A Fresh Rose
Remus had been having migraines for as long as he could remember. They didn’t always used to be so bad, but as he’d gotten older, they had gotten progressively worse.
His mum used to have them too, so he supposed it was a genetic thing. He had memories of how she used to be in bed for days. Remus started getting them at about the age of 9, and from then on, he’d get them once every few months, sometimes more passed but then it would be even worse. To this day they still left him in bed for a few days depending on the severity of it.
His mum had died when he was only 12, and after her suicide she was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia was the illness that caused her migraines and chronic fatigue, along with muscle aches too. She had passed down to him. It had been left completely untreated and eventually caused enough problems with her mental health to lead to her death.
His father was never really a happy guy either, Remus supposed that ran in the genes as well. Lyall Lupin had no joyful place in his mind, especially when Remus’ mum had died, and that was why it felt like more of a blessing when he was out, and he was out more than he was in. Drug dealing, to Remus’ later knowledge. He had always suspected that too, the little plastic bags of powder and funny smelling plant that grew above the sink. Anyway, he had never cared.
Remus’ secondary school experience involved one and a half years of trying to be invisible; only one and a half because the other three and a half was time be spent darting around foster care and bunking various schools in the park or sketchy alleys smoking the day away.
He tried his best not to think about his past too much, mainly because it was so depressing. He was a miserable sod; he didn’t need to be more miserable. Unfortunately, his best was not enough. He remembers it all.
How the sky looked traitorously pretty that night, black ink sprinkled with too much salt to count the grains and find the patterns he loved to find. How he hadn’t been able to find them since. How he had tried anyway. How he had been numb for a while. How he had been alone. Alone, for so long, it felt like his relationship with the outer world had gone stale.
When he was 13, though, Remus was taken.
Bundled up in his blue space pyjamas, shoved into a moth-eaten backseat of a car and driven several miles away in the dead of night, Remus had been bloody kidnapped by a group of teenagers who wanted some Molly. He cried at first, not really knowing why. Obviously, he was scared, but honestly these people weren’t much worse than his dad.
Well, that’s what he’d thought anyway, right up until they did something with the knife, they’d been pointing in his face for the past four hours.
“Where’s your dad kid?”
“I don’t know.” He had shrugged blankly.
“The fuck you mean you don’t know?” One of the teenagers pressed the tip to his throat, just hard enough for a light sting and a slap of fear.
“I mean I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in a few days.” Remus kept his voice bleak, although he couldn’t help how it wavered a little in fear.
“Well, maybe he’ll come running. After all, what would he do if he came home to see his precious little lad missing?” Another chuckled, leaning against the wall.
Remus squinted at him. He didn’t think this plan was very smart. It didn’t take a lot of logic to know that Lyall did not like his son. Remus had figured it out pretty easily, anyway.
“Not likely.” He mumbled more to himself, eyes flicking down the blade.
The one holding it seemingly had some sort of issue with that, because he began to grip it harder. It now pressed an uncomfortable dent into his skin.
“Don’t get all cocky with us now, boy. You know something, and you’re gonna tell us.”
Remus swallowed hard and tilted his head back a bit to escape the knife, eyes wide with vulnerability.
“What would I know?” He had whispered, almost pleadingly.
The air of the cold garage they were in went silent. Remus felt a sense of dread as a cruel smirk crawled up the guy’s face, beady eyes narrowing to sickening slits.
“You tell us little one.” The dagger-holder’s eyes darted across his face, before he moved it from his neck to his cheek, dragging the tip gently along the soft skin there. It was clear in the way his eyes flashed that he was enjoying the look of utter terror he had placed on Remus’ face.
“Aiden, what are you doing mate?” The third teenager hissed, finally speaking up. Aiden scowled and rolled his eyes, not moving the blade.
“I’m getting our shit, Ben. You said you wanted this.”
“Yeah, the fucking Molly not mauling up a kid!” Ben snapped, stepping forward.
“Shut up, you’ll get what you want in a minute.” The knife wielder spat back, moving the dagger to wave at Ben. Ben backed away, shaking his head in dismay and heading towards the door with his hands up in surrender
“Fuck it. Fine, I’m not dealing with this, I need a beer; do what you want, just get me my shit.” He locked eyes with the other man in the room, jerking his head toward the door, and he followed after him shortly.
Aiden turned back to Remus, a sneer on his face.
“You ready to talk yet boy?”
“I don’t know anything.” Remus choked, strangled by the fear he felt as the dagger returned to its spot on his cheek.
“Wrong answer.” The man chuckled. Remus let his first sob spill out of him as he felt the dagger pierce the tender flesh on his face.
The others didn’t come back until a few hours later. They were wide eyed and tumbling over each other in their drunken states.
“Cops! The fucking cops are here! Aiden, stop!”
Ben pushed Aiden off of Remus to get his attention but toppled straight over in shock when his eyes fell on the boy. Remus was only half-conscious at this point, but from what he could see from his blurred vision, Ben had thrown up over Aiden’s shoes. Aiden stood over Ben, his hands shaking as the dagger dropped to the floor.
“What? Slow down. What the fuck is happening?”
He dragged Ben to his feet carelessly, forcing his face away from Remus.
“C…cops.” Ben muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. Aiden dropped him quickly, picking up his dagger and looking from Remus to the other man who was steadying himself against the wall of the garage, eyes wide as he stared unblinkingly at the unrecognisable boy on the other side of the room.
“Fuck.” Aiden cursed, running a hand through his hair. The harsh sound of sirens ripped through the silence from a few streets away.
“Fuck! Let’s go!” He grabbed the man who was still standing by the arm and heaved up the garage door, both figures disappearing from view as they ran down the street.
There were shouts and gunshots nearby, but Remus didn’t have the energy to care. His face hurt. Everywhere hurt, actually. The bits of his shirt which weren’t torn to shreds on the floor clung to the blood on his chest. Remus coughed wetly, suddenly becoming aware of his limbs and how tired they were now Aiden wasn’t holding him up. Finally sliding to the floor, he let out somewhere between a sigh and a sob, his view of the tiny dingy garage getting darker and darker until he could no longer see the man crawling across the floor or the flashing lights flickering over the mouldy walls.
At some point he remembers coming in and out of consciousness, hearing the sirens and hands grappling at him, checking his pulse and being lifted onto a stretcher. He remembers the beeping of the monitor and hurried voices, the surging relief as a blissful, cold numbness spread over him and a blinding brightness making his heart lurch.
Remus gasps, sitting up in a cold sweat. He’s woken up with the presence of that dream looming over him almost every night since. He’s in a cold sweat, the front of his t-shirt soaked and his face pale and clammy. His hands shake as he fumbles for his phone, groaning and squinting at the bright light. Fuck. It’s 4am. Again.
Remus’ head is still pounding, his heart still hammering in his chest as he moves his way over all the mess of his roommates; kicking away basketball jerseys and trainers to open the bedroom door and shutting it behind him with well-rehearsed quietness. He makes his way over to the bathroom, splashes his face with cold water and dries his shaking hands.
He leaves the house, heading toward the school library with a few books. The air is just warming up because the sun is still rising, but he enjoys the way that the halls are empty and there’s a bright naivety to it. The library only has two people in it, and they’re murmuring to each other quietly in the corner. Perfect for him, really, as he has a pounding headache tugging at his temples which he is sure to worsen throughout the day.
Not that he’ll let himself take a day off. He only got here on a scholarship, since he was good at basketball and happened to have stayed for his GCSE’s and stuff. He couldn’t afford to slack off. Most times he just struggled through the supposed migraine or headache, his muscle pain flare ups etc, but he was only slightly concerned as he hadn’t gotten much pain from his symptoms in a while.
As the clock ticked loudly, he squinted at the computer screen. Was the brightness turning up? It seemed to be hurting his eyes. Maybe he needed glasses. Remus rolled his neck and shoulders; the usual ache and stiffness of sleep not quite having gone away. The words on the screen came in and out of focus. He was sweating again, his hands slippery as he attempted to pick up his pen. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his arm shook as he tried to write. The sun shone in through the window onto his face. He covered his eyes, closing them for a second against the stabbing-throbbing feeling of his head. Was it hot in here, or was it just him?
God. Not good.
“Remus.” Someone touched his shoulder and Remus grimaced, cringing away from the hand that caused the searing pain shooting up the muscle. The voice was loud and seemed to clang around emptily in his head. He didn’t have the strength to look up.
“Remus.” The voice called insistently, a figure moving with a swish of air to take the seat next to him. They didn’t try to touch him again, which he was thankful for, but he wished they would lower their voice none the less.
“Are you okay?”
Remus raised his heavy head, squinting at the figure in front of him. Regulus peered sceptically down at him with those eyes which were so similar but so different to Sirius’. Regulus sighed, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Obviously not. I regret asking.”
“I’m fine.” Remus whispered, resting his head on his hand to keep it up. He would roll his eyes, but it hurt too much to keep them open as it is.
“Right. Sure. What’s going on with you then?” Regulus rolls his eyes for him. Remus tries to shrug but it hurts too much.
“Just a…small headache. Possibly a migraine? Doesn’t matter.”
Regulus blinks at him. “So, a migraine? That’s not small. And that’s not why you flinched when I touched you. Are you hurt?”
“No.” Remus groaned, slumping onto the desk and closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep.
“Remus come on. I’m trying to help you’re not-“
“Don’t need help.” Remus grumbled, cutting him off. He heard Regulus scoff.
“You’re no use at helping yourself. I’ll do it then.” Regulus began tugging the books from under him and closing his laptop, packing it all in the bag despite Remus’ weak protests. He pulled Remus’ chair out gently, whispering curses when he winced while Regulus tried to help him up.
“Stop, it’s fine.” He tried one last time, attempting to take his bag from Regulus.
“Remus, you look half dead. Let me take you back to your dorm, at least.” Regulus said softly, supporting him as they exited the library. Remus sighed, stopping them.
“I can’t go back to my dorm.”
His friend frowned. “Ah, I forgot. Dickhead roommates, right.” He thought for a moment before leaning Remus up against the wall and getting his phone out. Remus closed his eyes, listening as Regulus’ phone rang.
“Hi, yeah, I know.” Regulus started. He could only hear a tiny bit of the other person’s voice.
“Sorry to call you, but I knew you’d be up, and Remus is sick. He said he can’t go back to his dorm. Yeah, if possible. If you could pick us up, yeah. Okay, see you soon. Thanks. Don’t call me that. Idiot.”
Regulus cleared his throat, making Remus open his eyes.
“James is picking us up. You can crash at theirs for today.”
“Oh, fuck. You didn’t have to- that’s just- I don’t-“
Regulus gave him a look. Remus sighed.
“Thanks.”
James’ car arrived in fifteen minutes and Regulus helped him into the backseat, hopping in after him to help with the seatbelt. Remus hated it, hated how incapable he was at everything, but he was also grateful he didn’t have to move because fuck did just about everything bloody hurt.
They arrived at the block of flats and they decided to take the cramped lift since it would have been an actual nightmare to get up those stairs. James unlocked the door and guided him to the sofa, big eyes round and apologetic as Remus cringed away each time they touched him.
“Can I get you anything? What’s happening? I don’t know what to do, fuck I'm sorry.” James panicked, hands floating about anxiously.
“Hey, it’s okay. Take some deep breaths. You panicking is not going to help.” Regulus instructed, softly but firmly. If Remus weren’t in such a state, he’d find it cute. He turned to Remus, kneeling by him. “James. Go get some water, painkillers, cold compresses and a bowl. Maybe some anti-inflammatory as well? Remus, do you have any meds for this?”
James disappeared and Remus tried to sort out his thoughts, closing his eyes against the bright lights.
“My bag.” He managed to croak. “Regulus…lights?” He asked, hoping he got the message.
Regulus turned off the lights, rummaging in his bag until he found a few different packets of pills. Handing them to Remus along with a glass of water, he watched as Remus took various pills with shaking hands. It obviously hurt a lot to move, and along with the migraine Regulus couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in.
Once Remus seemed in as much comfort as he could be in this situation, Regulus let out a long breath and sat back on his haunches. He walked over to the kitchen, leaning on the counter and letting his eyes linger on his friend for a moment who was now sleeping. Or, at least in too much pain to be properly coherent with his eyes open.
James ruffled his hair nervously from the other side of the kitchen counter, eyes drifting over constantly to the sleeping figure on the couch. Regulus tried to smile at him reassuringly, but when the boy didn’t smile back, it faded.
“Jamie?”
“Hm?” James started, blinking at Regulus with a guilty look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
His boyfriend replied with a jerky shrug, moving forward to hug him with a shaky sigh.
“I just feel so helpless. Like- my friend’s in pain and I can’t do shit about it. I can’t help feeling bad about that, you know?”
Regulus nodded slowly against his chest.
“I know. Me too. But I don’t think we can do much more for him. All we can do is be there when he needs us.” They pulled apart slowly, just in time for Sirius to walk in.
Sirius was straight up comedy when he first woke up. His hair always managed to go in about three different directions while he was asleep, like it had a life of his own. He rolled about so much that his pyjamas were constantly a crumpled mess, and he stretched and yawned like he was in some kind of TV show. Yet, despite all this, he still managed to look like a model in one of those pyjama adverts.
Sirius rubbed his eyes, looking slowly from James, to Regulus to Remus. Then he blinked again and looked at Regulus.
“What…” He muttered, a slow smile tugging at his lips.
“Morning Pads.” James beamed back. He explained everything to Sirius who had a frown deepening his face with each passing word. He went over to Remus and stroked back his hair from his face gently.
“Moons?” Remus blinked groggily, letting out a sigh when his eyes fell on Sirius.
“Hey.” He hummed, attempting to sit up. Sirius ushered him back down, smiling.
“No no, you stay down. You need to rest, yeah?” Remus let out an indignant huff but obliged anyway. “I’ll take care of ya.” Sirius grinned. Remus closed his eyes again, with a helpless smile.
“They’re so in love.” James whispered to Regulus. Regulus rolled his eyes.
“Nope. Gross.” James chuckled and wrapped him in his arms.
“Are we gross?”
Regulus just hummed, deciding to lead his boyfriend away from the two lovebirds in the sitting room. Sirius was an idiot, but one thing Regulus trusted him with was being capable of caring for others. James smiled, a kind of puppy like expression on his face as he let Regulus drag him to his room. They sat on the bed, Regulus running his hands through James’ hair as he read one of the books he had left in their apartment. It was quiet, and peaceful. He could hear soft giggles coming from the kitchen.
James rolled over slightly, resting his chin on Regulus’ leg, a lazy smile on his face. “Reg?”
Regulus made a soft sound of acknowledgement. James’ smile grew. He was such a bookworm. “Reggie.”
Regulus put a finger to hold his place and peered expectantly down at him. “Yeah?”
“Do you wanna go on like…a proper date?” James felt his heart thud louder in anxiety. They had hung out a few times before, but never labelled it as anything. The furthest they had gotten was boyfriends and loyalty and such, since jealousy seemed like a problem on both sides. His worries, however, were banished almost immediately by the warm, pleased smile that spread over Regulus’ face.
“I’d love that. When?”
James thought, teetering on the edge of an idea but feeling a little too guilty about it. “Is today a bad day? I mean we were planning on like…hanging out later. And I know that Remus isn’t feeling great, but Sirius is doing a good job of looking after him, no? I think that you deserve a bit of time to let go. Relax. You’ve done a lot for him, he seems alright, you’re always doing so much for everyone, on top of your own studies as well which is amazing- quite frankly- and well I guess what I'm trying to say is that you’re amazing an-“
Regulus let out a small laugh which stopped James in his rambling. “Okay, okay James listen. I’ll check how Remus is doing and only-“ He put his book down to raise his eyebrows at James who was already getting a little too excited, “- only, if he is quite sure he is okay and Sirius is able to be there for him…I suppose we can go out.”
“On a date?” James checked giddily, grin stretching across his face. Regulus rolled his eyes.
“No James, on a cruise.” He replied sarcastically. James jumped up, deciding to ignore his sarcasm as Regulus went to go and check on Remus. When the boy came back, he was almost knocked over by James’ enthusiasm.
“What did he say?”
Regulus pushed him back, trying to fight his obvious smile as he tried to calm James down so that he could at least stand still enough not to cause serious damage to his surroundings.
“He said yes.”
James beamed, shooing Regulus off so he could change from his pyjamas and changing as quick as he could when the door was shut. He was out so quickly Regulus barely had a chance to think before he was taken by the hand and rushed along. They checked with Remus and Sirius one last time who reassured them all was well and then they were out the door and into the late sunshine.
The worst of the random British heat wave had subsided to a summer which suited Regulus’ taste quite well. The sunshine draped over James in just the right way, highlighting his smooth bronze skin and high cheekbones in a way that meant you didn’t have to stare to know the reason why James was beautiful.
The boy only captured the last few rays of the sun, as if he didn’t need it for himself as he was already glowing. It caught on the tips of his eyelashes and showed the lighter strands in an unruly mass of dark brown hair.
One of the things that Regulus loved about James, was how everything about him was so pretty it was unreal, but it just got prettier the harder you looked. It was the smaller details which made up how attractive he was, like how when James smiled one of his dimples was slightly higher than the other.
The bizarre thing is, no one would ever look long enough to notice them. But Regulus does.
Regulus is admiring his boyfriend with this inner monologue of worship as they walk through the park and into some main streets. It isn’t until the clouds decide to completely drown out the sun and snap him out of his haze by making the temperature drop in the way that only the lack of England sunshine can do, he realises he has no idea where they are headed. James hasn’t said a word about it. In fact, James hasn’t said a word at all since they’ve left the apartment.
“James.” Regulus pulls a face at him and James looks at him, eyes scrunching up with a smile as he tilts his head in greeting.
“Hello.” Regulus lets out a weird huff which isn’t quite an indignant laugh.
“No- James. You’re silent. You haven’t talked in like…ages.” James shrugs.
“You didn’t talk. I figured you could use a bit of silence.”
Something in Regulus melts and he fights the urge to gape at him because, I mean, no one does that. Apart from Remus maybe, but him and Remus are a different story. This is James. James does not shut up.
“I didn’t know you could do that.” It’s James’ turn to give him a look as he raises an eyebrow and simultaneously pulls him down some random alleyway. It’s a tight squeeze with James dragging him along by the hand, and Regulus is so caught off guard by the sudden proximity and darkness he quite literally just stops working for a second.
By the time his brain has decided to catch up with him, they’ve burst back out into the light where the sun seems to be shining again.
“What the fuck was that?” Regulus doesn’t really know what he’s asking, but James gives him an answer anyway.
“Shortcut.” He grins.
The next time they stop it’s outside a small, rundown building. It looks like it could crumble to dust any moment and the paint is an off-putting turquoise which was peeling off in thick chunks, leaving the wall an ugly green colour covered by moss. Ivy grew up the whole thing, feeding into each crack, yet James looked up at it in some kind of awe.
Eventually he blinks and just smiles at it fondly, then nods his head towards the door and ushers Regulus inside.
The room was dark and smelt a little too strongly of damp, the walls grey, but looking as if they had once been a pale blue. It took a second for the boy’s eyes to adjust, but when they did, he managed to make out that there was something else on the walls. The floors too, along with a few unintelligible rectangular shapes.
James hums as he pulls out his phone, turning on the torchlight and walking towards the first rectangular shape on the left. He realises that it’s a doorway and pushes down a lump of anxiety to where the fuck James was taking him. The room they walk into is lit by a dim red lamp on the ceiling, and the walls are such chaos that it feels like he’s walked into hell. Regulus’ breath catches, suddenly overwhelmed. James looks back at him, then fumbles for a remote on the wall.
The whole room is suddenly lit up by a much brighter light, LED’s lining the room. Regulus’ breath catches again, but this time in awe. The room was covered, top to bottom in graffiti.
Regulus looked around in amazement, everything just screaming at him to look at it more closely. There were tags and all your usual stuff, but mostly there were huge spray-painted images. It was art. There was something so beautiful about the activist messages drawn out in bold letters and all those bright colours.
There was one in particular which caught the younger boy’s eye. It was opposite the door, a figure in thick strokes of dripping black. There were two blue eyes staring right at him. As he looked closer, he noticed the more subtle details. He looked over his shoulder past James inspecting something on the floor to the door. The eyes were staring right through him, at the door. The boy was clutching a rose stem at the end of his blobbed arm, the thorns making his blood drip to the floor as petals. It made him think. A flower which never really bloomed, but still managed grow enough thorns to hurt if held. There was something bellow it; an inscription of sorts if you could call it that. It read:
BRAVE ENOUGH TO LEAVE?
Reg’s eyes travelled to the huge question mark sliding down the wall to punctuate. He smiled to himself, already knowing his own answer. He hoped this person found theirs.
“I haven’t seen this place since I was a kid.” James whispers, suddenly behind him. He peers down at Regulus with a small smile. “I haven’t brought anyone here in years. Our secret, yeah?” Regulus doesn’t quite think he can speak over the lump forming in his throat, so he nods mutely. He didn’t know secrets could be quite so lovely.
James shows him the tags on the floor in a square labelled ‘the marauders.’ He could recognise Sirius’ tag, a cursive-like one with a dramatic edge to its black curling letters, a star at the end. He rolled his eyes. James pointed out his too. It had two swooping lines like antlers, the word ‘prongs’ in capitals in a dark red. Regulus smiled. Of course, that would be James. It was so him, somehow. There was a much smaller one in yellow which he assumed was Peter.
“Worm tail? That’s Peter?” The younger asked, wrinkling his nose. “Seems like someone got the short end of the stick here.”
James rubbed his neck sheepishly. “They were our secondary school names. Sirius was not the kindest soul back then. He thought it would just be funny, but the nickname ended up sticking, much to Pete’s displeasure.”
“Right…” Regulus shook his head dryly.
“Do you want to add anything?” James asks. Regulus glances over to the boy and nods a little, biting back a smile. James gets a few cans from his backpack and hands them to Reg who walks over to the boy and stares at the art thoughtfully. He gets to work, brows furrowing in concentration. Reg is vaguely aware of James spraying a doodle in the corner of his eye, but he’s so lost he doesn’t realise how long has gone by until James interrupts him again.
“If you weren’t so good at figure-skating I’d be convincing you to become a professional artist.” He laughs breathlessly in awe, wrapping his arms around Regulus as he finally steps back.
Underneath the inscription, he’d written his own reply:
WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT...
Beside it was a clock, with the right-hand arrow stretching across the wall to where he’d painted a large, fresh rose.
THERE ARE FRESH ROSES TO PICK.
Scribbled bellow it.
“It’s brilliant Reg.”
Regulus looks up at James, whose face is all soft edges. He can’t help but smile back, turning to hug him properly.
“This was nice. This place is beautiful. Thank you, James.” He says sincerely. James only beams at him and leans in for a kiss.
Thinking about it now, James was a fresh rose, if Regulus had ever seen one.