemy shop that bore deep scars from claws embedded in the wood during a similarly unfilled moment of sexual gratification. But still, never had the Launceleyn said the words Remi needed to hear most.

Wanting to fly away, instead the alchemist turned towards the summoner, a wing softly pressing outwards against Loren's shoulder. "Don't.." He whispered, words so soft they'd hardly melt a snowflake. "Don't do that. Don't go away again. I can see you doing it...please don't.."

Because that was the thing about unconditional love. It wasn't even conditional on memories.