Cracked Mirrors | Remus Lupin

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐌

Since this story is reader specified, in chapters 8 to 14, you can choose whoever that comes into your imagination for parts that include and mention a male character. The features are not exactly described and there's no name, but for the sake of this story, Remus was the one who I thought about while writing these seven chapters.
Hopefully in the last chapter, you will figure out the reason.

Tw: self harm, alcohol consumption, depression

Story 1 | Believe In One Thing

"... Maybe it's because I don't believe anything much these days."

That voice was barely audible. Low enough to easily drown in the loud buzzing of music around them. If she hadn't been looking at his ghostly figure through the dim lighting of the place, she couldn't tell if his mouth had moved to say something at all.

But he was there, sitting across from Y/N along with the rest of their group of friends. He was aimlessly fiddling with his drink, moving it back and forth on the table.

Just like every other weekend.

None of these visits used to be arranged or part of a routine, but somewhere in time and space, they had all decided to make it a weekly ritual to stumble into the town's local pub for a little friendly chat and one too many shots that burnt their throats with the promise of a warm escape from the reality of the chaotic world. Even if it was brief. Even if the reverie lasted for a few hours just to be replaced by terrible headaches in the morning.

And she had consented to the idea only because of him.

He, who was the epitome of life at every party. His energy was effortlessly infectious, filling everyone around him with liveliness and carefree laughters. He was that one friend who never ceased to lighten up everyone's mood with his quick wit and unforgettable stories. It was hard to miss the fact that most of the locals frequently visited the pub only to get a glimpse of him while he was settled into his usual seat amongst his other friends. No one would want to see anyone else at their usual table in the far side of the place. His presence was enough to turn the dullest moments into memorable ones.

His laughter. It was a symphony. It brought out the best in everyone.

Now all of it seemed to have turned into a distant memory. He used to be happy. He used to be carefree. He used to be the center of attention.

She couldn't remember when it exactly started, but the change in his behavior was too subtle to catch anyone else's drunken attention. It started slow, growing more prominent each day. He became silent and more reserved, withdrawing himself from conversations that once used to entertain him to no end. His carefree laughters turned to scarce and distant smiles, usually not even reaching his eyes.

Something foreign was crawling within him, slowly suffocating every part of him that once made that boy feel alive.

Then his silence gradually became heavier. Some weeks he was grumpy, edgy, and at some occasions even ready to snap at anyone who directed a simple question at him. Y/N had seen the signs weeks ago, and it made her wonder what was weighing that heavily on her friend's mind that he couldn't even trust her with it. Everytime she approached him, he was quick to put on his mask and shove the question aside by throwing lots of "I'm fine" and "Everything is all right"s at her. He was anything but fine, and knowing him, he didn't want to upset her after everything she herself had gone through.