the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 60: Paws Off, Padfoot

Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I see it makes no sense at all;
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor?
I don't think that I can take anymore;
Clowns to the left of me!
Jokers to the right!
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you...

"Stuck in the Middle with You" Stealers Wheel, 1972

In a lot of ways, dating Marlene had been easier than not dating her at all. Back then Remus could be trusted to better hold himself in check, but without a girlfriend to procure notions of guilt over, his feelings for Sirius had begun to run rampant. He'd remembered what it was like to be jealous of James whenever he and Sirius went off together, or began talking about anything moderately close to music—which was more often than not, now that they'd actually agreed to make their 'band' official. He caught himself glaring at the girls that stared at him when he walked past, and laughing a little louder at his jokes just to be sure that Sirius heard him over the others. Remus didn't want to laugh. He felt more like crying, and the jokes were usually shite anyway.

He tried to keep everything at bay by edging himself into denial—meditating on pensive thoughts such as how his feelings could just be that of those forged in friendship, now blown out of proportion due to his failed relationship, boredom at school, or general disinterest in his current reality. Surely he was just mistaking 'like' for something more substantial, and the turn-around period for such ridiculous things was simply much longer than anticipated. It even occurred to him that he could be mistaking his ideas of Sirius as leftover affection for Tonya. After all, the likeness was uncanny. From the inexplicable desire to have drama follow them from room to room, down to their inky-black tresses, the similarities were almost endless. Perhaps he was simply feeling this way because Sirius was there and Tonya was not. Every time he thought he'd begun to miss her again, Sirius was by his side, offering him smiles and distractions by the armful. But it would never work, Remus would tell himself. No matter how guilty he'd felt while dating Marlene, it was nothing compared to the guilt he now faced alone. The Twelfth of Never would fall upon Tibb's Eve before the two of them could ever be anything more than friends.

And why's that? That devil on his shoulder would say, whenever he thought he'd made peace with it. Sirius said it himself, he likes blokes. And he ain't dating that love-sick, primrose Chastity Bell anymore. What's a'matter, chap—afraid you might like it?

Yes, Remus thought back a million times. Some might deny it, but 'like' and envy went hand in hand. There were plenty of people who didn't likeSirius Black, but they certainly envied him. Whether for his looks or his smarts or his money, or that bewitching devil-may-care attitude of his. Sirius was bold and daring and Remus, he... wasn't. He was just Remus. He was happy being the tag-along, the sarcastic friend with a fag and a half-decent music recommendation in his back pocket, the kid with a crappy dad because nine out of ten dads were crappy anyway. He could be 'Remus and his books'—'Remus and his fags'—'Remus and GODDAMMIT WOULD YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!'

Maybe it was a hard realisation, but it would've been worse to lie to himself. He just wasn't willing to risk it all like Sirius was, and if he were being truly honest with himself, he was afraid. Afraid that Sirius would ask him to.

Though... that didn't mean he couldn't look, right? Sirius made that part easy, what with his, well—everything. Between Remus' own romancing and the way things had gone down with Tomny, he'd somehow missed it, but where Sirius had been handsome before, the shape he was growing into now was downright stunning. He had a side-profile that made Remus want to punch him if just to add a dent to the perfect ridge of his nose. Unlike so many other musicians, his fingers were long and delicate—a realisation that had come after they'd received a lecture in art class about the Sistine Chapel. Remus had thought crudely that compared to Sirius, Michelangelo's depiction of Adam's hands were rather ugly. And then because it was so embarrassing, Remus rushed back to the dorm for an ice-cold shower.