a line at the edge

REMI ABRUZZO When these weary days, when these days are done We'll be in the sun The alchemist didn't try to help as Ashe maneuvered the painting. Not only did he know that the once-assassin was more than capable of managing on her own, but there seemed something almost cathartic in her movements. Or at least, had he helped, somehow Remi thought that would make things worse. And so he stood sentinel behind her, breath lodged unhelpfully in a lump behind his adam's apple as he waited. The cloth fell. Ashe's fingers slipped between his. It was so perfectly Ronin that it almost shocked the alchemist into a bought of hysterics as the reality of the situation flooded his senses. For a moment Remi's fingers loosened as the floor whispered words of welcome to his knees and his legs began to weaken. It was only at the last instant that he caught himself, his fingers tightening around Ashe's slender hand in his as he choked back a sob. The breath he'd been holding crocheted painfully in his chest, bursting out of trembling lips coated in agony. His free hand reached forward, fingers lightly tracing the curve of Ronin's jaw in midair. Tears blurred his vision, but instead of wiping them away, Remi merely touched the end of his nose gently with his fingers as his face below crumpled and wavered with heartache and chasm-deep longing that seemed to stretch on forever. "He would probably have said something stupid about how you painted him with too many clothes..." Remi said finally, a small laugh hitching in his throat that quickly turned into a sob. Silently he shook his head, having absolutely no words. Instead he let his eyes trace the lines beside Ronin's lips, the blue of his eyes and his overly expressive brows, simultaneously wanting to tear it down and never be reminded of what they had lost, but also to never look away from it. When these weary days, when these days are through I'll be working my way back to you