Trigger Warning
Remus does not like being a werewolf. Of that, he is certain.
He hates the sleepless nights that precede a full moon, the anxiety that he'll hurt something.
He hates that he has no future, that when people find out, they can't even look at him.
But he is glad of one thing - the scars.
Well, actually, no. He hates those too. They maul his body, making him look even more like the monster he is.
But when you have so many scars already - and a reason for them - he's noticed that people don't see the other scars as any different.
The ones he carves into himself with his wand at three in the morning, when everyone else is asleep.
But Sirius still had a problem. He always wanted to touch Remus. Just any sort of physical contact. When Remus was laying in bed, Sirius wanted to crawl in too; every time Sirius sat next to Remus, he had to constantly remind himself not to run his hand over Remus' thigh; Sirius wished he could slip his cold hands under Remus' thick sweater and finger every scar that littered Remus' pale skin; Sirius wanted to caress every part of Remus' face as if he could memorize it by touch; and Sirius really wanted to know what the soft skin on Remus' neck felt like under his lips, Sirius wondered if Remus was as susceptible to love bites as he was.
But even though Sirius wanted all of these things, he didn't try to take them.
complete :)
Please note that I do not own ANY of the characters in this story.
Thanks for reading :)