Chapter Text
Remus hates his fucking scars. Who the fuck- at the ripe age of 20- gets attacked by wolves. Ridiculous, it is. Fucking ridiculous.
When he bothers to really take the time to think about it, he can concede to the fact that some people, he supposes, would call it fate. What with his first and last name both meaning ‘wolf’, and if Remus were an optimist, he would spin himself some fantastical tale about how it was always meant to be and that someday it would lead to something great. Yes, if Remus Lupin were an optimist, he would be fine. But he’s not. He’s a realist and he is pretty damn sure that it’s some cosmic karma. Probably something he did to tick off a god or a deity or whatever.
“Ready to go, Remus, my love?” James inquires from the doorway to Remus’ room. Remus rolls his eyes at the term of endearment from his overly friendly flatmate.
“I don’t know how you dragged me into this, Jamie,” Remus grumbles as he heads out the doorway.
“Because, you moping brat, I’m in love with a redheaded goddess divine and you, my friend, are going to help me woo her over.”
“And how am I supposed to do that when I don’t even know her?”
“By being my wingman?” James replies incredulously.
Remus huffs, picks up his crutch and walks out the door knowing that James will be hot on his trail.
The thing is, he hates going outside nowadays. It’s been exactly ten months since ”the accident” happened in a forest near his parents house in Wales and although he would say that he’s used to the way he looks now, he can’t help but feel wildly self conscious when people stare at the scars littering his body and the limp that he has. The thing is, he doesn’t even have to leave his house. Not really. Because two months before the accident, he wrote a song that he let his friend and famous lead singer Dorcas use in her album. Little did he know it would top the charts. Now he is one of the sole writers for Dorcas’ alternative rock band “The Dorks” and he makes enough to afford his little London flat with James and never have to leave his room.
So, James, his oldest and dearest friend (as well as the biggest pain in his arse) has taken it upon himself to force Remus out into the real world at any chance he can.
They make their way to the art gallery that Lily, James’s fascination, works at. He half listens to James as he explains exactly why Lily is the light of his life, noting that although she’s been uninterested thus far, she still frequents the cafe James inherited from his parents regularly, so she probably doesn’t hate him. Or, Remus thinks, she just can’t live without their lattes, which would, in fairness, be a completely reasonable reason to put up with James’ terrible flirting.
The two men arrive in front of the Marauder Art Gallery. James is practically levitating with all the excitement trying to escape him while Remus just stares warily at the old wooden doors, his fingers grasping his crutch so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“Hey,” James says, noticing Remus’ anxiety that he tends to pass off as a foul mood, “it’s gonna be alright.”
Remus nods quickly and flashes a tight smile at James. “I know. Let’s go woo your girl, yeah?”
“Not my girl,” James replies. Although Remus hears the wild haired man mutter “but maybe someday,” under his breath as they open the door to the gallery. He can’t help but smile at his friend being so head over heels for someone. He’s never seen James like this and although a selfish part of him wants James to stay single so he won’t ever leave Remus, a bigger (and less shitty) part of him is really hoping that this Lily girl gives the guy a chance.
“Lilypad!” James practically bellows, before his dark cheeks turn red at the realization that he should probably be more respectful to the setting.
A redheaded girl who is so undeniably beautiful that Remus is half convinced a halo actually rests over her head, winces and walks over to them.
“Hello, James.”
“Hi Lily. Sorry for yelling. You look beautiful.”
She rolls her eyes.
“This is my best mate Remus. Remus- Lily- Lily- Remus,”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says to him and he appreciates the fact that she is looking straight into his eyes instead of ogling his scars or his crutch.
“Ditto,” he replies (much to James’ chagrin).
“Remus,” James hisses, but before he can reprimand him for making Lily think he’s obsessed with her, even though he is, Lily pipes up.
“Well, this is Sirius Black’s exhibit. He’s a blind artist who, if you ask me, is about to make huge waves in the art world. All the sculptures in the next room are his.”
She brings them around a little corner and into a long room. Remus’ breath is instantly taken away, for there, among the black floors and walls, are the most beautiful sculptures he’s ever seen.
Each sculpture looks like it’s made out of a different kind of rock. They’re all incredibly detailed, too. Some are just arms carved from jagged rock, intertwining and overlapping. Some are people's heads showing heartbreaking emotions as they reach out of the rocks that hold them. As Remus unceremoniously leaves the two lovebirds, he takes his time walking from sculpture to sculpture. Many, he realizes, are not the smooth, flawless bodies that he’s always seen in stone before. These ones have scars and many are disfigured. In fact, some of them resemble his own body. Particularly a torso, which stands alone without a head or limbs, and shows a scar dragging across its stomach. It’s not that close to Remus’ scars which absolutely cover his torso, but it makes him feel… well… seen.
“Padfoot, no. Heel. Stop. Bloody mutt,” an annoyed voice says from behind Remus.
He feels something tap his good leg and looks down in surprise. There, wagging a happy tail, is a sort of scraggly black dog. If the dog hadn’t been so close to the light above the sculpture of a torso, he wouldn’t have seen it at all because of how dark black it’s fur was.
But surprisingly, the dog was not what got Remus’ attention. For there was a smooth, ebony hand with beautiful rings holding onto the dog's leash. Remus’ eyes trailed up the smooth wrist of the man and up towards a face so beautiful that Remus momentarily believed in God.
The man with the unfairly kissable cheekbones and the chiseled jaw looks forwards towards nothing and Remus realizes that this is the blind artist who Lily mentioned. What was his name? Cillian? Solomon? No, it was something more beautiful than that.
“Uh, hi. Are you… the artist?” Remus asks before promptly cringing at himself.
“Yes I am,” replies the man with what Remus can only describe as a dazzling smile. “Sirius Black, and you are?” The man asks.
“Oh, um, Remus Lupin,” Remus replies with à blush high on his cheeks as he shakes the man's outstretched hand. “Your sculptures are just so beautiful,” he adds. Then, much to his horror, he realizes that he’s still shaking the man's hand, which has loosened its grip immensely.
He pulls his hand away and stammers for something else to say. He’s out of practice talking to strangers- especially strangers who are so handsome that they’re real life Adonis’.
The man's smile only widens.
“Sorry about Padfoot here, you’re not allergic to dogs, are you?”
“Oh, no no, I’m not. He’s really cute.”
“Just like his owner,” Sirius replies with a wink. Remus feels his stomach flip- which, if you ask him, I’d rather unhelpful and he could do without.
“He pulled me over to you, actually,” says Sirius after Remus’ nervous laugh. “He doesn’t do that often so you must be in deep distress.”
“W-what?” Remus stammers.
“Well, he’s always had this ability to find the saddest person in the room and comfort them. And, forgive me if it makes you uncomfortable, but he practically ran over here, which makes me wonder why you’re upset and if you want to talk about it.”
“I-if I want to talk about it?” Remus echoes dumbly.
Sirius nods with a little puppy-ish head tilt and on anyone else, Remus would dismiss it as pitying and annoying but considering the fact that Sirius has no idea that Remus looks the way he does, he finds it comforting.
“Well, I’m okay, really. Just anxious, I guess. I don’t like public places anymore and… and…”
Remus’ words drift away from him. He can’t believe he’s making such an arse of himself in front of this artistic genius/hot man.
“Anymore?” Sirius prompts softly. And there’s something about the man that makes Remus want to tell all his secrets to him. Which is mind blowingly strange considering the fact that Remus never opens up to literally anyone.
“There was… an accident… a few months ago. People look at me differently now. I can't handle crowded spaces and things. Not that I was very outgoing before, but…”
Sirius nods and doesn’t press exactly what the accident was, which Remus feels grateful for.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why is it that they look at you differently? Sorry for my lack of tact but I’m blind, you see, and you certainly sound like a decent bloke, what with that sexy rasp of yours.”
God! Was this man flirting with him or was he just that bold? Did he know what he was doing to Remus right now? More importantly, was Remus’ voice really that sexy?
Remus swallows hard and breathes in, bracing himself.
“I have scars from the accident. And a crutch.”
He breathes out and prepares for the unwanted pity or quick exit that the man will take. What Sirius says instead takes him by surprise.
“That’s it?”
“Y-yeah. The scars aren’t pretty to look at.”
“Says who?” Yells Sirius, drawing attention to the two men. Remus blushes and lowers his voice.
“Pretty much everyone.” Remus replies with à shrug.
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“I call bullshit,” Sirius says indignantly. “Look around you, mate, if scars and crutches weren’t beautiful, then I wouldn’t be an artist.”
When Remus didn’t say anything, the raven haired adonis contained on. “I always try to sculpt people who I find beautiful or expressive. People with scars or who’s hands have been burnt in fires, who’s fingers have been lost or who were born with things about their bodies that make them different. That’s beauty. That’s fucking poetry.”
After a long moment, Remus huffs out a laugh.
“Are you sure that it’s not beautiful but just interesting to look at?”
At this, Sirius’ patience is all but nonexistent.
“Of course! That’s what beauty is! Beauty is something that we find interesting to look at or to touch or listen to.”
“I haven’t thought about it from the point of view of an artist, I guess,” Remus concedes.
At this, Sirius smiles.
“I think you might sell yourself short, mate. After all, it was you that told me that my sculptures are, and I quote ‘just so beautiful’.”
Remus laughed a real laugh and shook his head.
“I guess you got me there. It’s just hard to feel…”
“Beautiful?”
“Yeah.”
Sirius stretched out his hand until it found Remus’ sweater clad arm. “I know, it must be really hard to live differently than you used to. To stick out when you used to blend in. I don’t want to make you feel like you don’t have reason to be anxious or upset or anything, I’m just telling you that I don’t have to see you to know you’re beautiful. In fact, the more we talk, the more that I really want to sculpt you.”
Remus could have been imagining it, but he thought he may have seen a pink tint to Sirius’ cheeks at his last admission.
“Y-you want to sculpt me?”
“If you’d let me. We could just do a hand or an arm or whatever you’re comfortable with, really. Maybe it will help you see that your scars are something that add to your beauty, not something that subtract from it.”
How on Earth does this man manage to make the most cheesy, optimistic sounding phrases resonate so deeply within him? He’s supposed to be a changed man! A realist! He half wonders if his therapist was right about him having a coping mechanism that makes him give up hope.
“Well aren’t you wise,” Remus half-jokes. He is absolutely delighted when he earns a barking laugh from Sirius.
“That I am, my friend, so you’ll think about it?”
“Alright, Sirius.”
Sirius smiles softly and Remus sees a little hint of pink rest on the man's gorgeous pale cheeks, which does all sorts of things to his stomach.
“Here,” Sirius says, taking his hand off of Remus’ arm- which now feels unbearably cold- and fishing in his pocket for a business card. He presses it into Remus’ hand.
“I’ll be thoroughly disappointed in you if you don’t call me.” He says with a wink and an endearing head tilt.
“I will,” Remus says. And he means it. The man's face lights up and he fake salutes Remus before walking away with his dog.
…
“Just call him already!” James yells right into Remus’ ear, causing him to wince and mutter some unsavoury words.
“Call who?” Remus feigns innocence, even though he’s been staring at the business card he stuck on their fridge in their flat for the past twenty minutes as he sips at his coffee.
“The bloody artist, Remus! He wants to fucking sculpt you! Let him!”
“I’m fucking scared, James,” Remus admits with a small voice, feeling utterly pathetic. His therapist keeps telling him he should tell people how he feels more often, though, so he swallows his pride and tells James. “Nobody’s touched me- like my actual skin- since before the accident. I don’t know if I can take it.”
“Then tell him that.”
“What? You want me to call the bloke up just so that I can tell him that I don’t want him to touch me?”
This wasn’t exactly true. He would very much like to be touched by Sirius Black. But not in a professional setting. Not his scars.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to tell him. Lily said that he likes you. They’re like best friends and you didn’t hear it from me but the two of them came into the cafe the other day and they asked me about ‘sexy rasp man’.”
Remus’ face went impossibly red at this tidbit of information.
“Wait. He was in the cafe and you didn’t tell me?!”
James just snickered and left the room, knowing that his point had been made. How annoying it was that he was right.
Remus picked up his phone.
Half an hour later, he finally got up the balls to phone Sirius.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi. Is this Sirius?”
“Yes it is- wait. Sexy rasp man! Remus!”
Remus felt his mouth go dry.
“Yeah, hi Sirius.”
“What took you so long to call? Never mind. Hey, you’re not doing anything right now, are you?”
“Uh, well, no-”
“Great! How far are you from your friend's coffee shop? The one who keeps flirting with Lily?”
“Actually, I live above it.”
“Perfect! Can you meet me there in twenty? My studio is nearby so it won’t take me long to get there.”
“S-sure, but-”
“Great! See you soon! Bye Remus!”
“Bye.”
Remus stared at the black screen of his phone.
“Sooo, what’d he say,” crooned James from the doorway.
“He’s meeting me downstairs in twenty minutes.” Remus said in a dazed sort of shock.
James laughed.
“Better shower then. You stink.”
“Oi” Remus shouted indignantly, flipping James the bird, before realizing that that was actually a good point.
He showered in record time and chose his soft green cashmere sweater that James’ mum got him for Christmas and he only wears on special occasions.
Remus watched the door anxiously, waiting to see Sirius and his dog through the glass. James had decided he would be a prat and watch the interaction ‘for moral support’. Remus felt his hands start to shake from nerves.
But Sirius wasn’t alone. Holding his arm was none other than James’ red haired beauty Lily. She smiled when she saw Remus and muttered something to Sirius which made the raven haired man smile and blush. Yup. There was no mistaking it. That was a blush. And it looked so wonderful on the man's face that Remus imagined himself kissing it all over.
“Hi Remus! How are you!” asked Lily as he stepped from behind the counter to greet them.
“Lily!” James exclaimed.
Lily rolled her eyes but Remus noticed a little pleased smile playing at her mouth.
“I’m well, Lily, thank you,” Remus chuckled.
“Isn’t anyone going to ask me how I am?” Sirius asked.
“No,” the two of them replied in unison before bursting into giggles at Sirius’ shock.
“Wooow, make fun of the blind guy, why don’t you?” Sirius joked in mock offence.
“I think I like you, Remus,” Lily said, ignoring Sirius.
“Remus. Shall we take a seat?” asked Sirius pointedly, obviously a little miffed about being ignored.
Remus turned to look at the handsome man properly. He was wearing a leather jacket, a tight crisp red shirt and flared black jeans. He looked right out of some 50s movie about a hot biker gang or something. Remus’ heart did funny things at the sight.
“Sure, Sirius,” Remus said in a lower voice. He didn’t miss the little nudge that Lily gave Sirius or the smirk on her face as she watched Remus practically eye fuck her friend. He also didn’t miss the understanding and almost loving look that she gave him when she noticed his hands shaking.
Lily guided the three of them toward a table at the back and went to order them drinks.
Remus wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or overjoyed at the smile Sirius gave him when he ordered hot chocolate rather than coffee or tea.
“How are you, Remus?” Sirius asked kindly as they waited for Lily.
“I’m well.”
Sirius’ eyebrow shot up in disbelief. It was a little scary how easily this man who Remus barely knew could read him.
“How are you, Remus,” he repeated.
“I’mnotsurethatIwantyoutosculptme,” Remus rushed out.
“You’re gonna have to go a little slower, love.”
Said by anyone else, that sentence would’ve come off as condescending but Remus couldn’t stop the smile on his face at the term of endearment.
“I’m not sure that I want you to sculpt me.”
“That’s okay.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured into doing something that might hurt or trigger you in some way. As I said before, we could start with something small, or, if you’d like, a part of you that doesn’t have scars.”
Remus looked at his own reflection in Sirius’ stylish black sunglasses. He found himself missing the enchanting grey of Sirius’ eyes that had reminded him of the ocean a stormy day off the coast of wales where he used to visit an old formation of rocks that people called the Serpent's Head. That was before the accident.
Just then, Lily returned with their drinks.
“I thought you only sculpted scars and things that ‘make people’s bodies interesting’? Why bother sculpting me if it’s a scarless part of my body?”
To Remus’ immense surprise, Sirius opened and closed his mouth, stammering as he searched for an answer.
“He’s sculpted me before, and I don’t have any of that,” offered Lily with a smug look on her face as she watched her raven haired friends' reactions.
“Yeah!” Sirius quickly intercepted. “I just want to sculpt you. I don’t care which part.”
At this, Remus choked on his hot chocolate and made eye contact with Lily. Her face was unbearably smug as she looked between the two with fondness and gave Remus a wink before turning to go talk to James at the counter.
“You just want to sculpt me,” repeated Remus in confused awe.
“Is that such a crime?”
Remus huffed a laugh. “No I guess not… Sirius.”
To his delight, Sirius tried and failed to hide a wide smile at Remus’ use of his name.
If it’s true that I have a sexy voice, I may as well use it to my advantage, Remus thought. Plus, it was a pretty beautiful sight to watch Sirius’ confident persona slip just a little bit.
“Well then, now that I have your number, I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time.”