Orbiting

With a barely audible sigh, Remus pushed open the heavy door to the clinic. The familiar scent of antiseptic washed over him mingled with a soft hint of floral notes from the potpourri on the counter. It was only his second time here, but it felt like he had stepped into a never-ending cycle.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands ticking steadily towards his appointment time. Five minutes early, as usual. It was just part of who he was - always punctual, even when it meant facing another round of pain, pills, and appointments. His leg had been bothering him for days now, but he could manage. It was the monotony and helplessness of it all that truly weighed on him.

As Pomfrey appeared, her graying curls bounced with each step, filling the room with calm energy. The sound of her voice, professional yet kind, filled the air as she greeted Remus.

“Ah, there ya are! Bang on time. Come on, then.”

Remus trailed behind her into the examination room, his heart racing with nervous anticipation. “Right, up ya get,” she said, motioning to the exam table. He carefully sat, trying not to aggravate his limp or give away his discomfort. The sterile white walls mixed with the fluorescent lights made Remus’ eyes hurt. He fidgeted with his fingers, unable to shake off the anxiety that coiled in his stomach.

“How’s the leg been treating ya since our last visit?” Doctor Pomfrey asked, her eyes scanning his face with that calm, professional concern that made him feel like she saw straight through him.

“It’s… it’s been alright,” Remus said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve been managing fine.” He made sure to keep his tone light, though his words felt hollow. He had been managing, yes—just not in the way he’d like. He didn’t mention the extra pills, the days when the pain had gotten unbearable, or the moments he’d spent lying in bed, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Pomfrey's expression remained skeptical, her raised eyebrow conveying her doubt. She hesitated as if she wanted to press further but held back. "I'm relieved to hear ya say that yer managing," she said slowly. "But pain can be a fickle thing. It doesn't always manifest in obvious ways." She leaned forward, studying Remus intently. "How has it been when yer walking around campus or going about daily activities?"

Remus squirmed on the exam table, his muscles tense. He had been diligently monitoring his activity for the past few days, wary of pushing himself too hard and risking another flare-up. But even with his careful precautions, there were still moments when a sharp twinge would shoot through his body, a reminder that he was in fact not okay.

"It's bearable," he forced a smile, trying to downplay it. "Just some soreness here and there." The phrasing was an oversimplification – the pain sometimes felt like molten lava coursing through his veins – but he wasn’t about to admit that.

Pomfrey nodded, writing something down in her notes before walking over to where he sat. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” She gestured for him to remove his trousers, and he complied, hiding a grimace as she touched his leg gently. Her experienced fingers probed around the area where the injury had been worst, and she hummed thoughtfully.

“Hm. Swelling’s gone down nicely, and the scarring’s healing well,” she said, stepping back to look at him. “How about the pain itself? Any tightness or numbness you’ve noticed lately?”

Remus bit his lip, pushing aside the thought that he had been experiencing some numbness, especially when he first woke up. “Not really,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Just the usual aches. Nothing abnormal. The cream you gave me last visit has helped with the tightness.”

Pomfrey peered at him, her lips pursing in skepticism. But she didn't push the issue. "Right, yer welcome to get dressed now, dear," she tapped a pen against her clipboard and Remus tugged his trousers back into place. "Yer recovery is progressin’ nicely. However, we still need to work on rebuilding the muscles and nerves in yer leg. Have ya considered incorporating swimming into yer rehabilitation?"

“Swimming?” Remus echoed, frowning slightly. “I’m not exactly built for that,” he muttered, self-consciously thinking of the last time he’d worn swim trunks—before everything had gone to hell. He wasn’t keen on the idea of exposing himself like that, not with his scars.

Pomfrey smiled reassuringly. “Swimming is one of the best low-impact exercises you can do. It’ll help ya regain strength without putting too much pressure on yer leg. Plus, the water offers resistance, which is perfect for building muscle. It’s also great for the nerve recovery process—it’ll encourage blood flow to the area and hopefully improve yer mobility. The university has a wonderful facility.”

“I don’t know… I’m not much of a swimmer,” Remus replied, scratching the back of his neck. He was suddenly very aware of his discomfort, trying to imagine himself in a pool, his body exposed and vulnerable. But she was right—it was worth considering. And the idea of doing something that wasn’t just sitting still, popping painkillers, or limping around sounded appealing. He pondered the words, mulling them over in his mind until they found a spot to settle. A moment passed before he spoke again, the weight of his decision evident in his voice. "I'll...give it a try," he finally said, the words coming out slowly and thoughtfully as if testing their weight in the air.

"Good lad," Pomfrey said, returning to her notes to write something down. “You can start slow—twenty minutes a day. And, if at any point you feel like your leg’s responding well, increase the time. We can check back in a few weeks to see how yer gettin’ on.”

Remus nodded, swallowing the words of protest on his tongue. “Thanks,” he said making his way to the exit.

“And love—” She gave him a knowing look.

He looked back, mid-way to the door.

“I know when someone’s playing down their pain,” she said, voice softer now, less clinical. “Honesty will only help me to treat ya. None of this ‘managing fine’ nonsense.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded once. “Got it.”

“Good. Now off ya go, and no skiving off the swimming,” she called as he stepped towards the door.

—-

As Remus pushed open the double doors, he was greeted with the unmistakable smell of chlorine. The high ceilings were adorned with bright lights that reflected off the shimmering blue water below. The constant hum of voices and splashing bounced off the tile walls, filling his ears as he made his way inside. He nervously clutched his swimming trunks as he made his way further inside.

He had come straight from his shift at the library, hoping to get this over with quickly. But now, he was rethinking Pomfrey’s advice. The pool was busier than he’d hoped—students dotted the lanes, some swimming laps with easy, practiced strokes, while others chatting near the shallow end. The sight of it all made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Maybe this was a mistake.

He turned toward the changing rooms, keeping his head down as he pushed through the locker room door. The air was thick with the scent of damp towels and faint traces of deodorant. A few students were still milling about—some standing in front of their lockers, toweling off, others pulling on dry clothes while chatting about assignments and weekend plans.

Remus made his way to the farthest corner, choosing a locker tucked away from the others. He fiddled with the lock for a moment before finally pulling it open, then sat on the bench, dragging out the process of changing. His heart pounded against his ribs as he listened to the sounds around him, waiting.

An hour passed.

One by one, the voices faded, the sound of footsteps echoing towards the exit. The click of the door swinging shut signaled the last person leaving, and silence settled over the room.

Remus exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how tightly wound he had been.

Moving quickly now, before anyone else could walk in, he stripped off his clothes and pulled on his swim shorts. The sight of himself in the mirror made him pause. His skin was a patchwork of scars—some older, faded with time, others newer, still healing. The jagged ones along his leg stood out the most. He ran a hand over them absentmindedly, swallowing the lump in his throat, before turning away.

It didn’t matter. No one was here to see.

Grabbing a towel, he stepped out into the pool area, the air cool against his bare skin. The water was still now, empty lanes stretching out before him. He let out a slow breath.

At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about eyes on him.

Padding to the edge of the pool, he dipped a toe in—cold. He ambled to the ground next to the pool before sliding in, the water swallowing him up to his waist. Goosebumps formed on his skin, but he ignored it, pushing forward until he was deep enough to float.

The weight of his body lifted. His leg, always heavy, always aching, felt lighter. Supported. Almost normal.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift for a moment, water lapping gently around him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The silence of the pool was interrupted by the soft click of the door, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching. Remus was ripped from the comforting weightlessness of the water. His mind already reeling about how he would escape unnoticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of a slender figure.

He scrubbed his eyes trying to rid them of the chlorine.

Reggie.

He stood near the side of the pool in his swim trunks, holding onto a towel, which he wrapped tightly around his torso.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Reggie muttered, sounding almost guilty.

Remus stood where he was in the pool, leg still concealed by the water. "I could say the same to you."

There was a pause, as Reggie hesitated by the edge. He shifted, tugging the towel tighter around his shoulders like it could protect him from Remus' gaze, and then looked away.

“Normally no one is here this late,” Reggie said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. “Usually have the place to myself."

Remus' brows furrowed, sensing there was more to the story. He had been exactly the same way—looking for a moment where no one else could judge him, or notice him, or see his scars. The realization hit him with a jolt, and suddenly the weight of the awkwardness between them made more sense.

"I could turn around if you still want to get in," Remus said before he could stop himself. It’s not like he knew for sure but he felt this strange connection deep within himself.

Reggie stiffened but didn’t say anything at first. He pulled the towel tighter around his body, his jaw setting. "What—Why would I need you to turn around?"

Remus let the quiet stretch between them not sure whether he should say it out loud. There were plenty of reasons Reggie might come here at a time he knew no one else would. But the look in Reggie’s eyes and the way he refused to let his towel drop, Remus knew.

“Somethings…” he paused trying to select his words carefully. “Somethings are just easier without people’s eyes on you. No fear of how they might…react—what they might think.”

Reggie's eyes snapped to meet Remus', understanding passing between them. The tension in Reggie's shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, but his grip on the towel remained firm.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me your’s.” Reggie’s voice was so small, so innocent he almost sounded like a child.

“Okay,” Remus breathed.

The word hung between them, heavy with promise and vulnerability. Remus' heart raced, his chest tightening with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. He took a deep breath and made his way to the pool's edge.

Slowly, deliberately, Remus raised himself out of the water, revealing the tapestry of scars that adorned his leg. The raised pink lines crisscrossed his skin, telling a story of pain that he kept hidden from everyone else. Slowly, he turned in a circle to reveal the older, healed marks scattered across his back from his childhood. He stood there, exposed, water dripping from his body as he waited for Reggie's reaction.

Reggie's eyes widened, tracing the patterns on Remus' skin. His grip on the towel loosened slightly, and Remus could see the internal struggle playing out across his face. Then, with trembling hands, Reggie let the towel fall to the ground.

The bright light of the room illuminated his body, revealing a constellation of scars across his torso and upper arms. Some were thin and faded, hardly visible against his pale skin, their silvery traces barely discernible as they blended into the surrounding flesh. Others were more recent, raised and pink, jagged lines that stood out sharply against his skin, reminiscent of Remus’ own. Some were thicker, more severe, with edges uneven and torn, like skin that had been ripped open.

There were others, too, that were perfectly round—circular marks that looked almost like burns, their edges slightly raised and discolored, as if the wound had seared into the flesh and left a permanent imprint. But the ones on his bicep were the most striking—thin, incredibly straight lines, almost surgical in their precision like someone had deliberately carved into the muscle with a steady hand. They were so clean, so purposeful, that Remus couldn’t help but wonder about the pain behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the pool's edge, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the beating of their hearts. Remus felt a surge of emotion well up within him—not pity, but a profound sense of understanding and connection.

Reggie's eyes met Remus', vulnerability and defiance warring in his gaze. "Now you know.”

Remus nodded slowly, taking a step closer to Reggie. "Now we don’t have to be alone.”

“Thank you.” Reggie's eyes flooded with relief, lips curving up a bit at the corners. “Still fancy a swim?”

“Of course, doctor’s orders and all.” Remus replied feeling like something monumental just occurred.

They both stepped towards the pool's edge before sliding in. The water rippled as they entered, creating gentle waves.

For a moment, they simply floated there, the silence between them no longer awkward but companionable. The chlorine-scented air hung around them, mixing with the weight of their shared secrets.

Remus watched as Reggie's body relaxed in the water, his scars now hidden beneath the surface. There was something almost poetic about it, Remus thought, how the pool could offer such a perfect metaphor for their lives - the constant struggle to keep their heads above water, to hide the parts of themselves that the world might find unsightly or uncomfortable.

They spent nearly forty-five minutes in the pool, their skin becoming completely pruny before they finally decided to call it a night.

After they changed and started toward the exit Reggie spoke up. "I've never shown anyone before," he admitted, his voice low and contemplative. "It's... strange. But not in a bad way…Anyway, same time tomorrow?"

“I’ll be here.” Remus agreed, offering a smile.