Mountains and Seas
Friday rolls around as it always seems to. Dora is in the area, so she comes to Remus’ flat to drop off Teddy. He runs into the apartment, little backpack on his shoulders and the hood of his yellow rain jacket covering his head, clutching a piece of paper so tightly that he’s wrinkling it.
“Daddy, look what I made!” he shouts, launching himself into Remus’ arms. “I maded it today in school!”
Remus catches him, pretending to struggle. “Well let me see, kid.”
Teddy holds it out. It’s a picture of some sort of animal on blue construction paper, made with crayons. On the bottom, Teddy has signed his picture as he always does, one ‘D’ uppercase and one lowercase.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Remus says, admiring it. He kisses Teddy’s cheek. “We’ve got an artist in the family.”
“Hang it! Hang it! Hang it!”
Remus laughs and slowly lets down his squirming son. He catches sight of Dora, hanging around in the doorway, pretending not to be watching but clearly doing so.
“How about you go put your stuff in your room so I can talk with Mummy?” Remus says. “Then we’ll hang it, yeah?”
“Yeah!” Teddy takes off running down the hallway, towards his room, smile echoing off the walls like sunshine.
Remus watches him go as Dora finally steps into the flat, shutting the door behind her. “I got the notification. Of the court date.”
“Right.” Remus scratches his neck. “Does the day work for you?”
“Yes.” Her arms are crossed. Her eyes are lined and sharp. “I’ll have Teddy stay with my parents.”
“Okay.” Remus doesn’t know when it happened. When their relationship switched from ‘I love you’ and ‘I hate you’ to ‘Yes’ and ‘Okay’. When they got boring. When they stopped feeling anything for each other all together.
“I just…” she sighs. “Are you sure you’re ready? It’s a big responsibility, taking him to school and picking him up, talking with teachers, having him a whole week? I mean, you’re only a few months out of the thick of it.”
“Dora-“
“I need you to be sure.” She holds her fist above her heart, looks at Remus with big eyes, and goddamnit she’s beautiful. “He… he needs you, Remus, I don’t doubt that, but he needs you to be there.”
“I’m here,” he says. “And I’m ready. You don’t have to be worried.”
She bites her lip. “I guess that’s why the court is deciding. So we don’t have to.”
Remus nods. “I’m ready.”
The sound of little feet pounding back down the hallway put a halt to the conversation.
“Come say bye bye to Mummy, Sheyfele,” Remus says.
~
Teddy asks for a song that night, as he always does. Throughout the week, Remus had begun thinking about what type of songs he was playing Teddy, a literal three-year-old, and had to take a step back. Maybe songs with rough metaphors to addiction and sex aren’t exactly the best for his young ears. Maybe it’s better to play shitty old Beatles or something he wrote himself.
Teddy’s laying down in his striped bedsheets with the comforter pulled up to his chin, kicking his legs because he’s ‘not tired’ even though he just had a meltdown that Remus sorely managed by turning on the cartoon channel.
Remus gets his guitar and sits beside his son, lets him cuddle up against the instrument like he always does, ears close to the body to hear the vibrations. He starts strumming some reject Beatles song before they started doing LSD, back when their music actually had some significance, and sings a melody like he’s a British Johnny Cash.
“Oh my son comes from the mountains
And my son comes from the sea
From the sky above us
And a tall rainforest tree
Oh my son will climb the mountains
And sail the seven seas
But most importantly
He’ll do it all with me
Oh my son is in the forests
On a path, he’s wandering
But he will never fear
‘Cuz I am always here.”
“I like that one,” Teddy says while Remus is still strumming, finally letting his eyes droop, his body calm down. “It’s good.”
“It’s just for you, Sheyfele,” Remus says. He stops strumming to tuck a curl behind Teddy’s ear, smiling. He’s played for dozens of executives and hundreds of thousands of people, but he’ll always be the most nervous for his four-year-old’s approval. “I’m glad you like it.”
Teddy hums. Reaches out his little hands to run them along the strings. They screech until he figures out to strum horizontally. He strums the bottom three strings unevenly. It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has ever heard.
“Another?” Teddy says, then yawns.
“One more,” Remus concedes. “What song do you want?”
“The sun song.” He moves, sits up to lean into Remus’ shoulder. He puts his hand on Remus’ throat.
“You got it.” Remus moves his capo. Kisses Teddy’s forehead, and sings, “Here comes the sun…”
~
Saturday morning, Remus packs up some sandwiches and water bottles and takes Teddy to the park. He had been sprinting around the flat all morning pretending to be a racecar, and there were far to many sharp edges for that, resulting in the park.
Remus gets to the park and lets Teddy fly, hoping it’ll wear him down enough so he actually takes a nap. He and Dora are trying to phase them out because Teddy’s getting close to four, but he’s just so much easier to manage with a nap in him.
Teddy’s trying to run up the slide and Remus is trying to light a cigarette against the wind when there’s a shout across the playground, “REMUS!”
At first he thinks it’s some sort of fangirl, but then he realizes he’s not in that phase of life anymore and the voice is male. He looks around the playground and, unfortunately, sees James jogging in his direction.
He raises a weak hand, “Hey, James.”
“Hey!” He slows to a walk, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You got Teddy out this morning?”
“Yeah.” Remus squints at the playground and finds Teddy just laying on the pavement. Not weird for him. “There’s the kid.”
“The one on the ground?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he just…” Remus makes a vague gesture, “does that sometimes.”
James laughs. “I get it. Hey, can I bum a fag?”
“‘Course.” Remus holds out his pack of cigs. James wiggles his fingers like it’s a hard decision before choosing one. He procures his own lighter.
“Lily doesn’t like it when I smoke much,” he says. “She doesn’t mind ‘cuz I know she does it to, we just pretend that neither of us smoke.”
“That sounds like a great relationship.”
James exhales smoke. “It works.”
“You here with Harry?”
“Yeah, we just had football practice and he wasn’t ready to go home yet, so,” he shrugs, “park.”
“Ah, he’s a football player?”
“Yeah, and a damn good one too,” he says. “Puts the other kids to shame, though, maybe I’m just his dad.”
“I should put Teddy in football,” Remus muses. He recalls his football days as a child, which typically consisted of him scoring approximately zero goals and then begging to quit. “He’s got too much energy.”
“That’s a four-year-old for you.”
Remus brings his cigarette to his lips. Now would be a proper time to let out a polite chuckle, or even smile, but he’s still got James’ mistrust hanging at the back of his throat, still got the feeling on his skin from where James grabbed him.
“When I was-“
“I’m angry with you,” Remus interrupts, feeling very much like a child. “I’m actually quite furious.”
James pushes his glasses up his nose. “Because of what I said.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“To be fair, Remus, we did just meet, what, a few weeks ago? and then you run to the bathroom looking like shit and you open the door all aggressive. You’re around Sirius all the time and you’re not supposed to know—“
“I know,” Remus says, “about Sirius. He told me.”
“Then you should understand where I’m coming from.” James rocks back on his heels, painfully casual. “Sirius isn’t just my best mate, he’s my brother, and I’d do anything to protect him.”
“He doesn’t need protection.” Remus drops his cigarette on the ground, eyes locked on Teddy, who is now running around the playground with a group of boys just a little older than him. “And what you said? What you did? Was completely out of line.”
“I won’t apologize.”
“I don’t care.” Remus and James turn to each other, squaring each other up. Remus is taller but James has more muscle, but Remus doesn’t doubt he’s gotten in more fights, knows how to throw a better punch. “If you pull that shit again, if you threaten my son again, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“Heard.” James’ cheek twitches. “See you on Monday, Remus.”
~
After the AA meeting on Monday, Sirius invites Remus to his flat before band practice for a brief jam session. Remus comes equipped with his bass and his acoustic, as well as a notebook full of chords and lyrics.
They get Chinese takeaway and sit on the floor of Sirius’ small yet nice flat, struggling with their chopsticks and sharing opinions about the people in their group. Lacey’s gonna relapse, Mr. Min is sick of them all, Anderson left for some unknown reason.
Sirius’ flat has that maximalist vibe, the walls lined in records and photos and pictures drawn by his students. He’s the music teacher, so he doesn’t go in on Mondays, but Remus is sure it’s because he’s not actually a primary school teacher. Looking at him and his leather jackets and tattoos and the overall darkness of his apartment makes it impossible. But then again, he has plants against the windows and an impossible number of blankets piled up on the sofa and mugs in the sink and it’s a little bit more believable.
“Do you guys write your own stuff?” Remus asks, swallowing a mouthful of rice.
“Lily and I did for a while, when we were trying to get noticed, but we had a deal,” Sirius digs in his container for a good bite, “with James, with his parents, with our old bassist. We had two years of trying to get a record deal. Two years.”
Remus nods. When Wolf moved to London, it took them a year to get a touring deal, another year after that to actually get booked in the studio to cut a demo.
“Two years came and went, and the deal was over.” He shrugs. “James and Lily moved back here, I stayed in London for a bit with our old bassist, going to university and playing with a different band, but then I came back. Can never be far from James for long.”
“Your old bassist,” Remus says, taking the opportunity and running with it. “What really happened to him?"
Sirius puts his Chinese to the side and pats the ground for his pack of cigarettes. “He died.”
“You already told that joke.”
He lights a cigarette. Offers the pack to Remus, who shakes his head. “He got married.”
Remus frowns. “I don’t get it.”
“He got married, Remus,” he says articulately, eyes kind of going fuzzy.
Remus frowns, slowly understanding, “Like…”
“Yeah.” Sirius lights his cigarette, staring at Remus expectantly. Eyebrows raised, blue eyes, not ready to recoil but ready to fight.
“And you and he…”
“Yeah.”
Remus nods. He leans against the sofa, turns his head to look at Sirius, sitting just beside him, but he’s facing forward. “And then he went and got married.”
“He had a lot of pressure on him from his family, he was the only child, only son, Catholic family.” Sirius brings the cigarette to his lips. “Like, I get it. I get where he’s coming from. But it just makes me sad for him.”
“Me too,” Remus says.
“Anyway,” he sighs. “Now he lives in the south with a wife and newborn baby and it’s just easier to say that he’s dead.”
Remus takes Sirius’ pack of cigarettes to light his own. He’s sure that this conversation merits something to do with his hands. “Did you—”
“Love him?” Sirius glances at Remus. “Yeah, I did.”
“It feels weird,” Remus says, “to have loved someone.”
“Yeah.” He brings his cigarette to his lips. “It’s like… you know everything about someone, and then all of the sudden you start pretending they’re dead.”
“Or you share a kid and you have to see them every Friday and Sunday, you have to see her every time you look at your kid ‘cuz he’s got his mother’s nose.”
“At least he didn’t get yours.”
Remus barks out a laugh and shoves Sirius. “We were having a serious conversation!”
“Oh, whatever.”
“And I’m sure that’s anti-Semitic in some way.”
Sirius hunches over his knees, shaking with laughter.
“God, Sirius,” Remus says, poking him in the side. “Prick.”
He sits up, grinning. “To be fair, though, I do like your nose.”
“Nope.” Remus shakes his head. “You already ruined it. Sirius Black made fun of my nose. I’ll never recover.”
Sirius snorts. He runs the top knuckle of his pointed finger along the bridge of Remus’ nose, an ever-light touch, barely there. “Damn you, Remus.”
Remus follows the movement of the finger, watches as Sirius pulls away. He hesitates, hand in the air, almost as if he’s about to reach out further, to take something new. Remus wants to tell him to, he wants to tell him it’s all he’s been thinking about since that first meal together, he wants to get greedy.
He drops his hand and sniffs.
Remus inhales.
“Look, mate,” Sirius says, staring at his hand. Remus wants to grab it. Wants to put it back on his body where it belongs. “You’ve got a kid. You’ve gotta… you’ve gotta stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop making me think there’s something here.” His cigarette is long gone. He pulls the ashtray over and stubs it out.
“What if there is something here?”
Sirius snaps his head in Remus’ direction, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“What if there is something here?” He repeats.
Sirius shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Just… don’t.”
“You feel it though,” Remus says, daring to move closer. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
“I shouldn’t,” Sirius says. He’s so close. He’s right there. It should be so easy to reach out and touch, but here Sirius is, saying it’s not. “I can’t tell you what to do, I know that, but just give it a bloody thought before you do anything you’re gonna regret.”
“I wo-“
“A real thought,” he specifies. “Not one of those things that rattles around in that empty head of yours.”
“I should be offended.”
Sirius smiles softly. “Just try.”
Remus hates that he raises a good point. If the court even catches a whiff of anything that whispers homosexuality, he won’t just not get equal custody, he’ll get weekends taken from him, visitations if he’s lucky. His past affairs with men have been just that: affairs. A secret is easy to keep until it’s not.
“Damnit,” Remus says, knocking his head back against the sofa. “You’re right.”
“I usually am,” Sirius replies. “But the victory tastes like blood.”
“That’d be a really good song.” Remus looks at him. The sun has just managed to poke through the clouds, and it forms a kind of halo image around Sirius’ frizzy hair. Closer to angel than devil, but just human, stuck somewhere in between.
“Well back off.” He lights another cigarette. “It’s mine.”
~
That seems to be it. Sirius and Remus talked about the illusive ‘it’. The thing between them that had no name but most certainly had a personality. It can’t happen, and that’s that.
Passover begins, and Remus is once again not permitted to have Teddy. Luckily, his family celebrates this holiday in a smaller manner, so he spends the two days at his mother’s house for the Seder along with his aunts and uncles — his cousins all have families of their own to care for.
He returns back to Chester afterwards for another performance. This one, he manages better than the previous. It feels a bit like complacency, a bit like watching Sirius sing, a bit like sinking into the background.
There’s something about Sirius after the confession that’s different. Maybe Remus hadn’t noticed it, maybe he hadn’t let himself, but every lyric out of Sirius’ mouth is strained, every look he shoots back to the rhythm section to catch the beat is heated.
They sing Good Times, Bad Times and the crowd eats it up. Lily’s guitar solo is absolutely fucking insane, and Sirius sings like he was meant to. Loud and growly and whiny at times. It’s proof that you don’t have to be a teenager to find your path, you can very well find it at twenty-nine.
Afterwards, the four of them plus some of their friends hang out at a different bar nearby. Sirius and Remus get diet Cokes, but spend most of the night outside smoking.
“Do you think about it?” Remus asks.
Sirius stomps down his latest cigarette. “Think about what?”
“Being a singer.”
He pulls out another cigarette. “I used to.”
“Not anymore?”
He pats his pockets and looks at the ground. “Do you have my light?”
“No, why would I take your light?”
“Can you give me a fuckin’ light, then?”
“Damn.” Remus grabs his lighter from deep in his pocket and tosses it to Sirius. If he was bolder, he’d light it himself, crowd up real close to Sirius, look right in his eyes. Make it mean something.
So he doesn’t.
“Can I keep this?” Sirius asks.
“What?”
He taps the lighter. “It’s got your initials on it. I bet I could get a crazy amount of money for it.”
“Nobody bloody wants a used lighter.” Remus snatches it back. A red lighter, initials sharpied on by Evan at some point or another. An acting souvenir. “Don’t be fucking annoying, answer my question.”
“Your question was vague and pointless,” Sirius says smokily.
“You’re being a prick on purpose.”
“Then don’t ask me questions that I don’t want to answer.” He holds the cigarette out for Remus to take, maybe Sirius’ fucked version of a peace offering, trying to get Remus to shut the fuck up.
Remus takes it.
“‘Cuz if you start asking me shit like that, then I’ll start asking you about your ex.”
“Always on the defense.”
Sirius turns to Remus and smiles without any emotion behind it. “Always on the offense, but never a step ahead.”
Remus places the cigarette right between Sirius’ lips. “I dunno what you’re on about not wanting to be a singer when you speak in lyrics better than the majority of the industry.”
“Majority?”
Remus snorts. “Not better than me.”
“I knew you were gonna fucking say that, you wanker, that’s why I prompted you, you’re so goddamn full of yourself.”
There’s something about the air in bars, about the fucking audacity that comes after playing a show, about the adrenaline that is so close to a dying high yet it nowhere near, Remus could kiss Sirius and he would, he would, he would, he would. He imagines how he would do it, taking Sirius by the neck and pulling him in but making him close that final distance, oh how good it would feel, how good it would feel. A life full of woulds and shoulds and coulds how is he supposed to make anything out of it anymore.
Remus pulls the sleeves of his jacket down and goes inside.
~
The phone rings past midnight. Remus has been sitting on the window seat with his guitar, just plucking, not really writing anything. He should let the phone go. He should let it ring out and then unplug the whole fucking system and change his phone number.
But there’s Sirius’ lips in his brain and imaginary hands on his hips and he’s so sick of what ifs, so he picks up the phone.
“Remus?” The voice answers, surprised.
He sighs. “Evan.”
“You’ve never… you’ve never picked up before.” Evan’s slurring, he’s fucking wasted, probably high on whatever shit he could inject into his veins.
“What do you want?” Remus takes a seat at the table. He’s sober, the world is painfully clear.
“We fuckin’, mate, like, we fuckin’ need you n’ shit.” There’s crackling on the other side of the line, dulled conversations. “Pete’s got your number and I just had to, mate, mate I just had to tell you.”
“Evan, you can’t do this,” Remus says as clearly as possible. Evan won’t remember this, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “This isn’t good for either of us.”
“We’re fuckin’ over, mate,” Evan spits.
“What do you mean?”
“Ain’t got no songs, no fuckin’ title, like,” he coughs, “Kelly is a piece of shit and like… Ted, shit, mate, I’m…”
Remus rubs his eyes. If anything he needs to hang up. If Evan wants to contact him, he’ll do it sober. “Get sober, Evan.”
“M’fine.”
“No, get sober, then we fucking talk.” He removes the phone from his ear, looks at the hook, needs to put it down, goddamnit. “Evan, are you okay?”
“Ne’er been better.”
Remus waits for Evan to respond. Counts to five and listens to his shaky breathing. “Do yourself a favor and get sober.”
He hangs up.
~
Dora is sick when she drops off Teddy on Friday. She tells Remus it’s just a cold, but he feels her forehead and she’s burning up. On Sunday, she gives Remus a call.
“I’m sorry,” she says, voice nasally.
“Don’t worry about it,” Remus replies, watching Teddy play at the table, crayons more on the wood than the paper. “Just get better, okay?”
“Can I talk to him for a bit?”
“‘Course.” Remus hands the phone to Teddy. Says, “It’s Mummy.”
While they’re on the phone, Remus takes a couple things to the kitchen sink. It’s a bad day for him. He’s got itching under his fingers and inside of his nails and he needs a cigarette and also. Like. A bump of something.
Dora and Teddy finish talking, and Remus hangs up. He looks at his son, hand still on the phone, and says, “How would you like to come to band practice with Daddy?”
Half an hour later, Remus manages to get Teddy into the car, prepared with baby headphones and snacks and toys. With any luck, they’ll make it through half of rehearsal before Teddy has a breakdown.
“Wanna sing?” Remus asks.
“Yeah!” Teddy excitedly replies, kicking his car seat as if he didn’t just have a meltdown over his socks.
Remus flips on the radio. It’s a rock station, and of course a Wolf song is playing, a song off their most recent album, one of the last Remus wrote for them. He changes the station.
Teddy sings along to the songs, which is mostly just him babbling to whatever tune he makes up in his head. As soon as he’s old enough, Remus will put him in piano.
When they arrive at the Potter’s, it takes Remus another five minutes to get out of the car, by which point the band practice has clearly already started, drums and Sirius’ voice rumbling out.
Remus doesn’t bother telling Teddy to be good. They’ll do what they can. He’s learned that much by now.
“Ready?” Remus asks, fitting headphones over Teddy’s ears, which he luckily doesn’t fight.
“Yeah.”
Remus sucks in a deep breath, then opens the door to the garage. He’s multitasking, kid on his hip and baby bag over his shoulder, guitar on his hip.
The music falters as if a record has come to a screeching halt. The band stares.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says.
A pin drop a mile away could be heard. Sirius grips the neck of his guitar like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to a world without gravity.
“This is Teddy,” Remus says, trying to cut the thick awkwardness like he’s holding a spoon
“Hi,” Teddy whispers, and God bless him, that breaks James and Lily out of their trance.
“Oh, Remus, you bring him whenever you like!” Lily gushes, ditching her guitar and hurrying towards him. “I could just eat him up! Hi, Teddy.”
Teddy’s got his hand in Remus’ hair, putting on a brave face.
“I’ve got some things for him to do while we play.” Remus tries to put him down, but Teddy holds on tight. “We’ll get through as much as we can. I didn’t wanna skive off.”
“That’s fine,” James says. “Whatever you need to take care of your family. That always comes first.”
“Thanks.”
“I can get Harry,” Lily offers. She holds Teddy’s hand. “What do you say, cutie? Wanna play with my boy? He’s a bit older than you, but you’ll get on just fine.”
Teddy looks at Remus, who sighs. “If he’s not busy.”
“He’s twelve,” Lily says, walking into the house. “What could he be doing?”
“Okay, Sheyfele, let me put you down,” Remus says, dropping his guitar and bag. “You’ll like Harry lots. He’s nice.”
“And he’s got cars,” James says.
“Cars?” Teddy looks up with his big eyes, now holding onto Remus’ leg.
“Yeah, a whole bunch.”
Remus ruffles his hair. “You’re all good, kid.”
While they wait for Lily to get back with Harry, Remus occupies Teddy by showing him how he plugs in his bass, how he tunes it. Teddy keeps his little hands on the body of the bass, feeling the vibrations.
Sirius is watching. Remus doesn’t see it but he knows. Can always feel Sirius’ eyes on the back of his neck like a skin walker.
“Okay,” Lily comes pounding through the door, followed closely by Harry.
He stops in the doorway, staring at the kid. “He’s a baby.”
Remus beckons Harry forward and whispers in his ear, “I’ll give you three quid.”
“Sold.” Harry walks right up to Teddy and offers one of his cars. In a baby voice, he says, “Hey, wanna play? You like cars?”
Teddy once again looks up at Remus, this time without fear, this time with a look that says, ‘Can I?’
“Go on,” Remus says. He gives Teddy a little nudge, who then is snatching the car out of Harry’s hand.
“Okay.” He slips his bass over his shoulders. “Ready?”
~
Teddy is surprisingly calm. He interrupts rehearsal only five times to show Remus something cool. Mostly, he’s just in awe of Harry. Remus gets where he’s coming from. Harry is a bloody cool twelve-year-old.
As they’re wrapping up, Remus excuses himself for a smoke. He’s followed outside by James, who promises Lily he’s not going to smoke, but asks Remus for a cigarette as soon as the door is closed.
“Sirius was freaked out today,” James says, leaning against the stucco wall of the garage.
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t say anything other than it was something to do with you.”
He couldn’t go to the Addicts Anonymous meeting today. No matter how much they say they trust each other, there’s still that constant fear of relapse, the overdose, the unpredictability of what they’re capable of.
“I was more MIA than usual on a Monday. Kid and everything.”
“You and Sirius hang out?”
“God, don’t make it sound so elementary.” Remus puffs out smoke. “I get that you’re protective of Sirius, but he’s an adult. Just… just let him be an adult.”
“I was going to say that it’s good.”
Remus tilts his head back against the wall. The garden backs up to a forest, and it’s pitch black this time of night. His body is deflating something fierce, melting into the mud, goddamnit he’s tired.
When he peers inside through the frosty glass window on the door, he sees Sirius sitting on the floor with Teddy in his lap, running a car up his arm while Teddy roars with laughter. It fills Remus with warmth, tethers him, damnit. Teddy looks back at Sirius with eyes bright, so comfortable in a stranger’s lap for a little boy that can barely be touched by his own grandmother.
“Let yourself be an adult too,” James says softly. “I can’t tell you what to do, I know that, but just… a kid is your whole life, trust me, I know, but you can’t lose yourself in fatherhood. Don’t let yourself.”
Remus kills his cigarette and bends down to stub it out on the ground. “He looks happy, don’t he?”
Teddy shows Sirius a car and pokes him in the nose with it. He’s clearly sleepy, but it’s that happy medium between awake and an absolute demon where he’s predictable. Best to get him out before demon hours, though.
“Yeah.”
Remus goes back inside, tossing his cigarette butt into the bin as he goes.
“Having fun with Sirius, Sheyfele?” He asks, taking a seat beside Sirius, just close enough to mean something.
Teddy throws himself into Remus’ arms. “Harry said I could keep his car!”
“Did he now?” Remus pretends to be forced back with the weight of Teddy, putting a grunt into his voice. He looks at Harry, who is nicely playing with mummy. “You sure about that Harry?”
He shrugs. “It’s my least favorite.”
Sirius laughs. He’s leaning back on his hands, wearing his leather jacket, bike helmet near, he’s ready to go.
Remus kisses Teddy on the forehead and grazes his pinkie against Sirius’. He doesn’t know what it is, but this feels like it could be something good. He can see it.
~
Dora gets better on Tuesday and takes Teddy back in the morning. Remus spends the day mostly staring at the wall before he pulls himself together and gives Sirius a ring. It’s arguably a bad decision, but he’s made worse.
“What are you doing today?”
“Pretending I’m not a human being after my monstrous day at work.”
“Come over.”
“Ask me what happened at work.”
“What happened at work?”
“I tried to off myself with baby scissors.”
“Come over.”
“Make me coffee.”
“Done.”
It ultimately takes Remus thirty minutes to get off his ass and start brewing coffee and Sirius forty-five minutes to get there in total, which is pretty solid considering they’re both chronically late individuals.
“Kid’s gone?” Sirius asks, hanging his leather jacket on the hook. He leaves his helmet at the door and leans down to undo the laces on his boots.
“Dora took him back this morning.”
“You feeling alright?”
Remus shrugs. There’s that small guilty relief to be alone again, to not be up in the middle of the night, to have a day to himself. He forces it down.
Sirius leaves his shoes at the door and follows Remus into the kitchen. He pours them both a cup of coffee, leaving his black. Sirius takes his coffee with a bit of sugar and milk.
“Your boy is just… your boy is just great,” Sirius says, one hip against the cabinet, holding his coffee like this moment is casual, like any moment between them isn’t subject to analyzation.
“He takes after his mother,” Remus says. Teddy’s gentle where Remus is sharp, shy when Remus is not.
“That may be true, but he’s still half you. He’s so you.”
“He’s a right piece of shit sometimes.”
“I stand by what I said.”
Remus snorts into his coffee. “I’ll ignore that for your sake.”
They drink their coffee while Sirius talks about his shit day, then they make their way into the sitting room to play guitar. Sirius didn’t bring his, so Remus grabs two guitars from the music room and his notebook.
“What’s this guitar from?” Sirius asks, giving it a strum.
“It’s what I bought with my first paycheck,” Remus says. “I started feeling like a rockstar, so I bought something flashy.”
Sirius pokes at the gems on the lower part of the electric blue body. “You certainly achieved that.”
“It was classy for the time period.”
“This has never been classy. Electric blue on an acoustic? Come on, Remus.”
“It’s Teddy’s favorite so therefore mine.” Remus opens his song book to check the chords on a cover of a Jimi Hendrix song. Before his eyes can focus, Sirius snatches the book away from him.
“Can I look through it?” He asks, holding it closed on his chest.
Remus purses his lips. Breathes. Says, “Sure.”
If Sirius understands how big this is, he doesn’t show it. If he notices how Remus’ breathing has picked up and how the rhythm he’s tapping on his knees is basically just straight sixteenths, he acts like he has no clue and opens the book somewhere in the middle.
“How’s it go?” Sirius asks, reading the words. He strums the first chord.
Remus glances at it and says, “Not that one. Look at a different one.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s depressing.”
Sirius plucks each note of the second chord. “Sing it for me.”
Remus inhales. The moon is streaming in through the window. It’s kind of too warm in the flat for the sweater that he’s wearing. “I’m not really a singer.”
Sirius turns the notebook to him and repeats, “Sing it for me.”
He wrote it a while ago. Sometime in the middle of rehab. It’s not how he feels anymore. It’s not a feeling he wants to remember.
The guitar part is a plucking pattern, something simple, kind of like a 4/4 waltz. It’s in this harmonic key, fucking haunting, hard on the vocal chords. Causes voice cracks. Makes him hoarse
.
“I got a roll of film developed from ’73,
It reminded me of how we were,
Tan skin and rosy cheeks,
Kids of summer, kids of fall, innocent and sweet.
One night drunk and two nights fucked,
It wasn’t love but more than lust,
I wanted you, you knew that too,
At twenty-one, there’s a lot to lose.”
The pattern changes, strumming, Remus hasn’t played it in a while, probably isn’t singing the original melody. He won’t look at Sirius.
“You reminded of my mum’s dead baby,
Ambitious heart and a perfect smile,
You were hiding and I wasn’t seeking,
I promise that I used to be kind.
How could I have known you’d be on my mind,
You’d infiltrate me ‘till twenty-nine,
I don’t remember what it is to be alive,
I falter and falter, I used to be so kind.”
Remus continues strumming. There’s more to the song but he doesn’t wanna sing it, can’t remember how it goes. Sirius is quiet, listening, reading the words as Remus goes.
After a while of silence, during which Sirius studies Remus’ face and Remus looks anywhere else, Sirius says, “You have a beautiful voice.”
“It’s not much.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Remus coughs. He closes his song book. This wasn’t a good idea. The song has too much baggage, too much guilt. He hasn’t even been talking to Sirius for a month.
“You, um,” Sirius says, scratching his ear, “you have a sibling?”
Remus runs a hand through his hair. “My mum had a baby before me. It was born without kidneys.”
“Damn.”
“It was, uh,” he sniffs, opens the song book again. He wrote a dumb song about it when he was seventeen and bitter and has been revising it ever since. It’s never good enough. It’s never strong enough. It never says what it needs to say. “She dated this guy when she was seventeen and he got her pregnant. She never knew the baby wasn't gonna live.”
He flips to the right page. Shows it to Sirius. Dora doesn’t even know about this.
“It, uh, was a boy,” Remus continues, tripping over his words, stuttering, even his heart knows he shouldn’t be saying this, “and then she met my dad and I was born and-and… she named me after him.”
“Your dad?”
“My… brother.” Remus knows that’s what he is, knows that where God is concerned Remus is a younger brother, but he’s never been able to feel it. All the baby has ever been to him is dead. “And my mum kind of got this idea that I would live up to her idea of him and I never did, so I’m just, kinda, an inherent disappointment.”
Sirius taps his lips as he reads the words. They’re straight up depressing, matured versions of seventeen-year-old feelings. Miss-matched sentiments. Put together, none of it makes sense. Baby boy, I wish I was you.
Remus snatches the book away, shrugs to make the gesture casual. “I guess that’s part of why I’m the way I am.”
“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius says, and he means it, god he means it so whole-heartedly that it burns.
“I don’t mean to, like, dump all my shit on you whenever you come over,” Remus says.
“We talk music. Music involves a lot of baggage.” Sirius inhales. Exhales. It’s musical when he does it. “I’ve a younger brother too. He’s perfect. Some businessman in Paris that my parents are proud of, and I’m just… here.”
Remus rests his chin on his guitar. “Yeah.”
“I used to protect him when we were little.” He digs a fist into his chest like his heart’s about to stop pounding. “My parents were far from ideal and I-I-I hate them. I don’t say that easily but they, just, ruined me. I think I could have been something good. I think I could have been a good person. But they beat that out of me from day one.”
Remus swallows hard. “You are a good person.”
Sirius leans on the wood of the TV console and looks out the window. He plucks some sort of exercise in a major key and looks out the window. A cloud has moved in front of the moon, April rain is probably incoming. Remus imagines Teddy all wrapped up in bed at his mummy’s house with a bedtime story instead of a song and a mother who knows how to love rather than a father who’s still learning.
“Sing for me,” Remus says, “Something you wrote.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“That’s a lie.”
Sirius stops plucking and glances at Remus. “None of its good.”
“I doubt that.”
They make eye contact. Hold it. It’s these moments that feel like a challenge. Remus doesn’t know when to look away. There’s something animal here, something wild, something that smells like wood and tastes like dirt at the back of the throat. Something Remus can’t digest.
Sirius breaks the eye contact and starts strumming. Remus closes his eyes and listens to him sing.
“You’re always offense, yet never a step ahead,
On the precipice, I doubt that we’ll ever give in,
Baby, a living man is not his labelled bones,
Baby, if you let me count them, I could give them all a home.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll be what you need,
I’ll be the stars.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’m not what you want,
Now watch the way that I fall,
Now watch the way that I fall.”
He slows down. Means to stop. His voice is softer than it’s ever been; it’s delicate and gentle, sweet waves lapping at Remus’ fingertips. He shakes his head and says, “Keep going.”
“I win on the defense, but the victory’s bloody,
When we’re in love, you’ve gotta know what it is,
Baby, I doubt one day we can belong,
Baby, you’ll sing songs about me to your son.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll be what you need,
I’ll be the stars.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’m not what you want,
You’ll be the moon.
Now watch them fall, now watch them fall,
Fall to the earth, I hope they take us away,
Now watch them fall, now watch them fall,
Now watch the way that I fall,
Now watch the way that I fall."
Sirius finishes with an abrupt slap to the bridge and lets out a harsh laugh, too loud of this lack of moonlight.
“What?” Remus says, “That was incredible.”
“Don’t you fucking see?” Sirius casts his guitar to the side. “I’m not a good person, Remus. We talked about this,” he gestures between them, “and this is not working out because it can’t. Your kid and all this shit—“
“Hey, slow down—“
“But I fucking want it to,” Sirius hisses, jabbing at his throat. “I’m trying to be mature about this but it’s fucking hard.”
Remus puts his guitar to the side as well. “You’re the one who told me to back off.”
“I told you to think about it.”
“I did.”
“You’ve a kid.”
“It’s my life,” Remus says. “Legislation is changing. Dora doesn’t give a shit who I date; hell, she’s dated girls. And, yeah, Teddy is my number one, but there’s something here, Sirius. Something good.”
He’s so far away, so small leaning against the TV console, legs loosely crossed. Remus brushes his foot against Sirius’.
He murmurs, “Let this be something good.”
Sirius presses his foot against Remus’, then stands up, knees cracking as he goes. He stops walking when Remus grabs him by the wrist. Looks down.
Remus says, “Stay.”
And the moment Remus saw him sitting in that folding chair in James’ garage, he knew that this was going to be something. Something big. Whether it’s good or bad is yet to be decided, but it’s that life changing sort of something, the type he’s only ever known with the mother of his son.
And now Sirius gets down on his knees and it’s a toe over the edge of the cliff. Here it is. It’s going to happen. That something will rise to a breaking point and Remus will step over the ledge and he’ll be falling. He doesn’t know if he can do it again. Doesn’t think he should.
Sirius says, “What are the qualifications of a good person anyway?” And kisses him.
The songs in this chapter:
I Used to be Kind - Remus
I got a roll of film developed from ’73
It reminded of how we were
Tan skin and rosy cheeks
Kids of summer, kids of fall, innocent and sweet
I saw you through the sun
Blinding and vicious
You didn’t return my call
I thought we were settled dust
One night drunk and two nights fucked
It wasn’t love but more than lust
I wanted you, you knew that too
At twenty-one, there’s a lot to lose
You reminded of my mum’s dead baby
Ambitious heart and a perfect smile
You were hiding and I wasn’t looking
When you needed me back, I wasn’t there
It was summer by the oak
By the beach
I thought I could smell smoke
So I kissed you on the cheek
I didn’t see the clouds above
I didn’t notice the dead dove
I think of you all the time
You granted me your son
How could I have known you’d be on my mind
You’d infiltrate me to twenty-nine
I falter and I falter, I used to be so kind
I don’t remember what it is to be alive
I got a roll of film developed
from ’73
It reminded of how I was
showed me how much I have changed
One marriage down the drain
I imagine what could have happened if I had stayed
Now these stills are all I have
I never knew I’d miss you when you were mad
Baby Boy - Remus
My mum had a baby and it didn’t make it
Now I am alive and I have to pay for it
This baby boy that she called by my name
Yeah, I have his name, and I’ll die with the consequences
I’m not the one she wanted
I’m just the one she got
I know that I’m loved but
It’s just not enough
Seventeen’s too young to have a baby with a stranger
She knew that, yet still had her penance.
Don’t think I was a mistake, don’t think I’m unwanted
But I know I’m unworthy, I know that I’m shameful
Baby boy, are you all she ever wanted?
Baby boy, she loves you, must you haunt me?
You’re in my head, tiny fingers all turned red
Baby boy, I wish I was you.
I’m not the one she wanted
I’m just the one she got
I know that I’m loved but
It’s just not enough
Baby boy, are you all she ever wanted?
I’m not afraid of the dark, I’m more afraid of you
You’re in my head, tiny fingers all turned red
Baby boy, I wish I was you.
Don't You Worry (Watch the Way That I Fall) - Sirius
You’re always offense, yet never a step ahead,
On the precipice, I doubt that we’ll ever give in,
Baby, a living man is not his labelled bones,
Baby, if you let me count them, I could give them all a home.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll be what you need,
I’ll be the stars.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’m not what you want,
Now watch the way that I fall,
Now watch the way that I fall
I win on the defense, but the victory’s bloody,
When we’re in love, you’ve gotta know what it is,
Baby, I doubt one day we can belong,
Baby, you’ll sing songs about me to your son.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll be what you need,
I’ll be the stars.
Don’t you worry, darling, I’m not what you want,
You’ll be the moon.
Now watch them fall, now watch them fall,
Fall to the earth, I hope they take us away,
Now watch them fall, now watch them fall,
Now watch the way that I fall,
Now watch the way that I fall.