S A M U E L
Remi didn't run, but he was clearly uncomfortable. Sam winced at the sound of his awkward hum, the sight of his stiff posture. He had gone too far this time, and the moment was just stretching out until he would lose Remi.
At the request he slowly turned his head upwards towards Remi. Both hope and painful waiting rose in him. The words could be a precursor to a kiss, or at least they would be in the version of his life he would right, the perfect romantic question before he was pulled up into Remi's arms and--
But they were more likely an instruction given so Remi could look him in the eyes as he told him that it wouldn't work. Remi was good, like that. Always wanted to be fair, respectful. Sam imagined he'd want to tell him properly why it wouldn't work, why they couldn't be in love. Each word would kill him but he would stand to hear them and then die later.
I AM THE OCEAN CLAWING AT YOUR MOON
