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It always rains in Santiago, thought Remus. That’s what September is like. The summer ends, and the days of heat and sun are gone. The raindrops persistently hit the small window of Remus' room. In that gray city, in every corner of Conxo, it was the only sound someone could hear. When the school year started, it always happened the same way since Lupin could remember: humid, cold, and melancholic. Today was no different. With only ten days left until classes began, it was the kind of morning one chooses to stay in bed, lost in thoughts and other meaningless things like that.
But today, he knew his mother was already moving around the house. A while ago, the sound of a spoon against a cup and the scraping of the old kitchen chair had echoed as she drank her coffee before heading out. Remus knew that as soon as she heard him awake, she would call for him. And sure enough, she did: “Remus, are you up?” His mother, Esperanza, Hope, called from the kitchen with a firmness that left no room for any argument. Remus sighed and ran a hand over his face slowly before sitting up. Making an effort to clear his mind, he grabbed an old black shirt and some pants and stepped out of his room, dragging his feet until he found himself face to face with his mother’s skinny figure, already dressed to leave, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her dark blue uniform in place.
She worked cleaning houses, a routine that had never changed for as long as Remus could remember, it was a constant struggle to maintain stability and have enough money for food and for his studies. Remus knew how hard it was, so he had worked in the summer at a bookstore in town, well, in the city really. Santiago wasn’t a town because it was one of the biggest cities of Galicia, but his mother called it that. Follas Novas wasn’t bad, and in the end the important thing about his job is that they paid him well for the hours he spent there.
Hope and Remus got along well, and they never spoke much about his father because, simply, he wasn’t there, and they didn’t need him. He had left for the Americas when Remus was just a small child and had never bothered to explain why, leaving only the trace of an absence that weighed more at certain moments than others. “If it’s raining like this, you need to take an umbrella, Remus,” she said, adjusting a scarf on her head before giving him a quick sidelong glance.
“And eat something before you go, boy, or you’ll waste away. So tall…you’ll be blown away either way on a day like this! It’s as if I don’t even feed you breakfast in this house.” Remus nodded, knowing that in reality, he wasn’t hungry but would obey. His mother always worried he wasn’t eating enough, and he supposed it was because she had gone hungry as a child. Poor thing. He made coffee and took a piece of bread, just as she said. Then, as his mother was about to leave for the day, he moved toward the door. “Bye, Ma. Take care, and be careful with your back,” he told her, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
Afterward, he returned to the kitchen to drink his coffee. He was planning on going out for a walk soon, and he needed a bit of energy. A while later, he went to his room, grabbed his jacket, looked around for a moment, and on impulse, grabbed his notebook and stuffed it into his pocket. Then, stepping out the door, he took a deep breath. Going outside always had an immediate effect—the smell of wet earth, the dark stone buildings glistening with rain, and the fresh wind hitting his face made him smile. Santiago in September was like this—a mix of boredom, humidity, and hope. The city longed for the life that awoke with the new school year. Just like Remus longed to see his friends.
He walked without a clear destination, letting his feet carry him through the streets. No place in Santiago appealed to him as much as Conxo, the neighborhood that had always felt like his second home. He passed by the monastery, its worn walls serving as a reminder of an old and forgotten history. He loved looking at buildings and thinking about the people who had looked at them before him. That was what he was thinking about as he walked through tree-lined paths, offering him a place to get lost for a while before returning to reality. He thought about last year, the first months of college. He thought about James and Peter, about the debates he had with Lily, about nights filled with drinks and discussions about politics and the future. He missed them so much.
And, inevitably, he thought about Sirius again. The way Sirius listened with sparling eyes when Remus spoke about his love for poems. The way he laughed when Remus used sarcasm to dodge uncomfortable topics like he had been born to do it. The way he was so far away in Madrid, living the big city life. Tan Lonxe. There was something about him that was different from anything Remus had known before… something that made Remus a mess. And that was dangerous, because he couldn’t allow himself to feel what he felt. Not this time. The words that ran through his mind when he thought of that boy were like poetry that would never see the light of day. He stopped in a corner and took out his notebook. It was as worn as his heart, its page edges damp, the cover frayed from so much use. There were hardly any blank pages left, all filled with ink and secrets.
As always, the words started flowing before he could think too much about them, as if they were a necessity. It was like vomiting through his letters—spitting out words he knew he could never say. He wrote verses about the rain and waiting, about hair black as night and freckles like stars, about something never spoken aloud but still present, latent.
"It rains in Santiago and within me, like it rained that day, when the city dressed in stone and you looked at her." He stopped. Looked at the poem with disgust and sighed. It was too personal, too obvious again. Sirius, as clever as he was, would recognize those words for sure if he ever saw them by chance. And that couldn’t happen. In an impulsive, angry gesture, Remus tore the page out, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it onto the wet ground. He took a deep breath and closed the notebook. Better to keep walking. Better to forget. He had been messy like this all summer. And Sirius hadn't even thought of him, not a single damn letter had he sent. Not even a fucking reply. Fuck him.
He continued walking toward the center of the city and suddenly realized he was freezing, his jacket damp from the never-ending fine rain. He remembered what his mother had told him before about bringing an umbrella, if only he had listened! He sensed in the air that something new was beginning. It was going to be a different year, a different term. For the first time in a long while, Remus felt that, at some point, everything was going to change.
September 13, 1979
The sound of the rain had faded, at least for now. Santiago remained soaked as always, its stone streets reflecting the warm and dim city lights while students resumed their routines and bars filled once again with conversations and laughter. It was the first Thursday of the term, and Remus knew there was no escape.
James had insisted that everyone, the entire group, should get together to celebrate the start of the second year. The guy, so enthusiastic, had been going on for days about how much he missed the nightlife of Compostela. A Coruña, James and Peter city, was a beautiful place, but it couldn’t compare to the college life of the capital and everyone knew it.
Remus knew that Lily and Marlene were also going out; they claimed they deserved a night of fun before the university drowned them in notes and exams. Lily had mentioned it during that morning class but He decided to hide the information from his friends. He knew that if the girls didn’t show up in the end, James would be disappointed.
Around ten o’clock, Remus pushed open the door of Modus Vivendi. The pub, hidden inside an old building, had an aura of history and mystery that made it seem like a place from another dimension, from another time. The stone walls, the vaulted ceiling, the occasional live music… It was like a magical spot taken straight from a novel. It was the kind of place where one could spend the whole night, listening to philosophical debates or discussing politics. And now that the dictatorship was over it was the perfect time for it.
“Finally, you show up!” exclaimed Sirius in his flawless Spanish, pulling out a cigarette and leaning on the table with an amused smile. His eyes sparkled like those of a dog who sees you preparing to throw a ball. Without much fuss, Remus smiled at him and looked away before settling into the remaining seat, just next to the long-haired guy. As time passed, his fears were confirmed… The tension still lingered, hidden among jokes, among the spontaneous remarks that tumbled out unintentionally and those that he answered in response.
The group was now gathered, drinks and glasses already on the table, while James debated football with Peter as usual. Occasionally, Sirius would look at him with an expression he could never quite decipher—something between curiosity and a deeper feeling, something best kept under layers of irony. “The cool thing about Santiago is that everything seems old,” commented Peter, scratching his head. “In A Coruña, we would just be at a random bar.”
“This is history, mate,” replied Remus, taking a swig of his drink. “And it must be respected.” Sirius laughed softly, nodding. He was always fascinated by the way Remus talked about Santiago, as if the city belonged to him in a unique way, as if he were merely an extension of its rain-soaked streets. James, of course, had been restless ever since he started drinking. The guy kept glancing at the door every few moments, waiting for his future wife to appear. And she did.
When Lily entered Modus Vivendi, James sat up even straighter, trying to look less desperate. The rest of their friends, including Remus, did their best to hide their laughter. They failed of course. “How’s it going?” said Mary casually.
“I already mentioned we were going out today; there isn’t much space, so if you don’t mind, we’ll stay here,” added Lily with a conspiratorial smile as she glanced at Remus. After that, the group gradually mixed together, and the initial tension disappeared within minutes. Between laughter and drinks, they decided to head outside with the intention of trying another place, which, according to Mary and Marlene’s other roommate, was all the rage: Pub A Laura.
This spot, too, proved to be legendary, they loved the music there and the conversation flowed now effortlessly. In fact, James tried to talk to Lily every time he had the chance, while Peter made absurd remarks to distract and laugh with his friend.
At one point, Remus saw Sirius heading outside and followed him; the two eventually ended up near another bar in the street called Entremuros. Before leaving, Remus had noticed that Lily was arguing with James about politics, and he made a mental note to discuss it later with his friends. As he stepped out of the corner, Sirius was there, watching him with that unchanging intensity. Remus saw his silhouette leaning against a stone wall, illuminated only by Santiago’s worn out streetlights, and thought that he could never mistake him for anyone else. Sirius was just special.
Even though half his face was hidden by shadow and by the cigarette he held between his fingers, you could see a slight smile at the corner of his lips. He appeared happy that Remus had followed him, as if he had been expecting it. “It’s too noisy in there, isn’t it?” said Remus, his voice drawn out from the exhaustion of a long night, it must have been around three in the morning or so and he was drunk.
Sirius tucked the cigarette he held behind his ear and pulled another from the pack to offer to Remus. He hesitated for a moment but eventually accepted, and as he took it, their hands brushed slightly.. Even if they had touched only for an instant, he suddenly felt a warmth spread through his body, as if his clothes were burning him. It was so brief that he managed to hide it with a clumsy gesture, twirling the cigarette between his fingers before lighting it.
“James is obsessed with my friend Lily,” he remarked, trying to distract himself from what had just happened, attempting to shake off the lingering sensation on his skin. “He’s been talking about her all day, and now they’re going at it and talking about politics and Galician language rights; it’s as if he’s suddenly fallen for Castelao, and all that.” Sirius exhaled his smoke slowly, watching him and laughing.
“And what do you think?” he asked in Spanish, as he always did. Remus had never seen him try to speak Galician, though he knew that even if he did, his Madrid accent wouldn’t vanish. Still, it would be a magical moment if it ever happened. James had once told him that Sirius also spoke French… that would be something to see. “It’s going to end badly,” replied Remus, his irony as natural as the city around them. “Lily will crush him intellectually, and James will end up looking even more foolish.” Sirius chuckled softly, nodding.
“I agree with what you said earlier… that just sounds like too much noise.” The remark seemed almost funny compared to the silence that fell between them for a moment. There was hardly anyone else on the street, only the distant sound of a conversation on the other corner and the stray footsteps of a student on his way home. For a Thursday, the city looked peaceful.
“Hey, Remus, let’s go to Tarasca,” Sirius said suddenly, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with a swift motion of his foot. “You know I can’t stand still, and I want to see what the vibe is like this year.”
Remus didn’t protest. Just as he hadn’t protested over the lack of replies to his letters, he followed the shorter guy down the street.
When they arrived at Tarasca and went inside, there were almost more people than at the previous pub. It made sense that everyone was inside rather than on the streets because it was cold and drizzling a bit. The bar was darker but had a more chaotic atmosphere than before. They entered in silence, with Remus lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even notice when Sirius ordered two beers, and before long they sat in a far corner, as removed from the clusters of people as possible. The silence was heavy between the two boys, but not uncomfortable at all. They were already a little tipsy from the alcohol and laughing about everything.
Unintentionally, Remus looked at Sirius watching the way he drank the beer, how his hair fell along the sides of his face, how his fingers drummed repetitively on the table as if he were pondering something he never voiced or remembering a song. He looked incredibly handsome. Then Sirius spoke, and Remus had to compose himself as best he could. “Why do you always play along with me?” Remus raised an eyebrow.
“What?” He replied.
“I mean, when you make those ironic comments, or when you follow me outside, things like that.” Sirius fixed his gaze on him without looking away.
Remus merely shrugged, acting nonchalant. “You always act like nothing matters, but I know that’s not true, man,” Sirius added. Remus fell silent.
“Santiago, Galicia, is like that,” he finally said. “If you take everything too much to heart, you’re doomed, we use irony a lot. It’s called Retranca” Sirius leaned forward, crossing his arms over the table, and said “But you take everything seriously. Every little thing.” His tone was soft yet challenging. He spoke as if he knew too much, as if he were using witchcraft or some magic spell to read his mind.
Remus wanted to answer with another clever remark or sarcastic comment, but he couldn’t find the words. He was melting. All he felt was the heat rising on his face, the tension in his fingers gripping the table, as if he and Sirius were both too close and, at the same time, too far apart. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or those nerve-wracking jitters that sometimes overtook him, but he felt as if he were burning like iron smelted in fire. And though he would never admit it, in that moment he knew he could no longer escape the truth, something very strange was happening to him. And It definitely was Sirius' fault.
The smoke curled upward in slow spirals, as if the air between them were growing thicker, as if that space in the bar were shrinking until nothing remained but the way Sirius looked at him, challenging, curious, almost impatient. Remus felt he was suffocating.
He pretended to take a drink to divert his gaze, but the truth was he wasn’t thirsty at all. He felt something else. Something deep, something more dangerous. Sirius leaned back, releasing a long sigh. “We’d better head out now; there isn’t room for another soul in here, and I told James I’d be back before heading to the flat,” he murmured, as if their earlier conversation had never taken place, as if everything had suddenly returned to normal. Remus felt a mix of relief and frustration. That teasing was going to be the death of him.
That night, when he got home after accompanying the girls to their apartment, his mother was already asleep. The clock in his room read nearly five in the morning, and the sound of the rain still echoed, almost as if it were inside the room with him. He took off his damp jacket and left it on the chair. He looked at the notebook on the table and was tempted to write something, to give shape to all the chaos swirling in his head. But he didn’t, it wasn’t the right time, nor did he feel like thinking about what was happening to him. He lay down on the bed, pulled the blankets over himself, looked at the ceiling, and let out a long sigh. It was cold when he finally fell asleep.