Wolfstar Oneshots

8. Finding Himself

" Sirius Black, The Androgynous Star. Or at least that's what everyone is calling him. Who is the man behind these epic works of music history?"

Remus sat on his bed in wonder as the talk show host droned on about the newest teenage celebrity that was Sirius Black.

" A man who knows how to get in touch with his feminine side. Here he is now, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Remus watched the old TV projected a young man with long black hair and eyeliner smoked at the edges. Rings and leather cords wrapped his fingers and hands, while a chain necklace hung around his neck.

Through the static he caught glimpses of the man's attractive face and his words echoed through his mind.

" Well, I don't really confine to the concept of having a feminine side and a masculine side. For me, they just all blend together into one."

Remus looked down at the body that he hates.

" You don't have to be one or the other, you don't have to listen to people who say you do."

Remus ran his hands over his not-flat chest and he felt his long, long hair.

" Would you consider yourself a man, Mr. Black?"

Remus felt between his legs for the bulge he so longed for.

" You can call me whatever you'd like, Mr. Crouch, but I wouldn't consider myself much of anything, really."

Oh, how Remus wanted to thank this person.

Oh, how he wanted to meet him.

" I know none of you ignorant people know this yet, but you can truly be who you want and you shouldn't apologize to anyone for it."

Remus looked at the screen, his honey eyes met the intense grey ones of his idol. Sirius Black was speaking to him, he could feel it.

Remus searched through the messy drawers of his small studio apartment. His hands grasped the cool metal blade that he was looking for.

He had to do this. Maybe it would make him feel whole.

When he was finished he looked down at the mess he had made. He didn't feel whole.

But he felt better.

He looked into the mirror as saw the long messy curls that once sat on his head, discarded on the floor, carelessly. He ran his long fingers through the short locks that he now had.

The tears came flowing freely without warning.

I'm a man.

Remus threw on a shirt and some slacks and combed through his freshly cut hair. The shirt he wore was big. The baggier the better, that's what he told himself.

He walked out the door and felt the cool, New York air nip his cheeks and nose. He knew he couldn't afford a night out, and yet he headed to the closest club he could find.

The Hog's Head

It wasn't nearly as nice as he would've liked, but it would have to do for now. His salary of $15,000 a year from selling paintings and his body here and there wasn't nearly enough to sustain a live of luxury, especially in New York City.

The perverted men that whistled and groped at his curves didn't bother him like they used to. He needed the money for rent and to purchase the hormone shots that he so desperately wanted. Sure, it wasn't the safest to buy testosterone from strangers on the street, but Remus was willing to take his chances.