Sirius Black and his ocean blue eyes
Remus did eventually agree to meet him. That was after chastising the deity above for answering his prayers by doing the complete opposite of what he even asked for. Then, he decided that religion just wasn’t for him, and back to agnosticism he went. It was a relatively fun-filled week of religious conundrum, all things considered.
A week — that was how long Remus took to decide, and how long it took to respond to Sirius. What followed was two more messages before the appointment was set in stone. Yes, Remus referred to it as an appointment, just for that extra little wall of boundary. He really, really needed that.
Two weeks later with October well in the way, Remus was seated on the carpeted floor of the open ocean habitat. It was his favourite exhibition of the aquarium, though, he rightfully presumed that it was everyone’s favourite. He ran his hands across the worn carpet where thousands, no, millions of shoes had stepped on, his eyes never leaving the manta ray that glided smoothly through the water. Funny how it was the very same manta ray that he saw that many years ago, and here he was again, arguably a very different person from who he was at nineteen. One thing never changed though — he still harboured the wish of being born a manta ray.
He wanted to be rid of burden, to be free, and really, to just swim. He just wanted to swim, and he hated swimming. That must have been really telling of his state of mind. To yearn for something that you hate; Remus had it bad, he always had. He was far from the emotionally stable man he ever believed he was.
Drifting through his thoughts, eyes fixed on the pane of glass before him, Remus almost missed the sound of footsteps halting by his side. Key word, almost. He stiffened in place, and his hands froze from where they were picking against the loose fibre of the carpeted floor. He agreed to it. It was his choice, he could do this. He had to do this. His shoulders fell as he took a breath, and Sirius might have taken that as an indication to sit, so sat, he did.
An incessantly long silence passed between them, sitting a mere foot apart, bodily heat radiating into each other’s spaces; it was deafening, it was never-ending, it was torturous. What was he to say? Who had the first word? Did Sirius miss him as much as he missed him? Remus resumed his picking of the carpet, with fervour this time.
For a moment, he wondered if he made the right choice — to meet Sirius Black, that was. It had been a year for him, but for Sirius, it had been a menial two months since he broke things off with his ex-girlfriend. Remus was meeting Sirius for Sirius, but was Sirius meeting Remus for Remus? Or was Sirius meeting Remus just to heal the stinging part of his heart that regretting breaking up with his ex-girlfriend. Was it a rebound move?
It scared him to think about it, that two people could be at the same time and at the same place, but for two vastly different reasons. It scared him to think about it, because he knew, he knew that he would have Sirius Black back, as long as the other was willing. It scared him to think about it because it was much, much more than a stupid fling for him.
So he turned, and for the first time in five months, Sirius was before him again. Sirius, who time had been kind to, was ever as breathtaking as he was six years ago. His wavy black hair that once ran past his nape was now trimmed neatly, leaving the back of his neck bare. His eyes, the blue eyes of the sea, were darker now, just minutely, and it was the ocean. They were new eyes, not the light blues that once stared at him in the innocence of youth, no. They were grown eyes, eyes that were darkened, eyes that spoke of emotions beyond happy, sad and angry. They were eyes that Remus wanted to drown into, and for that, he really was insane.
His jaw was lined with stubble, though closely shaven to the skin, and the memory of how it felt beneath the tips of his fingers bubbled to mind. Soft, and rough, all at once, and Remus gripped his hands into a fist. He fought it, Remus really did, but insanity won and his eyes landed on Sirius’ lips, and six years. It had been six years, or was it seven now, since his own lips once touched his. Insane, crazy, deranged. He was all of that, for thinking all that about a man from more than half a decade ago.
“Hey stranger,” he eventually started, with a breathy chuckle and tears stinging his eyes, nostalgia seeping deep into his flesh, his bones, his soul. Stranger, it felt funny on his lips now, how long it had been since he last called Sirius that.
Sirius remained quiet, just looked at him with those intense blue eyes, and then his head dropped and his shoulders shook, and Remus heard the laugh from his memories. The deep laugh that could incite a smile from him anytime, anywhere, even now — six, seven years later. And in that moment, caught between reminiscence and absurdity, he knew he made the right decision, damned the outcome.
“Fuck you, Remus,” Sirius whispered with his head still hung low, after the melodic laughter ceased and died on his lips. Remus let his breath escape with a sigh and a huff, all in one.
He pressed his legs up into his chest, winding his arms around his shin, and he rested his chin upon his knees. “Those words belong to me, you know?” He said after a moment of silence, and he tilted his head further down, such that his forehead was now against his knees. That way, if his muscles betrayed him, at least Sirius couldn’t see him cry.
“Remus,” and Remus could see the shift in his posture from the corner of his eyes, below his arms that blocked Sirius’ view of his profile. “Remus, I broke up with my girlfriend. I broke up with her just because I saw you. I-,” he stopped talking, and Remus let him stew in his feelings. Two months, he reminded himself. It had only been two months for Sirius; God knows how long it took for him to accept his own actions.
The silence dragged on, and finally, Remus willed himself to look at Sirius. He placed his right cheek on his knees, and because Sirius wasn’t looking at him, he found the courage to speak. “I turned down a proposal.” Sirius’ head whirled into his direction, and Remus turned the other way. Not now, he couldn’t look at him. “A year ago,” he continued, “just because you plagued my mind spasmodically.”
It was the first he ever spoke the words aloud, to himself, to anyone and if he expected a weight to shift off his shoulders, he was tragically wrong. It annihilated him; ripped him apart, not by the seams, no, that would have been too generous. It tore through him, like he was passed through a shredder again, and again, and again, and Remus had to cough away the cry that tore from his throat. Why the fuck were they in public, and whose stupid idea was it, indeed.
Sirius said nothing, and for that, Remus was infinitely glad. After all, what was there to say, after the admission from both parties that they had left their partners for an internship fling. A five-month internship fling that ended before it even begun in earnest. It was ridiculous, at best, yet. Yet, there was not an ounce of regret. At least, not on Remus’ end.
“Right,” Sirius finally broke the silence. “Fuck me then,” and despite himself, despite the prickling pain that riddled his every nerve, Remus laughed, and it was nothing short of genuinity and torment.
When Remus finally lifted his head again, Sirius was looking at him. He was looking at him with the same expression from those many years before, when they first stood in the open ocean habitat, by each other’s sides. Except, for the sadness. The sadness was never there before, and it made him look, grown. Remus sighed, and he fixed his gaze back onto the manta ray. It must’ve been the same manta ray; Sirius once told him they could live up to 70 years in captivity.
“Why’d you ask to meet?” Remus finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him. His eyes stayed fixated on the diamond-shaped fish swimming high above him. Why was a fish even shaped like a diamond in the first place?
Just like each of their exchange from that day, a long paused ensued. Then, Sirius spoke. “Because you looked for me,” and Remus stilled. So, Sirius knew about the night of the bar then. “I’m not sure if you remember, but that was James.”
James. Remus was meant to meet James, before it all went to shit. James Potter was Sirius’ closest friend from school, back then. James had been insistent on meeting Remus from the very start, and once or twice, Remus had even conversed with him through Sirius’ phone. It was all teasing text exchanges to infuriate Sirius, but they never actually had the opportunity to meet. Now, they had and Remus had acted like a madman. Fitting, really.
Sirius turned to look at him then, and Remus forced himself to match his gaze. If this were to be their last time seeing each other, he didn’t want to have any regrets. He wanted to see, all the ways that Sirius’ face had changed over the years. He wanted to know the shade of blue that now dyed his irises. He wanted to commit them to memory, just in case. Just in case this was the very last of them. It very well could be.
“Why’d you look for me?” And Sirius finally asked the question that had plagued his mind for days. There was no simple answer to that question. Nothing was simple when it came to Sirius Black. At least, not for Remus.
He held his gaze, “The manta ray,” he explained under his breath, and it was Sirius’ turn to pause. With a dry chuckle that was drained from the signs of life, Sirius shook his head and closed his eyes. Remus let himself stare. “Why was it with James?” And the silence fell back into place.
Sirius peeled his lids open, after a moment, though he wasn’t quite matching Remus’ gaze any longer. “I wanted to get rid of it,” their eyes met, and Remus couldn’t even stop the tears that sprung to his eyes at his words. He wanted to get rid of it. He wanted to forget about Remus. “But fuck, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I asked James to keep it for me.”
Sirius’ face was now buried in his palms, and Remus did the only thing he could think to do then. He rummaged through his back, reaching between the folds of the soft fabric, and his fingers wrapped around a cushion. It was the only thing he could think to do, the only thing that could tell Sirius just how he felt. He pulled it out, he hadn’t seen it since he last shoved it into his bag, and unfurled his fingers. A black manta ray keychain sat in his palm, and Remus nudged Sirius with his elbow.
“Fuck," were the first words out of Sirius’ mouth when he laid eyes on the toy. The short fur was all matted and clumpy with disregard, its black fur was now tinted with grey from dust but at the end of the day, it was still Sirius’ first gift to him. “You kept it,” and Remus’ eyes weren’t the only one stinging with tears, he came to the realisation.
“Couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He mirrored Sirius’ words, and just like that, the ocean spilled over onto soft cheeks. Sirius was crying, and fuck, if that didn’t make Remus cry.
It was ridiculous, two grown men of the full age of twenty-six, shedding tears in the luminescent blue room surrounded by a hundred other visitors. It was utterly preposterous, but just like it was five months ago, just like it was seven years ago when it first ended, and especially just like it was seven years ago when it all began, it was just the two of them in the open ocean habitat.
In the open ocean habitat, where he first looked into Sirius’ eyes, to discover the light blue of the sea. In the open ocean habitat, five months later, where the sea blurred into a whirlwind of despair and heartbreak. In the open ocean habitat seven years later, where time stood still again; and in the open ocean habitat, almost eight years later, where the sea outgrew the ocean, and Remus was drowning in them again.
It was always going to be the open ocean habitat. It was always going to be Sirius. That much, Remus now knew.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
They didn’t talk much after that. What was there to say, between two broken men. But they sat, a foot apart from each other, bodily heat radiating into each other’s space. They sat, with their heads hung low, to keep the tears hidden from others, and they simply sat. They sat in each other’s company, something so vaguely familiar, yet so new. It was them, twenty-six years old Remus Lupin and Sirius Black; but it was also them, nineteen years old Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.
At the very least, Remus knew it wasn’t going to be the last of their meetings. Sirius had suggested just as much, and Remus had agreed to it quite as readily. They were going to talk about it, they were going to work through whatever it was they didn’t the last time. While the book of Sirius Black and his light blue eyes had closed, a new one was being written. Sirius Black and his ocean blue eyes; Remus much preferred this book.