Surrey, May 4, 2020
Fear and panic in the air
I want to be free
From desolation and despair
And I feel like everything I sow
Is being swept away
Well, I refuse to let you go
I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over?
Birmingham had been tough to get through. He hadn't messed up the songs too much, but he hadn't been his usual self either, and for the first time ever, he hadn't actually wanted to go on stage. Fabian had demanded to know what was going on, but he had managed to hold him off, for now. Though not without the help of James once more, bless his heart.
Now, he was dragging himself and his travel bag from his car to his front door, ready to forget the whole evening. The others had stayed at a hotel near the venue since they hadn't finished the show until well past eleven o'clock, and they wanted to go out for drinks with the lads from their local support band. But he had opted to take the long drive home instead. He wasn't in the mood for socialising, and he didn't trust his frayed nerves to say no to the stuff that was bound to be offered—not with the itch that had haunted him since he got out of bed, the yearning stronger today than it had been in a good while. Of course, after the Munich incident, James had declared, in no uncertain terms, that if anyone—band or crew—brought in anything stronger than weed, they'd be out faster than a fucking Infant Annihilator beat, but he didn't have eyes everywhere, and it wasn't worth undoing all his hard work over this. Besides, he missed Snuffles. Soon, he would be off for Europe and wouldn't see him for several months. He always felt guilty about leaving him for so long, even though he was in good hands.
As he neared the door, he could hear the dog running up and barking loudly. He cursed and hurried to unlock the door, bracing himself for the attack. Snuffles yipped happily and jumped full-bodied into his arms. Quite an impressive feat considering the Newfoundland mix weighed close to twelve stone. He managed to keep standing and shushed the massive beast as it started licking his face. "Be quiet you big brute, we don't want to wake the whole neighbourhood, do we?" he whispered, but kissed Snuffles anyway and ruffled his big flappy ears.
The lights in the hall came on and a tired-looking girl with purple hair came around the corner, wrapping a fluffy robe around herself. "Wotcher—you're home already?" she asked and rubbed her eyes.
"Yes, sorry for waking you, but I missed this little mutt and decided to drive home," he said, scratching the dog's shaggy head. "Has he been behaving?"
"Yes. This behaviour only comes out when you're home." Dora tried to wink but was interrupted by a yawn. "How did the gig go?"
"Don't ask," Sirius rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek on his way to the kitchen, Snuffles on his heels.
She followed him. "That bad, eh?"
"Let's just say it's been a rough couple of days." He sighed, opening the fridge to see if there was anything worth eating. There wasn't. He hadn't been hungry anyway. He tossed Snuffles a treat from the cupboard instead.
"Alright, suit yourself, but you know I'm a good listener," she said, raising a coloured eyebrow in challenge.
"I know, cousin, but I think I'm just knackered." He smiled at her. "You should go back to bed."
"Sure you don't want me to go home?"
"Don't be ridiculous, luv. It's the middle of the night."
"Okay, sleep tight. You look like you need it," she teased, sticking out her tongue before dashing out of his reach, down the hall to the guest room.
Sirius shook his head, slung his bag over his shoulder, and climbed the stairs to his own bedroom with Snuffles in close pursuit. "Alright, old chap, you may sleep with me tonight, but then it's back to your own room tomorrow," he told the dog and patted its head.
Snuffles, however, did not seem to have sleep as a priority right now. He kept darting between Sirius's legs as he unpacked his bag and brushed his teeth. Sirius snapped his fingers and pointed to the bed, and though Snuffles obeyed and laid down, he was up again ten seconds later, chasing his tail in excitement over having his master back home. Sirius cursed as he almost tripped over the dog. "I swear, it's like I have ten dogs sometimes…."
The dog's frantic scurrying was a perfect reflection of all the knots and butterflies that had filled his stomach for the past couple of days. He couldn't seem to settle down either, and as he undressed, he thought of how it had felt to have Remus undress him, to touch him, and to look at him. To see him. Not with the gaze of a hungry fan or a nosy pap or a disapproving parent. Just honest, unassuming, unadulterated interest. In him. As you are, as James had put it. Exhilarating and terrifying in equal measures.
He had spent the last year and a half carefully reconstructing his life and had finally begun to feel on top of things again. Not exactly to the point where he wanted to be, but he had been heading there. Now, he felt himself spiralling. As if Remus had lifted the rug he had so meticulously been sweeping everything under, exposing his weaknesses and secrets. He was afraid. Afraid of getting caught up if he decided to follow his desires, but also of never experiencing this thrill again if he let it slip from his fingers now. Pursuing this could end up biting him in the arse; in fact, it was almost a guarantee.
But could he stay away?
He had denied himself for so long that he wasn't sure he had the willpower anymore. And his body seemed to agree—just thinking of Remus sent his blood south—but he ignored it and pulled on some pyjama bottoms and an old Zeppelin t-shirt. He fished out his well-worn notebook from his bag, grabbed a blanket and pillow from the bed, and carried it down the hall, Snuffles running ahead, already knowing where they were going.
It had become a habit of his, sleeping on the sofa in his studio. He had tried sleeping in the bedroom when he first moved into the house, but it just never felt right. Too big or something. The bed too comfortable, sheets too clean. Perhaps the years on the road, sleeping on bus seats, backstage benches, or cheap hotel beds had ruined him for all nice beds. Regardless, he always lay tossing and turning for hours before throwing in the towel and getting up to play some music in the studio, more often than not ending in falling asleep on the sofa, guitar still in his lap (Christ, he was such a walking parody. James must never know). After a few months of this trekking back and forth between the studio and the bedroom, he'd accepted the inevitable and skipped the bedroom all together.
So now, he made himself comfortable on the sofa, putting his feet up, draping the blanket over his legs, and arranging the pillow between his back and the armrest. He picked up his acoustic from its stand next to the sofa and propped his notebook open on his knee, a fresh page waiting for his inspiration to strike. Snuffles meandered about the room, sniffing various equipment and knocking his big tail into anything in his way.
Sirius ignored him, and in the low light of a single floor lamp, set about dealing with his mess of thoughts the only way he knew how. He played around with some chords, letting his fingers go wherever they wanted, closing his eyes and just letting the notes fill his brain. After a while, it turned into a sort of climbing, circular melody, and he was surprised when the words started coming to him, considering the creative constipation he had suffered lately. He paused occasionally to jot them down before he lost them:
I have to
Kill my dogs, my ten wild dogs of desire
I've lost my guts, my selfish mutts can see
Kill my dogs, my dancing ten wild dogs of desire
I've lost the leash, and now they're after me
Let the beasts have a feast, let the hounds be released
It's too late to repent, left with nothing in the end, alone
Snuffles finally settled down on the thick Persian rug in front of the sofa and looked up at his master with big, soulful eyes. Sirius petted his head and turned off the light, still resolutely ignoring his body's signals. The best he could do was try and forget he had ever met Remus Lupin.
London, May 8, 2020
It had been six days. Six whole days since Remus's life had been turned upside down. It wasn't reasonable or even logical for a single evening to have such a profound effect on him, but here he was. His mind had been constantly filled with thoughts of the guitarist, making it quite difficult to concentrate at work, and more than once his students had needed to correct stuff he had written on the blackboard.
For the first couple of days, he contented himself with the explanation that Sirius was a busy man and that it was normal to wait a few days before contacting someone after you'd had a date. Especially when said 'date' was really more of an encounter. But as the days wore on, his old insecurities started to rear up again, making him restless and fidgety. Did Sirius regret what they did? Had he been disgusted by his scars after all? Or had he not even spared him a single thought since? Men and women were probably throwing themselves at him left and right—was Remus just another in a long line of meaningless one-night stands? If so, Sirius was a damn good actor, because Remus could have sworn they had a connection.
It didn't help his mood that he had spent the last three nights hosting Parent-Teacher meetings, forced to listen to various versions of 'oh, my kid is not misbehaving, they're just misunderstood', as if the issue wasn't a glaring lack of boundaries. So by the time the weekend rolled around, he was an irritable, snappy mess and spent more and more time alone in his room. Lily bore the brunt of it since his petty side secretly blamed her for convincing him to go to Sirius's hotel in the first place. He had known that he would end up getting his heart broken, but she had convinced him to go anyway. He wasn't proud of his petty side, and deep down, he knew it wasn't fair to blame her, but right now he just needed an outlet for his frustration. Lily was being surprisingly nice about it though. She knew him so well that she saw right through the crankiness to the hurt underneath. Which only annoyed him more of course. Why couldn't she yell at him or something—just a little? Maybe that would kick his arse into gear.
A knock on his bedroom door shook him from his reverie.
He sighed and put down his book, which he hadn't been reading anyway. "Come in."
"Hi, Remus." Marlene entered on tiptoes, her shoulders hunched as if she were afraid of disturbing him. "I brought some tea if you'd like?" She held out one of the two mugs she was carrying.
He mustered a small smile for her, even as his stomach twisted. Had he really made it necessary to tread so lightly around him? This wasn't Marlene's fault. Or Lily's. This moping around had to stop—it wasn't healthy. Some company would actually be nice, especially when it smelled like she'd prepared his favourite herbal blend. "Thanks Marlene, that's so sweet of you."
"How are you doing?" Marlene asked, sitting gingerly down on the foot of his unmade bed. "I can't help but notice that you been a bit… off… lately. Does it have anything to do with a certain darkly handsome guitarist?" she ventured.
Remus sighed and tasted his tea before replying. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I know I've been grumpy. I promise I'll try harder from now on."
"Oh, never mind that. I just wanna know if you're okay?" she said, putting a hand on his knee.
Remus let his head fall back against the wall behind him. "It's just… he said he would call…."
"Oh sweetie, that's rough," she scooted up to sit next to him and gave him a one-armed squeeze. "But you know… it's only been a week, and rock stars are busy people. I'm sure he'll ring soon, and if he doesn't… well, that's his loss."
"Yeah, I know. I don't think I was honestly expecting anything, but I had sort of got my hopes up a bit anyway." He shrugged.
"And no one can blame you for that! But listen. Sirius Black is…. He has a bit of a reputation, so I don't think it's got anything to do with you," she said.
"What… what sort of reputation?" Remus asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Well, he's just the typical rock star, isn't he? Lots of different girls, one-night stands, short affairs…. I don't think he's ever been in a relationship for more than a few months."
"But… okay, let's say there's a reason for that. What if it's all just a smokescreen?" Remus countered. He didn't know why he was defending the man who had cost him so many hours of agonising this past week. It could just as easily be commitment issues or, well, rock star behaviour. Which wasn't mutually exclusive, of course. Was it just wishful thinking when he thought he had seen something else in Sirius's eyes? A longing for a connection?
"Hmm, I hadn't thought about it like that, actually…." Marlene narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you're right, but if so, is that really something you wanna get involved with? Isn't that one of your rules? To not date anyone in the closet, I mean?"
She had a point there. He had been burnt a few too many times, falling for someone who would never acknowledge their relationship. His scars were a constant reminder of that fact. Though apparently not so strong that they had kept him from sticking his fingers in the fire again several times over. As recently as two years ago, in fact. Maybe he had a type, just maybe, and while he wouldn't dream of pressuring anybody, it still hurt like a motherfucker to keep finding himself as someone's dirty secret. So, after that last one, he had sworn never to get involved in anything like that ever again. But just thinking of Sirius was challenging that conviction. Maybe it could be different?
"I don't know, maybe he just needs to find the right person and—"
"Stop. Just stop. Are you even listening to yourself right now? Honestly, you call yourself a counsellor?"
"Mentor. It's not the sa—" He stopped himself when she gave him a look. Fuck. She was right. "Ugh, why is it so much easier when it's someone else's problem…? Of course I know it's not about that…. It's not that simple. And being famous doesn't exactly make it easier, I know that. But, you know, it's not like I'm ever gonna see him again, so can't I just be allowed to live in my little fantasy…?"
"Don't go down that road. Trust me. It won't end well," Marlene said, unimpressed.
"Weren't you the one so eager to get into his trousers that night?" Remus shot back, still a bit miffed that she had caught him out like this.
"Yes, but I can do NSA, you can't," she said and gave him a friendly shove on the shoulder when she saw his offended expression. "And when it comes down to it, I don't think that's such a bad thing."
"Perhaps not…." He picked some lint from his pillow, the irritation leaving his body as something much more unsettling crept back in.
"But there's something else, isn't there?" Marlene said, voice softer now.
He sighed. "I… I trusted him."
"How do you mean?"
"You know I'm self-conscious about my… scars…."
"Yes?"
"And I asked him if I could keep my shirt on, but he convinced me it would be alright to take it off, and… well, he didn't seem disgusted, but now I can't help but wonder if that was just an act to get me to…." He sniffed. A lone tear escaped his eye, but he wiped it off with his sleeve before it could run down his cheek.
"Did it feel like an act?"
"No, I mean… he seemed sincere, and he said it was alright. He even… he kissed all of them and…" he trailed off, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't like sharing such intimate details. But thankfully, Marlene just beamed at him instead of squealing like she would have done if he had told her this detail a week ago.
"Then I think you should trust your instincts. Whatever happens from here, I don't think your scars play any role in it whatsoever."
What had he done to deserve such good friends?
Glasgow, May 8, 2020
I need a face right now
That looks like I care
I need a face right now
Something nice to wear
Creating lovely masks to hide
That I'm dead inside
If Birmingham had been tough, it had only gone downhill from there. After a day of doing press, The Marauders continued the tour with back-to-back shows in Liverpool and Manchester. They had all got hammered afterwards, and he might have snogged some fangirl in his desperation to forget about Remus, but the whole night was a bit fuzzy round the edges. The thought made him kinda sick—he really needed to stop doing that. It wasn't fair to the girl, and it wasn't fooling anyone—not even himself anymore. At least he hadn't been tempted with anything illegal and he'd woken up alone, unless you counted his massive hangover. He slept the whole way to Glasgow and put on his sunglasses before stepping off the bus and into the throng of flashing cameras in front of the theatre where they were attending a charity event. He plastered a well-rehearsed smile on his face and gave the journalists what they wanted but let James do the talking as much as possible. Instead, he fidgeted with the note containing Remus's number in his pocket. It was getting frayed, almost unreadable, and he could recite the number from memory by now, yet couldn't seem to part with the piece of paper. He tried his best to ignore all thoughts about the man—but it was like an itch he mustn't scratch. No amount of work, writing, drinking, or wanking had been able to diminish his preoccupation, and it was getting bloody exhausting.
When he checked into the hotel room that night, he decided that the only hope of getting Remus out of his system was to see him again. Perhaps it would turn out that he wasn't as attractive in the light of day or that he had some super annoying habits. Or maybe he didn't even want to see Sirius again. Either way, Sirius could forget him and move on with his life.
So why was he developing a nervous sweat when he took out his mobile to compose a message? And why did his writing skills fail him now? After typing and deleting what felt like a hundred drafts, he gave up, tossed the blasted thing into his suitcase, and went to bed. They were playing The Hydro tomorrow, and he needed to be well rested if there was to be any hope of improving his performance from the last three shows.
Lyric credits:
Muse - Map of the Problematique
Týr - Ten Wild Dogs
Alligatoah - I need a face (Also where I stole my username haha)
