"You okay?"
Sirius' voice makes Remus let out an involuntary sigh. They're standing in front of a small one-storey house sitting in the middle of a quaint little garden surrounded by a picket fence. From the outside, it looks almost idyllic, even so late in the evening.
"Yeah, I'm—" Remus never gets to finish his sentence. The front door opens, and a woman rushes outside. The rest of the world fades away into a quiet nothingness when Hope Lupin pulls Remus into her arms.
She smells like chamomile.
Remus closes his eyes, biting his lip as he prays for his tears not to fall. His hands lie idle at his sides, helpless.
"Oh God, Remus," Hope's words are muffled by Remus' jumper. He's more than a whole foot taller than her. "Mom," Remus whispers into her hair. She pulls away, wiping at her eyes. He bites into his lip a bit harder when her eyes start moving across his face, as if she's looking for something.
A son that knows how to love her back, maybe.
"Excuse my manners," Hope smiles, turning to Sirius. "I just haven't seen my son in a good while. You must be Sirius... I've heard a lot about you."
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Lupin," Sirius' face blossoms into a wide smile. He goes to offer his hand for a shake, but stops when Hope speaks.
"Mrs. Lupin? That would be Remus' grandma," Hope laughs. "Please call me Hope. You're close enough to be family,"
"In that case, Hope," Sirius grins, "May I have a hug?" He opens his arms.
Smiling lightly, Remus watches his two favourite people in the world embrace each other. It's so sweet, how Sirius smiles when he's happy.
"Why don't we go inside?" Hope suggests, rubbing her bare arms.
"Of course," Sirius smiles at her, and turns to give Remus a pointed look. Remus stares at him in confusion for a minute before realising what he wants.
"Go inside, both of you," he says, wincing inwardly at how scratchy his voice sounds. "I'll be right with you."
He watches Hope lead Sirius inside for a second before grabbing the tin of cakes he left behind in the sidecar. And then he chokes on a sob that comes out of nowhere. It's cold, but Remus doesn't want to go inside. He puts the tin back where it was and pinches his arm, forcing his breathing to slow down, exhaling loudly through his mouth. He presses his palms into his eyes until he starts seeing stars. When he's sure that he won't cry, he removes his hands and leans down to look at his face in one of the mirrors on Sirius' bike.
He pulls the ugliest and happiest smile he's ever had to, grabs the tin and walks in through the gate.
***
"Your mom is really nice," Sirius' voice fills the dark bedroom. Remus turns his head, but he can't see Sirius.
"I know," he replies softly, reaching for whichever cat is sleeping by his leg. His fingers find a soft patch of fur, and when he gives it a small scratch, he feels a soft purr start in response.
"You don't see her often,"
Remus can't tell if this is a question or not. He doesn't like it, either way. A loud sigh leaves his lips before he can stop it.
"I don't."
Closing his eyes, Remus lets his fingers go lax on top of the warm ball of fur. He can still feel how warm Hope was when she hugged him. Less than an hour ago, but it already feels so distant, so vague.
It was a quiet dinner. Just Remus, Sirius and Hope. No Lyall. Remus didn't bother asking his mom where he was. Remus wasn't sure he even cared.
"Why?" Sirius shatters the silence again.
Remus lifts his hand to face, and freezes when he realises that he's crying. Oh, no. He bites into his lip when his chest heaves with a choking sob, praying for it to go away.
"Remus?"
Oh, no.
Remus hears Sirius shift on his bed, and hurries to wipe his face before Sirius can turn the light on. Just as he anticipated, Sirius turns the light on. Remus tries to tug the blanket up to cover his face, but both Mentos and Mittens are plopped on it, so all he achieves is making Mittens raise his head and give him a sleepy stare.
No, no, no.
"Oh, Remus," Sirius' voice is soft when he speaks, and he's already sitting next to Remus, a hand on Remus' shoulder. Shrugging it off, Remus turns his back to Sirius, almost flattening Mentos. He's feeling too much at once, and Sirius' touch is the last thing he needs added to the list.
But of course Sirius isn't going to take the damned hint, because he places his hand right back on Remus' shoulder. "Remus," he tries again, "Please, why are you crying?"
Remus doesn't reply.
"We can go see your mom again. Tomorrow, if you want," he pauses, "You must miss her a lot... I'll take you there everyday, how about that?"
Remus squeezes his eyes shut, no longer even trying to stop his tears. They're burning hot as they crawl over his skin.
"Or maybe... Maybe we could bring her here. For a couple days. We can take her shopping. Or we could just tell her to stay... as long as—"
"Because I'm a horrible person," Remus says shakily.
"—you... What?" Sirius, hand gently tugs at Remus' shoulder, and Rems lets himself be rolled on to his back. He wipes his tears away with his hand before Sirius can do it.
"You asked me why I'm crying,"
"Oh," Sirius falls quiet, and Remus doesn't look at him. "You're not a horrible per—"
"Don't," Remus stops him. "You don't... you don't even know what it's like,"
Sirius stays quiet for a while, his thumb rubbing warm circles into Remus' shoulder.
"But you—"
"I told you, don't."
"Okay," Sirius says, and Remus feels him shift a little. "Okay, you're a horrible person. Can I at least know what you did to win that title?" Sirius nudges him, and when Remus opens his eyes, he's smiling lightly.
Remus imagines it to be the type of smile he himself would give a petulant, inconsolable child.
"Sorry," he says softly, wiping his face once more, just in case. He sits up, and Sirius' hand falls from his shoulder down on to his elbow. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," He bites his lip, avoiding Sirius' eyes. "I'm just... I don't know,"
"No," Sirius says, and Remus' head snaps up. His breath hitches in his throat under Sirius' intense gaze. His eyes are so dark. "You do know. Tell me." He takes Remus' hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze.
Remus stares at their joined hands. Sirius' skin never looks warm. His hand looks ghostly, almost blue. Remus can see the small veins on its back. His nails are pale, barely pink.
"I..." Remus stares on, lost for words. Sirius squeezes his hand again. "Mom loves me a lot, and... and, I love her too but I don't think she knows." Remus blurts out, a second before realising that he made no sense.
Sirius doesn't say anything, just holds his hand.
"I left home right after I turned eighteen," Remus says, testing the air with his words. Judging it safe, he continues, "And I only ever went back home once. Once, Sirius. I... I hate that house so much and... I don't know. I love her, I want to talk to her but... But I just can't."
"You can't separate her from everything you don't like?"
Remus shivers at hearing it spelled out like that. "Yes," he whispers.
"She used to call me a lot... But I think she realised that I... didn't want her to. She tries so hard for me... Why can't I just accept it?" He starts crying again.
"I don't know," Sirius whispers, guiding Remus' head on to his shoulder. His hands rest lightly on Remus' back. "But that doesn't make you a horrible person, Remus. And she knows. She knows you love her. You can take my word for it."
Remus cries quietly, holding on to Sirius and trying to believe his words. And maybe he does. Maybe, just then, with Sirius holding him, he can believe them.
***
Author's Note
Fuck.
Look, as long as I'm writing this book, you can't discard the possibility of me sobbing to you about how horrible my perfect upper middle class life is. But look, my perfect upper middle class life is horrible okay? I feel fucking awful.
Would you believe me if I said that I actually started writing this pathetic and barely coherent chapter on the 10th of December? Yeah, I wouldn't either lmfao
Anyway I want to die. But I'm definitely gonna finish this book before I die ((don't hold this against me if I die in like, a fucking earthquake or something, okay? I'd have zero control over that)) so you'll have to deal with me sobbing about my perfect upper middle class life.
They come as a package. That is, actual book-writing and sobbing. Deal with it. ((Or just skip over the author's notes, who gives a fuck? Not even I give a fuck))
Yeah, That's all. Vote, comment. Point out any typos you find, please.
Bye xx