In Which Remus Fucks Up, In A Multitude Of Ways
Remus arrived at the Thai restaurant Marlene had suggested at five past one. He was the first one there, so he sat down at a table near a window. There was something calming about watching the rain from inside, its patter muffled by glass. He watched the water sluice off of shop awnings and umbrellas, unaffected by it. It was a nice feeling, knowing that it was a problem but not his problem.
Marlene was certainly his problem, though. His thoughts turned once more to the issue of his apology. She’d given him so much space, so much support. More than he deserved, really.
He began chewing on his finger, a habit he’d developed out of stress, and decided once again to cross that bridge when he comes to it.
Finally, the bell attached to the restaurant door chimed, and the glass door swung open. Marlene’s long black ponytail was dripping wet, and she wrung it out on the doormat before joining Remus at their table. Though she hid it quickly with a smile, he noticed the look of shock on her face when she saw him and he had to make an effort not to crunch his shoulders up so he wouldn’t feel so self-conscious. She looked good--better than he did, anyway.
“Hey,” she said, with a smile that instantly put him more at ease. Spending time with Marlene always made Remus feel better. It used to, anyway--back when it was something he regularly did.
“Hi.” Remus started, hesitantly, and, realizing how ridiculous he must look with his hand in his mouth, placed it in his lap. There was a clear tension between them. Remus took a breath, and then decided to break it. “Listen, Marls, I’m sorry for everything--I’ve been such a prick to you and you didn’t deserve it at all, I should never have pushed you away like that,” he stammered, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think through what he was going to say.
Marlene patiently waited for him to finish, and bit her lip, seemingly deep in thought. Remus realized he was chewing on his finger again. He was trying not to stare at her and make her uncomfortable, but he really just wanted her to answer so they could get this awkwardness over with.
Marlene took a shuddering breath--oh buggering fuck, was she crying?--and reached a hand up to her face, hastily swiping at her eyes.
“Shit, Marls, I’m sorry, I--” Remus tried, unsure of how to comfort her. A year ago, he would have asked what was wrong, or suggested they watch her favorite movie together (Alvin And The Chipmunks: Chipwrecked, god knew why). He always used to know what to do to help her, and he found himself trying and failing to recall how it had been so easy. Luckily, Marlene was quick to collect herself; she always had been.
“It’s okay,” she said, shakily. “I, um,” her voice hitched. “Your accident, you know, you had every right to act the way you did--”
“I didn’t,” Remus insisted.
“Okay, you didn’t, not for this long at least,” Marlene conceded, and Remus thought he saw the ghost of a smile on her face. “I just--I thought I’d done something wrong. I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“Nothing wrong! You did nothing wrong, I promise, I was a shitty friend and I’m so sorry,” he said hurriedly. “And I do trust you,” he added weakly, aware that this part would be harder to convince her of.
“Okay,” Marlene sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, and in turn wiping that hand on her pants. Remus might have commented, but even he was socially aware enough to know that now really wasn’t the time. “It’s okay, really,,” she continued. “I’m just glad--I’m just glad it wasn’t all my fault.”
Remus felt a sudden pang for all the pain he’d caused his friend, and he made a silent promise never to hurt her like that again. He’d lost a whole year with her because he’d been too wrapped up in his own self-pity to consider that he wasn’t the only one affected by the accident.
“It wasn’t,” he said earnestly, a part of him still just hoping to be finished with the emotional bit of their conversation.
“Then you definitely had no reason to basically ghost me,” Marlene said, but she was wearing a comfortable (if slightly shaky) smirk. Remus felt something familiar and comforting form in his chest, but it quickly turned to an ache because it had been so long since he’d felt this way.
“I know,” he said. “I missed you, Marls.”
“I missed you too, arsehole,” she said, reaching across the table to punch him in the arm, hard enough that he winced.
Well, he supposed he deserved it.
They ordered their food, and then there was a bit of an awkward silence. Remus had been hoping that everything would be back to normal, but apparently, there was still effort to be put in on his part. Which was fair. He just wished it would be easy.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asked, finally. Marlene’s brow furrowed momentarily, and Remus knew he’d said the wrong thing. This was something a best friend was supposed to know, and the fact that he didn’t only served as a reminder of how far he and Marlene had grown apart in the past year.
“Yeah, actually,” Marlene answered, whatever she’d felt about the question forgotten as she smiled slightly at. “Their name is Dorcas, and they’re...amazing.”
Remus tried not to feel guilty; that would get him nowhere. Instead, he smiled.
“That’s great!” he said, honestly. “What’s their Instagram?”
Marlene raised an eyebrow. “You’re not seriously going to stalk my joyfriend, are you? We’ve been together two months!”
“Of course I am, I have to make sure they’re good enough for you!” he said, and immediately cringed inwardly. He was probably the last person that should be judging the quality of her friends. It seemed no matter what he said, it would be the wrong thing.
If Marlene felt the same way, she didn’t show it. Instead, she pulled out her phone and said, “I’ll send you their account.” After presumably doing this, she looked up at Remus and put her phone face down on the table.
“How’ve you been?”
He almost said ‘Fine’ out of habit, but then it hit him that pretending nothing was wrong was exactly the sort of thing that had ruined their relationship in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to burden Marlene with his troubles, but he hadn’t been doing her a favour after all.
“Pretty terrible, actually,” Remus admitted. Marlene’s brow creased in the way it always did when she was worried (Remus felt some relief at the fact that this was something he knew about her; it came to mind as easily as knowing the sky was blue).
“I’m, um,” Remus licked his lip “I’m looking for a new flat.”
Marlene didn’t respond; she must have known somehow that wasn’t all.
“I don’t have a job. I just can’t afford the rent right now,” he explained, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning his face. How pathetic must he seem? “I mean, I’m looking for a job. I am. I just,” he said, trying to make the situation seem less pathetic.
“Re…” Marlene said, using her old nickname for him. She didn’t say You should have told me, but the fact that she didn’t, and Remus heard it anyway, made it worse.
“I was thinking maybe I’d be a teaching assistant,” he continued, doing his best to ignore the unspoken admonition.
“Remus,” Marlene repeated, but he, always afraid of baring himself to others, was still trying to cover his tracks.
“I have a plan, and I’m fine, really, I just--”
“I might be able to help you, if you’d just let me speak,” Marlene interrupted him, irritation creeping into her voice for the first time.”
“You don’t have to, Marls. I have to figure this out myself,” Remus sighed.
“Remus.” Said Marlene, with such uncharacteristic force that he went immediately and completely silent. “I can help you. I want to help you,” she persisted, almost fiercely. “You aren’t burdening me or bothering me,” she continued, more gently, and Remus wondered how she’d read his mind. He kept quiet this time.
“D’you remember Lily Evans?” she asked, after a moment.
“Er, yeah, course. The ginger?” Remus asked, not sure where this was going. He remembered a Lily from uni; she’d been Marlene’s friend, but he’d always liked her.
“Yeah,” Marlene confirmed, looking pleased that he knew who she was talking about. “She’s great. Her boyfriend’s just moved in with her. He used to live with this friend of his, who’s looking for a new flatmate. James--Lily’s boyfriend--his mum actually owns the flat and the one below it, and she’s offering a great rate, apparently.”
Remus blinked, taking everything in. “Oh,” was all he could think to say. Part of him felt apprehensive about having Marlene be the one who saved him from homelessness. He could admit it was mostly out of pride, but he also knew that if he took her up on the offer, he’d feel like he owed her (whether he did or not). He’d always felt a need to prove himself, show everyone that even if he failed, he failed independently.
“So?” Marlene asked, expectantly.
“It sounds great, Marls,” Remus said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’ll think about it.” Marlene deflated.
“If you’re not interested, just say so, Remus,” she said. “You don’t have to hide how you feel from me.”
Remus swallowed. He’d been sure he was doing well at coming off as politely interested. He should’ve expected this, though--when had Marlene ever failed to pick up on...well, anything? How did he keep messing this up? Marlene was his best friend. Operating word being was, it seemed. Was it even possible to go back to how things used to be?
“Well, I wasn’t really looking for a new flat, but it sounds really great. Can you send me the listing?” Remus tried again, and this time Marlene didn’t press it.
“Actually, I’ll give you Lily’s number. She knows more than me,” she said.
Remus didn’t think he’d take her up on the offer, but he let her tap Lily’s contact information into his phone.
*********************
The rest of the lunch was strange. Their conversation was stilted, and then one of them would break through the awkwardness and make the other laugh, or say something that just made sense. Then, inevitably, one of them somehow (usually Remus) would mess it up somehow and they’d be back to square one.
Eventually, Marlene had to go, but they’d made tentative plans for next week--at a bar this time. Remus wasn’t confident he’d be more adept at censoring himself or distinguishing the right thing to say under the influence, but at least if he did accidentally say something ignorant, Marlene would be more likely to let it pass.
It was late afternoon when Remus arrived back at his flat. By then, he’d decided he wouldn’t text Lily. This was his mess to fix, and besides, he wasn’t particularly keen on sharing a flat with a stranger. His current building wasn’t really a proper building, even--it only housed four flats, and the landlord was more personal with his tenants than Remus liked. He’d come by Remus’ flat several times to fix something or other (Remus was pants at anything involving more complex tools than a hammer, and even that he was unsure of how to wield), and ended up inviting himself in for tea. He was harmless, really, but quite irritating.
Remus was about to enter his flat when he caught sight of a sheet of paper taped to his door.
This notice is to inform you that due to nonpayment of rent, you are being evicted in three days.
There was more, but Remus didn’t read it. He felt a strange sort of relief, almost glad that he didn’t have to think about it anymore. I can check that off the list of things to worry about, then.
He knew the good feeling wouldn’t last, but, in a haze of optimism and open-mindedness, he opened his phone and sent a message to Lily Evans.