Think Poetic
Remus
Remus scribbled the words into his notebook like his life depended on it, and honestly, maybe that wasn’t far from the truth.
He always wrote that way - hands desperately chasing thoughts, fountain pen gripped tightly enough for pain to spread to his left forearm and wrist, and for the paper to get scratched. Not to mention his hand’s unfortunate habit of absentmindedly robbing any fresh ink. Take all that, add his outright atrocious handwriting to the equation, and you’ll find that any paper filled with Remus’ words is practically eligible to anyone but himself.
The bell rang.
The classroom came alive with the hustle of students picking up their stuff and leaving their chairs, each one making sure to leave their work on Mr. Campbell’s desk on their way out to lunch break.
Remus put down his work on top of everyone else’s and walked towards the classroom’s door.
“Mr. Lupin.” Mr. Campbell’s voice made him halt. Desperately searching his mind for anything he’s done that might get him in trouble (and finding nothing) - Remus turned around and walked back to his teacher.
“Yes, Sir?” he asked when the Professor kept quiet.
“I read the poem you wrote in class last week,” Mr. Campbell stated plainly, looking up at Remus expectedly from his place behind the desk.
Remus stared back blankly. what the fuck did he write in class last week?
When Mr. Campbell kept looking at Remus like he was waiting for a response, Remus tried to go for neutral.
“Well? did you like it?” he asked.
The Professor sighed, Remus’ heart sank a little.
“What? was it that bad?” Remus asked nervously, a half hearted attempt to lighten the mood.
As much as he tried, he just couldn’t remember anything from that poem, couldn’t even figure out what the theme was.
“No, no, it was good enough. But ugh…I wanted to ask, are you alright?”
Oh…OH. Remus’ eyes widened almost comically as the realization hit.
Damn, it really shouldn’t have taken him this long to figure out what poem brought on this nerve wrecking interaction.
Last week was the first week of school. Mr. Campbell gave them an assignment for their first lesson together; write a short poem. That’s it.
“The poem is to be submitted to me, but it’s not graded and no one else will read it - so there’s no need to stress, yeah? It’s just a fun way for me to get to know you all on a more personal level.” he said that day.
So, Remus didn’t think much of it and wrote about the heavy feeling that pulled at his chest at that exact moment.
Professor Campbell laid a piece of paper on the brown desk between them. It was Remus’ poem, messy handwriting and robbed stains of dark ink like always.
There is a moment in life
where we stop using the word sad
we are no longer little kids
our feelings now aren’t easily unclad
we use synonyms for the emotions we have
instead of happy, glad
disgust became antipathy
angry is now mad
the new form of fear is panic and anxiety
but what about sad?
no words for sad
and what am I supposed to do
when there are no words for how I feel?
what am I supposed to say
when they ask if I want to heal?
sadness is such a small word for the pain I carry
and one day I will find the perfect word
and will add it to my vocabulary
On the side of the paper, Remus noticed, was a single spot of dried water drop. He tried not to think about what his poem got wet from.
“Now that I read that again, it does sound like I’m kvetching,” Remus smirked, trying to lighten the conversation. it didn’t work. Mr. Campbell just kept looking at him like he might jump off a roof at any moment.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Yes. Brilliant.” Remus replied, hating every moment of this conversation.
“Alright then,” Mr. Campbell sighed and put on a tired smile. “Your poem isn’t perfect of cours, but I can see the passion for writing in it.”
Remus didn’t know how to respond to that, so he kept quiet.
“You have potential, Mr. Lupin.” said the professor and Remus replied with a quiet “Thank you”, fixing the strap of the bag on his shoulder.
“Well? off you go now, I already stole enough of your lunch break.”
Remus arrived at the dining hall and limped to his friends’ usual lunch table.
“Oi, Remus, what did Campbell hold you up for?” James was asking before Remus even got into his seat.
Remus just shook his head, settling down and taking a bite from the sandwich Sirius gave him. “I knew there wouldn’t be any food left when you’ll get here,” he explained with a gentle smile, “so I picked a sandwich for you too.”
Remus stared at Sirius' smile, but didn’t have the energy to return one.
“Thanks,” he finally said. He took another bite and listened to the others’ conversation, to which Sirius had already joined.
Remus tried to stay tuned to his friends, but his mind quickly wandered elsewhere.
He wasn’t a daydreamer, nowhere near that, but sometimes it felt like his mind and soul left his body, leaving behind the broken shell that once was called “Remus Johnathan Lupin”.
It may sound ridiculous, but sometimes he felt so much pain that he couldn't think of anything else. His bones were on fire and his hands were melting while he felt shivers all over his body.
Remus hated it. He hated how weak and broken his body was, hated how little effort it took for him to get so exhausted.
“Are you all right, Moony?” Peter asked and pulled him out of his bubble of pain. He was grateful for that, really.
Remus nodded quickly.
“Are you sure?” he assured, his brown brows drawn together in concern. Remus was quite tired of people looking at him like that.
“Yeah Pete, I’m good- honestly. Don’t worry.” he reassured, giving his friend what he hoped was a calming smile. Peter returned a warm smile of himself and then got back to talking with the others.
A familiar bell announced the ending of lunch break.
Remus hung his satchel on his shoulder and before slipping his arms through his crutches’ cuffs and standing back up.
The four of them walked together to their next class, and Remus tried to participate in the current stream of conversation.
Don’t get it wrong, it’s not like his friends excluded him or made him feel unwanted, on the contrary, it’s just that sometimes he finds it too hard to make a conversation, let alone keep up with one.
“There’s NO way Evans joined the editorial staff!” James exclaimed in disbelief, loud and passionate as always.
“She did, though,” Peter replied with a joyful smile on his face; He was amazed by how much James could keep banging on about it.
“Yeah, Prongs, she literally told you that herself,” Sirius snorted, bending forward to look at his friend mid-walking.
“But why would she do it? The editorial staff is a bunch fucking weirdos.”
Remus listened, amused by his friends but without much energy to express it.
Sirius glanced at him. “Did you know about that, Remus?”
“About Lily joining the editorial team?” Remus ensured, “She did tell me she wanted to take some sort of part in it, yeah, but I didn’t know she had already joined.”
Peter shrugged, “Anyway, James, it shouldn’t bother you that much, they aren’t as crazy as you think,”
The four boys arrived at the classroom before James got the chance to respond. He signed ‘later’ and they all nodded while entering the room and taking their seats.