Rating: K+
Pairing: SB/RL, non-explicit
Category: Angst
Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to the genius J.K. Rowling. No money is being made, and no harm intended.
Authors notes: A somewhat angsty look at Remus thoughts one night.
Betaed by the fabulous Mika Bird.
Contemplations
Staring out of the window, Remus couldn't help but wonder why it always had to be so complicated. It should have been nothing more than a simple crush, something to dream about and let your mind drift to occasionally, lasting no more than a few months at the most. But this felt like something more. He kept thinking it was nothing but a crush. That this could be anything else seemed impossible to him, but it took up so much of his time and energy. His mind almost constantly strayed to the crush, and it always brought a string of insecurities with it.
He shifted slightly in his seat and reluctantly tore his gaze from the night sky. He knew he shouldn't be sitting here in the middle of the night, trying to figure out his problems, but he often found that the night brought with it a serenity and solitude that was ideal for thinking of such things. Or for simply staring out of the window, feeling melancholic.
Why was it that his thoughts so often strayed to him? Why did he always have to speculate, let his imagination run away with him? Why was he nearly obsessed with these thoughts and imaginations? These illusions... Illusions and fantasies about situations with him, how it could be if only this, or if only that... Illusions about his own feelings? He could never really figure out how he felt. Was this just a simple crush, or was it something more? Or was it maybe an illusion of a crush? A desperate wish to love and be loved in return?
He sometimes felt sure that he must be fooling himself into thinking he had feelings for him. Could it really be the truth? Could it really be more that just the usual respect and admiration for a person you liked, who was friendly to you and whose company you appreciated?
Sighing deeply he got to his feet and started pacing back and forth in front of the window, the weak light of the waning moon casting shadows on the walls of the small room in the derelict shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It sometimes felt like a prison, this room, a prison both self-inflicted and forced upon him. Then there were times when it was a refuge, the only place he could relax and get his thoughts under control.
Still pacing back and forth, he couldn't push the memory of the last time he had seen him out of his mind. It was only a few days ago, after not having seen his friend for what seemed like months. He had been quite surprised to realize how much he had missed him, as it had, in reality, only been two weeks of Christmas holiday. Of course he had known that he would indeed have such feelings, in one way or another, but the extent of them, brought on by the meeting, had scared him slightly. It was difficult to tell yourself to ignore the issue, to stop thinking so incessantly about it, when your mind insisted on straying to things that made it impossible to push it out of your mind. Things such as the sound of his voice when he spoke, or about a thing as silly as his hands. Ordinary in themselves, perhaps, but still entirely too intriguing to him.
He had actually been quite nervous when they had met, and his stomach gave a small lurch as he realized he would see him again as soon as the next day. It was an odd thing, really. First, he wanted it all to be over, for his feelings and all the insecurities they brought with them to disappear. He then changed his mind, and cherished and appreciated the crush, or what ever it could be called, wanting it to last forever. It was a never-ending roller-coaster ride of emotions, and he was getting tired of the constant confusion it invoked in him.
He stopped pacing and stared into the twilight of his room. A sudden thought had occurred to him -why was it that this... crush had intensified recently, in the same period of time where he had not seen him? Could the absence of a person really make something as that so much more intense, that much deeper? Or was it simply an idealization made easy by separation, or a desperate hope of feeling something -anything -for the person who now inhabited most of his thoughts? Was he falling in love with the idea of being in love, turning a simple crush, simple fascination and attraction, into something more?
No answers could be found in the gloomy shadows of the room, and he heaved a frustrated sigh as he turned back to the window and stared at the moon again. So much mystery, pain and melancholy, so many secrets were associated with the simple sliver of white in the darkened sky. It reminded him of him -everything seemed to lately -and he frowned as he continued to stare out of the window.
Could it ever be possible to be with him? Was that what he really wanted in the first place? Not only did he have to worry about his feelings and reactions, if he was to admit any kind of feelings out of the ordinary, but he also had to take the feelings and reactions of their friends and families into account, and those of everyone around them. The norms and values of society. Far from everyone would be accepting of the idea, it was far too unusual. Far too uncommon. Far too abnormal? Homosexuality was certainly not easily accepted in the Wizarding society -it may not be as unusual as before in the Muggle world, but most wizards would not react positively to seeing two young men together. For him and Sirius to ever be more than friends... It would take more than just overcoming their own insecurities and pre-conceptions.
Was that the entire problem? Was he simply not normal? Did all of these thoughts and feelings have nothing to do with any crush, but were they instead a sign of a twisted and perverted mind?
Was this sane? Was he sane?
He feared that he would never know the answers to all of these questions. He would most likely just go on with his life in the same way he always did, pretending that nothing was wrong, that nothing out of the ordinary was on his mind. He would spend time with his friends and do the things that needed to be done, never once letting anyone know that his mind was filled with these thoughts and doubts; that a veritable war was being waged inside him every moment.
Maybe one day he could figure out what to do, how to answer the questions. Perhaps he would become lucky, and fate would take pity on him. Or perhaps it would throw him into a situation where he had no choice but to figure out the answers, and the what to do with them once he had them. And maybe, just maybe, he would have the courage to act on the answers he received.
For now he had no answers and no release from his doubts. The moon was still faintly visible on the sky, and the dawn started breaking as he slipped back into the chair he had occupied earlier. As the day grew brighter around him, he stared out of the window, once again lost in thought.