When I was younger, love didn't seem impossible or difficult to achieve. Love was, in my mind, something that was as clear as day to spot. I had this fantasy that once I saw the person I belonged to I would know in an instant. That we would be lovers forever, with little problems, and passionate nights as long as we both shall live…I was only partially right.A glass bottle shattered against the wall as the tattered curtains around the open window swayed with the wind. The young writer that had thrown the bottle against the blood colored walls sat quietly backwards on his wooden chair. He had been writing when images flashed through his mind, a whirlwind of colors that haunted his nightmares almost every night. His dark circled blue eyes stared out at the words on his page, the type writer waiting for him to continue his story…their story.
Another gust of wind blew through the window, catching his attention slowly. He gazed out at the view of Paris beyond his cheap bedroom window and sighed.
Getting up, the writer raked his boney fingers through his sandy hair. He walked towards his window, wind again blowing. This time the wind was much stronger, blowing the pile of papers he had stacked up beside his typewriter, all over the floor. He didn't even spare a second glance or attempt to pick them up, he just closed his eyes. Wishing away all the horrors of his past as he did, hoping their was a way to get rid of the nagging feeling in his stomach. He knew one way to get rid of the pain and constant reminder of what could've been.
Death.
But, he made a promise. He made a promise to do this, to continue on with their story and live his life. It's what his love would have wanted…and made him promise. But, the writer knew his love had no idea what it was like to lose someone se dear. No, his love had it much worse then he had before their tragic ending of the fairy tale they lived together. His love was put through much more, but they equaled out now.
The writer took a deep breath before he walked over to his bed, sitting down on the uncomfortable springs. His eyes suddenly watered up, his throat closed in tightly, and his heart dropped into a high speed blender. The pain was unbearable sometimes, knowing that the one person he came to actually love was…
gone.
Forever.
"God, why? Why?….Why him?"
The young writer screamed, his voice full of pain and misery. The birds that were sitting outside near his open window flew away, and sudden loud footsteps came running up the stairs. The writer turned suddenly away from his door, falling to his knees without realizing how weak he was. The tears fell freely, as he pictured a happy smiling face. Shaking his head slowly and cupping his face in his hands, the writer felt a pair of strong arms around his body.
"Remus…Hey, it's okay."
The voice beside his ear spoke, trying to calm him down while someone else stood close by. Remus, our young writer, tore away from the comforting arms of his friend.
"Remus."
The female in the room spoke up, walking over cautiously towards him, she looked at the other man. The man behind Remus nodded to her, she walked closer, flipping her red hair away from her eyes. She reached out towards him, letting her delicate fingers trace down his arm. Remus looked over his shoulder at her soft apologetic face. He then looked over her bare shoulder to see her love facing away from them, his hand gripping his dark hair tightly.
"Remus, dear…I know it hurts, and that it won't be okay until you decide it is. That may not be for a while, but until then James and I will always be here for you. You know he loved you deeply and would've hated to see you like this…He wouldn't want you up here crying everyday as you wrote this story." She looked down at the scattered pages that littered the wooden floors, sadly sighing then looking back up at Remus with pleading green eyes. "Don't cry because it's over, be happy because it happened."
She let go of Remus's shoulder, turning to leave with James, making sure to avoid the pages under their feet. Remus sniffled, his tears coming to a stop as he looked at the couple leaving his room.
"Lily…" He called out, making the red headed girl turn to face him., she smiled softly.
"Thank you…" Remus looked away after he spoke, facing the open window once more. He didn't expect a response, so he listened as they closed the door behind. Another sigh and he was ready to continue his story…their story.
Remus sat down at the typewriter and started up another memory for his love to be remembered by.
The winter nights are brutal here in Paris, the winds are rough and bitter. Leaving a defenseless walked with chapped, blue lips and shivering body. That's how I found him, the love of my life, sitting on the steps of a whore house, a cigarette between your icy lips. I never seen anyone look so beautiful, so mysterious. He had a large coat on, it looked like it wasn't his. His dark hair all over because of the rough winds we were having, not to mention the new fresh snow was about to fall. He looked up at me, hearing my footsteps get closer, I had to get closer. His grey eyes sparkling up at me as he smiled, a rare white toothed smile. I felt ashamed to be in the beautiful creatures presence. But, he offered me to sit beside him. I sat down, my notebook under my arm, now in my lap as he sighed heavily. I didn't know what to say or do, and I was still wondering why I was invited to sit down. Then he did something I never expected. Right after letting the delicate fag fall from his lips, stepping on lightly, he turned towards me. He placed a hand on my face and kissed my surprised lips. I sat frozen, convinced the weather has finally killed me…but the I felt warmed as his hands moved towards my chilled neck.
"I'll do it for you."
Remus typed furiously at his keys, his mind working on recalling every detail he had. Every little smile, every whisper of I love you, every kiss they shared…every bruise and scar that littered his lovers body.
"Our Story."