Orbiting

The quiet hum of the university library wrapped around Remus like a familiar blanket. The rustle of pages and the occasional shuffle of feet were the only sounds breaking the silence. He sat behind the front desk, methodically checking in a stack of returned books before beginning to reshelve them. But his mind was elsewhere, caught in a storm of thoughts that had been brewing all day.

Remus hadn’t expected to find a job that suited him so well. The library’s solitude, the low murmur of voices, the sheer normality of it all—it brought a sense of order, a small reprieve. But tonight wouldn’t be just another quiet evening. He had promised to meet Grant, and the thought of it sent a knot tightening in his chest. He knew the conversation was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Grant had been a lifeline since they met the summer after Remus turned fourteen. Though most of their friendship existed over the phone, Grant’s presence was unwavering. Understanding, patient, and effortlessly comforting. But Remus couldn’t keep burying what had happened over the summer. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

The words his father had thrown at him still echoed in his mind—cutting, familiar, shaping the way Remus had learned to shrink and hide. The beating had hurt, but the words had been worse. Unnatural. Pathetic. Disgusting. They had been hammered into him for years, each syllable carving deeper wounds than the hits ever could.

He tried to focus on schoolwork before heading to the dorm, but the words on the page blurred, his mind too full of what-ifs. Eventually, he gave up and made his way back, the cool evening air doing little to settle his nerves. When he reached the entrance, his breath caught. Grant was waiting, hands in his pockets, expression relaxed but expectant. A comfort, even from a distance.

"Hiya," Grant greeted, but his voice shifted the moment he took in Remus’ hesitant stance, the cane, the way he wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Before Grant could say more, Remus stepped forward and collapsed into his arms. The breath left him in a shudder, his face pressing into Grant’s chest. Instinctively, Grant held him, no questions asked. Remus clung to him, the solidness of his presence anchoring him in place.

"Let’s go inside," Remus murmured hoarsely, pulling back just enough to meet Grant’s eyes. Grant nodded and followed him in.

James wasn’t in the dorm, a small mercy. Remus shut the door and turned to face Grant, who simply waited, patient as ever.

"I… I’m sorry," Remus whispered. "I don’t know how to explain."

Grant didn’t push. He only reached out, pulling Remus to sit beside him on the bed, rubbing slow circles on his back. "You don’t have to say it all at once. Whenever you’re ready."

Remus swallowed hard. The walls inside him were crumbling. He had to say it.

"When you left after your visit… my dad saw us. He saw me kiss you goodbye. And when I got home… he was waiting. He—" Remus’ breath hitched. "He beat me, Grant. With his belt. At first, it was like when I was a kid. But then… he turned it around and used the buckle. I was wearing short trousers. It cut open my skin. He didn’t stop, not even when I collapsed. There was blood everywhere, and he just kept going. And when he was done, he spat on me. Told me to clean it up. Then he told me to get out."

The words hung between them, raw and suffocating. Grant’s face paled, his hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing—he just listened, letting Remus finally speak the truth he had been carrying alone.

Remus collapsed back onto the bed, curling into himself as the tears came, unstoppable. He hadn’t let himself cry in weeks, but now, everything broke at once. Grant moved swiftly, lying beside him, arms wrapping around him, holding him through it.

“It’s okay. Let it out, Remus. I’m here. I’m right here with you.” Grant’s hand gently stroked Remus’s hair, his voice soft and soothing. “You are so good, Remus. So wonderful. I need you to believe me when I say—nothing that bastard said to you is true. I know who you are, and you’ve never been any of the things he accused you of.”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” Remus said, his voice breaking. “I just dragged myself out. I didn’t have a plan, and I couldn’t even manage to get myself to a hospital that night. I ended up in the park—just sat there till morning. The first night, I slept on a bench. Or—tried to. Every time I started drifting off, I’d wake up, heart hammering, because every sound made me think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. The next day, I made it to the clinic, and they patched me up and sent me on my way. Had to go back later—that’s when I got the cane.” The tears were still streaming, but the floodgates had opened, and Remus couldn’t stop. “I managed the best I could with the money I was able to grab before I left. At night, I’d use the sink in the park’s restroom to wash up. Couldn’t do much, but it made me feel a bit more human. Then, a week before coming back here, I got jumped.” He let out a scoff, snot dripping from his nose. “Didn’t even see the bloke coming. I tried to fight back, but I was exhausted. The arse took all the money I had left. Had to beg on the street to get enough for the train.”

Grant made a small, choked sound, clearly trying to hold it together for Remus’s sake.

“And I wanted to call you, I did. I just… I was so pathetic and I… I couldn’t—”

The sobs that tore from Remus’s chest were raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of cries that felt like they came from a place too deep to name. He clung to Grant, unable to stop the pain from pouring out of him. The sound of his own anguish felt like it would break him into pieces, but Grant held him tighter, letting him cry, letting him grieve.

Eventually, the exhaustion won. The weight of everything, the relief of no longer carrying it alone—it pulled him under. As he drifted into sleep, the last thing he heard was Grant’s quiet, steady voice.

"I’m here. I’ve gotcha. You’re safe."

—

Morning light filtered through the curtains. Remus stirred, feeling the warmth of Grant beside him. A gentle scratching at his scalp, a soothing touch. It almost lulled back to sleep, but then awareness hit him. They weren’t alone.

James.

Remus tensed, the sudden awareness of James’ presence taking the comfort from the room. How would he react? Would he demand to switch rooms? Would he tell everyone about how he had shared his bed with another boy? He hesitated before lifting his head from the pillow. James was sitting at his desk, flipping through a textbook, completely unbothered.

"Morning, Remus," James said casually. "Sleep well?"

Remus swallowed hard, his voice rough. "Yeah. I did."

James grinned. "You two hungry? I was thinking of grabbing food."

Remus glanced at Grant, searching for discomfort, but found only quiet reassurance. Grant’s fingers brushed faintly over his hand, grounding him. The world outside this room was still turning.

Remus hesitated, but the gnawing hunger won. "Yeah," he said. "I could eat."

Grant gave him a nod of approval, his presence easing the anxiety for a moment. He stood from the bed, and Remus followed, glancing back at James, whose grin hadn’t wavered.

“Give us a couple of minutes to get ready, yeah?” Remus asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“Course, mate, no problem. I’ll wait in the common room,” he said, heading for the door.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, staring at the clothes. “I, uh… I’m sorry. I don’t think any of my trousers will fit you. You can borrow one of my jumpers—you’ll probably be drowning in it.”

Grant raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a small smile. “It’s fine, Remus. The jumper will do. Probably should have brought some stuff with me, but I came straight from work. Wanted to get here as soon as I could.”

Remus selected a maroon jumper with a small golden lion patch and handed it to Grant. Then, reality hit—changing in front of him. The thought of exposing his leg, of revealing what lay beneath the fabric, made his chest ache.

He stole a glance at Grant, who was busy fiddling with his borrowed clothes, but Remus still felt the threat of being scrutinized, even though he knew Grant wasn’t like that.

Would it be weird to go to the bathroom? That’s what he usually did when James was around.

His hands tightened around the fabric. Grant, sensing his hesitation, looked up, brow furrowing slightly. He didn’t press, but his quiet awareness was unmistakable.

“Remus…” His tone was light, laced with affection. “I’d like to see your leg if you’re ready. But I get it. No rush.”

Remus froze, heart hammering. Grant was so straightforward, so understanding. And yet, he didn’t know how to navigate this.

The room felt smaller. His instinct was to deny it, to escape. But Grant’s patience, his simple invitation to trust him, cut through his defenses.

Swallowing hard, Remus nodded, his voice tight. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll show you.”

Grant’s expression softened, glinting with relief and something else—adoration, maybe. He stepped forward, but not too close. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said quietly.

Remus couldn’t meet his gaze right away. Instead, he tugged off his shirt, heat rushing to his skin. As he lowered his trousers, the scarred remnants of his leg came into view—red and jagged, still healing in places, a lingering memory of the damage.

Silence.

He could feel Grant’s eyes, but when he finally looked up, he saw no pity. No discomfort. Just softness. Concern. And guilt—quiet but unmistakable.

“Oh, Remus…” Grant’s voice was a whisper, raw with emotion. His gaze flickered downward, as though giving Remus space to breathe. “I… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t there.”

Remus flinched, expecting shock or disgust, but Grant’s hand hovered, waiting, never pushing.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Remus murmured, voice shaky but firm. “It’s just… part of me now.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re not disgusted?”

Grant immediately shook his head. “Not a chance. You are beautiful. Always have been.”

Remus felt tears prick at his eyes.

Grant’s fingers brushed down his arm. “You’re still you. You’re more than what happened to you.”

Remus took a breath, unsteady but lighter. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Anytime.”

Grant pulled him into a gentle hug, his heartbeat steady beneath Remus’s ear.

Once Remus was dressed and had taken his medication, he and Grant slipped out to meet James in the common room.

James practically bounced over. “Alright, gents. How about some breakfast? There’s a diner I’ve been meaning to try.”

Remus hesitated, glancing down at his hands. “I, uh, haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet.”

Grant nudged him. “My treat.”

Remus gave a reluctant but grateful smile. “Thanks, Grant.”

James clapped Remus on the back. “Perfect! Let’s go—I’m starving.”

The diner had a warm energy, and they quickly settled into a booth. The full English breakfasts arrived, heaping with crispy bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, grilled tomatoes, and toast—comfort food at its best. They ate, laughed, and talked about everything and nothing. James seemed to enjoy teasing both of them, but Remus could tell he was genuinely trying to make Grant feel included, which made him grateful.

Over full English breakfasts, conversation flowed easily. James peppered Grant with questions, making sure he felt included, and for the first time in a while, Remus wasn’t thinking about everything weighing on him.

As they finished eating, Grant checked his watch. “I should get going,” he said, pulling Remus into a last hug. “I’ll visit again soon, yeah?”

Remus nodded, heart full. “See you soon.”

Once he heard the bell above the door jingle as Grant made his exit, Remus looked over at James, who was already digging into his last bite of toast. “Thanks for this morning,” he breathed.

James looked up, surprised by the openness in Remus’s voice. “No problem, mate.”

With that, relief settled in Remus’s bones.