Chapter Text
Remus chances a glance outside the window. Rural France runs by him in flashes, complete with smudges of green and beige. The summer sun reflects off the window, and Remus stifles a sigh. The next stop has come quicker than he anticipated.
He digs at the bag resting by his feet and pulls out a book just as the train comes to an abrupt stop. People rush past him towards the doors, their pants brushing against his legs. Remus’s ears begin to ring rather than muffle their noise, so he pulls out his clear Loops from his pant pockets. He shoves them into both ears, one after another, and enjoys the way the wall of noise completely disappears.
As people begin to step inside, he drops his head down to his book, readjusting his legs so he is positioned with his right leg locked over the other. He barely gets through a page when he is forced to readjust, a stranger forcing themselves into the seat just beside him.
A stranger Remus has begun to know somewhat well— all things considered.
Remus lifts his eyes, his brow shooting up in an unimpressed manner as the stranger stares at him. The boy's dark curls hide behind a sage green hood, only allowing for a few at the front to appear. He meets Remus’s gaze with a shamelessly flirty grin, which makes the whole situation worse.
Then, he begins to speak.
Remus rolls his eyes, returning to his book and ignoring the arm brushing against him.
It’s unfortunate that the other boy is such an asshole. Remus’s jaw had nearly dislocated the first time he saw him. He’d wandered onto the train, dark curls falling past his shoulders and shirt resting just above his waist, and Remus had wanted.
Wanted— for about a total of three minutes. That is, until the other boy had wandered over to sit beside him and begun chatting freely, completely disregarding when Remus had pointed towards his hard of hearing pin. At first, Remus just thought it plain rude, and began to move away when the other boy sat next to him.
The dark-haired stranger had taken the hint for the first couple of rides after that. He’d kept his distance, instead taking to drawing on one of his sketchbooks that he occasionally carried while Remus peeked through his eyelashes. It wasn’t until a random Thursday, when the train was almost entirely full, that Remus had slipped.
The boy had gestured towards the seat beside Remus, asking silently. Remus had nodded, automatically shooting him a teasing smile. Big mistake, apparently.
From then on, Remus hasn’t been able to get rid of him. Not that he’s blatantly trying— and, well. Sue him for not telling the pretty boy to fuck off. He can enjoy the attention and be upset that it isn’t better attention. Or, at the very least, the more respectful kind.
Remus feels a tap against his shoulder, and he glances up.
The other boy has his face scrunched up, pink lips pulled tight.
Remus raises both of his brows, as if to say what?
The boy’s adams apple bobs, and he cautiously raises his right hand up, giving Remus a salute-like gesture.
Remus pauses.
The boy licks his lips, moving his two hands down towards his chest and doing a set of fumbled hand gestures.
It takes Remus longer than it should to realize what the boy is attempting to do. When he does, he can’t help but snort, the sound vibrating from his throat and muffling in his ears. The other boy drops his hands, cheeks growing pink. Remus shakes his head, keeping an inviting smile on his face. He holds up his pointer finger before thumbing around in his bag.
His stomach drops.
Shit, he thinks, staring down at its empty contents. He usually always carries a notebook on him, just in case. He doesn’t like having to watch people’s lips— not if he doesn’t have to. He always ends up feeling like he’s missing something, and ends up leaning a little too close just to try and pick up their words anyway.
Today, in his haste to leave, he must have forgotten it on his desk.
Huffing, he looks over his shoulder to see if the other boy is carrying his sketchbook. He’s not, of course.
That’s just Remus’s luck.
He grabs at the bottom of his bag, securing a pen in his grip and settling back up. Silently apologizing to all the librarians and book lovers everywhere, he opens the book sitting in his lap to the front cover and etches into it.
Finally read my pin?
He turns the book over to the other boy, who squints down, steel eyes becoming slits. He stares down for several minutes, and Remus begins to consider that the boy is just taking the piss out of him. Eventually, he looks back up and gestures for the pen. Remus gives it to him, and lets him hold the book.
The boy’s hand wraps around the pen reluctantly, and he screws his face up, pink tongue poking out just slightly. Remus tries not to watch him, which is pretty hard considering everything in him is thumping to pay attention.
When the boy drops the pen in the crack of the book, Remus has nearly lost himself in his focused expression. He blinks, and then hastily takes the book back.
He glances down.
I’m dyslexic. Sorry.
Remus nearly smacks the book against his face.
Oh, this is just tragic, isn’t it?
He glances back up at the other boy, who seems more embarrassed than anything. Remus gathers all his willpower and carefully removes his Loops, replacing them back in his case.
The thing is, Remus can speak. He can hear the words like they’re running down a faraway tunnel as they rattle his throat. And if someone gets close— really close— he can pick up the words well enough. The sounds can finally break through the wall of muffling and screeching that has existed ever since his hearing started to decay.
But no one has ever wanted to do that. No one besides his mother, who enjoys getting the chance to hear her son’s voice. It’s intimate, and awkward, and usually people would just rather write down what they want to say.
And signing is okay. It’s great, actually, if people know it beyond just a few beginner signs.
This boy doesn’t, and seeing as writing notes is not an option for them…
Remus scoots forward, very slowly, inviting the boy to push him away if he’s uncomfortable with it. He doesn't.
Remus gestures for the boy to drop his hood, and he does, letting his black curls fall out of it and tumble down his back. Remus’s lips curl around his teeth, heart shuddering in his chest with anticipation. He leans further, pushing the boy's curls away from his ear and enjoying the thrill of getting even just this much.
He clears his throat quietly, not really used to speaking unless he’s by himself.
Blood rushes behind his ears, and he explains quietly, “I… I don’t have good hearing.”
He pulls back, waiting for the boy's reaction.
It doesn’t take very long. The boy’s eyes grow wide as he takes in what Remus says, and unlike Remus, he really does slap his palm against his forehead.
Remus chuckles, shaking with the shared ridiculousness of their situation. The boy seems to mirror him in this, his chest rising and following, and adding to the muffled sound around them.
He begins to speak again, this time louder, and Remus winces, not really expecting it. Some noises hurt more than others, unfortunately.
The boy stops, smile falling.
Remus shakes his head. He doesn’t want this to stop.
He encourages the boy forward with his hand, turning his head and literally offering his ear.
The boy moves carefully, and once his lips are mere inches from Remus’s ear, murmurs in a soft, husky voice, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”
Remus cuts him off, shaking his head. He turns and speaks, “No, please. You didn’t know.”
The boy stills, taking this in. Eventually, he nods, a look of confidence spreading across his head, which makes him all the more attractive.
“I can’t believe I spent all this time flirting and didn’t even know,” he says, and Remus’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Flirting with someone you don’t even know?” he shoots back, challengingly.
The boy considers this, and pulls away just the slightest bit.
He holds out his hand, straightening. Remus looks at it for nearly ten seconds before deducing this boy must be asking for a handshake. When he returns it, the boy pulls him back in.
“I’m Sirius Black.”
Remus bites on a smile.
“Remus Lupin.”
The boy— Sirius— lets his hand go, and teases, “See? Now we know each other.”
Remus’s skin flutters with goosebumps that run down his arms.
“So… what? Going to keep flirting with me?” he jokes.
Sirius shrugs, in that casual way that could have Remus folding in minutes. “Maybe. If you want me to, that is.”
Remus says nothing, turning away and suddenly so entranced with the colors of his trainers. He can’t really believe all… this. How is he supposed to?
All his life, his hearing has created some sort of barrier between himself and his friends. He never even began to consider romantic relationships. He watched films, and read romance books, and understood those concepts as other. Not for him. Too difficult for him to figure out.
Is there shame in not even trying, if he’s sure it’ll end in failure?
Ultimately, he and Sirius end up sitting in silence for the rest of the ride, until eventually Sirius tugs on the collar of his shirt. Remus leans in, unable to tell the other boy no. The train stops, stalling beneath his feet.
He can just feel Sirius’s grin as the boy says, “Until tomorrow, Remus.”
Remus flushes, briefly cupping the back of his neck with his palm. Sirius stands, saluting before fixing his hood back over his head. Remus watches him the entire time, until Sirius is obstructed by mounds of other people exiting.
Only then does Remus release a breath, head relaxing against the back of his seat.
There it is again.
That desire.
He wants.