LOREN
It wasn’t right, not by a long sight. It was wrong, all wrong, and Loren didn’t know what to do about it, about the fact that Remi’s hands had turned into claws, about the sigh that came from the other man’s lips, about the way the alchemist’s eyes closed. But the summoner was probably the worst person to help in that moment, given that he’d caused some, or more likely, all of Remi’s distress.
But Loren was the only other one there. And he needed to fix this, somehow. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.
”I did say that. And I won’t.” There was only one way for the alchemist to confirm that fact, so the Launceleyn lowered his hand from where it had been hovering over the other man’s shoulder all this time and turned it palm up, for Remi to take if he dared; simultaneously, the summoner banished any hint of his healing magic. The glow in his fingers faded, though it almost pained him to do this with the alchemist’s wounds so near. However, it was important that Loren remove any and all barriers to try and reclaim the trust he’d so callously and deliberately tossed away. And if there was even a chance that Remi might not take the Launceleyn's hand because the alchemist didn't want to be healed, well, that was a chance the summoner was not willing to take.
A long terrible moment of silence passed at the other man’s next words. Loren stared at Remi with heartbroken eyes. However, perhaps this outcome had always been inevitable, perhaps the Launceleyn had never really had a choice in his own fate, and perhaps the alchemist’s needs had always been greater than the summoner’s. Loren didn’t know. All he knew was what he could and could not stomach. And leaving the other man in that moment was beyond the Launceleyn.
”I cannot stand here and watch you in pain.” The admission came out in the barest hint of a whisper. Taking a deep breath and holding it for as long as he could, when he finally let it out it was almost a pained and definitely sad sound. ”So tell what what I can do to make this better.” Whatever it was, whatever price it extracted from his empty heart, Loren would pay it, and gladly.
But Loren was the only other one there. And he needed to fix this, somehow. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.
”I did say that. And I won’t.” There was only one way for the alchemist to confirm that fact, so the Launceleyn lowered his hand from where it had been hovering over the other man’s shoulder all this time and turned it palm up, for Remi to take if he dared; simultaneously, the summoner banished any hint of his healing magic. The glow in his fingers faded, though it almost pained him to do this with the alchemist’s wounds so near. However, it was important that Loren remove any and all barriers to try and reclaim the trust he’d so callously and deliberately tossed away. And if there was even a chance that Remi might not take the Launceleyn's hand because the alchemist didn't want to be healed, well, that was a chance the summoner was not willing to take.
A long terrible moment of silence passed at the other man’s next words. Loren stared at Remi with heartbroken eyes. However, perhaps this outcome had always been inevitable, perhaps the Launceleyn had never really had a choice in his own fate, and perhaps the alchemist’s needs had always been greater than the summoner’s. Loren didn’t know. All he knew was what he could and could not stomach. And leaving the other man in that moment was beyond the Launceleyn.
”I cannot stand here and watch you in pain.” The admission came out in the barest hint of a whisper. Taking a deep breath and holding it for as long as he could, when he finally let it out it was almost a pained and definitely sad sound. ”So tell what what I can do to make this better.” Whatever it was, whatever price it extracted from his empty heart, Loren would pay it, and gladly.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
