It doesn't rhyme
Forwards
Forwards, forwards through the crowds – breaking through the thickest masses with ease – making me lose sight of you again. Eyes wandering over the ancient stones of this archetype of closed off education – where did all the curiosity go? Where did we leave it behind? You didn’t. You’re hungry, unstoppable – Breaking through the unbelieving assembly like its the birthright they took away from you.
I’m left behind in the busyly bristling body of wandering ones – waiting, eternally waiting for you to return to lead the way. I can’t get out of here on my own, smothered by the sheer mass of their human matter – I can hear their dreams sometimes – do they know that they sound like you, but quieter? Do they know that they sound like me? Or are the mingled voices all a part of me, screaming for salvation? I will never know, and neither do you and we’ll walk on different sides of the entirety of their bodies through these ancient halls – you breaking through them with ease – and me left behind, waiting for you to take me with you finally.
#61 E.R.
“It doesn’t rhyme?” The older boy wrinkles his nose in confusion, observing the neatly scribbled lines on the opened notebook page before him slowly again – remaining empty handed in his search, looking so incredulous that the blonde next to him nearly laughs.
“What an astute observation.” Evan scoffs, both his arms resting comfortably on the table of the secluded room – Maria throws them one of her curious but slightly annoyed glares, that make Evan lower his voice and leave Remus unaffected and ignorant of her judgement all together.
“Don’t be a cunt.” The brown haired boy exclaims, rolling his hazel eyes at Evan, who only feels more determined to rile up the taller one because of his expressive reactions – they keep reminding him that for the first time in years, the other boy is actually looking back at him, listening to him, thinking about what to say to him. It’s exhilaratingly addictive and Evan can’t stop himself from formulating provocative retorts.
“You should wear a sign with those words on it, maybe then-“ He is cut off when Remus’ patience runs out with sudden effect and the boy gets up from their shared place at the stained table. A few people throw accusing glances at them, which go entirely unnoticed by the scarred boy and absolutely too noticed by Evan himself. For a short moment he contemplaits if he pushed the older one too far, an anxious feeling rising in his chest again at the thought – but Remus eyes find his, when he stops at the door.
“I’ll get myself a drink – you coming?”
They pause at the bar counter, waiting for Josh to notice them, Evan with his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his long coat and Remus with pushed up sleeves that reveal his freckled, scarred skin over the lean muscles of his forearms. He stands relaxed, a foot crossed over the balancing ankle of his other leg, his hip leaned casually against the wooden material of the bar, a lazy elbow resting on the stained surface – his dark brown trousers and halfway buttoned up maroon shirt wrinkled in a careless fashion, as he raises two long fingers to catch the bar man’s attention. When he orders, the piercing in his lip moves – the same piercing that he has been unconsciously chewing on the entire time, distractingly, impossible for Evan to ignore.
Two sets of eyes suddenly catch the shorter boy’s gaze in his observation and he feels himself flush in embarrassment. Did he forget to listen again? The hazel of Remus‘ eyes is distracting enough, but the funny look on the wrinkled face of Joshuar pulls Evan out of his trance.
„I agree,“ he states, nodding in an attempt to support his answer, hoping that it makes sense on the topic of their exchange – but the bar man’s pulled up lip and wrinkled brows are enough of a reaction for Evan to understand that he must have been incredibly wrong.
„You agree - on getting a drink?“ The gruff voice of the older man sounds unbelieving, slightly bewildered and the look he throws at the young boy carries the same expression – And knowing him for three years now, never asked to hand out an ounce of liquid to the blonde, Joshuar’s confusion is reasonable.
Evan purposely avoids looking at the boy next to him and keeps nodding, playing over his misstep with burning ears, „I agree on a glass of water, please – That is a drink, is it not?“ He smiles awkwardly at the bar man, who only turns muttering to himself.
„Yeah, a drink for plants – trying to stay on brand, Rosie?“ Remus huffs next to him, sipping on his brown liquid with raised, pronounced brows.
„Could say the same thing about you,“ Evan retorts without thinking, already too comfortable in their teasing, to think of the inevitably bad reaction he would get. The older boy’s movement becomes stiff in the span of a second, as he places both feet on the ground, shifting into an alert stance - all that relaxation from before gone in an instant.
Collecting his own glass with fast fingers - a desperate attempt to buy himself time - the younger boy turns, facing hazel eyes with as much humour as he can muster at the threatening expression that awaits him on the other boy’s squared face. „With all that trouble-maker imagery you have going on-“ he adds with a teasing undertone, pulling the corner of his lips into a small smirk, hopeful to overplay the tension between them effectively.
The taller boy visibly relaxes, taking another gulp from his drink before he leads the way back to the secluded area of the pub, seemingly unaffected again - only the slight tension in his jaw hinting at his unsettled state. Evan could smash his own head against the next best wall – why does he have to ruin everything all the time? Couldn’t he have stayed silent for the span of a minute? He does it all the time with his friends, when they throw rude comments at him, when they tease and insult him – why does he feel the need to talk so much now? And additionally – talk back. He knows he has a crush on Remus – has known for a while now – and affection does make people stupid apparently. But why so stupid?
There will never be any form of intimacy between the two of them – Remus will never share his secrets with Evan, will never ask the personal questions, which answers Evan wants him so desperately to care about – And Evan knows that, has settled for their unfamiliarity ages ago. Why does he have to ruin this unbelievable miracle of teasing banter, that blossomed between them now – with information he only gathered due to a creepy amount of obsessive watching?
He feels miserable as he follows the taller boy to the door, eyes trained on the artfully tousled curls on the backside of his head. It’s was futile from the beginning – they have nothing to do with each other, incredibly few things in common - shouldn’t even be talking – and soon enough Remus will realise that, if he didn’t already.
The collision is hard, a tear in the younger boy‘s spiralling and the result of thoughtfully distracted wandering and a square set of statuesque shoulders blocking the familiar route. Remus hisses at the same time Evan raises a hand to his painfully throbbing head, „My god, Rosie – watch where you’re going.“ His tone is petrifyingly absent of the expected amount of resentment – its heated, annoyed, a tad too high for the usually low rumble of the taller boy’s voice, but Evan can’t help but smile at the heavy weight lifted from his chest as he hears the stupid nickname fall from Remus‘ lips.
„Appologies,“ he mumbles, holding his head as he catches a glimpse at the older boy towering over him wearing an unreadable expression. They make a side step at the same time, when a new comer brushes past them and only then Evan realises that they had once again been staring at each other – Remus calculating and unreadable, Evan probably wide eyed, watching attentively to catch a hint on the thoughts cursing through the other boy’s mind.
„I wanted to ask, if we could continue our conversation on Wednesday – I just remembered that I have somewhere to be soon and we didn't get the chance to go through your whole poem-“ The taller boy finishes his drink with a large gulp, avoiding Evan’s eyes as he pushes past him to return his empty glass.
Disappointment flickers painfully in Evan‘s chest, as he stays behind – the crushing kind that burns like a wildfire. Wednesday. Wednesday he will see Regulus again – and Wilkes and a couple of others in the meeting his father scheduled. And hasn’t he looked forward to it only a couple of hours ago? But Remus is leaving and besides the few awkward moments Evan initiated, they have come a long way from ignoring each other so far. He doesn’t want it to end, wants to make it on Wednesday, wants so much again – because now it’s right in front of his nose – They have been talking! About Evan’s poetry, Remus‘ thoughts on the matter – have established a teasing tone between them Evan doesn't want to let go of all too soon.
He clutches his glass close to his chest, staring after the tall boy now casually laughing with the bar man, paying his tab with wrinkled muggle money.
The thought of Pandora rises up at the sight – how she collected different currencies in tiny bags on the wall of their shared room, when they were young – how she came up with stories to each of the designs on coins or paper, while Evan worked on the wording of a poem. He can’t take a step back now, can’t make his sister give up her dreams and subject to their father’s political schemes – it has to be him. He made that choice already, accepted his place and his family’s resentment in the process. He can’t back out now, has to carry the responsibility and consequences – however much it pains him, even if that means that he won’t ever have a real conversation with Remus Lupin again.
The other boy joins him then, wearing a content expression and holds the door for Evan. He relishes the short time it takes Remus to collect his leather jacket from the chair in front of their shared space at the stained table and tries to bottle up the moment – subject it to memory, reachable in a time when his new responsibilities become too much for him to handle – because he already knows they will – this is the calm before the inevitable storm that has yet to come – and it will tear Evan apart, will turn him into something he never wanted to be. But thats just the way life works, isn’t it? How are people supposed to appreciate the sunshine when it is everything they have ever known?
Evan hesitates to sit down, avoiding Maria’s curious gaze decidedly as Remus turns to leave – and the fantasy where he shows up on Wednesday has to end somewhere, right? If not now, how will he be able to handle it bursting in the future – when he will look at the clock on their family’s study mantel and imagine Remus sitting here, in this room, expecting him to show up. He has to say it now, has to shatter the fantasy before the thought of it can hurt him even more.
„Remus, I won’t come on Wednesday – its a family thing.“ He adds quietly, meeting the hazel eyes of the packing up boy. Understanding flashes in them – probably a wrong assumption, Evan doesn't feel inclined to correct him on.
„Oh – okay, yeah sure, do you know when you’ll be able to come back?“ He asks, throwing a quick glance at the opened notebook on the table.
„Im not sure, its quite the hassle to get away from the house sometimes.“ Evan laughs a tad too bitterly, avoiding the suspicious tick at the older boy’s jawline.
„I won’t be reachable through owls until the next semester begins-“ Remus trails off then, letting his gaze wander over the table again, thinking hard. It warms Evan – the effort, the questions – he knows it will lead to nothing – they won’t be able to continue their conversation, turn into strangers once the new term starts and they’ll be busy studying for their respective exams. It was nice while it lasted.
The older boy turns to him again, a sudden jerk of energy lining his movements, „I’ll try to make it each Monday then – Surly you can manage to sneak away from at least one incredibly important family gathering to receive some profound feedback on your unrhyming poetry, Rosie.“ The smile that pulls mockingly on the taller boy’s full lips nearly makes Evan’s heart stop. He is teasing again and Evan can’t help himself but take the challenge in his eyes in stride - can’t help to enjoy the intoxicating ease of their exchange.
„It’s Evan and your competence remains to be put under test and thorough inquiry before I can deem it credible.“ Remus only huffs out a laugh, before inclining his head towards the door, the squished pack of cigarettes held out in invitation.
They leave for the door together again, Evan holding his notebook tightly pressed to his chest and Remus holding the door for him.
„Why not Rosie? Anyone else would feel honoured to receive a special nickname-“
„It’s not that special though, is it? Quite the opposite – one would even say unimaginative-“
„Oh, come off it, its not half bad-“
„It actually is – Rosier, Rosie – You just took away a letter from my last name – and made me sound like a girl-“
„Thats the fun of it! I could just start to call you Rose instead, if you’d like that one better-“
They banter on, walking behind each other trough the warmly lit interior of the pub towards the door, where Remus hands the younger boy a cigarette.
„Merlin, I don't even like roses.“ Evan say it in a mumbled afterthought, looking up at the dark sky, blowing out a puff of smoke tangled air, but the eyes of the other boy are filled with that same understanding again and when he speaks his tone is no longer teasing, „Any flower that you prefer then?“
Evan meets his eyes breathlessly. He knows that Remus isn’t thinking about flowers – No he is thinking of Evan’s family, of the possibilities why exactly he is so outspokenly against their association on every turn – but Evan is thinking about flowers – about flowers in the other boy’s hand, to be exact.
„It’s not really a flower – more like a weed and highly poisonous – and I dont know the English word for it-“
„Why would you not know the English word for it?“ Remus cuts him off, sounding incredulous again.
„Because I grew up in a french household.“ Evan meets his gaze over the mingled smoke between them and raises a pointed eye brow.
„Makes sense, continue,“ The younger boy can barely ignore the impulse to thank him in mockery and shakes his head, „Its in German-“
„Now, that doesnt make any sense-“
„Merlin, do you want to hear it, or not?“ Evan breathes out forcefully though his nose, eaqually annoyed and bemused at their exchange.
„I asked, didnt I?“ The brown haired boy shrugs, breathing out a cloud of grey air.
„Youre insufferable, do you know that? Anyways, its called Eisenhut.“ He explains, throwing away the burned butt of his cigarette with much more force than needed until it lands several meters away from them.
„Yeah, I won’t be calling you that.“ Remus says before throwing his cigarette even further than Evan did - Always a challenge.
„I rather hoped you wouldn't.“ The younger boy says with half a laugh, turning towards the pub door again, expecting Remus to finally leave – expects him not to stall, to let their conversation ring out in the heavy evening air.
„I’ll think of a better alternative until Monday, and of course that incredible feedback that’ll blow your mind.“ The taller boy calls after him and makes Evan stop in his tracks, warmly surprised and way too hopeful for his own good.
„Don’t you need the poem for that?“ He asks, unwilling to let go of the initiation, his turn to respond something – anything that would make the other boy stay for a little while longer.
„You may have a point with that-“ Is the response he gets though – way too final, too closed to start with something new. Evan’s decision is rash then, thoughtless.
„Take it then, Merlin knows your reputation depends on it.“ The page lays open in front of him before he can think better of it.
„I wouldnt say that it necessarily depends – wait, are you offering me your notebook, Rosie?“ Remus questions pulling him out of his rashness for a moment – but its too late to back out now – the story of Evan’s life apparently.
„It’s Evan, and no. I can give you the page though – but only if you return it as soon as possible.“ It’s risky, he knows. Exposure of thoughts and all that – but its also a guarantee somehow – That they’ll meet again like this – that they’ll talk again like this. And Evan is ready to give up a part of his soul for that chance.
„I’ll keep it safe then.“ Remus‘ tone is almost gentle again – as if he knows – as if he realises what it means.
„If you don't, you’ll find out the reason why the sorting hat put me into Slytherin-“ Evan warns him with just enough bite in his tone to convince himself that its not that much of himself he is currently ripping out of his precious notebook.
„Is that a threat?“ The taller boy says, approaching him nonetheless on his long legs, towering over Evan the moment he comes to a stop next to him.
„Thats for me to know, and you to find out.“ The shorter boy retorts ominously, holding out the page with a challenge in his tone and gaze.
„See you on Monday then.“ Remus only replies, holding the piece of paper with a twinkle in his eyes and a teasing smirk on his pierced lips before he turns and disappears down the street.
Evan watches him in the cold until he disappears around a corner out of sight and the late realisation kicks in, that he just let Remus John Lupin have the last word in their first real conversation.