ten reasons (to go to michigan)
reconnect
Finally hitting a red light, Remus Lupin pressed on the breaks and allowed his tears to further blur his vision. Usually, he would've been glad for the constant stream of greens in the busy New York streets, but that evening he was driving, vision obscured by never-ending tears and contacts that couldn't help but move around. Had there been a red earlier, he would've swapped them out for the glasses in his glove compartment. But as it was, he had been unlucky that evening, and the first red light was his first stop for release. He cried loudly, hand leaving the steering wheel to come up to his face, his fingers attempting to wipe away the sadness and pain, but it was futile. He would definitely be crying in his car for the unforeseeable future. He took a shaky breath, picking his head up in anticipation of the changing light to see two twenty-something girls looking at him from the sidewalk on his right. Their eyes were wide as they witnessed a grown man have a breakdown somewhere along Madison Avenue, causing Remus to sob even harder and louder than before.
Green.
Remus thought he would be strong enough, prepared enough, mature enough--I mean, for fucks sake, he was thirty going on sixty --to attend a party at his ex-husbands new home. They had been separated for over a year, after all, even though the litigation process had taken just as much time. There were assets at play (assets were otherwise known as the life Remus thought he would be building with this man, the things Remus bought and shared believing wholeheartedly it would be forever; things Remus didn't even have when he first met a red-headed boy in a coffee shop, or even when he married the same one) and these assets were the sole point of contention between him and the man he once loved and trusted beyond comprehension. They were up for debate for over a year before the papers were finally filed, ink barely dry , new homes barely settled into and Remus walked into the party to see Benjy with his arm proudly around someone else.
One Week Earlier
They had met at a bar in Astoria, Remus asked Benjy to meet and explicitly asked him to 'sign the fucking divorce papers and send them to your lawyer, you know the one that you hired, fucking asshole'. Benjy showed up late, as he always did, and Remus didn't know why he expected anything less. Remus had spent 10 years waiting on the boy, now an alleged man though Remus had yet to see any qualities that proved that other than the copious amount of aftershave Benjy wore. At first, Remus thought it was cute and quirky. Remus thought Benjy was creative and unbridled and of course, he couldn't be bothered with things like punctuality, and really, that was something Remus was good at anyway. The more time Remus spent with Benjy, the more he wanted to spend the rest of his life correcting for his lack of time management and subsequently making up for lost time, especially when that making up involved a lot of sex in places they shouldn't have been having it in the first place. But now? Everything was said and done and by the time Benjy sauntered in through the door nearly a half-hour late without so much of an embarrassed look on his face or sense of urgency or courtesy text, Remus had lost all kindness and patience. The quality he once found endearing he loathed--no, that was letting him off nicely, he mega-loathed it.
"So sorry I'm late," Benjy said, flashing Remus his most charming smile. The one that used to make Remus fall to pieces.
"No you're not," Remus said briskly, bringing his gin and tonic up to his lips to take a sip. "And here I thought we could be civil with one another."
"Civil was a half-hour ago, you know when you were supposed to be here."
"Can I at least pay for your drink?"
"No."
"Can I still get one?"
"Depends, did you sign the papers?"
"If the answer is no, do I have to move to another table?"
"If the answers no, I'm going to--"
"Relax, Re. I'm joking, they're signed."
"Don't call me that."
"That's your name."
"You're missing a syllable."
"10 years and I lose nickname privileges, huh." Benjy's dark eyebrows furrowed together, "Did I lose drinking privileges as well? I was hoping we could talk."
"We are."
"What an evening I have to look forward to then." Benjy slapped his hand on the table that he hadn't bothered to sit down at, though he had taken his coat off, hanging it on the chair with the intention of making himself comfortable. Remus sighed, watching the shorter man walk towards the bar through crowds of people, stopping to compliment women on their shoes or ask what another man was drinking. Once upon another time, Remus loved that too. He loved Benjy's ability to simply make himself fit wherever he went.
Except for when he made himself fit with Remus when they both should've known better. Years of pushing pieces together until corners were crushed and bent at odd angles, never connecting quite right and changes to the scenery had them both wondering if they were just two lonely people trying to make it in the big city, rather than meant to be. He took another sip of his drink and checked his watch.
He had told himself only an hour. Because he knew how easy it was to get sucked into the vortex that was Benjy Fenwick and his magnetism. Until Benjy, Remus didn't know it was possible to hate someone so much while still loving them, which was a dangerous combination. That and gin.
Benjy returned with a martini in his hand, sitting down at the table, "You're still here." "I still have gin in my glass. You're not worth wasting alcohol on."
"Ouch. Point 1."
"You got point 1 for being late."
"Then we're tied." Benjy raised his glass, "Cheers?"
"To hoping we make it out without throttling one another?"
"And our failed marriage--we tried!" Benjy shrugged and took a drink out of his glass, Remus wanting to hit the bottom of it so it spilled all over his overpriced jeans. The ones he had bought with the money in their shared bank account.
Sirens. Chatter.
Remus put his hands in the pocket of his coat as he stepped outside, the New York city fall setting in, and almost felt worse than the winter. Not so much the weather itself but the inconsistency of the season; the way the temperatures rose and fell during the day, and the way every day of the week was somehow different. Cold on Monday, warm on Tuesday, Wednesday it'd be windy and sunny at the same time, leaving Remus sweating in his jacket and his ears pink and lips chapped.
"It was great to see you, Re. Outside of a lawyer's office that is, and now we shouldn't have to go to one together again. I think that's a positive if I've ever heard one."
Remus rolled his eyes, "Yeah."
"I'm having a housewarming party for my new place next week," Benjy said, raising his arm to hail a cab, despite the N being a short walk from where they had met for drinks. Of course, he would be taking a cab; the boy stopped taking public transit the moment the first couple thousand came in from Remus' book advance. "You should come."
"Why would I do that?" "For fun?"
"Do you know me at all?"
"I'd like to think at one point I did," he shrugged, a white cab pulling up in front of him, "Think about it. You'll like the view from the penthouse. It's near Madison. I'll send you the address." Benjy reached for the cab door, opening it and greeting the driver enthusiastically, "See you next week.
--
Remus hated parties and shouldn't have gone. He didn't know what compelled him that morning to get a haircut and buy a new outfit, thinking I'll show him I'm perfectly fine , even if the dishes piled up in Remus' sink and the laundry mountain on the floor would beg to differ. Even if the party was awful, there would be good food and god knows Remus wasn't cooking anything sensational these days. It would also be nice to see his friends, Remus thought, trying to focus on the positives when he walked into Benjy's penthouse on Madison street that got a small view of Central Park and the skyline in one sweep.
He didn't see it at first.
He made small talk with the friend he hadn't seen in months due to his own hermit tendencies when writing and when navigating divorce apparently. They returned his half-hearted smiles and self- deprecating jokes with placations that Remus could've died without ever hearing.
Just so you know, I love both you and Benjy and I'm not taking sides in this.
Remus wanted to scream that they should definitely take sides and it should definitely be his, but Remus didn't scream. Remus had never raised his voice a day in his life and he wasn't going to start at his ex-husband's housewarming party.
But then he saw Benjy with his arm around the waist of another tall man with neatly combed blonde hair and a sharp jawline. A man who was clean-shaven and well put together in contrast to Remus' facial hair which always looked scruffy no matter how hard he tried. Benjy's green eyes met his own from across the room.
Okay, here's what you're not going to do Remus:
We are not going to hit him.
We are not going to shout at him.
We are not going to name-call because you are a mature adult. Everything is handled and it's done and it's--
"Remus, you made it!" Benjy called him over, Remus crossing in four long strides, not even sparing a second glance at the blonde man. "Your hair--"
"You've got some fucking nerve Fenwick," Remus' voice came out deadly quiet, so much so that Benjy's expression shifted instantly.
"Look I--"
"What's he do, hm?"
"He's in finance."
Remus laughed bitterly, throwing his head back as he did so, "That's fucking rich . Literally. Just how you like it. Carry on, you absolute sack of shit."
"Re--"
Remus dropped the glass of wine he was holding flat onto the floor, watching the pieces shatter and the red wine spread onto Benjy's leather shoes for just a second before turning to leave, giving him the middle finger over his shoulder.
And as confident as Remus felt with that particular maneuver, he was now falling apart in his car. He cried on his way up the stairs to his apartment in Long Island City, not wanting to take the elevator and disrupt everyone who happened to ride with him, even though the stairs left him winded after the first 10 floors. Remus unlocked his door, threw his keys onto the side table, and stormed to his bedroom. Remus was the one who thought through things meticulously. It was one of the skills that made him a talented writer, being able to map out intricacies in plot points and details in settings and character arcs, but it also made him (apparently) insufferable in relationships. But he had gone to a party; he had broken a glass and spilled wine and caused a bit of
a scene at the said party and now he was impulsively packing a bag. He grabbed clothes haphazardly out of his closet, stuffing them into a duffle he used primarily for weekend trips. Toiletries were gathered from the bathroom, throwing them into a plastic bag, alongside his medication, and a few books for good measure.
Laptop Cellphone Journal Wallet Keys.
A cab to JFK airport and Remus was standing in front of a desk agent, his arms folded as he sniffed up the remnants of his tears.
"How can I help you?"
"I need to get out of here."
"Okay, there are some self-servicing kiosks right behind you that can get you started on your travel journey."
"Can't you just help me?"
"The kiosk will be more efficient, I'm here for guest questions--"
" Look, I could really benefit," Remus reached a hand up to wipe his eyes, sucking in snot that was threatening to drip out of his nose, "from some human interaction right now. Please ."
"Uhm," the desk agent cleared her throat, looking slightly panicked before typing onto her computer, giving him a forced smile, "Where did you want to go?"
"Anywhere, not here."
"And...when...?"
"Now-ish would be great ."
"Uhm, there's a flight to...Michigan into Sawyer International--" "Into the Upper Peninsula?"
"Looks like it's leaving in 45 minutes."
"Perfect, I'll have one ticket." The woman looked at him expectantly and he rolled his eyes, running a hand over his hair, "The kiosk?"
"Yes, please, sir."
He supposed it was just as well that the next reasonable flight available would take Remus to the place he had moved to New York from so many years ago. He had left the Upper Peninsula for
college initially and then the visits home got...few and far between. Because money was tight because Remus wanted to work holiday's at his stupid department store job to get the holiday pay; because Remus had met Benjy and Benjy had family in New York; because Remus had gotten his first book deal and was plagued with imposter syndrome and edits; but also because Remus for the first time in his life got to feel what it felt like when you finish on top . He had never felt much connection to the Upper Peninsula or the roots his parents had established there; he always felt just on the outside of this tight-knit community. Too gay? Too quiet? Too much desire inside of him to want to do something more with his life than work in his parent's restaurant or own a vintage clothing shop? All of the above. The last time Remus had been home was for his mother's funeral, and even that was a short affair--in and out within 24hours.
Remus didn't have a return flight this time.
Remus just had a duffle bag and a broken heart.
One was checked with TSA.
The other Remus was left carrying, leaving him hunched, shoulders aching at the weight of it.
Leaving him crawling around in his own skin. It was like searching for a match in a rolling blackout to get some light back, except he was searching for a light he was certain that man had snuffed out long ago.
Remus looked out the window of the plane, resting his head against the cool glass and closing his eyes.
Maybe there were still matches left behind in his parent's house.
Chapter Summary
new eyes
reason number two: the town hasn't changed, but you certainly have. take a look at it through new eyes, it might surprise you.
Chapter Notes
as always i do not own these characters, i am simply borrowing them
i am a liar. weekly updates were a lie.
*thank you for the love so far. @greyeyedmonster-18 on tumblr-- feel free to send me your thoughts/comments/asks on there if you're a shy bebe and want to be anonymous xoxo
5 hours, a layover in Chicago, and about an hour and a half drive in a rental car north, and Remus had pulled into the driveway he used to call home. Despite not having been back in three years, Remus could navigate the empty and dimly lit streets like the back of his hand, down winding roads rimmed by tall trees. Which happened to be a good thing too given his stiff neck from falling asleep on the plane, and the exhaustion that overcame his body from hour's worth of crying. He arrived at his parent's house that even in the dark night, even though it was nearly 3 am, Remus could tell had seen better days. Time and weather had done a number on the once brightly painted and well-kept home. He slung his duffle over his shoulder, along with his smaller messenger bag for his laptop, walking towards the front door.
A slight breeze
The rattling of a screen door.
Remus reached up, running his hand over the top of the door frame for the key, furrowing his brown when his fingers found nothing but a thick layer of dirt. He wiped his hands on his chinos, using the light of his cellphone to shine on the porch. He jumped at a spider scurrying away.
"Did I move it...?" Remus spoke out loud softly to no one but himself, the neighbors lights off entirely. He shivered, vaguely recalling how lonely and eerie this place could be and how cold it already was. Unlike New York where no matter what time of day you could see someone else's light on; you could find another person on the street heading home after a long shift or another just starting. There was always music playing in New York, places to eat on every corner, a liveliness that inspired Remus to write his first book and the complete opposite of the Upper Peninsula. The only sound Remus heard was his own breathing, and the creaks in the wooden floorboards as he tried to remember where he could've put the spare key. "Ah, wait, yes!" Remus spotted a small sculpture in the shape of a bird on the front railing. His mother loved birds and had decorated the house with them growing up. He had cleared out most of them, not having any use for thousands of bird knick-knacks in his apartment, only keeping a few to remind him of his mother on days he thought he was strong enough to sit and miss her.
The big bird he had kept for the key.
He set his phone down face up, grimacing at the dirt and the moisture coming off the bird as he overturned it, the key underneath just as he had left it. Remus put it back, and after a few moments of fighting with the lock, entered his childhood home. Shutting the door behind him, not bothering to reach for a light switch, Remus closed his eyes. How was it a place could still smell like a person who hadn't been there for years?
Chamomile in the curtains.
Sandalwood etched in the baseboards.
The faintest hint of gardenias lingering in the couch cushions Perhaps that was why Remus hadn't returned.
Perhaps he always wanted it to smell like his Mom.
--
Remus woke up the next morning in a cocoon of blankets, his phone ringing on the nightstand next to him with only a vague recollection of falling asleep altogether. He did remember getting up to grab more blankets from the linen closet around 5 am when his body started to hurt from keeping muscles tense all night. There was a window that was left open, an intermittent shrill whistling in Remus' ear all night long, but he didn't have it in him to get up and search for the crack, merely opting for more blankets to block out the noise and the cold air.
He moved his arm out from underneath his bundle of linens, slapping the night table, searching, until he found his phone, disconnecting it from the charger with a careless yank and bringing it underneath the covers with him.
"Hello?" Remus' voice came out scratchy, his tongue heavy and eyes feeling swollen shut.
"Did you forget we had a meeting?" came his agent's voice and Remus sat bolt upright in bed, burrowing out from underneath the covers, suddenly forgetting about his half-closed eyes and dry throat.
" Fuck me ," Remus swore loudly, running a hand over his hair repeatedly and then down his face. "Remus, you're on speaker!" Dorcas exclaimed on the other end.
"Double fuck. I'm so--"
"Kidding."
"Triple fuck you in the asshole, Dorcas," Remus told her and she laughed, "Give me a heart attack when I already had one because I definitely forgot we had a meeting." Dorcas had been his agent at the publishing house since he had first been signed; the first person to read his draft and think it was worth something and saw it through until the end. She had been with him on his first book tour and had also been with him when the fights with Benjy started about the book tour and Remus being gone more. She was a straight-shooter and had a backbone as strong as a steel rod, but had a good sense of humor and was more laid back than she made herself out to be. "I'm sorry, last night was a disaster and I didn't get...to a-uh...well... a sort home until very late and completely passed out." Remus' tongue stumbled over the word home, feeling it necessary to add a disclaimer before
it. This wasn't his, but also...
"It's alright, we'll have it now."
Remus groaned, "I'll save us both some time and trouble and tell you I've got nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Oh wait, no, I have something. An empty word document titled 2nd Best Selling Novel by RJ Lupin . Can you show that to the editors?"
"Not without the words, ' Joking! Here are the real pages! ' with it," she said, "I know you are going through a lot right now, and I really hate to be Mrs. We Have a Deadline, but we have a deadline."
"I know, I know, I know," Remus said, moving his legs off the bed and onto the floor, inhaling sharply at bare feet on cool hardwood. "I really thought that once I was out of the house with him and into my own place I'd be able to think more clearly, but it turns out I was very wrong, and I actually don't think I'll be able to write ever again. You should probably just...give up."
"Do you need a speech?"
"I don't know what I need Dorcas," Remus admitted, now in the bathroom, flipping on the light switch to see two bulbs had burnt out. Perfect didn't need to see what I actually look like anyway .
"I'm not going to give up, I know you have more in you. I knew from the very beginning."
Five years ago
Remus was in the breakroom at Duane Reade, scrolling through his phone on his mandated 10- minute break after having worked for 4 hours. The receipts were too long, the customers were occasionally too rude, his boss too curt and pretentious for someone who did half the amount of work Remus did. He had another hour--stopping at his fifth so they wouldn't have to give him lunch or benefits--before Remus would haul ass across town to Birch coffee where he worked as a barista, picking up the late afternoon shift and attempting not to spill more drinks than he served. He had spent 8 years in this city already. A place for dreamers. A place that didn't sleep, built on hardwork and a neverending hustle. But after graduating from school and having his writing rejected over and over again, Remus began to think "hustle culture" was just a code word for "burnout culture". A glamorization of working tirelessly for little reward under the guise that you were "doing what needed to be done to get where you're going" and no one did glamour better than New York.
The city that had everyone fooled.
The city that would chew you up and spit you and leave you--
His mindless scrolling was disrupted by an unknown number on his screen, Remus rolling his eyes and declining the call. He didn't need to know about his car's extended warranty. He didn't need to know how to vote in the upcoming election or perhaps that his social security number was under surveillance.
But the number left a voicemail.
Remus thumbed the icon, holding his phone up to his ear.
"Hello Mr. Lupin, this is Dorcas Meadowes calling from Olswanger Literary..." That was all Remus heard and he dropped his phone into his lap, clumsily reaching for it again to cancel the voicemail and call the number back directly.
Ring
Ring
Ring.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Ms. Meadowes, this is Remus Lupin, sorry I missed your call, I...thought...it was spam."
The woman laughed, "I would've done the same thing," she said easily, "I appreciate your call back. I'm an agent with Olswanger Literary, you submitted a manuscript to our open calls--"
Any spare time Remus had was spent searching for open calls for manuscripts to agents in the city. Independent book stores too. He had even linked up with one of his professors from college in hopes of getting a foot in the door. Everyone had told him the same thing though--it can take years; it doesn't happen overnight; agents get hundreds of manuscripts every day to rifle through, you just have to be patient.
"Months ago, I think? I've lost track. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't say that. I should probably make you think I was really particular about submitting to your agency and you're the only ones for me and...sorry, you were saying?"
"I loved your book." "You what?"
"I loved your book. I think you have something really great here. I think this could be big. I'd like to submit it to a few publishing houses--"
"What?"
She laughed lightly, "Do you have time for a meeting--"
"Yes, right now? I can--"
"Does tomorrow at 9 am work for you?" Remus ignored the part of him that was screaming about 9 am being ungodly early.
"That's my favorite time," he said quickly, not caring at how desperate he sounded.
"Then we look forward to meeting with you." She said and they hung up quickly. Remus pocketed his phone and left the breakroom, knowing damn well he had gone over his ten, his boss leering at him as he walked out back onto the floor, already removing the headset from his ear, ready to damn the consequences.
"You're late, Remus," his boss said, "And aisle 3 needs restocking."
"Yeah, I don't care," Remus removed the base of his walkie from his jeans and handed it to his boss, "I quit."
Usually, Remus didn't have such blind faith. But there was something about Dorcas' voice and the phrase 'I think this could be big' that had Remus feeling a certain brand of invincible. Like Icarus propelling himself straight into the sun with waxwings to support him.
It wasn't that impulsive, he reason. He still had his coffee shop job. And he had a meeting.
"Would it be helpful if we met in person? You know, talk about your ideas, get you out of the slump?"
"Uh.."
"Uh?" she asked with an edge to her tone, "That's a yes or no question, Remus. What are you uh - ing about?"
"I'm not in New York."
"Okay?"
"I'm in the U.P."
"Is that some sort of bathroom humor?"
"No," Remus rolled his eyes, sitting on the counter of his bathroom, "The Upper Peninsula...you know, where I'm from?"
"What in the world are you doing there?" "I don't know."
Dorcas sighed, "Okay, I love you--" "Just say it."
"Here's what we're going to do: we have a deadline, we need to meet it. They understand your personal circumstances and how harrowing litigation can be but...at some point--"
"I know, I know--"
"I'm going to ask them for an advance, I am going to stick my neck out and pretend that you have
something marvelous written already and just need a few more weeks , but this means--" "I don't need an advance."
"It's called incentive."
"It's called pressure . What if I don't deliver?"
"You will." she said without skipping a beat, "I know you have something in you. What happened
to the kid in my office that couldn't even sit still he was so excited for a meeting and didn't stop talking for 10 minutes because of all his ideas?"
"He got beat up."
"Well, find him, and get me those pages. Maybe...the what did you call it? Where you are?"
"The U.P."
"Maybe the change of scenery will be good. Write something while you're there."
"I--" Remus sighed in concession though, "Yeah, I'll..write something while I'm here," he finished his thought blandly, without inflection or excitement.
"Good. Try not to pull all your hair out. You're Remus. You're exceptional and brilliant. That kid is still in there."
"We'll see."
"Still a no on the advance?"
"For now."
Money came with invisible strings. Enchanted ones that were illuminated once a check of over 10,000 was deposited into a bank account.
"Let me know if you change your mind. They're excited about this, whatever it ends up being."
"Okay." and without another word, Remus hung up the phone, and looked at himself fully in the mirror through dim golden lights. Greying in his thirties, though his hair still thick as it was when he was 15, the circles under his eyes darker, his teeth yellowed from too much caffeine and nicotine. He was unshaven and unkempt, in a baggy threadbare sweatshirt from his closet, sweats hanging off his hips. Paler skin makes the scar along his eyebrow, extending down his cheekbone seem more vivid and angrier.
He was going to scare children walking around this quiet town. He scared himself some mornings.
Dorcas wasn't alone in her thoughts. Remus too missed the 25-year-old with big hands and big eyes who never stopped asking for more no matter how many times he got the wind knocked out of
him.
He supposed the final gust had been Benjy. He was still gasping for air.
The Upper Peninsula was just how he remembered it.
It was comforting to know that some things did stay the same, even if Remus was returning entirely different, as he struggled to close the door of his parent's home just as he had struggled to open it last night. After wallowing, and dusting, and getting dressed for the day, now well into the afternoon, Remus' stomach indicated he needed to leave his home and go find something to sustain
him. A grocery run, a coffee run , a run to the single department store to get a set of slippers that he had desperately wished he had brought from his apartment in New York.
That's what happens when you just decide to go somewhere. You forget things.
Especially if he was going to spend the remainder of his evening rifling through his journal, hoping one of the ideas he had mapped out would be good enough this time. Unlike the other thousand times, he had looked at them and thought they were complete shit.
"You need to fix your door!" shouted a voice from next door as Remus slammed the door for the fourth time, finally able to lock it. There was a blonde with big curly hair on her own porch, leaning against the railing with a wry smile on her face. She looked to be about the same age as him, maybe younger if the lack of wrinkles and the vibrancy of her hair was any indicator. Or Remus just looked terrible and she was exactly what a 30-year-old should look like. "I can hear it rattle when the wind blows, very annoying."
"I'm so sorry this home is annoying for you," Remus responded dismissively, folding his arms to face her.
"Just your door. You should fix it." "I should do a lot of things."
"Mm, you're a ray of sunshine, aren't you?" she teased, her eyebrows raising and Remus rolled his eyes.
"You should mind your own business."
"I would but your door rattles and it's become my business. Keeps me awake and I am an absolute terror without 8 hours of sleep."
"Oh, so this is my door's fault?"
"Yeah, what's your excuse?"
"I'm newly divorced, thank you."
"Mmm, sorry, that's actually not a card you play to do what you want and get away with it. Everyone I know has been divorced or cheated on and their doors are perfectly quiet."
"I'm not fixing the door. I am heading into town though, I'm happy to pick you up some earmuffs."
"Stop by the hardware store instead!" She suggested with a tilt of her head and Remus resisted the urge to give her the finger as well, choosing instead to walk quickly to his car, "I'm Marlene by the way, nice to meet you, neighbor !"
"I don't care!" Remus called back getting into the rental car and slamming the door and jamming the key into the ignition.
The roads were familiar. So was the long almost half-hour drive to get to anything that resembled civilization, aside from houses that were either too close together or too far apart. But there were tens of thousands of trees along the way, Remus driving into neverending seas of orange and yellow and that muted sort of green that happened when fall was in the air. There was no lingering
smell of smoke; just crisp fresh air dredging up memories he had long since pushed aside. Camping in the state parks with his parents.
His mother bringing a tiny waffle maker; his father laughing because her idea of camping included waffles.
Fishing along the lake.
Community barbeques in the summer and pumpkin patches on someone else's property around this time of year.
Remus shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he walked towards the only market in Paradise, a terribly ironic name for a town that was a far cry from a tropical island, leaving his car in one of the three spaces on the street. Remus was greeted with a booming hello as he walked into the store, a bell chiming lightly, he didn't have to search to find a basket or reach over the tops of heads to grab what he needed.
It was simpler here.
Even if the ghosts surrounding him left him slightly unsettled. He hoped enough time had passed that no one would recognize him. That everyone who could've said you look just like your father would be long gone, dead and buried and no one would be around to stop him to ask where he'd been .
His parents had always been so proud of him, even if they missed him when he left. Even if the leaving itself caused more arguments than Remus would like to admit.
Even if every time he returned, his parents would frown slightly as if saying where did our boy go? Because at one point, Remus left their son and came back a best-selling author. All his memories with them in this town were nothing more than a story of where he started. The beginning of a sound-bite for the press and something that could be marketed.
He took his time walking around, used to carrying bags of groceries for more than a few blocks, and going the extra 10 minutes to get to the spot where he could see the lake.
A sandwich from the deli he passed was taken out of his grocery bag. A lukewarm, awful drip coffee from the market in hand. Amber eyes blinked across at the water that always made him feel so small, taking in the sun disappearing along the horizon. Shades of orange and crimson loudly interrupted darker blues, all colors unobscured by blinding lights or smog. Staring at the sunset, Remus couldn't think of a single reason why he hated it here so much.
It was seeing the Upper Peninsula through new eyes. Ones that needed glasses and needed to find something to hold onto.
The water turned softly. Tree leaves rustled together.
Remus let the cold bite at his cheeks, standing on the side of the lake until the sun finally left the party, Remus crumpling his sandwich wrapper as the grand finale. He winced a little, almost embarrassed to be disturbing the quiet with nothing but garbage, though there was no one else around.
He walked back to his car, making a mental list in his head of what he was going to do when he got
back to his parent's house. The quiet moment on the lake gone and already replaced with insecurity and the word deadline in bold red letters.
Go through your journals.
Circle the ones that might be fine. It doesn't have to be perfect.
It just has to be.
He made one more stop before heading inside, tiptoeing over to his neighbor's house, a note in hand, written on a napkin, along with a bag of cotton balls.
Marlene,
I would tell you I'm usually not that rude, but that would be a lie. I'm extremely blunt most days, and it's only gotten worse.
I don't know a damn thing about fixing doors, but when the sirens and sounds keep me up in New York...cotton does the job.
My names Remus. (I care a little.)
Chapter Summary
because you're single
reason number three: because you're single and you can do whatever the hell you want. even if a trip to Michigan isn't what they write the romantic comedies about.
Chapter Notes
as always, i do not own these characters, i am simply borrowing them
okay, NOW we will be doing weekly updates. I will see ya'll again on Sunday for chapter 4.
*thank you so much for the love already? I'm always so amazed.
*also as always, feel free to send love, questions, anything via tumblr (greyeyedmonster-18) if that's preferred
Against his better judgment, Remus didn't move from his home, and scarcely his bed the next five days, walking back and forth between the kitchen to eat, the bathroom to shower, and his bedroom to retreat under the covers. His journal was beside him. In the bed with him as if pulling the leatherbound pages close to him at night would rekindle some sense of intimacy, but every morning Remus woke up feeling hollow; every word he wrote down felt meaningless. On the fifth day, he ran out of cereal. On the fifth day, stubbed his toe on the way to the kitchen and decided that was his musty house's way of telling him to get the fuck out .
So he showered and put on clothes that resembled something of professional writer and not underground dungeon troll , managing to shave without cutting his face, and putting his contacts in for the first time in days. He packed his messenger back for the day.
Laptop
Laptop charger
Phone
Phone charger
Journal
Brain.
Brilliant ideas. Crumpled post-it notes Half a stick of gum.
Jean jacket.
Three different kinds of pens because you could never be too sure .
Maybe he needed his Ipad too.
Or a book?
Two books. Better make it three.
For fucks sake, Remus.
He left the books behind, his left shoulder drooping at the excess weight his bag wasn't meant to be holding, and left the house, slamming the door hard to ensure it shut the first time around.
"Fix your damn door!" shouted the voice from next door, and Remus sighed turning over his shoulder.
"Do you just sit on your porch and shout at people all day?" he asked, now looking at Marlene who had her blonde hair in a ponytail, just jogging up to her own home, stopping short of her drive.
"Not sitting," she grinned, and continued at her brisk walk to the edge of Remus' front year, her breath making puffs of visible air in front of her mouth. "And here I was getting worried you died in there too."
"Too?"
"Your mother, didn't she?" Marlene asked, "She and my grandmother were friends. I went to check on her when she hadn't come out to water the flowers in a few days and..." she tilted her head when Remus was quiet."I was trying dark humor on for size thinking it might be your brand. Sorry."
"I'm...sorry," Remus said slowly, vague flashbacks of a phone call he received three years ago creeping into his mind. A voice he didn't recognize informing him his mother had died in her sleep. Peacefully. Had it been Marlene? He had never thought to ask.
"Why are you apologizing? She wasn't my mother." Marlene shrugged and Remus' brow creased at the strangeness of the response and the girl in front of him. "Finally decided to leave?"
"I ran out of cereal," He offered as an explanation, pocketing the keys to the home in his coat.
"I have some. If we were more neighborly, you could've come over to ask for a bowl."
"Shame we're not more neighborly then."
"Hard to be when someone doesn't leave their home. Though you did leave me a thoughtful gift," she smiled, "Nice to meet you, Remus."
"I'm sorry I was an asshole."
She waved him off, clasping her hands together and squeezing, the chill setting in now that she had stopped moving, "I'm not better."
"You offered cereal so...slightly better." "Next time. Are you here for a while?"
"I...don't...actually know." "I don't either. Fun, isn't it?"
Remus made a face again, "I believe the word you're looking for is daunting but...sure. Let's go with fun."
She laughed, "Well, don't daunt too much wherever you're--" "That isn't how you use that word."
"Language is made up."
"I--" Remus closed his mouth though, letting the blonde have it. She wasn't wrong and Remus didn't want to open the can of worms that was how his entire career rode on the shirt-tails of language, English in particular, being a very real thing. "I'll try not to daunt too much."
"And I'm telling you to stop at a hardware store."
"Not likely," he chuckled softly, and her smile deepened.
"Then I'll be sitting on my porch shouting at you again when you come home." She cocked her eyebrows before turning to head back towards her home, this time at a slower walk, blonde curls swaying behind her.
"Hey!"
"Hey!" she responded, turning so she was walking backward on the dirt road.
"Do you know Madame Rosmertas?"
"The coffee shop?" Remus nodded, "What about it?"
"Is it still there?"
"It's still there. The only place to get a decent cup around here."
"I...yeah, I know. Thanks." He gave her a wave, getting into the car. He was certain he knew the way there too.
The first time Remus had been to Madame Rosmerta's he was fourteen He would walk there after school, which was down the road, rain or shine, and he would study until his father was able to come to pick him up. He did that nearly every day for four years until he graduated. The last time Remus had been to Madame Rosmertas' he was in his final year of college, and he had brought Benjy with him. A year and a half into their relationship and Remus had fallen hard for the boy with red hair and a devil-may-care grin; the who had rounded corners where Remus had sharp edges, making him believe they balanced one another out. Lead and follow. Eb and flow.
Give and take. And take. And take.
As he settled into the coffee shop, taking in the familiar rose blush curtains hanging from the windows; the personalized mugs the coffee was served in--Remus' coffee in one that said
CHRISTMAS '96 in bold lettering--and the friendly wave from the shop owners (once a one- woman show, but was now a multiple woman show, the shop staying in the family with multiple... Rosmerta's), all Remus could think of was the time spent at a table with Benjy. A single pastry between the two of them, and kisses shared over coffee that was much too sweet for Remus' taste.
Even then he took and Remus was none the wiser. --
10 months and some change ago
Benjy had been the one to move out of their shared apartment. A spacious one-bedroom in Queens that was big enough to have guests over, and to have breathing room but not so big it felt like someone else's home. Even when the money came in, Remus never wanted extraordinary, convincing his husband when they went apartment hunting to keep it relatively small. Remus didn't want material things, he was never interested in physical possessions. He was more interested in his book money keeping him from stressing about whether or not he could swing a soda and a bag of chips on the walk home from a meeting.
But without Benjy, the apartment they bought felt too big for Remus alone, even though it was for the best. It had been over a month since the move-out, a few weeks since Remus had officially sent Benjy the divorce papers and they were sitting across from one another at a pizza place somewhere in the middle of Greenwich Village.
Remus had expected it to be uncomfortably awkward. Remus didn't know why Benjy asked to meet for dinner when Remus had simply sent him a text asking if he received the papers in the mail, but that was something Benjy would do.
He was a face-to-face person. He was a person who made such intense eye contact when you were speaking with him it was intimidating like he was hanging on every word with bated breath. Everything you said suddenly became a novel with plot twists and interesting dynamics. Shame that was a fucking act too. But there he was sitting across the table from Benjy, the same green eyes making the same eye contact and Remus falling for it just as he had the first time.
"I'm so glad we can still get along. See? It's not so bad," Benjy said, smiling, putting his hand on top of Remus' on the table.
"Yeah, I'm glad we're both being mature about this." "I think we're the best separated couple out there."
But Remus moved his hand out from underneath Benjys at the word separated, "Speaking of...I sent the papers a few weeks ago now...how's it coming?"
"That's why I wanted to meet in person." "Did you lose them? Come on, Benj."
"I didn't lose them."
"Okay."
"My parents--I assure you this is my parents--" Benjy said raising his hands as if to say 'don't shoot the messenger', "we read through the papers with our family lawyer and..."
"Why the fuck would you bring a lawyer into this? The papers were drafted by one. Amicable divorce. No-fault divorce. That's what we agreed to."
"There was some fault."
"Yeah, you fucking someone else in our bed, but I didn't want that written in a legally binding document and I don't care to debate it in a court of law."
"You were gone all the time."
"I was gone for a month, maybe."
"You used to never leave our apartment."
Remus put his hand to his temples, "I don't have time for this, I'm not arguing with you about this- -what did your lawyer say?"
"That...we should...there are assets at play." "...Assets."
"Yes, and...alimony."
"Ha!" Remus let out in a single burst, and then he noticed Benjy's face. He at least had the gall to look slightly sheepish at his absurd request and Remus continued to chuckle. Softly at first, escalating in volume and intensity. "You're fucking joking! You've got to be!"
"I'm...financially dependent on you."
"Your parents own a line of hotels, and you're financially dependent on me?" "You're my husband."
"Ex-husband."
"Not quite. I don't have a job, you--"
"You quit your job, I didn't ask you to."
"And it's my word against yours."
Remus' jaw fell open, "This is really happening. What happened to being mature about this? You're so full of shit," Remus stood up, "You want to do this? Fine. Don't even think about texting me or calling me. Your lawyer can do that, and mine will do the same. Fucking fuckhead."
"Re--"
"Five years ago you would've never dreamed of doing this."
"Five years ago I wouldn't have had to fuck someone else to get your attention."
Remus threw his hands into the air, and in a moment of fury, reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and then his credit card, tossing it across the table. It wedged itself just under the pizza stand, perfectly stuck, just as Remus had been for the past four years, not knowing it was going to come to this.
"There's your fucking asset, keep it."
--
Remus had opened his laptop to the blank word document and stared. He opened his journal thumbing through loose plot points and ideas.
A tale of revenge- yeah, that wouldn't bode well now.
A young adult novel about a gay teenager who solves mysteries- overdone
Colors- where the fuck were you going with that, idiot?
Flowers- and again, not even a specific...you know what, flowers. Let's go with it. Just one word.
Just a flower.
Remus took a breath and wracked his brain for a flower. Not the typical ones, because this had to be exciting and different. Not daisies, not roses, not. Carnations.
Primrose.
Fucking brilliant. Everyone come read Remus Lupin's next novel, it's about a plant that has a hairy stem isn't that fucking interesting!
"Excuse me?" a voice interrupted Remus' self-hating spiral and Remus looked up in alarm to see a face that instantly had him wetting his lips, suddenly remarkably dry. Dark curly hair that was pulled into a knot on top of his head, following the planes of cheekbones higher than anyones' had the right to be, and strong jaw. Olive skin and dark, dark eyebrows and lashes contrasting with grey eyes so soft he thought they could've been pencil drawn. He had a coffee in one hand and something that looked like a journal in the other, a pencil tucked behind his ear. Nose slightly broken, two tiny hoop earrings, tattoos on his hands.
Dear fucking god .
Remus wanted to say something that was cool and casual.
Remus wanted to say something that was coy and polite.
But instead, when he opened his mouth what came out was, "Can I help you?" in a clipped, rough tone. But the man didn't blink.
The stranger smiled and Remus proceeded to lose consciousness, wanting to knock himself out on the table entirely. He knew enough lawyers to sue this man for being too good-looking and leaving the rest of the world with scraps. If there was a God, they certainly spent an exorbitant amount of time on Mr. Cheekbones and Eyelashes and had clearly tossed Remus out without so much of a rough-draft edit.
"Would you mind if I sit here?" he asked, and Remus could hear the unmistakable sound of a Midwest accent, "All the other tables are taken, and it appears that you and that...old gentleman with the hat over there," the stranger inclined his head and Remus followed the direction, spotting the man with a hat, reading the paper and sipping his coffee, also with a spare chair, "are the only ones with empty seats. I thought...I would take my chances with you."
"I guess."
"I won't bother you, I promise. You look...focused."
"Good," Remus said quickly, hoping the stranger couldn't tell his forehead had started sweating. Also hoping the stranger couldn't see his word document. He was okay with this gorgeous man thinking he was rude but stupid? Never. Empty headed? Nope.
And for that reason alone, Remus spent the next three hours typing or writing into his journal. Obsessing over the word Primrose and chancing glances at the man across from him who was so focused on his own work he didn't even notice. Like a statue carved from precious marble, he had never seen someone sit so still . Unless it was to take a sip of his coffee or wave to another customer in the shop, the man didn't move, until he stood up from the table around mid-afternoon
"Thanks," he said to Remus, "for the chair." "Yep."
The stranger smiled at him again in an odd sort of way, pushing the chair back into the table, leaving the shop. Remus let out a breath he had been holding for hours, thinking it was a miracle he didn't pass out.
Remus looked at the document that he had been working on, rereading the mostly nonsensical words he had written while doing his best to look extremely busy and important and hardworking and studious in front of a man he hadn't even bothered to exchange a single pleasantry with. In front of a man who looked like he belonged in a magazine and not in the middle of the Upper Peninsula .
His eyes moved down the document, pausing at a phrase. A usable one. A smart one. One that didn't make Remus want to rip the keys off his keyboard and swallow them one by one, certain a trip to the ER to get his stomach pumped would be better than trying to keep up with his own success.
Well I'll be damned...
--
He returned to Madame Rosmerta's the next day, at nearly the same time, crossing paths with Marlene as she finished her run again, the familiar comment of, " did you fix your door?" Becoming commonplace. A greeting of sorts. He had only been at the coffee shop an hour when the door opened and the man entered, this time his dark hair only half up, but the pencil was still behind his ear and the journal was still in his hand. Remus could've spent another ten minutes just looking at the man. If only the thought of being caught not quite so mortifying and paralyzing. He kept his eyes glued to his laptop screen, using his peripherals to sneak glimpses of broad shoulders and what looked like a tattoo behind his ear.
Because, for the first time, it occurred to Remus...that he was single.
And not in the melancholy way he had been wading through for the past year. Not in the hard way that came when you realized someone you spent 10 years with woke up one day and decided they didn't love you anymore. But the...delightful way that gave Remus explicit permission to look at another man, and this one was one to cash in all the times he didn't look over the past ten years.
Benjy hated when he looked.
Benjy always noticed when he looked and Remus would spend the next thirty minutes smoothing over the waves, swearing to never look again. And he mostly didn't.
But now? Now, he could look. He could do whatever he wanted.
And he did when the stranger was facing the counter his back to Remus. Black jeans that fit like a second skin around strong thighs and an ass that Remus, in another life, would've made a move to grab. He was built solid. Like a maple tree and Remus wanted to tap it.
Wait, what? No. Stop it, we're looking.
"Nice to see you again," the stranger said, drumming his fingers on the table to get Remus' attention after he had looked away from his ass and stared at his screen, horrified at his own thoughts.
"Is it?"
"Do you mind if I sit here?" "There...are open seats."
"I know," the man put his hand on the back of the chair in anticipation of Remus acquiescing to his request. Was this man so confident (read: arrogant) that Remus would agree with him? Or did Remus simply give off a vibe that he was easily moldable; insistently agreeable and people- pleasing?
"So..go find one of them."
"I'm asking if you mind."
"I...don't."
"I won't talk, I promise," the man repeated his words from yesterday and sat down, smiling and leaning forward onto the table just slightly.
"Why...wouldn't you want to sit alone?"
"Sometimes I work better when I feel like someone's watching me." "Hm."
--
The dance continued. Remus could've chosen to go to a different coffee shop. He could've set up shop in his parent's home. But he kept going back to Madame Rosmerta's. And every day, the stranger would show up around the exact same time, journal in hand, and would ask Remus, " do you mind?" as if the answer would change.
Remus continued to look.
He looked at how the stranger seemed to know everyone who came into the shop. He watched as the man chatted with Rosmerta and the Mini-Rosmerta's, asking them about school, seemingly oblivious to the blushes on the older-twenty-something-Rosmerta's faces.
He watched as the man changed his coffee order every day.
He watched as the man would get up and hold the door open for someone coming in with their arms full, or for someone older who maybe just needed the help.
Thank you, Sirius they would say.
Sirius .
He watched as the man would leave the coffee shop at precisely 2:45 pm every day. Not a second later, except for one time when the man did go over two minutes, lost in his workflow, and rushed out of the shop without pushing in his chair. It was intriguing .
Remus continued to look and learn; he looked at the changing hairstyles-- the braids, the topknots, the curls tucked entirely under a beanie; he looked at the way the mans pencil changed to pen midway through the week, or the one time he had brought his own computer, and Remus got to look as dark eyebrows knitted together in thought.
A few conversations were exchanged.
"What do you order here?" Sirius asked "Coffee."
"Dark roast?"
"Usually."
"Have you had their cherry latte? It's kind of her--" "Thing, I know."
"Well have you?"
"A long time ago. I...prefer just coffee now."
And another when the first snow had started, and Sirius had come wearing gloves and his leather jacket.
"You should get a better coat." Remus said and immediately regretted it. Interactions with Sirius made him painfully aware of how far he had fallen from kind and polite.
"I miscalculated when I left the house this morning," Sirius said surprised at the initiation of conversation, "And this one looks cooler. I think I'll make it."
"Of course. Freeze to death in the name of fashion..."
Sirius laughed and Remus swore he had never heard a better sound. A string orchestra, crunching leaves on sidewalks, windchimes. Loud and bright and carefree. "Makes the burial easy...that way no one has to figure out what to dress me in."
"That's thoughtful of you." Remus looked away from Sirius' grey eyes and easy smile, ignoring the fact that this seemingly cheery, social, and charismatic man made a joke about death and dying for Remus' benefit. Ignoring the fact that both Sirius and Marlene had picked up on Remus' brand of humor within a handful of interactions.
After about a week of sitting together, a week of looking, a week of writing that didn't suck, Remus was sitting at the table that become his with Sirius when a text message came through.
Hey. I just wanted to check-in. You left my party kind of upset...
Are you okay?
Remus shoved down the impulse to throw his phone across the room, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He opened and closed the message several times. Drafted a response that started with Fuck you but deleted it, and deleted the message entirely.
"Are you familiar with divorce?" Remus asked, resting his fingers on his temple and Sirius slowly looked up from his journal, where he was inking something.
"I am actually."
Of course, he would be. Everyone that good-looking didn't come without a trail of broken hearts behind them.
"Well, I just got one. Sort of, I had one, it was a long process, and it's finally settled. Officially, papers signed sealed delivered, I now pronounce you so fucking over ," Remus started, and the corners of Sirius' mouth turned upward at the rambles, "And I, for the life of me can't remember what the protocol is for when your shit-head of an ex-husband texts you to check-in . Legal advice to spare?"
"Legally, I would advise you to block his number." "Sounds familiar..."
"Illegally, I...would send him a batch of brownies laced with pot as a gift of goodwill and hope he eats one before an important event," Sirius shrugged and Remus snorted at the image of Benjy high as a kite around the snobs his parent's invited over. Around the blonde with slicked-back hair who would never tolerate Benjy dabbling with substances in bathrooms at nightclubs the way Remus had in their early twenties.
"That...I think I like that better," Remus nodded slowly, "But I think my actual lawyer would advise me to go with the first option. As satisfying as it would be..."
"Any good lawyer can find a loophole."
"I'm sure she could, but the other part is my baking kind of sucks...and I wouldn't even know where to find weed around here."
"It's impossible," Sirius agreed, "Drive two hours south just to hit a dispensary." "You're familiar?"
"Not personally."
"Hm."
"I'm Sirius," he said, as if Remus didn't already know, extending his hand over the table, "Sirius Black."
"Remus Lupin." He reached his hand to meet Sirius'. Strong. Warm. Calloused. Invigorating.
Remus felt an electric shock go through his body.
"...The novelist?" Sirius asked, his expression registering the name.
"You read?"
He laughed loudly, dropping Remus' hand and slapping it on the table, "You, are very prickly."
"And you have the most ridiculous accent I've ever heard." Remus retorted instantly, leaning back in his chair with is arms folded, effectively proving Sirius' point of being prickly . Rubbing everyone the wrong way these days.
Sirius smiled widely, "I'm well aware. Turn Tables is your book then?"
"I didn't mean...to imply that you didn't know how to read, more that...I..." Remus looked around at the coffee shop, "Just didn't think it made it out here. Their bookstore only updates about once every 10 years."
"Drive two hours for marijuana and great literature."
"Was it worth the drive?" Remus asked, wanting to know what this man thought of his book. The book that had made him more money than he ever dreamed of having and got him here in the first place.
"Yeah," he said simply, "It was."
"Nothi..nothing more than that? Just...it was worth it? I feel like that's the bare minimum."
"You asked me for legal advice, not a book review," he grinned, picking up his mug to take a sip, a bit of white foam on his upper lip and Remus watched as a tongue poked out to lick it off, "So... what brings you to the U.P.?"
"I'm..from here."
"Really?"
"I grew up in Paradise."
"I know, Paradise. I always found the name particularly fitting."
"Why?"
Sirius shrugged, "The way the clouds are above the lake? When you catch them in the right light. Feels like Paradise should."
"You've obviously never been to Belize..."
"Prickly," Sirius said pointedly and glanced at his watch. Remus did too, noticing it was precisely 2:45 pm, "I actually have to go...but...will I be seeing you tomorrow, Remus?"
"Probably."
"Then...I'll think of a better book review." Sirius folded his journal shut and tucked the pen behind his ear, before putting his thicker black coat over his white long-sleeve. "Assuming you'll let me sit with you."
"It...appears I also work better when I think someone's watching me."
"Maybe I was." Sirius shrugged and Remus' heart sank straight down to his brown boots, "Tomorrow." He gave Remus a smile and a wave, repeating the process with nearly everyone else in the shop, and left.
--
The next day, Remus sat at the table, trying to pretend he hadn't been thinking about the idea of Sirius maybe looking at him too all night long. Pretending that he had gotten a perfectly adequate amount of sleep and didn't obsess over three words, thinking of all the ways he could've meant it. Because Remus wasn't something special to look at. Remus wasn't the person people looked at. He was the person people stepped on or looked around to get a better view of the person they actually wanted to look at.
Benjy was the type of person people looked at, with his red hair and green eyes, and big smile. Remus had gotten used to seeing people's faces fall when Benjy would find Remus at parties, or their eyes would scan intertwined hands in disappointment. He had also gotten used to the rude words people would say as if Remus couldn't hear them or if he did, he didn't matter enough for them to care.
You're with him? Really? Give me a call once you come to your senses
And besides that, Remus couldn't be looked at. He was here to write his book and not get swept away again. Because Remus was just looking because he deserved it. He deserved to look at someone and Sirius fit that bill and he would be damned if Sirius wanted to take this anywhere else than a mutual staring contest that Remus would have to win. Remus got to win this.
"Morning." Sirius took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair after he had put down his coffee.
"You can't look at me." Remus blurted, and mentally smacked himself in the forehead for his lack of tact and grace. He used to be so careful with his words and now they were tumbling out of his mouth recklessly; a mudslide off the side a mountain, covering unsuspecting people in debris and sludge.
"Good...morning?" "You can't look at me."
"Counter argument--you can't tell me what to do," Sirius smirked slightly as he sat down, "So uh...yeah, not looking isn't going to work for me."
Remus made a strangled noise of frustration in the back of his throat, "No!" "I'm looking right now."
"Well, you're going to have to stop."
"I will if you will," Sirius replied, with the same self-assured smirk.
"Okay, first of all," Remus started, leaning forward to point a finger in Sirius' direction, "You look like you, you don't just get to walk around like that and not expect people to look. That's a rule.
Your fingerprints were taken at birth and you agreed to it."
"Did I? I'm not sure that holds legal grounds, considering I was...very underage." " Second of all , I'm divorced."
"I've heard, very sorry."
"No, I'm divorced which means no one gets to look at me because I am...a hefty bag washed up on the side of the shore and nothing more. If people look at me, it's because they feel bad for me. But you don't get to look at me, with your megawatt smile and your too cool for school attitude, and think it's okay. Because...I'm divorced."
"Mhmm. Okay." Sirius nodded, but his playful closed-lip smile betrayed his serious tone, mocking Remus' frantic explanation.
"And I'm trying to write a book."
Sirius smiled finally, white teeth breaking through pink lips, "I didn't mean to upset you with my... comment or my looking."
"I didn't know you were looking," Remus told him, "And I'm not upset."
"No?"
" No . I'm just politely," Sirius coughed out a laugh, "letting you know not to look. Because it's..." "Because you're divorced."
"Precisely."
"Has it occurred to you...I'm not interested?"
Oh.
"Oh."
"I was mostly teasing," Sirius offered, "I was looking. I think you're very cute and it isn't often there's a new face around here. Let alone someone who...might be my age? But...I'm not interested. I'm just...an appreciator of art. Like you, who appreciated my...megawatt smile?"
"You're making fun of me. I see."
"I'm not."
"I'm The Met? Okay ." Remus rolled his eyes, "Forget it.
"The Guggenheim," Sirius countered, "With the weird architecture inside? Makes you dizzy to look at. Not for everyone but...very good."
Remus narrowed his eyes, in an effort to hide his shock that Sirius had evidently been to the Guggenheim, "You're extremely arrogant, I think."
"I've been told."
"Oh good, I would hate to be the bearer of bad news."
Sirius laughed, and opened his journal, removing the pen from behind his ear, "How's your book?"
"Actually...not terrible."
"You can thank me later." Remus scowled, unknowingly stepping into Sirius' trap of admitting he liked Sirius looking even if he didn't want him to. Sirius leaned back against his chair, taking a slow sip of coffee in victory, cocking an eyebrow at Remus over the rim.
meet new people
Chapter Summary
reason number four to go to michigan: meet new people.
Chapter Notes
as always i do not own these characters, i am simply borrowing
thank you for the love on the last chapter. please feel free to send me thoughts/questions on tumblr
@greyeyedmonster-18
*update out a little earlier as I will be traveling all day tomorrow and I am a liar about when i do things.
xoxo
It had already been more than a month since Remus had touched down in Michigan. Perplexed at how time seemed to move differently here--without the New York sense of urgency of having to be somewhere or meet someone or do something all the time. It moved slower, and faster all at once. Remus was a person who thrived on routine, who had spent nearly his entire life on a strict timestable that catered to the chaos his mind created.
Before writing, before the book deal, Remus would work a morning shift. Then an afternoon shift, returning to the apartment late at night and spending the last few hours he had awake writing. Applying to different jobs. Sending off his work into the air hoping someone caught it.
After his book deal, his time looked different.
Morning meetings, calls with Dorcas, book signings, and readings at different shops around the city. The funny thing was, the more time Remus was given to write , the less he had to say; scrambling to fill the hours given to him to create another work of genius with something other than pacing and staring catatonically at his computer screen or out the window.
The Upper Peninsula was neither of those schedules.
The meetings with Dorcas happened, of course, but...his time looked different.
A morning conversation with Marlene about his door, and about other things, the fiery blonde becoming one of the highlights of his day.
The slow drive to Rosemerta's was free of honking or stress of whether he was going to get there on time.
The familiar patrons who waved when he walked in, and the table that no one else seemed to sit at anymore.
He would sit, and write, and work until almost four when he would make his slow drive home.
It repeated every day, but the space left for himself--if he wanted to sleep longer, he could, not in a rush to be anywhere; he could make himself a lavish dinner, if he wanted to, not accommodating someone else's schedule alongside his--changed every day and was what Remus clung to the most.
And then there was Sirius. Who continued to sit with him.
Who continued to give him his megawatt smile, and entertained Remus' looks with minimal commentary. Who was easy to talk to, and playful and so unlike anyone Remus had ever met before. He didn't know what Sirius was doing when Remus was writing, but he was a hard worker too. The two of them came up for air in tandem sometimes, hitting kneecaps under the table as they went to stretch simultaneously.
Sirius was smart , in the way that made Remus excited for every conversation, not used to having someone counter remarks so quickly.
He was kind and always brought napkins to the table.
And Sirius kept his word. He hadn't acted on anything but an odd sort of friendship, leaving Remus to believe that he actually wasn't interested.
Which was perfectly fine because...Remus wasn't either.
But then Sirius stopped showing up the first week of December.
The first day was fine. Except that Remus found himself glancing at the door every 10 minutes, that day of writing the worst since he started.
The second day was a little bit more concerning.
The third day came and went and there was no sign of Sirius. He supposed he could've asked someone if they had seen him, but he didn't want to cross that bridge, wanting to maintain some sense of strangeness to the place he grew up in, even if The Mini Rosmerta's now knew his name and coffee order by heart.
After a week of being absent from Rosmerta's and their working meetings, as Remus had started to call them, there was a thought that maybe Sirius was visiting himself. Maybe he didn't actually live in this town, which would make more sense than if he did. Remus had also chalked him up to a figment of his own imagination; a hallucination that came to him to get him to write. Because the surprising thing was, even without Sirius there and the quick back and forth and the smile that taunted him from across the table, Remus still managed to put words down on paper. His journal had filled out with an outline--a usable one-- the word document slowly transforming from chaos into pages written. Pages that he could send-off, and meet the deadline, a meeting with Dorcas fast approaching.
But even though he was productive, Remus found himself missing the other man. The same way he missed Marlene when he left his house later, or earlier and they didn't connect paths, or when he arrived home and she wasn't on her porch. Complete strangers and Rosmerta's were the only sense of consistency Remus had had in what felt like ages ; a bossy blonde and smart-mouthed adonis were keeping Remus grounded, and he couldn't have imagined a more bizarre twist.
It was Friday, and Remus was in a word flow, his phone put away in his bag, and Sirius nowhere to
be found. It was nearly noon and the man hadn't shown up, yet again, and Remus had gotten to work, words coming out easily; his page count growing; brain reciting without stopping until the pulling out of a chair shook him from his concentration. He looked up to see Sirius sitting backward in the chair, his black journal missing, his dark hair tucked underneath a grey beanie.
" Fucking hell , you scared the shit out of me," Remus said, typing down the last word he thought of as a placeholder.
"You're working hard."
"For once."
"Think you've got something?"
"Surprisingly yes, but it's more about what the editors think," he said, putting his chin on top of his laced together fingers, elbows resting on the table, "You've been...not here."
Sirius smiled slowly, "Aww, sweetie, did you miss me?"
"I didn't say that." Remus felt his neck flush at the term of endearment that was dropped so carelessly.
"No, you're just commenting on the fact that I wasn't here? For...how long?" "About two weeks. I was...concerned."
"You missed me, it's okay, you can say it." Remus glared at him and Sirius pasted on a shit-eating- grin at the words unspoken, " I didn't mean to worry you, I've just been busy, and I can't actually stay long today."
"It's alright. You can be busy." Remus shrugged, not wanting to give away how many questions were burning in the back of his mind.
Busy with what?
What were you doing? Was it work? What exactly do you do?
Do you travel? Were you still in town? Where do you live?
How did I not run into you at all?
Did you see me walking up and down the streets along here hoping we'd cross paths?
Were you as embarrassed as I was to catch yourself?
"Here," Sirius said and placed a postcard in front of him, "I was hoping you'd be here so I could give you this. I don't have your address."
"Why would you need it?" Remus asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes, tapping the card in front of Remus as a signal for him to read it. It was teal, with a ceramic sculpture on it--a tall sort of vessel with extensions that reminded Remus of waves, wrapping around one another in a spiral-- the center text bold and clear:
CHANGING TIDES
a ceramic exploration
Sirius Black
featuring two-dimensional works by selected artists from the Upper Peninsula*
"It's tonight," Sirius said, "And I wanted to be sure you were invited." "...What...is this?"
"Have you never seen an art show-card? I think it's pretty clear, here," Sirius leaned forward pointing out the parts of the card as if Remus were much younger, "Changing tides is the name of the show, and ceramics, now that's just a fancy word for pottery, see? Like the mug you're drinking out of and--"
Remus pushed his hand away, "I know what ceramics is, you fucker."
"What's the confusing part?" asked Sirius around a laugh that was attracting attention from the
other customers.
"I didn't know...you...you're an artist."
"Sure," Sirius smiled, "Everyone else here knows. You never asked."
"I..." Remus paused. He hadn't actually asked Sirius any personal questions. He was content to keep his and Sirius' relationship at tables length, and while Sirius occasionally asked his own questions (and Remus occasionally had word vomit and revealed information about his life to the other man, and for some reason couldn't stop fucking talking about his divorce) he had thought Sirius preferred it that way too. "You're right, I didn't. I could've."
"There will be wine there, do you know what that is or...?"
"Ha. Ha. " Remus shook his head and looked back at the show card, "That's not far from here. You work around here?"
"Why do you think I'm here so often?"
"I just assumed you really liked the coffee."
Sirius laughed again, "No, no. I'd like to hear, what did you think I did with my time?"
"You know, after you disappeared for two weeks I convinced myself you were a hallucination," Remus said grinning slightly at Sirius' teasing and realizing his own stupidity.
"Odd, but I'll take it." "You want me to come?"
"If you want," Sirius said, standing up again from the table and turning the chair around. Remus couldn't help but notice he wasn't wearing jeans and was instead in a pair of black joggers, his attire more casual than it usually was, and impossibly tight fitting. Remus definitely looked an extra moment at black cotton pulled snuggly over thighs. "I'm setting up for it right now, and I need to finish before--"
"2:45?"
"Yes, actually."
"You leave every day at that time."
"What'd your altered brain state tell you I did that for?"
"To tell me to get back to work."
"You're welcome."
"Okay, ego ," Remus looked up at him, "Is...it a big thing? Like a lot of people?"
"Whoever is awake at 8 pm in this place...I've invited a few of my other friends from out of town, they'll be here. It's nothing major, I assure you, but there's wine and a top-notch cheese board and brownies so if you're not busy...I'd like to see you there."
Remus wasn't busy.
And he was struck by the thoughtfulness of this man.
Who had a whole life here and friends and a job and...had wanted to include Remus in it. A disgruntled stranger in a coffee shop.
"Uhm...thank you," Remus cleared his throat and Sirius laughed, the difference in levels making it so Remus could see straight into his mouth, certain this man had never had a cavity.
"If not, then I'll be back next week. Get back to writing," Sirius gave him a playful wink and turned to walk out of the shop, the back view of Sirius in joggers just as good if not better than the front. He glanced back at the show card on his keyboard, slowly running a finger over the text.
A name. Sirius Black .
Remus returned to his parent's home earlier that day, making an effort to shower, thoughts of the show card tucked away in his messenger bag lingering.
Remus tried not to overthink it. Because it was just an invitation to an art show. Because Sirius... well he was just a polite and kind person. Who probably went out of his way to invite someone he had met just a month ago to an art show all the time. Because he was the type of person who opened doors for mail carriers and remembered baristas' birthdays. Because there wasn't an intention around it. He just did things like that.
And Remus was just looking and divorced.
He also tried not to overthink the idea of going in the first place. Remus didn't do parties, and the last one he had gone to had ended in disaster and an uncharacteristic scene of glass shattering and wine ruining clothing.
Well...uncharacteristic years ago. The scene was pretty accurate for how Remus had been behaving the past year.
Unhinged.
Unfiltered.
Uncaring.
And had anyone else in this tiny town asked Remus to go anywhere other than his parent's home and that coffee shop, the answer would've been a firm no. He would've spent his Friday night the same as he had the past several Friday nights, in front of the television with a glass of wine and take-out, smoking indoors because no one was around to tell him to stop and he didn't care , until he fell asleep on the couch. It had been working for him and that morning Remus had planned to do the exact same thing, making a mental list of what restaurants he could pick up from, or any he wanted to revisit that he remembered from his childhood. But Sirius Black had thrown a massive wrench into these plans, and Remus was now shaving his face in the bathroom, in a tumultuous debate with himself about whether or not to go.
He sighed.
Of course, he was going to go.
And he hated himself for caving so easily, the entire debate stupid. He caved every time and Sirius wasn't going to be an exception.
He put down his razor after rinsing it off in the sink, drying his face off with a towel when he heard the door from next door open and close. The longer he was here, the more he realized that Marlene might've been onto something about his door rattling, he could hear her so clearly. He pulled on a white long sleeve over his torso quickly, an idea striking him, and grabbed a blanket off the couch before going outside. Marlene was standing on her porch, hands on her hips looking at the trees framing their properties.
"Hey!" Remus threw the blanket over his shoulders as he greeted Marlene, leaning over his porch railing.
The blonde turned to look at him, instantly scanning his attire, "New York Fashion Week is screaming at your ensemble." Marlene smiled, coming to lean over her own porch railing.
"I actually think this Bedtime Couture look is better than my regular Disheveled Writer look." Marlene laughed.
"I have to agree with you. Who knew you were such a trend-setter."
"Listen, I was invited to this...thing," he started, "and I think I might like to go, but I'm...really terrible at going to things and even more terrible at going to them when I don't know anyone else there but the...I guess they're the host? I'm not sure, if...anyway. Would you want to go? It's an art opening. Whatever that means here. I was told there's booze."
"Oh, you met Sirius then?" she asked instantly, and Remus startled. "You know Sirius?"
"Everyone knows Sirius. Most people when they come here make an effort to try to get to know people quickly. It's too small of a place not to know everyone."
"It's not the town's fault, I don't make an effort anywhere," Remus said, finally pushing off of his porch, gathering the blanket around himself, and walking the short distance to Marlene's. Unlike Remus' parents' home, Marlene's front porch looked lived in and usable, with chairs and a small
table that weren't falling apart from the weather and lack of care. He plopped gracelessly onto one of her chairs, as he had several times before, usually on evenings, putting the blanket over his legs again.
"I'm glad the lack of interest isn't personal," Marlene sat on the other chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "Don't you have friends in New York?"
"I...do."
"The confidence I felt in that statement. Inspiring, really," she replied sarcastically, and Remus rolled his eyes. He had been gone for over a month and there had only been a few wayward texts in his direction. Dorcas was consistent. His editors were consistent and supportive about him writing in the middle of fucking nowhere but only one of the friends he thought he had checked in on him after the party. Two years ago, Remus would've said he had a group of people he could count on.
The reality was, in case of emergency, the only person he could've counted on was his ex-husband.
And even then he would've shown up late.
Remus wasn't sure how ready he was to admit that the life he had thought he made for himself in New York was nothing more than a glamorous illusion. Fooling himself with smoke and mirrors, only to have it all disappear the second there was a crack .
"I met most of them with my ex-husband and our papers didn't stipulate who got custody of whom," Remus said dryly, picking at the threads of the blanket, "But...given that only a few have bothered to text me since I've been here...it's a pretty clear decision. No need for further contention."
"A few good friends are better than a bunch of crappy ones."
"Anyway," Remus stressed and looked back up at the blonde, "You'll go then?"
"I was going already."
"You're a shit."
"You knew that though."
"We can go together?"
"As long as you don't try to kiss me by the end of the night."
"Why would I do that?"
"Rebounding, and I have a sequined dress that blows everyone's mind regardless of sexuality," she told him with a sly smile, "But you might have to change."
"I wasn't going to wear a blanket..." he said, and then fidgeted for a moment, "How...did you meet Sirius?"
"How did you?"
"He goes to Rosmerta's a lot and...he asked to sit at my table one day when it was full. And then he never stopped." Marlene laughed shortly, shaking her head, "What?"
"Oh, nothing ."
"No, what?"
"It's just such a Sirius move. The boy has all the nerve. I think it's the cheekbones, thinks he gets a free pass to do anything...making moves on the new boy in town..."
"We're friends. I think."
" Okay."
"No, we decided we're friends. I'm divorced."
"No shit, really? I haven't heard you mention that a single time since you drove your miserable ass here. This is brand new information, I'm shocked --"
"Fuck off. We're friends, I need friends right now as we just discussed." "Mhmm."
"How did you meet him?"
"Oh, there's a stupid event that comes into town every year--people get belligerently drunk and go sledding down a hill? It's like the Olympics, we'll go this year, but Sirius and Harry went to watch after they moved here, and I happened to be standing next to them." She said, Remus, furrowing his brows at the mention of another name. Boyfriend? Husband? "Besides, everyone who is our age and lives here kind of sticks together. You know? Otherwise we'd go insane with all the..." she dropped her voice low, "Elders."
" I am not an elder, Marlene ," came a voice from the inside and Remus snorted at Marlene's face that for once looked slightly cowed.
"Wench can't hear a bloody thing when I ask her how she wants her coffee but every time I call her OLD ," she raised her voice at the end, shaking her head, "it's clear as fucking day."
"I don't think you should call your grandmother a wench." "She is," the blonde said lightly, "Are you driving?"
"I can."
"Then I'll be ready at 7."
"You...said, Sirius and Harry?" Remus asked cautiously.
"You haven't met him yet?"
"No?"
"Maybe tonight then if he comes. You'll like him too, he's a hoot ." Marlene sat back in the chair, stretching her legs out to rest on the table. Remus didn't have the stones to pry again.
"Uhm...can I have you promise me something?"
"I can't promise I won't make fun of you. Or embarrass you. Both are too much fun."
"I would never ask that of you. I just..." Remus huffed slightly, "I'm not good at things by myself and I don't know anyone else here as you pointed out, so can you...just not ditch me? Unless I'm
really stolen by a piece of artwork but...I don't...like being left alone at these things?"
"Why would I ditch you?" she asked, "We're going together , and I'm going to need someone to explain all the art to me."
--
6 years ago
Remus sighed as he pulled a sweater over his button-down, pulling the collar out and making sure it laid right. He didn't want to go to this party. But Benjy was nothing if not persuasive, insisting that they needed to go to more things together.
"You're always working, babe. You have a night off and we should go."
Remus didn't have the heart to tell him he would've rather used the night off to catch up on the sleep he had missed over the past two years since graduating college and having to work three jobs to make ends meet.
In the mirror reflection, he saw Benjy walking towards him in a tight-fitting blue sweater and a pair of black jeans, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist, completely disappearing behind Remus' height.
"Handsome, Re." Benjy's voice was muffled by his back, face buried someplace between his shoulder blades and Remus softened. He snaked his hands around, clasping them around his boyfriend easily, the shorter boy enveloped in Remus' lanky arms.
"Nothing compares to you, babe."
"Good thing we're together then," Benjy said, picking his head up, "Still nervous?"
"A little? I don't know, Benj...a party at your parent's hotel? I don't know anyone except for the people I've met for a second before..."
"So you'll meet them again! And Emmeline is going to be there too, you know her."
Remus breathed out another sigh. He did know Emmeline, he had since college, and felt a modicum better that there would be another familiar face in the crowd; another familiar face who had probably taken a night off to attend under Benjy's insistence as well.
"And you have me," Benjy concluded, and Remus turned around to face him, Benjy standing on tip-toes to kiss him on the jawline, "I love you."
"I love you."
"Don't think too hard, it'll be fun. Good food, good wine, probably some sort of holiday game and then we'll come home and you can fuck me until I scream."
Remus laughed, pulling Benjy closer by a belt loop on his jeans, "I'd much prefer skipping the other parts and skipping to the end..."
"But we look so good, it'd be a shame for it to go to waste."
"It'll still look good on our floor, and I think you look better naked." Remus dipped his head to kiss Benjy properly, a hand coming underneath this jaw, and he felt a moan against his mouth. Perhaps he could persuade him otherwise. A night in bed was much preferred.
"We should leave soon..." Benjy pulled away, adjusting his sweater and standing up straighter again, pretending he hadn't just moaned or forgot himself at Remus' touch, "I'll call us a cab."
"That'll be a fortune, Benj--"
"I'll have my parents cover it," he waved it off, "Wear your brown shoes. Okay?"
"Hey," Remus grabbed Benjy's hand before he could walk away from the bedroom, "Just... promise you won't leave me alone? Like I know you know everyone there, but just...bring me with you or something? Don't leave me alone."
"Come one, Re. I promise I won't do that. Who do you think I am?"
Hours later, Remus found himself standing alone in the event space of the Fenwick Hotel, holding a glass of red wine, his boyfriend lost in the crowd. His teeth were stained, his lips red in the center from mainlining alcohol all evening in an effort to stop the sweating and the anxiety from creeping up his spine as he attempted small talk but just got lost in a sea of people who were trying to prove they were somebody.
Remus had nothing to prove.
And if he did, it wasn't to these people who looked at him like he was gum stuck to the bottom of their Louboutins.
And the somebody who he was somebody to had been pulled away, leaving Remus pacing between the event space and the bathroom the entire night.
Biting at his cuticles until they bled.
Lingering against the exit and wondering if he slipped away entirely would Benjy even notice. --
Marlene had her arm hooked in Remus' as they walked around the small gallery, around pedestals with sculptures, wine in their hands and Marlene making commentary. They had been there for about fifteen minutes already, Remus walking into a gallery full of people--some older, some younger, some looked to be around their age-- and full of chatter. He couldn't see Sirius in the crowd that was gathered, extra thankful that he had brought Marlene in the first place to avoid standing alone until he found the host.
Who was probably going to be too busy to even sayhello in passing.
He had made that mistake before with Benjy. When his ex-husband had hosted his works holiday function, and though they were married, Remus found himself at the bar the entire night, his husband running around directing activities and making sure the appetizers came out at just the right time.
He was also thankful because Marlene was proving to be an excellent date, in her sparkling dress and silver stiletto heels that stood out in the blend of black and brown winter boots. She was quick to put her arm through his own, sensing the anxiety at being in a new place and quicker to lead them both to the wine in the back of the gallery before they started examining the artwork.
" Now this one ," Marlene started in a voice that mimicked far too many snobs Remus had encountered in galleries in New York; the people who couldn't draw a straight line but were content to poke holes in other people's creativity, "I am getting a vibe of mystery. Aren't you?"
"Mhmm..." Remus said, trying not to smile at the blondes' antics as he studied the piece on the wall. Sirius had brought other local artists in the gallery (one that he owned, judging by his name on the placard outside), this one a painter from Hogsmeade Settlement, a tiny town just south of where the gallery was. The painting was large and dark blue, abstract lines swirling in patterns in a way that Remus knew was meaningful but he couldn't place why . "Very blue."
Marlene laughed, "Astute. A deep sadness, I see." she said, and tilted her head, "Actually...we both may be right, the artist says it's supposed to represent the vastness of the underside of the lake. A crippling uncertainty for what lies below..."
"Where are you getting that?" he asked and she pointed to the artist's statement by the painting, Remus reading what Marlene had just said, "Hm." Remus took a sip of the wine he was holding. If he was being honest, he was terribly uninterested in the 2-D work on the wall and found himself glancing around the room, trying to guess which ceramics were Sirius', walking by the pedestals and searching for his name.
"Do you like this sort of thing?" she asked, "Seems like you would. Dark and broody..." "I do not brood ."
"I don't know if you disagree with me out of habit or if you actually have that low level of self- awareness."
"Habit." Remus grinned softly and she laughed, "I don't mean to brood, perhaps. It's just part of the package these days."
Remus left out the part where he didn't use to brood at all. "Did you go to museums a lot in New York?"
"I did, actually," Remus told her as they walked to the next set of works on the walls, "Especially as a student, we got free admission to most of the museums and I'd...just stay there all day sometimes. I loved the view from The Whitney...I actually started my first book there."
"Really? That's kind of cool."
"Sure," Remus said, "I...am a writer, so I've always been quite interested in other people who could see the world and interpret it into something visual. Because...I can only do it through words. Barely."
"New York Times Best Sellers list disagrees with that barely ," Remus raised his eyebrows, "I googled you, you know. After you stopped being a dick and sat on my porch for the first time? I know all about you and your success. So, a lot of people think you have talent."
"I think so too somedays. Or I'm foolish enough to believe I do."
"That's half the battle, isn't it?" she asked, "Oh! These are Sirius', fucking finally , brat has to have them in the back of the gallery. Pretentious shithead." They had come to the back room of the gallery which was more crowded, people stopping to stare at the works. Different from the rest of the space, the works on the walls and the pedestals were arranged particularly in a sort of spiral.
Delicate plates and glassware hung up on the walls with intricate designs carved into them, mimicking ocean waves.
Like looking up at the surface from underwater.
The sculptures were large, which didn't surprise Remus in the slightest, and similar to the one on the show card, with tall tubular shapes that appeared to be like coral, extending in different directions. It was all impossibly intricate and compelling. The spiral formation lead Remus around the room, the sculptures and ceramicware transforming with intention until the final piece which was the smallest and in the center.
Layers of porcelain clay in waves, stacked on top of one another, the waves not meshing just right, but balancing perfectly.
"Fucking show off..." muttered Marlene, interrupting Remus' fixation on the last piece. There was something quiet about it.
Quiet and powerful.
Beautiful and didn't ask for attention. "He's...good."
"Isn't it annoying?" Remus pulled his gaze away from the piece to look at Marlene and then up around the crowd. The spiral of the artwork had transported him out of a crowded gallery and somewhere else entirely. He looked around and this time could easily spot the head of curly black hair, hanging around his shoulders, taller than the majority of people there. He was talking with someone, a small smile on his face, and his eyes drifted.
A tiny moment.
Remus' breath hitched, as soft grey connected with amber, seeing the man who sat across from him at a coffee shop in an entirely new light. Remus had walked by at least 30 people in the room without a second glance. But Sirius? He might as well have been the 31st, and Remus suddenly never wanted to look away again.
And he didn't.
He watched as Sirius excused himself from conversation politely and crossed to where Remus was still standing by the tiny piece, not caring if he was blocking someone else from examining it in its entirety. It was his to look at too. Forgetting Marlene was with him until she spoke again, Remus blinked for the first time as she quickly embraced Sirius, her hands squeezing the sides of the taller man's face, and Remus felt the familiar surge in the pit of his stomach.
Fuck
"I hate you and you've done it again. Everything's great, Sirius," she told him, kissing him on his cheek enthusiastically, "I know you think you did those painters a favor putting them in here with you for the exposure, but really , this is an entire space and it blew them out of the water, pun intended."
"Thanks, lovely, and you as always are the best dressed one in here," he greeted, kissing Marlene quickly as well, though his eyes were scanning Remus as he made the comment about dress and not Marlene's ensemble. The slight raise of a dark eyebrow and the eye contact told Remus all he needed to know.
He's looking.
"That's a given," Marlene tossed her blonde hair again and Sirius laughed his arm now around her
shoulder.
"I see you've met Marlene," Sirius said to Remus, acknowledging him verbally and Remus' suddenly felt very warm, hoping his fair skin wasn't revealing too much.
"She's...my neighbor."
"Small town."
"I've noticed."
"You should come over and fix his damn door," Marlene told Sirius, "Remember how I was telling you the house next door rattles? His house"
"You're that house?" asked Sirius, "That thing's a disaster." "Told you," Marlene responded smugly.
"My door does not need to be fixed, it's perfectly fine, and I...can fix it myself if I wanted to," Marlene laughed giving Remus a pointed look, "What? I could know about doors."
"I will eat my pants if you fix your damn door, Lupin," the blonde said, "Is Harry here tonight?" she asked, "I haven't seen him in a little."
"No, he's at home. It's a bit late for him," Sirius started, his sentence trailing off as Remus got lost in his own thoughts not listening entirely.
There was that name again. Harry.
But he was at home? He wasn't at the opening.
Was Sirius getting out of a rocky relationship too? Was he familiar with divorce? Why would he be looking if he had someone at his--
"Hey Remus," but put her hand on his arm gently, Remus surprised enough to look away from Sirius for the first time and stop his spiraling thoughts, looking down at Marlene, "I'm out of wine. Would you mind if I went to get another glass? I'll come back, and you're in good hands, I swear."
You asked me to go with you, why would I ditch you?
"Yeah...uh..yeah, go ahead. As you said, I'm with the man of the hour himself" he replied, hoping the sarcastic tone could hide the pounding in his chest at being left alone with Sirius. Strange because he had been left alone with Sirius all the time , but now he was out of the coffee shop and had seen the inside of this man's soul through ceramic works and he was looking. And Sirius was looking back.
And Remus didn't want to stop.
"You're tall," Sirius said first before Remus could say anything, which was a good thing because Remus' mind had gone completely empty yet again. How did you start a conversation when there wasn't coffee to discuss or a laptop in front of you acting as a buffer?
"What?"
"You're tall," Sirius repeated with a soft smile, "I've only ever seen you sitting down...I didn't know you were tall. Could've guessed but now I know."
"I...am. I hit my head on things a lot."
For fucks sake, Lupin.
"I'm glad you came," Sirius told him ignoring the odd comment as Sirius usually didn't when Remus fumbled. "Have you met anyone else here yet?"
"No, mostly just...looking at the work and making vague comments with Marlene. Yours are the only ones she didn't make fun of."
"She knows better," Sirius shrugged, "What'd you think then? Did I appease New York?" "I think you're very good, actually."
Sirius' eyebrows raised, "What? No sarcastic comment or...snide remark? No notes?"
Remus couldn't help but smile himself, "No notes, flawless execution, you're very good." He put his hands in his pockets and looked down slightly, the two of them finally separating from the tiny piece in the center to make room for others. Remus' tongue felt swollen, unable to articulate anything, his brain filled with too many questions and none at all. A writer by trade and suddenly he couldn't find a single word to express to Sirius how going to his art show might've been a big fucking mistake.
"I saw you and Marls come in about an hour ago but couldn't get over here," Sirius told him, "Everyone wants to talk to me at these things,"
"For good reason. Most...small town artists really aren't..."
Sirius laughed, "There's that New York attitude I was waiting for."
"I'm complimenting you! I...just...I'm a little confused why you're this good and out here making work?"
"And where should I be?"
"Not in the middle of fucking nowhere. I grew up here and wanted to get out as soon as possible. Get to a city to make my work. I...just don't get it I suppose." Remus told him honestly, "I'm not trying to be rude this time, I just...think you're really good." he repeated for the millionth time wishing he had another adjective in his arsenal other than good.
"Three times, wow," Sirius grinned, and then gestured across the crowd to a tall woman with a long brown ponytail, "See that woman over there? Tall? Her name is Hestia Jones, she's an art collector from New York and comes to my shows every year. Buys a shit ton and puts it in her gallery."
"Jones and Podmore?"
"Yeah." Sirius nodded.
"Shit."
"So...why do I need to be there?"
"I guess I'm just thinking of a bigger picture. Don't you see it?"
"Yeah, be so good they can't ignore me and they have to drag their ass here."
"Don't you want something more for yourself?" But Sirius didn't answer, only gave him a smile, and put his hand on his shoulder.
The same electric shock he felt from the handshake when he had dared to start a conversation. Remus looked at the hand and then back to Sirius' eyes.
He watched as Sirius' lips parted slowly, his tongue poking out to wet lips before speaking again, "How about instead of giving me the third degree, I introduce you to some people. You know, so when you're alone at a coffee shop and missing me--"
"I didn't miss you, I thought you were a figment of my imagination."
"My brother then. He doesn't go to that shop and he's visiting, sort of. One more person to know in this place doesn't hurt."
"Three is a crowd," and Sirius laughed, gesturing for Remus to follow him towards the front of the gallery. Remus looked around briefly, seeing Marlene in conversation with a boy with ginger hair, and another girl, both of them appearing to be about their age. When did the Upper Peninsula become a landing ground for 20 and 30 somethings and not just a retirement village? Remus remembered growing up surrounded by the same group of 10 kids, with generations of parents and grandparents who had businesses in the town and never left.
But he knew the mind played tricks; his memory was an unreliable narrator, because no matter how many times Benjy left him fending for himself at parties, he always forgot by the time the next one rolled around.
Because his mind preferred to remember the moments at parties where Benjy would grab his hand and kiss his knuckles.
Or the moments they snuck away together into bathrooms.
Or when at the end of the nights that didn't end in an argument they would take a cab home and Remus would put his head on Benjy's shoulder and suddenly the forced small talk and conversations that left Remus' anxiety at an all time high didn't matter.
Remus also didn't remember art galleries in the Upper Peninsula. And until Sirius began introducing Remus to his brother (and subsequently a few more of his local friends and artists who were in the show, explaining he was the novelist Remus Lupin), he couldn't remember what it felt like to be a person in a room that someone wanted to talk with the entire night.
Remus parked the car in front of his house, getting out to open the door for Marlene who was a blissful sort of drunk, her heels in her hand. She hadn't stopped talking the entire car ride home and Remus found himself unable to stop laughing.
"Carry me, New York," she said affectionately, stretching out her arms in his direction, "I won't ever make it to my house in those things." Remus couldn't help but laugh at the request, though it wasn't the most ridiculous thing she said that evening, "I'm not putting my feet in the snow, don't be a dick and just do it."
"I'm going, I'm going, give me a second. God, bossy," Remus said, but he was still grinning as he hoisted Marlene out of the car and over his shoulder, thankful for his height and the short distance to her front door.
"You have a nice face, you know that?"
"You're drunk."
"I'm not denying that, but what's that got to do with your face?"
"You're flirting with me."
"Flirting would be commenting on your butt," she said, reaching a hand down and smacking Remus on the bottom just before Remus could put her down on her welcome mat.
"I'd never thought I'd have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself."
"Mmm, that was poor judgment on your part. I'm not exactly known for behaving," she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the alcohol, "I'll apologize in the morning for smacking your butt though."
"It's alright."
"Good because I wouldn't mean it. It's firm--"
"Dear god,"
"Like mutton."
"Okay, good night Marlene."
"Good night, good night," she said and grabbed the door handle after fiddling with her keys for a few moments, Remus pausing to make sure she could actually get the door open.
"Hey."
"Hey!"
"I actually had a good time tonight...and I don't do parties. So...thanks for not ditching me."
"If I ever meet this ex-husband of yours, he's getting a whole fist down his throat..." and Remus laughed again, deciding he would love to see this in action, Remus not having any doubts that Marlene would do it. She blew him a kiss before closing the door entirely and Remus took the stairs quickly, wanting to get inside the warmth of his house, events of the night swirling in his head in shades of blue and teal and cerulean.
Loud laughter.
Banter without volume control between Marlene and Sirius' brother, Regulus.
Marlene's arm hooked in his when Sirius was pulled away by someone important, or someone who wanted to comment on his work.
Black curls.
Just looking
Grey eyes.
Looking back
Porcelain waves on white pedestals.
A hand that accidentally touched the small of his back.
Another hand that didn't touch it accidentally at all.
Heart pounding in his chest.
The you okay? mouthed from across the room when Marlene left to go to the bathroom and Sirius was in the middle of a conversation.
The last people to leave and Remus hadn't asked to leave any earlier. He hadn't wanted to. He pulled out his phone as he settled into his bed.
Thanks for inviting me to the show.
This is Remus, by the way.
Lupin.
A number that had been put into Remus' phone before he left.
The novelist?
The very same.
I'm really glad you came.
I considered not.
What was the deciding factor?
Marlene agreed to come with me.
I won't pretend I wasn't hoping the answer was me.
Remus stared at the text. This was more than looking. This was texting.
This was getting into flirting even. Which they had been all night, and it was entirely Sirius' fault. And Marlene's who wasn't known for behaving at all, turning everything someone said into an innuendo, her favorite hobby making Regulus turn maroon over how vulgar she could be. It made Remus laugh though. It made Sirius laugh louder.
Remus also didn't know if he remembered how to flirt, but his mouth and his body were betraying his mind.
It was nice of you to think of me. That was the first factor.
That was what Remus settled on. Harmless.
Simple.
Not flirting.
Not that he could remember anyway.
... ...
I think of you all the time.
When I was gone from Rosemertas? I thought of you. I missed you too.
Oh.
