I know that it's quite pointless to pine over you.

I do it anyway.

The thought that lingers in my mind is that maybe, just maybe, you'll recognize the want in my eyes, and you'll realise that you feel that, on some level, the feelings are reciprocated.

I know that it's wrong, but I mentally play out scenes of you and I. You sweep me off my feet, and kiss me with such passion that I become light headed and dizzy; you hold my hand as you announce to James (the whole of Gryffindor, the whole school, the whole world) that you could never truly be complete without me; you demand I share your bed, your home, your life.

I know that you could never think of me as more than Moony, but I get such satisfaction of just imagining your arms surrounding me that I don't see any reason to stop such musings.

I know that I'm a complete idiot for wasting my time over you. But I don't see it as a waste of time. In fact, moments not spent thinking about you I see as wasted.

I know that I've put myself in an incredibly awkward position – not only a werewolf, but one attracted to men – but I don't honestly care.

Sometimes the only comfort to me is that of your sweet ignorance to my love, because I know that if you were to reject me, I would surely die. It would be too much to handle.

I know that if I could stop caring about you and the girls you flaunt about, it would hurt less.

I know that I'm an idiot for loving you.

I know that I'll never feel the touch of your lips on mine, your hands in my hair, your hips on my hips.

But I also know that this pain will never go away, this burden is mine to bear, and that, no matter what you do, mistakes you make, people you cross –

I'll love you forever.

Thirty Years Later

A few days after your death, I began sorting out your affairs. I didn't get very far.

Only to the waste bin in your bedroom.

Where I found a crumpled letter in your handwriting.

'Remus J. Lupin' was written on the outside. The parchment inside simply said-

I love you, Moony.

Thought you ought to know.

And I burst. Burst.

My pain was your pain, my burden was shared with you, my love mirrored.

I died that day.

The day I knew that you loved me, I died.

I expect I'll be seeing you soon. Oh fuck, I hope so, Sirius, I fucking hope so.