I.
I've been watching your world from afar...
MAJOR GENERAL IDI AMI SEIZES UGANDA
ROCKER JIM MORRISON DEAD, AT 27
One man always had a newspaper in his car.
One cheap hotel always placed a newspaper on the dingy bed.
The headlines gave him something to ponder when he could handle clumsy hands and cruel hardness, pulling and poking his juvenile body.
Master Remus Lupin,
Congratulations! You have been accepted to attend Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft...
He didn't have a home anymore.
How did I get this letter?
The moon rises.
It calls out the beast.
Huddled in the shadows of the small forested area, he shivered and prayed for the pain to fade away.
But his tears weren't for the pain.
Thick paper snow on the ground;
it littered the ground where his bones stretched and hair grew.
I didn't want to be asked anyway.
II.
...I've been trying to be where you are...
Hey, can we sit here? I've got some chocolate---
His eyes widened, as large as if they had been burly men and had asked him to be their strawberry.
Y-y-you want to sit with me?
With an easy smile, the two boys walked in, arm in arm. One had glasses and almost lost them as the darker boy gave him a shove.
Laughter filled the air;
it was an alien sensation.
Nibbling on sweet squares, watching with wide eyes, fidgeting when anyone got too close, he wondered if he could ever be like them.
So, do you know any good jokes? James' are all old and sooooooo dull.
Jokes?
They cause laughter and warmth. They chase the bad dreams away.
He learned that quickly.
III.
...I've been secretly falling apart...
Eleven was too old to cuddle with a friend.
Twelve was too old to cuddle with a friend.
Thirteen was too old to cuddle with a friend.
But, at fifteen, when he still cried in his sleep---
five nights out of every seven
---his friend would get into bed and whisper calming words. Arms held on tight, no matter what fight was put up.
Once-frightening arms always chased the dreams away.
But, in the morning, those arms would be gone.
As if nothing had happened.
Sleep well?
Uhhh. Yeah?
Those grey eyes softened and fingers sought the clammy skin of his lower arm.
I know it's getting close. But... Prongs and I--- oh, Moony, we've got to show you something.
Nothing good ever came of those words before.
But, then they changed that.
The moon didn't scare him. He played with his friends for the first time when the moon brought his other self to the surface.
Wolves should be able to laugh.
When he woke up, there weren't any arms holding him, but there was a tiny flickering warmth somewhere inside of him.
IV.
...to me, you're strange and you're beautiful...
He spent too much time watching the fair, raggedy boy. But, he couldn't tear his eyes away.
So many layers.
So much going on under the surface.
So curious.
Y-y-you want to sit with me?
Of course.
The scruffy kid seemed cool enough, but there was something about him. The way he never had anyone on the platform; the way he trembled when he approached the train every year.
The more time they spent together, though, the more he opened up.
It took so much time.
Years had passed, and he was quite sure that he wanted to know his insides and his outsides. But, friends didn't think this way---did they?
Sleep well?
Uhhh. Yeah?
He didn't like liars. He wished that he would get a straight answer.
(No, I didn't. I had that dream again... the one... the one I don't tell anyone about. But, then, you were there, and you... you were so nice and warm and---)
But, girls spoke this way. His friend didn't. In fact, that boy barely spoke at all.
Fear?
But, then... there were tiny moments.
Perfection.
And, in those moments, he could see glimpses of another person.
He wanted to know them both---inside and out.
V.
...you'd be so perfect with me but you just can't see...
Moony? What on earth are you doing?
Studying.
But, it is a brilliant Saturday.
And you're writing on my parchment.
So are you! C'mon! Just a few hours. We can go exploring!
He never got the company he wanted. He always lost to a book, or to an essay, or to... sitting alone in the library, staring out the window at everyone else that was trying to be happy!
He tried, too. He tried being patient. Then, he tried being impatient. Both, he discovered, didn't get him any closer to spending more time with his friend.
Then, he reached out.
Caught unaware, his friend jumped back and gasped.
Are you alright?
Y-y-yeah. You scared me.
He didn't understand how someone could be sooooo jumpy.
Eyes softened.
For a moment, the truth fought for freedom.
Instead---
I'm sorry... Padfoot, just give me a minute to finish this sentence. Then, I'll go watch you and Prongs terrorise the school.
Misunderstood.
It's just me.
There was a flicker of a smile.
And, then, there was a nod.
VI.
...you turn every head but you don't see me...
Walking in the corridor together brought some interesting things to light.
So many people turned their heads.
It didn't bother him---and then, it did. He didn't understand why his handsome friend didn't lift his head up and see the other students appraising and appreciating.
Long lines.
Expressive eyes.
Mystery.
What they saw had helped pull him in; but, it was the things they didn't see that finished it. The way eyebrows furrowed when an exam question generated confusion or deep thought. The way lips tugged into a frown when eyes stared off. The way tears streaked down pale cheeks as sleep became too unbearable.
He found himself noticing too much. When he would get caught, he knew that his friend didn't understand. Hands came up and rubbed at envisioned traces of ink, or tugged at robes to hide a beautiful body.
He hated that he couldn't just say what was on his mind.
But, he didn't want to be labelled the fool.
But, he was going crazy.
...I'll put a spell on you.
You'll fall asleep and I'll put a spell on you...
VII.
...and when I wake you...
He didn't know what he was doing on the front step of his friend's new home. Ever since he had received the news, he just felt that this was his chance. Perhaps... perhaps his friend would let him in. Maybe... maybe he would be able to share someone's home.
He never had a home before---unless one counted shelters, alleys, and heavily wooded areas.
The door opened suddenly. His friend was dressed in a coat and shoes, but stopped and stepped back.
Making room.
Peeling layers off.
Pads---
Come in.
His hands were sweaty and his heart was pounding. He looked at his friend and felt his eyes welling up with tears.
What is it? Are you alright? Are you ill? Are... did something happen? Did you get hurt or into trouble or--- tell me what's going on! I've never seen you like this before!
He shivered and sat down when he was guided into a chair.
I... I need to ask... oh, nevermind. I'm just going to---
Dark, stormy eyes told him to stay where he was. They dropped down to his level, in front of him, and those hands rested on his knees.
Thoughts into words.
Words into the truth.
Finally, near the end, he sighed and whispered:
I don't have anywhere to go, Pads.
Yes, you do.
He didn't have anything to move in. But, over the next few days, he found that his side of the closet was becoming filled with clothing. Muggle clothes as well as wizard clothes.
What are you going to do if I have another growth spurt?
Laughter.
I'll buy you new things, of course.
Days passed, and he realised that opening someone's eyes to the truth---the real truth---wasn't that bad. In fact, it felt good to not have to pretend or come up with excuses when he flinched or cried, when either awake or asleep.
VIII.
...I'll be the first thing you see...
He walked into the kitchen and saw his flatmate arguing with a package---struggling and cursing with foil and scissors and some sort of meat.
What on earth are you doing, Padfoot?
He laughed but didn't come any closer. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. But it wasn't heavy. It was light and bubbling at the same time. He didn't understand.
Cooking.
At the pouty reply, he took two steps. Something in that voice was pulling him into the room. His friend smiled slowly and he just felt... good.
Heart pounding.
Cheeks flushing.
Moony, erm, you okay?
He nodded and smiled.
More okay than I've been in a while.
His friend grinned.
That good, eh?
Two nods.
Heart pounding faster.
His friend quickly became something else. He didn't have time to act; part of him thought about flinching and yelping, and worrying about money on the nightstand.
Arms were around him as lips touched.
Those comforting arms.
You're not going to hide from me.
He nodded, no longer feeling that chill of fear that he associated with nudity, bedrooms, and sexual contact. His something else smiled and took his hand.
But, you are going to have to help me cook.
...and you'll realise that you love me.
