I will fight the end
A bandaid doesn't have to be sex. And some wounds need bandaids. Ronin draws the blanket more securely around the two of them, so he can slip his arms around his husband and warm the chill from his skin. He gives Remi all the time he needs to answer or not, busying himself by drawing absent patterns along the alchemist's back and twirling one of his curls around his fingers. "A herbalist," he repeats with a soft smile. "That makes a lot of sense."
If only the memory could remain so lighthearted, and Ronin's expression grows a shade darker to hear yet another wonderful snippet of information about Remi's father. "It was probably the only shot he could take at her by that point," he mumbles. "How old were you, when you lost her...?" Why have they never had these conversations? How had it never seemed like something worth talking about?
If only the memory could remain so lighthearted, and Ronin's expression grows a shade darker to hear yet another wonderful snippet of information about Remi's father. "It was probably the only shot he could take at her by that point," he mumbles. "How old were you, when you lost her...?" Why have they never had these conversations? How had it never seemed like something worth talking about?
'til the end is here
