How to be Human

Remus Lupin’s last night of his fourth year at The Hogwarts Academy of Alternative Studies was spent with Sirius Black. 

Remus had been where he always was after sunset. The Astronomy Tower. 

Most students had gone home by then, the next day being when the school would finally be closed for the summer. To sit there empty until August. Remus thought that was quite a shame. 

Sirius wasn’t sure why he’d followed Remus that night. He was just sitting in the common room with James, they’d just bid Peter goodnight because he was leaving the earliest the next morning, when he saw Remus slipping out of the room and into the hall. He told James he needed to do something, then he got up and left. 

“Mind if I join you?” Sirius had a hand placed on each side of the archway that led out onto the balcony. Remus was sat, one leg tucked under him, one leg hanging off the platform, shoulder touching the giant telescope beside him. He didn’t even jump, despite not being aware of Sirius’ presence at all. 

All he could manage was a hum in response because Remus was having trouble being a person at that moment. 

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but knew it was something strong. He wasn’t sure what to say, or if he wanted to say anything at all, but knew that since Sirius was there, the want would come eventually. 

Sirius sat down beside Remus. Close enough where their shoulders looked like they were touching, but weren’t quite. He looked at the freckled boy beside him, then followed his eyes out to the stars. To the moon. 

“Excited to go home?” 

Remus was bad at emotions, but he knew he wasn’t that. 

“Not even a little,” Remus responded, earning a chuckle from the other. 

Then Sirius sighed. “Me either.” Remus then wanted to ask why, because he had a suspicion that Sirius hated where he came from more than Remus, because Remus had also learned that year that he did not like his home. He did not like his mother. And he did not like his father, however deep in the ground he was. 

In fact, Remus had learned lots of things his fourth year. 

“Sad to leave?” Sirius then asked. And it hit Remus.

He was sad. 

He was sad the year was over. He was sad to go home. Sad to leave school. Sad to leave his friends. Sad to be himself. Sad. 

And he didn’t know how to feel about the fact.

“I am sad,” Remus finally answered. Sirius looked over to find him staring so intently out into nothing that he wondered if he knew he said anything at all.

“To leave? Or just in general?” It was half a joke. 

Remus looked down to his lap. “I don’t know.” They sat with themselves, the moon, and the stars for long moments after that. The night around them was calm and peaceful, quiet in a way that didn’t make Sirius anxious. The kind of quiet that calmed Remus’ mind. 

And perhaps it was sitting in that calm that gave Remus the confidence to speak again.

“I’m not…good…with, like, feelings.” Granted, it wasn’t much confidence. 

Sirius would have laughed at the silliness and seriousness of it all, but he didn’t. Just sat, nodded slightly, and thought. He’d had the same thoughts before. That perhaps maybe he didn’t feel the right things at the right times, or maybe he felt the right things at the wrong times, or maybe he felt things too strongly, too loudly, or maybe he felt things too quietly until they disappeared. 

“They are complicated,” Sirius agreed after a moment. He didn’t want to ask Remus any questions. He wanted Remus to talk about what was on his mind, because if there was one thing Sirius was always sure of, was that he wanted to hear whatever Remus was thinking. “Sometimes I’m not good at them either.” 

This shocked Remus enough for him to look at Sirius. 

Then they were looking at each other.

To Remus, Sirius always knew what he was doing. He was confident and charming, always knew how to talk to people and what to say. Sirius could easily let people know when he was happy, excited, tired, angry, annoyed, or frustrated. He was smart and did his work but without obsessing over it, like Peter. He was funny and he knew it, but wasn’t cocky about it, like James. He was creative and clever. He was…Sirius.

To Remus, Sirius was good at everything. 

And then there he was, telling Remus that he wasn’t. 

“I just don’t know what to do with them.” Them being feelings. Them being what kept Remus from being human. 

“Maybe it's hard for you because you keep them all inside,” Sirius suggested. Another thing Sirius was not good at was keeping things to himself. Back at home, he got in trouble for it often. Back at home, he was meant to be composed. Be adult. Be anyone but Sirius. But at Hogwarts, Sirius let his soul roam free, his heart residing on his sleeve, at least enough to allow him to breathe. He wasn’t like James, who felt emotions loudly and with everybody.  

He was just…Sirius. 

And he felt them how he felt them. 

“What do you do with them?” Remus took a leap and asked a question himself. 

Sirius took a breath. “Well,” he began. “Talk to someone. Maybe let them out in some way. Mostly, you just have to feel them.” 

“Sometimes,” Remus started. Sirius was all ears. “When I have these…feelings…and I don’t know what to do…with them, I- because I’m not good at talking to, like, people…I talk to the moon.” 

Remus said it so openly and so honestly that Sirius could have cried. Remus was speaking so gently, this thing that was so secret and sacred, that Sirius could have pulled the boy to his chest, embrace him, and thank him just for telling him. 

Remus let his feelings out in his own way. Sirius could accept that, could appreciate it. 

It was so Remus.

And that was something Sirius could always appreciate. 

“Did you come to talk to the moon tonight?” Remus nodded. “What were you going to tell it?” Sirius whispered. 

“That I wish I could stay here forever.” 

The summer after Remus Lupin turned 16, he fell in love with cigarettes. 

It hadn’t been on purpose. He hadn’t sought out the harmful sticks one day. He just...found them. In a closet in the hallway just before the kitchen. Stuffed in a coat pocket. Afterward, he couldn’t even remember what he’d been looking for in there to begin with. One moment, he’d been without a cigarette, and the next, it was placed firmly between his lips. 

For a week after that, he kept the half-empty box in his pocket. For a week after that, he never lit one and focused on trying to recall what his father had looked like. Because the summer after Remus Lupin turned 16, he realized he had forgotten about his father completely. He hadn’t thought about him once (okay, perhaps very briefly) during the entire school year. Which was a huge contrast compared to before, when his father rarely left his mind.

Even when his mother stopped and stared at him before telling him how much he resembled Lyall, he felt nothing because he couldn’t even remember what Lyall had looked like.

Like Remus, apparently. 

Remus couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty when he recalled that Lyall Lupin would often forget he had a son at all. 

Lyall would smoke. Not constantly, but enough where he would faintly smell like cigarettes even when he wasn’t smoking. Remus forgot what they smelled like before he felt the stick rest against his lips.

Remus didn’t smoke because his father had. 

Remus smoked because when he inhaled, and that burn would hit his throat and his chest, he felt alive. Made him remember that he was, by default, a human (however bad a one he was) and that he could feel pain. 

After a while, it stopped hurting of course, though he didn’t quit the dirty habit. 

The summer after Remus Lupin turned 16, he fell in love with pain. 

When he left school, suddenly any feelings and thoughts he’d managed to conjure up throughout that year dissolved into a big heap of nothingness rested at the bottom of his heart. It was like without the castle in his sights, without the smell of the trees and the view of the lake and the sound of his roommates laughing somewhere around him, he forgot how to feel, and didn’t try very hard (at first) to do so. 

So for the first few weeks of summer, Remus Lupin was not a person at all. 

Until he found the cigarettes. 

Until he discovered that pain was grounding, pain made you human. 

It started with pressing the tip of the lit cigarette to his skin. Just a small touch, enough to feel the heat, leave a mark, but not a scar.

Remus had plenty of scars. 

And until that summer, he’d forgotten about them.

White, raised skin, scratch-like across the pale of his face. His freckles did well to hide those, and he’d managed to duck once he heard the glass shattering. The ones on his arms were longer, deeper, harsher. He only had one on his hip that he avoided looking at all because that one he could still feel the sting of it. 

So, in conclusion, Remus didn’t want anymore scars, he just wanted to feel. 

Something, anything, and everything all at once. 

What did that make him? 

Broken, Remus decided. That made him broken.

__________

The summer after his fourth year, Sirius Black thought of Remus Lupin often. 

He often found himself in the observatory of his parents house in the late hours of the night, looking up at the black sky. They shone brighter back at Hogwarts. Shone brighter when Remus was glowing under them, almost as pale, somehow just as bright but dim all at once. 

Sirius Black became a black tie connoisseur that summer, fully against his will. 

The Blacks owned a law firm. His parents were lawyers meaning that they only ever saw Sirius as one as well. 

And lawyers did not wear nail polish. They did not put little braids in their hair, hair that they did not wear unruly and long. They did not flash their teeth, sharp and cutting, when they grinned. They did not grin. They did throw their head back when they laughed. They didn’t live in the gray area of morally right and completely “wrong”. 

Lawyers did not make crude jokes or roll their eyes. They did not yell when they hurt. They didn’t hurt. They were tough. They didn’t cry. They didn’t play music loudly when they were too happy or too sad. They didn’t pin posters to their wall. They didn’t show interest in girls and boys. And they most certainly did not talk to their dead, little brother. They didn’t mention the little brother at all. 

Lawyers were Blacks. The Blacks were lawyers. And Sirius had never been good at being either. 

So after many meetings, many hushed scoldings in corridors, many uncomfortable dinners, and many slaps to the face, Sirius would slump to the floor in the observatory and look at the moon and the stars and think about Remus Lupin. 

Because Remus Lupin got Sirius through the worst summer of his life and he didn’t even know it. 

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black both came into their fifth year at The Hogwarts Academy different people. 

They came back with more emotions tucked in their hearts. More scars, visible and otherwise, burned (literally in Remus’ case) on their skin. And both incredibly grateful to see that castle beyond the lake. 

Remus was the last to arrive at the dorm this year. Secretly, the other three roommates decided to arrive at about the same time Remus had the year before, but of course, Remus was unaware and then decided (he doesn’t own a watch) to be late. He walked into the room to see three boys huddled on James’ bed.

In an instant, all heads turned to him. 

In an instant, all Remus saw was red. 

A bright red, wrapped around Sirius’, apparently broken, arm. Remus could feel the round eyes of James Potter bored into his skull, and when he looked away from the cast and into the warmth of the Hufflepuff, he knew not to stare, not to ask or mention (not that he would) and really pretend like he hadn’t seen it at all. 

The conversation previous to Remus’ arrival never resumed. 

“Bout time you showed up!” shouted Peter. James huffed a laugh. 

“We’ve been waiting for ages,” said James. 

Sirius said nothing. He was shocked into nothingness. 

Remus had gotten tall. Somehow paler, but somehow more there. His hair had grown a tad longer, a tad curlier, but it made all the difference. For years before, it was like this sheer film permanently coating the boy, but the film was gone and there stood Remus Lupin. 

James jumped from the bed and began pulling Remus and his many bags into the room. Just as they dropped everything onto the last empty bed, James turned to Remus with his nose scrunched up. 

“What?” Remus frowned, speaking his first word of his fifth year. 

“You smell of cigarette smoke.” Remus turned away, fiddling with this, moving that. 

“Oh, I um, just had one.” For some reason, having James Perfectly Hufflepuff Potter know he did something so nonperfect was slightly embarrassing. 

“Since when do you smoke?” Peter fell onto Remus’ mattress, glancing into an open bag of books Remus had acquired over the past two months. 

“This summer,” Remus answered. 

“Why?” This was James. 

Remus sighed a not quite there sigh and deadpanned, “Because it makes me look cool.” Then his eyes flickered to Sirius, who had a look Remus had never seen on him before. James and Peter laughed and they launched into their beginning of the year catch up.

Everything fell back into place. And Remus felt more than he had all summer. 

__________

Remus never found out why Sirius was in a cast, but he knew that it wasn’t good. 

There was an influx of hushed conversations on James’ bed between the best friends and Remus found himself, not eavesdropping, but noticing. The information he’d gathered was this: 

Sirius’ family sucked.

Sirius’ father had something to do with his broken arm. 

Sirius Black now lived at the Potters. 

Obviously, Remus decided, something major must have happened to Sirius over the

summer. Something that broke his arm. Something that caused him to leave his home. Something that made him a shade dimmer than usual, made him a touch quieter than he’d ever been before. 

Remus didn’t, couldn’t, ask.

One night, the first night Sirius happened upon a moonlit Remus in the common room, Remus had asked, “Why red?” 

And Sirius responded, “Red for Remus.” 

It’s perfect.

There were many more nights that the two of them spent together. Before, Sirius would fill the silence with questions. They’d talk, and it was the kind that didn’t make Remus think too much, didn’t make Remus try too much. He wasn’t exhausted by the end of it. But Sirius had gotten better at reading Remus and when he didn’t want- couldn't speak. Because sometimes he just couldn’t and that was okay.

But the spark that used to shine so brightly behind Sirius’ eyes was now dim and dull. 

Remus found that he missed it. 

He missed Sirius. And Remus hadn’t ever missed anyone. 

One night, atop the Astronomy Tower, after Remus’ midnight class, Sirius sauntered up the steps, only slightly out of breath, and plopped down beside his friend. Remus had a cigarette hanging from his lips loosely while he fished a lighter from his pant pocket. 

“Why’d you start smoking those?” Sirius asked him as a greeting. 

“I told you,” Remus answered, because he had. Of course, he never expected Sirius of all people to believe it. 

“Why’d you really?” And Remus sat with the question a moment, looking for a way to tell the truth without sounding like a mad man. But, he was Remus, so words never really came out how he intended them to.

“It burns my throat,” he said. Sirius just watched him speak. “And my chest. It’s like-” Remus then made an odd motion with his hands, the cigarette, now lit, glowing in the dark between his fingers. “All, all, all…” He was searching for a word.

“Encompassing?” Sirius offered. Remus snapped and it sounded so loud in Remus’ quiet that Sirius jumped. 

“Encompassing,” Remus confirmed. “And the smell, its- do you think it stinks?” Remus quite liked the smell because it was strong. He could feel the smoke twist and curl through the air and up his nose, burning it slightly, clouding his brain for a moment. 

“The smoke?” Remus nodded. “I like it,” Sirius admitted. Because he did. Especially when Remus was thrown into the mix. 

“I like it too.” 

“Can I try it?” Sirius asked, almost hesitantly, which was so unlike him because Sirius Black wasn’t hesitant in anything he did. 

“Why?” Cigarettes, to Remus’ understanding, were never meant to be a pleasant thing, and as far as he was concerned, Sirius was a pleasant thing. 

“Can’t I look cool too?” Another question thrown between them. Remus almost cracked a smile. 

Instead of saying what he wished, Remus withdrew the stick from between his lips and held it out for Sirius to take. With his index and his thumb, Sirius looked at Remus as he took the cigarette and brought it to his mouth. And when he sucked in, inhaling the smoke in a big huff, Remus thought Sirius looked like the coolest of all. 

Until he began to sputter and smoke clouded their heads for a moment while Sirius coughed and coughed for many minutes. They spent the rest of the night, silent under the stars, smoking slowly until the sky grew bright. 

__________

If Remus didn’t have to cover his scars before, he certainly did fifth year. Before, if he rolled up his sleeves if he got to warm, the littered scars down his arms weren’t too noticeable. And he never was around anyone anyway, so he could do little things like rolling up his sleeves. But the scars he’d gotten over the summer were fresh and honestly gross, so when it was blazing outside and Remus was in a sweatshirt, he was suffering greatly.

His friends had obviously noticed that Remus had never worn anything other than sweatshirts or sweaters, and the occasional flannel. James and Peter had chalked it up to an insecurity thing. Maybe he didn’t like showing his arms, maybe they were extra scrawny and Remus didn’t like that. Or maybe he was just comforted by the extra fabric. 

Sirius chalked it up to Remus just liked to stay hidden, so he drowned himself in earth colored fabrics that hung loosely off his body in an attempt to blend in to the world around him. 

None of them were prepared for what really lay underneath. 

Remus always showered at night, like he did most things. Well, really it was those early hours of the morning, like one or two, that people just called night. But one day, about three months into his fifth year, Remus was caught showering mid afternoon. 

All the other roommates of Dorm 173 were meant to be out at a game that Saturday. It was meant to go on until five, Remus was sure of it. So he deemed it safe to shower when the sun was up, and even walk outside into his own room in nothing but a towel wrapped low on his hips. 

As he was rummaging about his drawers, the door behind him burst open. His bones felt disintegrated in his body and his heart dropped down and out the bottom of his feet to lay on the wooden floor next to all his books and discarded clothes. 

There Remus Lupin stood, in the golden sun of the afternoon shining bright through the window, silver slashes glowing like constellations across his arms, dotted with round and raised, red and scabbing burns. His pale skin was tinted orange, the scars on his face were shining in the light and for once looked like they lay atop his freckles instead of below. 

There Remus Lupin stood, bare and exposed. And beautiful. 

James felt sick. Sick with himself because he should’ve known. He should’ve known there was something wrong with his friend, something he should’ve asked and pressed about. He should’ve asked of the scars on his face instead of being polite. He should’ve asked so he could’ve known and been prepared. Because there his friend stood, someone he cared for deeply, and he was hurt badly and James hadn’t even known.

Peter felt sad and curious. What had done that to Remus? What had happened to Remus? Was this why he was so different? So odd and quiet? Making it three and a half standing there in the room instead of four? Was Remus okay? Did he need help? Or a hug? Peter wanted to help so badly, and just didn’t know how. 

Sirius felt angry. He hated that the other two were seeing him because he didn’t know what they were thinking. He knew they were good people, they’d never do anything harmful to Remus, but think it? He couldn’t be sure. Which was why he wanted to scream at them to leave and burn the image from their brains forever. No one else should see Remus like that. He was angry that he didn’t know, and because he wasn’t James, he was angry at Remus for not telling him. He was angry at who or whatever did that to him. 

Remus felt ashamed. He felt himself become just a shadow of a person before them, faded even in the sun, hazy in the warm light, disappearing from them in real time. And they could all see it. The little color he did have drained from his face. The way his eyes, so deep and green, dimmed and emptied, like they had been when they all first met. Only then did they all realize how much more Remus had become over the last few years, and how it was all snatched away so quickly. 

No one moved for what felt like minutes. When in reality, it all happened so fast. 

Sirius moved first, taking charge of them all. 

He grabbed a throw blanket off one of the beds and tossed it to Remus. “Let’s go,” he said lowly. Peter turned at once, moving James who’d been clutching his friend's shoulder. “Go.” It wasn’t rude, wasn’t harsh, just urging. When Sirius looked back over, Remus had cocooned himself in the blanket, wrapped all the way up, hiding even his face from the world. He’d perched himself on the edge of his mattress, facing away from them all.

James and Peter left the room. Sirius couldn’t bring himself too.

“Remus,” he began, but didn’t know how to continue. What was he meant to say? He could guess how Remus must be feeling, how Remus thinks he knows how they think of him now. Sirius wished he could express to Remus that he couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Please leave.” Sirius’ heart joined Remus’ on the floor, but his was now in pieces. Remus sounded so defeated that Sirius’ chest pulled and ached. 

“Remus,” he tried again. 

“Please.” And it was whispered, and fragile, and it hurt to hear him like that, so Sirius left. 

After that, it was like Remus was twelve again, trying to convince himself his eyes were open, that he was breathing, that he was alive. Because Remus Lupin no longer felt alive.

His friends had seen. Seen his scars. Seen his brokenness. Seen every reason why he was different. Seen him. 

And during that moment, as he watched them stare at him, he felt every emotion he’d been confused about before. He felt every molecule of pain, anger, sadness, and everything in between so deeply and so loudly that after they’d left the room, he ceased to feel anything at all. 

Two more weeks of fifth year went by and it was like Remus was a ghost. The roommates of Dorm 173 only saw their friend during the few classes they shared, and that was it. Remus was a ghost to the halls, a ghost to meal times, a ghost to the dorm, and a ghost to the world. 

Of course none of them cared about the scars, they were just worried. They cared about him. But it was clear to them now that Remus did not understand that. That he couldn’t. And James Potter would have been the first to show that to Remus if he could only find him. Peter Pettegrew was a shy kid, but he would’ve done anything he could to show Remus that they could still get lost in books together just like always, if he could only find him. And Sirius Black would have made it his life’s mission to convince Remus how special, how incredible, and how wonderful he was, if he could only find him. 

Sirius had the upper hand over the other two. He knew some of Remus’ hiding places, especially where to find him in the dark. Except, Remus hadn’t been to the Astronomy Tower, or found in various window sills, or on the brick wall outside the dining hall, or napping by the lake. 

Remus Lupin had disappeared. 

And all his friends, all Sirius wished to do, was find him. 

Eventually he did. 

He’d spent the past week staying up as late as his eyes allowed, waiting for Remus to return to their dorm. He waited outside the classrooms Remus was in, but as soon as the corridors flooded with students, Remus slipped into the crowd and blended in perfectly, like he always did. Sirius took on the Astronomy Tower stairs until his legs ached. And he circled the lake until every tree and bush and flower he memorized. 

Remus was nowhere. 

Until he was. 

It was that awkward time right after dark, just before curfew, so students were either already in their dorms, or hiding somewhere where any teachers or patrolling prefects would catch them. Remus was curled under an archway down a dead end corridor near the kitchens. His legs were pulled to his chest, a book lay open across his knees, but his head rested back against the frame, his eyes closed. 

That was how Sirius had found him. 

He blew out a breath loud enough to alert Remus, who at last, looked at Sirius. All Sirius could think was fucking finally. 

Sirius shuffled through phrases like where have you been and I’ve been looking for ages and are you okay and please talk to me in his mind. Eventually, he just sat down opposite Remus, crossed his legs, and looked at him. 

Remus was sleepy and startled and scared. He’d successfully avoided everyone for two weeks, but he should’ve known that couldn’t have gone on much longer. His chest felt hollow and full all at once, but his brain focused on the hollow. His hands felt clammy and his mouth dry. His limbs felt weak and numb. He hadn’t been getting much sleep. He hadn't been doing much living at all. 

“I don’t know what to say to you,” Sirius admitted quietly. Honestly. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Remus’ voice was broken. Faint. Foggy. Croaky. He hadn’t spoken in two weeks. Hadn’t opened his mouth at all, really. 

“No, I do. I just don’t know what you need to hear.” Sirius’ hands curled into fists and he wasn’t even sure why he was angry, but he was. He wished he knew what to say, what to tell Remus that could make it better. 

“I don’t know either,” Remus whispered. 

Suddenly desperate, Sirius scooted across the floor until he was right in front of Remus. “Just tell me. Tell me what to say, tell me what to do, and I’ll say it. I’ll do it.” And he meant it. 

Remus shook his head once, slowly, shakily. 

“I-I don’t, I…don’t know.” 

Remus was on the edge of a cliff. He was on his side and the wind was harsh and strong. It would either blow him over and into the freezing, numbingly cold water below. Or it’d blow him on his back, exposed and broken. 

Sirius took a leap of faith, using all his will and strength to force himself to take Remus’ trembling hands in his. His palms were warm, whereas Remus’ were cold. His fingers were shorter and delicate, whereas Remus’ were long and slender. Both were shaking. 

“How can I help you? Please, tell me. I want to help you.” 

Remus was short circuiting because Sirius’ hands felt so real around his own. He was convinced he could feel the veins pumping, the blood flowing. He could feel Sirius’ pulse. Remus had never felt like that. Even under the moon and the stars, he’d never felt warm, he’d never felt like flesh. He could feel Sirius’ and it shocked Remus how suddenly scared he felt. 

“I can’t…feel…anything.” Remus subconsciously squeezed Sirius and Sirius looked into the dimness of the other’s eyes, and for however much he didn’t understand, he did. “I can’t, I don’t..I-I, it’s like, I…something’s wrong with me.”

Sirius immediately shook his head, denying the statement while being aware that there very well could be something wrong with him, he just didn’t know what. But there wasn’t. It was Remus, his Remus, and he needed Sirius’ help, Sirius just had to figure out how.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Remus.” 

“Sirius, I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what I- I can’t…I don’t feel alive. I don’t know how to be human.” Remus pulled his hands away from Sirius, as if he feared he’d infect Sirius with whatever he was cursed with. Sirius’ heart tugged at this and all he wanted was to feel him again. Sometimes Sirius didn’t feel like Remus was alive, and touching him proved that he wasn’t crazy, that he didn’t make up this magical, tragically beautiful creature in his head. 

“I’ll show you,” said Sirius. He didn’t even know what he meant by that, or how he’d do it, but he would. 

“How?” 

And Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know. But I will.” 

“I can’t be fixed, Sirius.” 

Oh how Sirius loved when Remus said his name. 

“I know,” Sirius agreed, because it was true. Remus was not broken, and even if he was, Sirius would pick up all the pieces. “You just need help. Let me help you. Please.” 

Remus sunk further into the wall, visibly exhausted. “Okay.” 

Sirius wasn’t sure how he’d go about the whole operation, but he knew where to start. He pulled Remus up from the floor and across campus. Together, they slowly climbed the Astronomy Tower. Together, they sat with their legs dangling over the campus below, heads thrown back to stare at the sky above. 

“Tell the moon something.” Sirius knew Remus did this. Remus knew that he hadn’t been doing this for weeks. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, he didn’t feel alive enough to take in the moon and appreciate it for what he knew it was. 

But Sirius was there, helping and trying and caring, so Remus let his skin soak in the silver light and his eyes followed the map of the stars, and he forgot how much he craved the sight of a night sky. How he felt hidden and seen all at once. How he felt just a tad more alive. 

“I’ll go first if you want,” Sirius suggested. 

Remus found himself nodding, wanting to hear what Sirius had to confess. Remus looked at Sirius, taking in the sharp edges of his face, the way his hair fell, long and dark, and his eyes, shining with all the thoughts in his marvelous brain. Sirius took a breath and looked to the moon. 

“I’ve been really confused about something recently. It’s like all consuming, and all I think about. I can’t figure out how to feel about it, if it’s good or bad, if…I’m just really confused.”

Sirius felt safe in his confession because he really didn’t give anything away. Remus had no way of knowing what it was, and it felt good to say it out loud. To acknowledge this thing that had been eating away at him for, quite honestly, years, but had gotten louder and louder in his mind over time. This thing that was sitting right next to him. 

Remus took in what he said and was more focused on the fact that he knew how that felt rather than what was making Sirius feel that way. Sirius was honest and open and Remus knew he needed to be too. 

The moon was the perfect crescent, and bright that night. It had a yellow tint, shining below the silver, surrounded by the deepest of blues and stars winking down at the world they hung above. Remus was comfortable below them all, comforted in the fact, in the truth that they were. He could tell them anything and they’d listen, absorb, and accept him for what he was. 

What he couldn't be sure of was if Sirius would be the same way. 

But he was the brightest star in the sky, so Remus found a slither of hope resting beneath his skin. 

“I feel…insignificant,” said Remus finally. He couldn’t feel Sirius’ soul flaming gaze in the side of his face, he was more focused on just getting the words to form and fall from his mouth. “Like, I’m this small thing, sometimes so small I’m not there at all.” Remus’ eyes jumped from star to shining star as he spoke, like he was gauging each of their reactions to his confession. And perhaps it was because he hadn’t spoken in so long, and the words had just built and built inside him, but once he began, he couldn’t stop himself. 

He was speaking to an old friend, the sky, and he needed to catch it up on all his feelings. And granted, they were old feelings, but he had a new way of describing it. Of acknowledging it. And anytime Remus Lupin decided to acknowledge his feelings was welcomed immensely by the universe. 

“It’s not as if I think I’m supposed to be important. I think, like, in the grand scheme of things, none of us…are. I just- it’s like- I don’t know. It’s like everyone else has thoughts…and feelings…and personalities…a-and souls…and I just- I don’t know, like somewhere along the way, I lost- or maybe I never- I just…I just don’t.” 

Then Remus Lupin finished his confession how he started. “I feel insignificant.” Truth and feeling and vulnerability dripped slow and thick from his words, mixing with the night air, sailing in a tiny boat through the sea in the sky, and up to the moon to be locked and kept safe. 

And Sirius Black found himself holding back his tears.