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He makes it through the crowd, roughly pushes his sleeves up, and glances around. Down the hallway, past a few groups of people standing around, coming and going, Remus sees someone slip into the bathroom.
Long legs with the black stockings.
He swallows as he dips past the bar, rounds the corner, and shoves the door open.
And Remus’ head is a mess as soon as he’s on the other side.
He’s sitting on the counter, legs swinging underneath. Long fingers painted black, gripping the edge of the tile, and there are stars drawn on his shoes. Little pen marks all over, beat up, and looking like any reasonable person would buy new ones or at least forgo wearing them out to the club, but there they are knocking around.
One shoe is untied, dirty laces hanging, and Remus’ fingers twitch.
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a wolfstar and jegulus, modern AU. -
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I need more 😭😭😭 devastated! I’m devastated
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yeah its hot!!
remus bargaining with himself on how he can give sirius affection and violence
[And there were very few things, he always thought, that matched the beginning.
Remus was one of them; the day Sirius stepped foot in his apartment, another. Seeing his brother laugh for the first time, not because of him. A stranger's infatuation, pulling his knees up in the car, Regulus driving through the city on the way to a night out, fresh cigarette in hand, a new pack in his lap.
When you felt it all hit your system, breathing came easier, and time was slower. Or time was faster, and you felt it all at your fingertips, life, and anticipation. Thinking about what’s next, an eagerness for the future, no matter how short-sighted.
For someone who dreaded waking up, that was everything.
What was next—What else can I look forward to? You open your eyes and it’s lists.
Lists upon lists, one of them is titled: What do I have to look forward to?
What is worth getting out of bed for?
When’s the next time I can feel like I’m alive? Worth something?
What will it take to get there this time?][It was freeing to be made into something out of what he already was.]
[Remus wants Sirius’ mouth, but at the moment, more than anything, he wants to pick Sirius up off the ground, ask why he sunk to his knees in the first place, and take him to bed. Tuck him in and figure out how one might talk about it all in the morning. He’s never done that, but he has a general idea of how one might go about diffusing a bomb.
You don’t cut the wrong wire.]