the one where the American meets the Marauders & the rest is water under the bridge
oc x remus lupin
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The night and I were not on good terms.
The tridents and teeth that were replaced with death and despair now morphed into melancholy memories. Memories I almost, almost, wished I had never made.
"You okay?" Remus would ask every night when the doors had shut and the lights were off. And the explanation was much farther than the lie, so I would nod.
He'd have one hand caressing my cheek as his invading eyes scanned mine with worry and disbelief. And he knew I was lying, and I knew I was lying. But he never pushed it farther.
I almost wished he did.
"You and me," he'd say. "Yeah?"
And I had had enough of forever. So I would just nod.
"I love you," he'd say. "You know that, right?"
And I couldn't manage to string together a feeling. So I would nod again.
And instead of saying anything else, he would kiss my forehead and pull me securely into his chest so that his hand covered the side of my face.
He would hold me so close and with so much love that I could hardly be mad that he didn't push it farther. I could hardly be mad that it only took him three questions to give up. I could hardly be mad that the light in his little glass star had faded, ever so slightly. I could hardly be mad that he didn't feel the small drops that slipped from my face and spread through his shirt.
Until he fell asleep.
He would always fall asleep first, now. And how could I blame him? Each day was exhausting. With a fake smile as a placeholder for a real one. With buzzing roommates who were doing their best to be stand in therapists as well as part time distractions. With job hunting and Order meetings and rising war.
If I could fall asleep first, I would.
If I could escape being awake, I would.
But, I couldn't.
Instead, I was left with melancholy memories.
Like how one night, over winter break, Hope made ice cream sundaes.
She had a knack for them, Remus and Lyall said. It was her little secret and no one could ever top Hope's sundaes.
But the secret had nothing to do with the ice cream.
"Where are you going?" I asked with a curious laugh.
"Oh, I can't be in here," Remus said seriously. "Not when she's pulling out the whipped cream."
"What's wrong with whip-"
But Remus had already kissed my temple, scooped up his and his father's bowls, and wafted out of the kitchen.
