When Remus Lupin finally came home from his quest as a spy in Greyback's pack for the Order of the Phoenix, the smell of humans dawned on him.
He realized, to his own disgust, how well he had took in the pack's view on the world during the time he had spent with them. He had to admit that he'd felt safe, and warm with them. The fellow werewolves of which most were on Greyback's, and initially Voldemort's side.
By the time he was done in the bathroom and had changed into a white T-shirt and pyjama pants, James was awake. When Remus stepped into the room ze said in a soft voice: "Remus, your're back."
Without acknowledging hir, Remus walked over to the bed and climbed in.
And when James tried to reach out to touch him, he fliched away from the utterly human smell. Hurt was painted across hir face.
"I'm sorry James. I can't take your touch right now. It's not—"
"No, it's okay Remus. You don't have to apologize. I understand," James interrupted him.
Remus, too tired to respond, left out a sort of hum and fell with his head against the pillow.
And in the blink of an eye, he was fast asleep.
***
Ze had told him once that his eyes were like the golden reflection of the sun, mingled with the faded color of jade.
Back when their private conversations and the light it welled up in both of their chests was enough.
When instead of the gloomy days and endless worries they shared, it was that glowing ball of light that kept them together.
He could pinpoint he exact moment he realised. He had noticed hir slight change of demeanor, and he knew that ze was getting tired of him. With his aching body and ancient scars.
Remus Lupin had layers. Like the rings of a particularly mature tree. He had secrets and all the things he didn't talk about.
Everything that kept him awake at night and James wondering what it was that left him sleepless.
Why it was that he couldn't take hir touch anymore.