hello, stranger.
__________________________________________________
January 1999
_________________________________________________
Remus falls in love in the middle of a busy London street.
It's the first sunny day of the new year. The storm plaguing London for the past week has calmed down, or moved on to its next victim. That morning everyone woke up to a cloudless sky and bright sun streaming down on the wet buildings, vehicles, and streets. Reflecting brightly in the puddles on the road. Despite that the air was still cold and crisp
Remus feels hot and stuffy in his coat and reaches up to loosen his tie. His fingers and face feel cold, growing numb.
The sun has got him in a good mood however, and his steps are light and fast, as he navigates among the crowd.
It's then when he sees them . A beautiful stranger in the gray London crowd.
They're strutting down the street right towards Remus. Pale, porcelain skin is exposed from under a leather afghan coat that comes down to their knees; it shimmers in the sunlight. And Remus wonders if their legs are frozen, like his own face and hands.
Remus's view of them gets obscured for a moment by a man in front of him, and Remus moves to the side to try and see them again.
He feels silly, delusional. Like a fish caught in a net, he is stuck in this stranger's trance. But he wants, no he needs, to see them. Nothing exists at this moment but the two of them.
As if they could feel eyes on them, the stranger turns their head, and Remus's eyes lock with theirs.
It feels like electricity shocks through his body,making him feel weak in the knees. He can't make out their facial features from far away, but the skin looks just as pale and smooth as their legs even from afar. Looking up, the hair catches his attention then, he feels surprised he didn't notice it till now. It's raven black and shiny,falling down to their shoulders, the tips are painted fiery red. It moves gently as the stranger keeps on waking, like a river, flowing and gushing down from their head.
The stranger smiles then, a smirk, Remus's eyes lock onto the plump lips. He feels embarrassed and his previously freezing face feels like it's burning. Remus imagines his cheeks are as red as the tips of the strangers hair, and he has to restrain himself from bolting in the other direction. The smile reminds him of a predator, catching its prey unprepared. Dread pools in his stomach.
‘They caught you staring, they are laughing at you.’ says a voice in his head.
He is about to avert his gaze but another moment passes and the gorgeous person in front of him doesn't start laughing. They don't remove their gaze either, their eyes are still locked and the smirk changes into a mischievous smile on their face as they keep walking fast towards him. The smile doesn't feel mean or condescending, rather curious, intrigued. Remus allows himself to return a little smile back.
They stare each other down as they walk, it feels like forever but is probably nothing more than a minute.
The catchy ballad that has been playing on repeat for months on the radio starts to play in Remus's head, tuning out the sounds of the city around him, he doesn't hate it as much as he should.
There is something exciting about this moment. It feels almost like a secret between them two, as if they are completely alone on that street. Just two characters in a silly romcom movie. As the imaginary camera zooms in on them, they both share another secret smile.
Remus averts his gaze for a moment, he looks down at his feet still smiling. God he feels like a fool. He half expects them to be gone when he looks up, just a figment of his imagination. But when he looks up the stranger is still there.
The traffic light shines bright red as they both approach a crosswalk from opposite sides, stopping with the rest of the crowd. But the stranger doesn't stop completely. They look to the left and keep walking onward, turning their gaze back on Remus with a smile.
Remus’s smile drops, his expression turns into confusion. But his brain is too slow to figure out why.
A sound breaks Remus out of the haze, looking to the side he sees the black cab.
Remus’s heart stops as horror fills his entire body.
He turns back to the stranger, opening his mouth to shout a warning, his hands extended out in an instinct but he knows it's futile to try and stop this.
It's too late and nothing comes out of his mouth.
The car comes advancing fast, too fast. From the right.
The stranger who seemed to notice the look of horror on Remus’s face, finally turns to look right at it.
Remus sees the look of shock on their face, but they are too slow to move out of the way on time, and his own legs are locked in place.
As if in slow motion the stranger is sent flying to the side.
With a screeching sound of brakes the cab and the other cars coming from the right all stop. Remus finally forces his legs to move, and runs.
Had it been any other person from the gray crowd Remus would have probably used this opportunity to cross the road and keep walking down, not even looking back. Call him cruel but what kind of genius doesn't stop at a red light on morning rush hour, without even checking their right? A tourist, most likely, and this beautiful creature definitely doesn't look like they're from here.
Weirdly, he feels some sort of obligation to stop and help, as if a few minutes of eye contact makes him more than a stranger to them. It's ridiculous,but he can't bring himself to walk away.
He stops and pushes past the circle of curious pedestrians, standing above the fallen body lying on the asphalt. Remus’s mind registers it's a bloke, he is even more beautiful from up close, with sharp cheekbones and jaw. And Remus unconsciously crouches down to touch.
Regaining conscious, beautiful gray-blue eyes blink up at him. Remus’s hand stops midair. A familiar smirk breaks out on the man’s face.
“Hello, stranger.” he says to Remus, before his eyes close again.
___________________________________________________
The ER light is cold and familiar to Remus. He drowns out the bustle of nurses and doctors around him, trying to focus on making a decent cup of coffee from the crappy materials at the hospital coffee station.
Grabbing two steaming cups he turns to return to the waiting room. There, at the seats he just left a few minutes ago he saw the black haired man going through his messenger bag. He sees him filtering through the files and notebooks, fishing out Remus's breakfast. He unwraps the aluminum on top and looks inside but then disappointedly closes it and puts it back in the bag.
Remus wants to feel offended, or at least a little weirded out by the stranger going through his bag, but the man doesn't look to be searching the front pockets for keys or a wallet, it seems like genuine boredom or child-like curiosity rather. And Remus feels an amused smile creeping up.
He goes back to their seats, extending out a cup to the man.
He looks up at Remus and smiles, seeming a little guilty.
“Sorry. Just looking for a cigarette.” he says, then “thank you.” As he takes the cup from Remus's waiting hand.
“I've given up.” Remus says, still standing looking around the ER, doing his best to subtly avoid eye contact with the pretty stranger in the seat.
“Gotta be somewhere?” The man asks, sipping his coffee, Remus can feel his eyes on him, but stubbornly won't look at him.
“Work.” he says.
“Mmm.”
Silence falls between them, and Remus lets out a sigh. He is really bad at this.
Remus relents, looking down at the man. There is a slight bruise forming on his face, beneath the eye and on the forehead. And Remus recognizes the expression on the other’s face and the stiff frame. He is trying to hide his pain. Trying to think of something to keep the conversation going he asks “Don't fancy my toast sandwiches?” He hopes to lighten the mood.
“Not much of a sweet tooth myself, I'm afraid.” the other says.
“Why not?”
“Bad for your health”
“So are cigarettes.”.
“Don't eat those either.” he says, and Remus lets out a surprised chuckle.
“What's your work?”
“I'm sort of a journalist.” Remus answers scratching the back of his head. This is getting into personal territory, and he feels unprepared. He is not questioned by strangers in the ER very often, especially not ones who look like that.
“What sort?” the man questions again.
“I write obituaries.” Remus says.
He moves over, offering Remus a seat, and Remus joins him sitting on the green uncomfortable chair.
“Are we in for a long wait?” The man looks around at the busy room, he suddenly looks quite nervous.
A strange feeling fills Remus's heart again, sympathy, or maybe worry? He looks at an elderly lady sitting in the stools that are pushed against the wall, next to a vending machine.
“She was 21 when she came in.”
The man beside him looks at him a little shocked and barks a laugh. Remus’s heart swells with pride, it's the most beautiful sound he ever heard.
“Does it hurt?” he asks him.
“I'll live.” and it sounds so genuine and confident Remus has no other option but to believe him.
“Do you want me to put your leg up?” he asks before he can stop himself.
The other looks at him surprised but then smiles and softly says ”Yes, please.”
His voice is so soft it's almost a whisper but Remus hears him and moves an empty chair next to him in front of the man, putting the other’s leg up. His knee is bloody and bruised, and Remus is careful not to touch the dried blood and the area around the wound.
The skin is surprisingly warm to the touch when Remus puts his hand under the knee, despite the leg being completely exposed to the cold air from under the coat. It is just as smooth as it looks, and Remus can feel the curve of the muscles from under the skin. His legs are skinny but muscled and lean. Remus would have kept his hand there forever if he didnt feel so inappropriate and exposed, touching a complete stranger in a crowded hospital waiting room.
“Who makes your toast like that?” The man's amused tone brings Remus out of his thoughts. He sits back on the chair again.
“Me.”
“Did your mother make it like that when you were a little boy?”
Remus is taken aback by the question. When was the last time someone asked him about his mum? But he recovers quickly and says “Yes, I believe she did.”
“You should eat less sweets.” the other teases him.
“You should stop smoking.” He shoots right back.
“How long was I out?”
“About half a minute, on the street.” he chooses not to mention the car ride.
“Then what?”
Remus smiles “ You came to. You focused on me. You said, ‘Hello, stranger.’ "
The man next to him laughs and says “What a floozy!” he adds a dramatic gasp, putting a hand on his chest.
“The cabby crossed himself. He said, ‘Thank fuck! I thought I'd killed him.’ "
They both laugh.
“I said, Let's take him to the hospital, but he hesitated! The bastard. I think he thought there'd be paperwork, that he'd be held responsible. “ Remus continues, feeling angry again. He remembered contemplating stealing the cab and driving them himself.
The man looks at him curiously “How did you convince him then?”
Remus’s cheeks flash pink for a second time that morning. He clears his throat and says “So I said ‘Please, just drop us at the hospital.’ “
“Just like that?”
“Well, I might have…” he stumbles on the words, “ I might have added a little sneer.”
He expects a laugh, but it never comes.
“Show me the sneer.” the man says instead.
“What?” Remus's mind short-circuits.
The man laughs, “come on you did it once, you can do it again. “
Remus wants the ground to swallow him whole. This is not what imagined his morning to be when he woke. Embarrassing himself in front of a gorgeous stranger was not on his to do list.
He thinks then ‘what the hell’ it's not like he'll see the guy ever again. Letting out a long sigh he turns to face the other, pulling his face into a sneer. The scar on his upper lip stretches out.
“good god moony, i would have been scared too.” he laughs and says.
Remus stops and stares at the other again “what?”
“What” the other says as well.
“ ‘Moony’ , what is that, why did you call me that?”
It is the other man's turn to be embarrassed because Remus can see his cheeks go a little rosy when he says “ Well I don't know your name, and I thought you looked very moony when you stared at me earlier on the street. '' he explains.
Remus is left speechless, he imagines his heart doing loops in the air from how fast it's beating.
__________________________________________________
They end up spending about two hours in total in the ER.
The man left with two new stitches and bulky wrap on his leg, and a light concussion diagnosis. And Remus left beyond late for work. He already knows Peter is gonna be upset and whine all day. Yet as the two step out in the cold air and Remus looks at his pretty companion he can't bring himself to care.
Remus watches as the other gets a fag from someone at the hospital entrance. “Thank you.” he says, lighting it, he goes back to Remus and offers it to him.
“I told you, I've given up.” he shakes his head and says to him.
“Try harder.” the black haired man says smiling up at him.
They walk down the street in the direction of the bus stop, the stranger insisted on walking him to work. And Remus makes sure to walk slowly for the sake of the shorter, injured man. He notices the lack of possessions on him , other than a leather side bag.
“You live here?” Remus asks.
The man shakes his head. “Just arrived. From Paris.”
“Are you french?” Remus asks. He doesn't have an accent.
“Something like that. I was born there.” Vague answers, Remus likes this game.
“Are you visiting? Taking a vacation here?” That would explain some things.
“ I've been living in England since I was 11 so no, I was visiting there, actually.” He answers, taking another drag from the cigarette. Remus struggles to breathe for a second, even the way this man smokes is pretty.
But then the answer registers in his head and Remus stops walking, surprised. The other walks onward a few more steps before noticing Remus was no longer with him and looks back.
“Let me get this straight,” Remus begins,a little exasperated. “You speak perfect English, but no English accent? Born in France but lived here since you were a little kid, and yet somehow you forget to look to the right when you check for oncoming traffic?” he sounds ridiculous by the end of it. He doesnt get why he is so mad at this utter stranger, he doesn't own Remus his life story, and the guy definitely didn't ask to get hit by a car on purpose. But Remus feels lied to and there is nothing he hates more.
The other just shrugs “ I'm not lying if that's what you are accusing me of.” it's like he sees right through me, Remus thinks.
“I was born in France, and sent to a boarding school here when I was eleven. I guess the accent never rubbed off on me. As for what happened,” he smiles sheepishly “ I guess I was too busy looking at you to remember to check my right.” Turning, he continues to walk again.
Remus is thankful that the man is no longer facing him because he can feel himself blush. Again. Goddamit he keeps doing this to himself.
He catches up to the other quickly.
“ Where's your baggage? Where are you staying”
“I'm a stray dog, a waif.” Remus understands this is all the answers he is gonna get.
They keep on walking silently as the shorter man finishes the fag. Until they both stop suddenly, almost simulantly. Both turning to the left, looking at the old rusty gate.
“You know this place?” He asks Remus. And Remus remembers the navy gate, the rose bushes, the bench sitting farther ahead.
“I came here once, almost a decade ago.”
They walk through the gate and stop by the memorial wall. The watch on Remus's wrist feels heavy suddenly, reminding him of the passing minutes and his awaiting workplace.
The tiles on the wall are old, some cracked, stone breaking off at the edges. Yellowed, and covered in dust, the names and dates on them are barely readable.
“My father and I came here on the first year anniversary of my mothers death.” Remus suddenly says out loud.
The admission slips from his lips as if magically pulled. Why was he saying this, he never told this to anyone.
And yet he is standing in an empty park with a stranger telling him about his mother’s death.
But then again, Remus always found strangers easier to talk to, since they don't care, and wont remember you.
He expects the other man to question him farther, or give him that look of sympathy that Remus hates so much. But none of that comes, the other man just keeps looking at the memorial wall. Remus toys with the thought the other is secretly telepathic.
“She was a smoker too. She died in the hospital, actually.” Why was it so easy to say this? Why now? Why with him?
Remus once again braces himself for questions he won't want to answer. He never does. Not about her. He never likes sharing about his mum. It's silly, but he always had the fear that if he did , that information would slip away from him,stolen. That he will forget. His mother was his only, he doesn't want to share.
But instead of doing that the man next to him asks “Is your father still alive?”
This is easier, Remus can answer that. “Hanging on. He's in a home.”
The air between them is dampened, is it sadness or awkwardness, Remus can't tell. But the other man saves them again.
“You're late for work.” Beyond late.
“Are you saying you want me to go?”
“I'm saying you're late for work.”
__________________________________________________
They sit in the back row of the bus. And the man takes off his high heel boots with Remus's help and puts his stitched up leg on Remus's knee, without waiting for an invitation.
Remus goes stiff, and he desperately hopes it's not obvious that the proximity sends shivers up his spine. He also hopes that his face didn't change its color, or that at least the stranger didn't notice.
Luckily the other man’s eyes are glued to the window, watching the traffic go by. Remus selfishly uses this opportunity to admire his face. The red tips of his hair shimmer in the sun that streams from the window, and his eyes look like two crystals in the light, decorated by long black eyelashes.
He turns to face Remus suddenly and asks “How did you end up writing obituaries?”
“Well, I had dreams of being a writer, but I had no voice. What am I saying? I had no talent. So I ended up in obituaries, which is the northern pole of journalism.” Remus says after a pause.
“Tell me what you do. I want to imagine you in the snow.” the other says with a smile leaning his head back against the window. The sun is positioned just behind his head and it looks like a halo.
“Really?”
“Mmm.”
“Well, we call it the "obits" page. ‘we’ refers to Peter and I . When I get to work without fail…Are you sure you want to know?”
The other just nods his head again.
“Well, if someone important died, we go to the deep breeze, which is a computer file with all the obituaries.”
“So those obituaries are written while they're still alive?”
“Some peoples'. And Chris, he's the editor. He decides who we're going to lead with. Make calls, check facts. At six, we stand 'round the computer, and look at the next day's page. Make final changes, add a few euphemisms for our own entertainment."
“Such as?” The other asks in amusement.
“ ‘He was a cheerful fellow,’ meaning he was an alcoholic. “He was of a unique kind, an eccentric arse.”
The other laughs. He sits up, leaning closer to Remus, his hands come up to the collar of Remus’s button up shirt, Remus almost flinches back. He starts rearranging and smoothing Remus's collar and coat. Then he speaks up.
“What would your euphemism be?”
Remus hesitates for a second. His breath caught in his throat, this feels like too much, the closeness, the other man’s velvet like voice. Something about this person makes him feel daring, brave, he doesn't look like one to judge.
“ ‘He valued his privacy,’ raging gay.” Remus says.
The other laughs again.
“Makes two of us then.” he says and winks at Remus. And Remus lets out a breath and a smile.
He moves on to Remus's tie then, fixing it, loosening and then tightening it around Remu's neck. His hands slip back to his lap, and Remus already misses them.
Interesting what would it feel like to have these delicate hands around my throat. NO. No shite,Remus STOP.
Then after a moment, “What would my euphemism be?”
Remus pauses in thought again.
“He was disarming.’ “
“That's not a euphemism.”
“Yes, it is.”
It's Remus's turn to question.
“What were you doing in paris?”
“You know.”
“Well, no I don't. What were you, traveling? Visiting your old fol-”
“Stripping.” he deadpans.
Remus stares in shock.
“Look at your little eyes.” the other man laughs.
“I can't see my little eyes.” They both smile.
__________________________________________________
“Why'd you leave? Paris”,Remus asks as they walk slowly down the stone stairs, leading to his work.
“Problems, old ones. The type that can never be solved.”
“Family?”
“Maybe.”
“And you left them, just like that?”
“It's the only way to leave. "I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."
“Supposing you do still love them?”
“You don't leave.” uh yes it was easy, right.
“You've never left someone you still love?” Remus challenges.
“Nope.”
It's a lie, they both know it. But neither says another word until they reach the glass doors to his office building.
“This is me.” Remus announces with a sigh.
He doesn't want to go in. Doesn't want whatever this is to end. For a couple hours he felt alive, he felt brave. Ending this means going back to reality. To his little colorless life. But he knows the sooner they part, the easier it will be.
“Enjoy your stay. Please remember to check the right before you cross. Bye.” Remus says.
He starts to walk off, not giving the other a chance to answer. It's for the better, easier this way.
But something pulls him back, it feels like a planetary pull, he swears. And he executes a semi-circle and returns.
The other man still stands there looking at him, face blank. Remus wants to speak, to find something to say but nothing comes out. The other one precedes him.
“You have a boyfriend?”
Did he? It's been hard to tell the past few months. Hell, for the past three hours remus didn't even think of him once. But he does have a boyfriend; and the man in front of him is being good, honest. Lying to him is not fair. Not an option in Remus's book.
“Yeah. Grant. His name is Grant. He's a linguist. What's your name?”
“Sirius. “ the other answers, turns, and walks away.
Remus should turn too, walk away back to his little life. But he can't and he half shouts “ Like the star?” and then “ No last name?”
But the answer never comes, and Sirius disappears in the crowd, as if he was never there.
________________________________________
February 2004
________________________________________
A Shutter clicks. The light of the flash blinds Remus.
Mary stands up from behind the camera ”Good. I'm just going to change the film. Are you okay for time?”
“Mmm hmm.” he hums. Standing up to stretch his limbs.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Remus asks.
“Yes”
“I don't have to.”
“Then don't.”
He sits back on the stool. “Does the smell repulse you or is it the habit itself?”
“Neither, I don't get repulsed so easily. I just value my studio and art, I think they deserve more than cigarette smoke.”
Remus just smiles and nods.
“I liked your book.” she says as she returns to her post behind the camera and starts clicking again.
“Thanks.” he doesn't know what else to say. Fidgeting on the too small for his frame stool, he changes position.
“When's it published?”
“Next year. How come you've read it?”
“Your publisher sent me a manuscript. I read it last night. It kept me up 'till 4.”
“I'm flattered.”
“Is your hero based on someone you know?”
“Yes, he's someone named after a star.”
Mary hums. “How does he feel about you stealing his life?”
Remus feels strangely defensive at that. “Borrowing his life. I'm dedicating the book to him. “
“Reckon he's pleased?”
“No idea.” Remus admits. “He valued his privacy.” he adds under his breath with a smile.
“Has he read it?”
“I sent it to him. I never got a response. Not even sure he received it, might have changed his address for all I know.”
“Not a good ending then? Between the two of you? Not like the book?” and the tone of the question is bored, uninterested. As if she already knows the answer.
“People don't like sad endings, I took some artistic liberties”
“Mmm” is all he gets in return.
“Do you exhibit?” he asks her, staring out of the studio window as she keeps taking photos.
“Sometimes. I have a thing next year. Lily said she’d come, you should join. “
“Portraits?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Of who?”
“Strangers.” Remus feels deja vu.
“How do your strangers feel about you stealing their lives?”
“Borrowing.”
“Am I a stranger?” Remus asks, he doesn't know why. He feels very lonely suddenly. Alone in the world.
“No. Right now, You're a job, and you're a sloucher. Sit up.” Remus does as he is told.
“You didn't find it filthy?”
“ What?”
“The book?”
Mary sighs “ I thought it was... accurate.” then “Fix your hair.”
“About what?” He keeps pushing, moving his curls away from his face. He misses the touch of delicate hands.
“About sex. About love.”
“In what way?”
Marry levels him with an annoyed look “You wrote it.”
“You read it... 'till 4.” His face breaks into a smirk.
“Don't raise your eyebrows, it makes you look smug.”
“But you did like it?” He stares at her.
“Yes, but I could go off it.”
“Stand up.” she instructs, and moves away the stool. She takes out a different camera, a hand one. And stands in front of Remus.
“Any criticisms?” he asks as she proceeds to take more photos.
“I'm not sure about the title.”
“Got a better one?”
Mary smiles, lowering the camera away from her face, and thinks for a moment. “The Planetarium.”
“ So you liked the filth. You like planetariums. “ he teases.
“Stargazing is therapeutic.” she shrugs. “You would know wouldn't you?”
Remus doesn't get a chance to answer, another flush of the camera blinds him.