Men never forget their first love
Men never forget their first love.
When the saying first gained traction in the summer of ’23, Remus had scoffed at its utter incredulity. In fact, it wasn’t so much about the saying in itself, it was the number of people who bought into the phrase. Entertainment articles, trending poems, viral videos — it was everywhere; and people actually believed that. The rumours of Justin Bieber calling Selena Gomez right before he stood at the front of the aisle plagued the internet, and girls, he thought, only the insane workings of a girl’s mind could have thought of something that blitheringly stupid.
Remus Lupin must have been no ordinary man, then. It was an undeniable fact, at least to himself, that the last he thought of his Year 11 crush had to be a good five years ago. Even then, it was only because he had posted a photo on instagram. In fact, Remus couldn’t remember the last time he had even thought about his Year 11 crush, not since he met the love of his life at the age of 22.
So, to reiterate, the people who bought into the saying were stupid. They were idiots for believing that when a men stood on the podium to vow their underlying love for the other, that they were thinking of their first love. It was a generalisation of a select few dolts, and there was no way in hell that Remus would be thinking of his Year 11 basketball-playing crush when he got married one day. No way in hell. No. Way.
And boy, was he right.
Because, no, Remus didn’t think about his Year 11 basketball-playing, taller-than-average crush. Actually, Remus wasn’t even getting married, no. No, it was just another life-changing incident when the thought of his not Year 11 crush popped into his mind, and ruined him. It ruined him, and his life, in fact, did not change that day, because Remus said no.
In the chilly autumn evening where the skies were tinted orange, and the floors were littered red and brown with the crinkle of fallen leaves, Remus said no to the man who he had been committed to for the past three years. If it weren’t for the silence that the chill brought, maybe, just maybe, his reply could have been swept under the crunch of leaves.
With shaky hands that felt like they were plunged into an iced-over lake, Remus had wrapped his icy digits over the warm hands of his partner, and said no. Remus said no to the man he swore was the love of his life, and it felt like he was punctured in the lungs. Breathing was a privilege he once had; breathing was a privilege he now lost, because he said no.
Like his world had descended into perpetual darkness, into doom, into the black waves of the midnight ocean, Remus said no to the man knelt on a knee before him. His knee must have been hurting, kneeling on cement only slightly blanketed by a layer of dead leaves; but nothing would have hurt him more than being rejected so heartlessly, in the cold of the autumn air. And nothing hurt Remus more than saying no, except, maybe, probably, being said no to.
Remus truly believed that he was the one. He thought that, if he were to ever get married, it would be to him. To the man before him who was endlessly kind, eternally patient, and doubtlessly loving. He was everything that Remus ever dreamed of, ever wanted; but Remus forgot to consider one thing — he wasn’t Sirius Black.
Where he had been endlessly kind, Sirius had been hilariously arrogant. He had a mean streak that surfaced in the midst of stupid, and he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind even if it hurt others. He was quite the opposite of kind, but when Sirius Black cared, he cared so deeply. He cared so beyond nature, that it was all-encompassing, and it was anything but kind.
Where he had been eternally patient, Sirius had been nothing short of impatience. He was all impulsive thoughts and actions, and he didn’t wait for no one. He was a man who knew what he wanted, a man who would not stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and it was what Sirius Black was. It was him, and sometimes, it was a curse.
Doubtlessly loving — that, Sirius could never beat. So why, why in heaven’s name, did Remus say no to a man who loved him so indubitably for a man who never loved him. For a man whom he hadn’t spoken to in six years. For a man he had no intention of reaching out to. Why, oh fucking why, did Remus say no; only God knew.
Men never forget their first love.
Remus Lupin was an ordinary man. No, he hadn’t thought about his Year 11 crush while he stood on a podium, waiting to marry. He, instead, thought about the boy he met when he was nineteen as his boyfriend knelt on a knee before him. Remus, as it turned out, was no better than the dolts that had garnered their species this reputation. Remus Lupin was a dolt, an imbecile, and he was just an ordinary man.
It was laughable to believe that his Year 11 crush was his first love. His Year 11 crush had just been a passing infatuation that he texted for weeks. His Year 11 crush was someone that he never even had an actual conversation with. His Year 11 crush had nothing on Sirius Black, who as it turned out, was his first love; and Remus could now make sense of that stupid saying that had no reason being that accurate. Because Sirius Black had always been on his mind.
Sirius Black was there, and had always been there; lurking in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. Sirius Black had been the first person he believed he ever loved romantically, and Sirius Black was the very first person to break his heart just as quickly. Sirius Black was the guy that sprung to mind when he was asked about his ideal type, and Sirius Black was who he thought of when he was drunk. Worst of all, Sirius Black was who he dreamt of, in his secret escapades from reality; and Remus had forced himself to forget the very many awakening thoughts that yearned to be back in the bosom of his dream, where he could be with Sirius.
He loved Sirius Black like no other; like a secret he kept hidden and locked in the crammiest, dustiest alcove of his heart, and it was now bursting free like shards of ice into his very flesh. It pierced deep into him, and where it should hurt, the ice numbed; and Remus didn’t know which he preferred. To be in pain with memories, nostalgia, regret, or to be numb, where nothing infiltrated. It was a dilemma that seized him. It caught him in the middle of a day, it overwhelmed him in the dead of the nights, and it consumed him; each and every thought a jarring reminder of what he had done because he once loved Sirius Black.
The questions were the worst of them all. Remus didn’t think he could get out of it alive. They bombarded him, all insensitively and cruelly, trying to make sense of a relationship that didn’t belong to them. I thought he was going to propose! Did you have a fight? Did he cheat on you? Fuck, Remus wished he did. Remus wished that he could push the blame to someone else, make it all easier for himself. Alas, he was the only one to blame, and he bore the questions like a punishment. A weight on his shoulder that he couldn’t carry. Was it supposed to be this hard, turning down a proposal?
It took three months and an uncharismatic display of anger for the questions to finally die down. Remus was exhausted, and he had never felt anguish like he was, now. No, while he didn’t plan on initiating contact with Sirius Black, ever, he didn’t expect the decision to hurt just this much. Because, why, what was the point of turning down a proposal if he had no plans to reach out? Why couldn’t he just live with the suppressed memory of the other, like he had been the past six years, and be happy that someone wanted a life with him? Why, why, why; it plagued his mind daily.
Four and a half months, and Remus came to a conclusion — it was entirely his fault. When they separated six years ago, Remus refused to let it affect him. After all, they never got together, they were just friends, so it shouldn’t have hurt him. So, Remus made sure it didn’t; he suppressed. He should have stopped there, he really should. Instead, when people brought up Sirius, Remus let them. He told them he was over it, never did care actually, and let them talk, and he listened, and listened, and he suppressed the hurt that built. He didn’t care, it couldn’t hurt him if he didn’t care. And because Remus Lupin is Remus Lupin, just as Sirius Black is Sirius Black, he stayed following Sirius on his socials. A reminder of what was, what could have been, what would never be; a reminder that did in fact, remind him. Too well, might one add.
So, by the sixth month mark, Remus Lupin had reached a stage of acceptance. It still hurt him, still tugged at his heartstrings, but all in all, Remus Lupin felt as fine as he could be. The silent tears at night stopped; Remus refused to let himself cry, he was underserving of it. The dazed afternoons at work came to a pause, and the nights were filled with the laughter of sitcoms to occupy his whirring mind. Remus had found a dubious peace within the chaos, and he was going to be okay. Or, so he believed, until the seventh month rolled around, and chocolate brown met the ocean.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
Either Remus had successfully kidded himself into believing he was in a stage of acceptance, or fate just loved playing cruel, cruel tricks on Remus. The latter, it was decided, because Remus really deserved a break, didn’t he?
When the seventh month descended, Remus saw himself fit to embark on the final chapter. In the grand span of the series titled Remus Lupin, he was ready to write the final chapter of the books named Sirius Black. It might have spanned across six years, unknowingly, but what were six years compared to the rest of his life? Nothing. It would be insignificant, and Remus was ready. So, he visited the place where it all began, the place where it will end — the SEA life aquarium.
Six years was a long time. Six years was more than half a decade. Six years was more than enough for Remus to forget about school, but as he stepped through the entrance of the aquarium, six years felt like yesterday. It felt like yesterday when he first stepped into the dark room, tinted blue by the dark-painted walls and florescent lights. It felt like a week ago, when he was surrounded by the crowd of tourists, the chatter of languages he couldn’t catch. It felt- it felt like he stepped into a time capsule of his youth, barring it all for him again. The love, the laughs, and most of all, the heart break.
He fell into step, like it was just yesterday that he made his rounds around the aquarium. He walked behind the guests, consciously aware to keep his expression neutral instead of breaking out into insincere smiles like he would the day before. No, like six years ago. The innate chatter that droned through the enclosed room was a welcomed distraction for the first time in his life, and Remus let the crowd carry him forward, without any real plans to stop for anything in particular.
It was closure, he was doing it for the sole purpose of closure, and closure came like a slam to the brakes when he stopped just short of the open ocean exhibition. The crowd pushed past him, and Remus couldn’t be bothered by the fact. Because right there, a mere ten steps away, was the very exhibition where his first love began, and tragically ended. It was the best, and the worst, and he was finally going to dot the final period of the chapter.
He was prepared, as he stepped into the exhibition. All prior darkness from the hallway was now illuminated by the deep blue of the water. It was the ocean, stretched far from wall to wall, and Remus stood in marvel of a time stood still. The rays, his rays, glided through the water, fins flapping softly like wind beneath paper. It must have been the same manta rays, their markings were the same. It was magic, and Remus’ heart beamed as it did clench. He was overwhelmed with love, with despair, with nostalgia, and he stepped fully into the exhibition, letting his thoughts pour free like a perpetual rainstorm.
It healed him and broke him at once, just like it did then. The hair on his arms prickled beneath the synthetic fabric of his jacket, and he let his eyes wander across the habitat he missed so much. It used to be his safe space, heart-wrenchingly torn from him in place of tear-stricken memories, and Remus wondered, briefly, what it would take for him to revel in it again. Then, as fate would have it, his eyes found Sirius’.
In the sea of people, in the ocean of fishes, of sharks, their eyes locked. There must have been a thousand pair of eyes in that room, and yet, chocolate brown found blue, and Remus’ breath was snatched away. He was drowning in the blue; the wisp of black wave swaying under the gust of wind from the air conditioner pulling, dragging him into the ocean that were his eyes. His eyes were no longer the light blue he remembered, it was darker now, grown, the deep end of the ocean.
He was breathless, and then he was nineteen, standing in the crowded room for the first time, bathing in blue. Sirius had been next to him, an incomprehensible look on his face as he repeated the expletive that Remus let out at the mere sight of the habitat. Remus had later learned, that that look had been Sirius’ descent into the hell of Remus Lupin.
Remus was still breathless, months later after he turned twenty and still stood in the open ocean habitat, except, it was for a completely different reason. Sirius had been opposite from him, a resolute expression on his face as their eyes caught, and Remus had forgotten how to breathe. Because they were there, where it all first began, except that time, it was the end of them.
Now, six years later, Remus was still breathless in the open ocean habitat, where Sirius stood before him, eyes wide in shock. People milled, fishes swam, but Remus only had eyes for Sirius. Sirius, who was every bit beautiful as he was six years ago. Sirius, who stood taller now, than he did six years ago. Sirius, who he tried so hard to forget but would haunt him in his dreams, wishing that he could stay asleep. Sirius, Sirius who wasn’t alone.
Sirius, who was standing obscenely close to a lady. Sirius, whose fingers were intertwined with that same lady’s. Sirius, who was no longer looking at him, but at the lady he held by the hand. Sirius, who was now pressing his lips, lips that he once could kiss, against hers. Sirius, who was once arguably his, wasn’t his to have any longer.
The end of the chapter was a painful sentence to write. It was the conclusion of a six-year long book, and fate had given Remus a helping hand. She let him witness the one thing that would break him, and broke him, it did. But, even with shaking hands and tear-ridden pages, a dot at the end of a sentence was still a period. The book of Sirius Black and his icy blue eyes had been concluded.