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his watch reads 19:39, and your fingers shake, one hand holding a half-smoked cigarrette, the other holding a half-torn piece of lined paper. you bring the cigarrette to your lips, letting the smoke slowly fill your lungs as if there wasn't a boy waiting for you to read what was written on the page. you had claimed to be quite the accomplished writer, about five minutes ago, and it wasn't in your nature to dissapoint (people who you frequently described as "not my mother"), nor in his to be particularly patient. so you cleared your throat, and spoke words that came out of your heart, rather than your cock. ("Oh god, you're fucking great, i love you, oh god!")
"if you were the sea, i'd stay among your wildest waves, for the rest of my days, and let myself drown in you, for even when there is no air in my lungs, having you know someone welcomed your anger is better than leaving the world to face your wrath, and having you there in place of oxygen, to me, is a better death."
his eyes flutter open, suddenly interested now.
"if you were acid rain, i'd let you fall on my skin, soaking you all in, until i've fallen to the ground, for even if all you give me is poison, having you know someone listened to your every word is better than leaving you alone with your toxic thoughts, all of which i'd take in, for i'd never want you to have to see them ever again."
listening intently, his legs shift closer to yours as he tries to read over your shoulder.
"if you were a flood, i'd let you carry me away, and tear me apart with all the things you'd gathered before me, for even when i cease to exist, knowing that you were the last thing to cross my mind is better than leaving this world not knowing the feeling of an unparagoned love, which, of course, i'd try to give you too."
at this point, he's definitely holding his breath because you can't feel the warm air tickling the back of your neck anymore.
"if you were a book filled with melancholy thoughts, i'd always keep you next to me, and let everything you contain stain my soul, for letting your contents damage me is better than letting you destroy the world. And even when your words become smudged beyond comprehension, and your paper has withered away, having everything you used to be completely whole in my mind is better than forgetting even a small part of what was once inked between those pages."
he's practically pressed up against your back now. still on his tippy-toes, waiting for you to read the last paragraph.
"if you were the moon, i'd stay awake all night, basking in your light, for no matter whatever phase you're in, you'll always be the most beautiful thing in the sky, and it's worth never seeing the sun again if you become the last image my tired eyes will ever see."
and then he suddenly pulls away, standing in front of you. he now looks out of breath, and you'd really like to know what's making him feel that so you can see him like this again, chest rising, with blown pupils and bruised lips hanging apart.
"why?" he asks. sullen eyes, and sullen spirit, trying to see the truth in your words.
"why do you find me so..." he stops to think, searching for words. you think it just makes him even cuter.
"why do you find me so worthy of your attention?"
your eyebrows are drawn tight, reacting to you mind not having an answer. "er... because you're Remus?"
he rolls his eyes and says, "look at me, love. i've got blood on my wrists, which i put there, by the way. i've got dirt on my shoes, but i guess you've got some in that big brain of yours.
"then look at you. graceful as an angel, skin as smooth as flower petals, and grey eyes infinitely deeper than my dull brown."
the boy you love then raises a hand to your face, and whispers, "how could you love me?"
and you respond with a question of your own.
"how could i not?"
then there's this silence. and it's not uncomfortable, per se, but he's just so close, and you're both a bit overwhelmed with emotion. both of you could've walked away until he licked his lips and met your eyes... so you did what any horny teenager would do.
you kiss him.
at first, he just stands there, not moving, probably more than a bit shell shocked. this worries you a little, so you pull away, to see his face, and what you see makes you smile wide.
his mouth is still open, and his eyes are hazy, staring at you. he's still breathing hard, but he's more red in the face now, and his hair just makes him looked well-fucked.
this image just makes you laugh, but then his mouth closes and his eyes clear, making it a lot less difficult for him to appear grumpy again. his lips then set into a hard line, and he looks very determined. you soon find out why when he grabs you by the lapels of your leather jacket and pulls you to him, apparently discovering how much fun snogging is.
well, at least you're not laughing anymore.
as his arms make their way from your jacket to your shoulders, crushing his chapped lips against yours, his fingers play with the hair at your nape, and your hands find his bony hips.
much too soon, you break apart to hear a hushed, "i love you so much, you idiot!" and he smiles against your throat; you can fucking feel it.
though you want this moment to last forever, two boys against a lavender sky, you know it won't last. but you decide to just enjoy it, this little memory that made your him so happy, as you let yourself sink farther into the abyss that is your (admittedly unhealthy) fixation with Remus Lupin, caring less and less about anything apart from the obssesion that consumes you both.
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