lately my peace been more important than proving my point

Elio Perlman

timothée chalamet as elio in call me by your name.

i keep looking at this my tummy goes 🦋🦋🦋

sk8er jk

this is a soft hours playlist, a blanket fort playlist. a watching the storm from your window, a crying because you’re sad, crying because you’re happy playlist. it’s an “i put a piece of myself in this and now i’m sharing it with you” playlist. a “you have the power to hurt me” playlist, a “but please don’t” playlist. this is an autumn turning into winter playlist, a long, slow drives at sunset playlist. an “i trust you”, a hot chocolate with marshmallows, a 4am can’t sleep playlist. a kim namjoon playlist.

mono.

Something really quickly before I go to bed :)

~

The house looked exactly the same as it did the night he left. The same hallway - the cabinet pushed up against the right wall, the closet door with it’s floral screen, the paint dark and dull. There was a vase on top of the cabinet, full of some sort of faded silk flowers - Remus can’t tell what colour they originally were, can’t see past the thick layer of dust on top of the petals.

Memories. That’s what this house was full of, memories and ghosts and the whispered echoes of actions long done.

He hated himself for coming back, running to his parents like he was at their beck and call. He couldn’t stop himself though - it was ingrained in him, that fatal sort of loyalty that kept him coming back.

He closes his eyes. The house felt suffocating, the walls and the windows, drips of golden amber and he was the fly that was caught in it. Remus takes a deep breath, holds it, tries not to pass out.

There’s a warm presence at his side - he knows without looking that it’s Sirius. He loses a small breath, opening his eyes to stare into Sirius’.

“Hey,” Sirius says. “Listen to me. We can go home. We can go home right now if you want to.”

“This is home,” Remus whispers. Sirius’ face tightens.

“Back then. We can go back. Those pieces of shit don’t mean anything any more.”

Remus swallows hard. The message had come a few days ago, on that rose-scented paper that his mother had always used. He couldn’t even get past the first line, her handwriting so familiar it hurt.

Dear Re,

Would you like to come over for dinner...

He couldn’t. His parents were flames and he was a moth - no matter how hard he tried to escape he couldn’t. He envied Sirius sometimes, his utter lack of regard for his parents. He wished he could do the same.

Remus grits his teeth. He allows himself a moment, just a moment to catch his breath, to lean into Sirius’ side before opening his eyes. “I’m good. I’m fine.”

Sirius nods, stepping back. Beside him, James slings his coat over one arm, eyes unusually cold.

He couldn’t do it alone. Sirius and James had agreed to come with him at once, to this house of silence and memories. He didn’t think he could bear it otherwise.

With a sigh, Remus tugs at his hair. James at least had made an effort - he’d combed his hair, dressed in a nice sweater and a button down shirt. Remus wore something similar, his jumper too scratchy and his shirt too tight. Sirius though hadn’t bothered to do anything - he’s in his ever-present leather jacket, his hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.

Remus had asked him about it, before they left. Sirius just gave hiom a vicious smile, one that let Remus know that tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

“I don’t actually give a shit about your parents,” Sirius scoffed and that was that.

Light filters in from the kitchen - Remus can smell things cooking. With a sigh, he pushes the door open revealing the dining room.

It was exactly how he remembered it - wallpaper and china cabinets and that glass chandelier. Remus swallows the lump in his throat, looks down at the floor.

When he sees it, he actually flinches, so hard that Sirius grabbed his wrist. He ignores it though, the pain shooting up his arm as he stares at the rug, the gold and the red, the flowers embroidered on the side.

For a moment he can hear his father, the whistling of the belt and the snap of impact. He can see the keys dangling in his hands, disappearing into his pocket, mockingly close and so far out of reach.

James shoots him a concerned look and Remus opens his mouth - to explain or to laugh or to scream he doesn’t know when -

Sirius goes tense, every muscle in his body going rigid. Remus lets out a slow breath, drags his gaze upwards reluctantly until he locked eyes with his father.

They stand like that for what feels like eternity - his father’s stony gaze, Remus’ empty one. For a brief moment, Remus wonders if he’ll ever end up like his father - stagnant and unrepentant, forever left longing the things he could never have.

Lyall looks awkward. He shifts his weight from one foot to another before finally coughing. “Remus.”

“Dad. Where’s mum.”

“Kitchen.” Lyall drags his gaze up, holding out his hand. “I see you’ve brought guests. I’m Lyall. Remus’ father.”

Sirius snorts, rolling his eyes. James quickly cuts in before Lyall can say anything. “Hi. I’m James. I go to Remus’ school.”

Lyall nods, turning to Sirius. “And you are?”

“Oh please.” Sirius’ voice is cold, utterly blank and full of rage. He doesn’t make an attempt to calm the fire in his eyes, the utter loathing coursing through his body like blood. “You know who I am.”

“Sirius.” Lyall’s voice is disapproving. “Remus’...friend.”

“Dad,” Remus says. Fear floods his body at the look Lyall gives him. He lifts his chin though, refuses to look down. Sirius is grinning at his side, a manic, emotionless smile, the kind of boy who delighted in tearing others down. “Dad, we’ve been over this.”

Lyall doesn’t say anything, just takes his seat. There’s a clattering in the kitchen - Remus’ eyes widen as a woman rushes into the room.

She’s wearing an apron, her hair styled in a careful bun. There’s a large covered dish in her hand - she sets it carefully down on the table before taking her seat. “Hi. I’m Hope. Remus’ mother.”

Sirius turns that manic grin on her as well and she flinches away.

“So,” Lyall says, clearly trying to cut some of the tension in the room. “How are you doing today?”

Sirius cuts in before Remus can say anything. “Absolutely horrible thanks. My day just got shittier and shittier when I found out I had to come here.”

“No one is forcing you,” Lyall says, his voice like ice. “In fact, I’m surprised Remus even approved, seeing his questionable group of friends.”

The barb hits home, sliding underneath his skin like a knife. Remus shakes his head, glaring at his father. “Lay off.”

“Don’t talk to your father that way,” Hope says. Remus ignores her.

“Don’t make comments like that. We’re not stupid. We know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what is that, Remus?”

Remus looks down, at the stone floors. He can feel the memories, barely submerged underneath him.

The whistling of the belt, the cold stare of his mother, the way he dug his fingers into the rug at his feet -

“Looks like you finally got all the blood out of the carpet then.”

Lyall whips around, eyes like ice. Remus holds his gaze, refuses to drop his glance. This only seems to infuriate Lyall more.

“What are you - “

“Blood?” Sirius throws back his head and laughs. “Try Utcunque. Great for those nasty stains.”

“Young man,” Hope says. “What exactly are you trying to - “

Sirius just snorts. He’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, exposing the scars carved into skin. “It looks like you and my mother would get along.”

Lyall stares at the scars for a bit then shakes his head. “I have no idea what you are talking abut.”

“Don’t you?”

Hope cuts in. She turns to James - perhaps thinking he was the least hostile in this explosive mix. “So. How did you and Remus meet?”

James glares back at her. Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this, all empty and cold, eyes like stones set into his face. “On the train. To Hogwarts.”

Hope waits but James doesn’t provide any more answers. With a sigh she turns to the covered dish in the center of the table. “Alright. Re...I cooked your favourite...”

Remus watches with a sinking feeling as she scoops out macaroni and cheese onto his plate. He glances around the table - everyone is sitting rigidly in his chair except for Sirius. Sirius is slouched, arms flung over the back, head tipped up towards the ceiling. Lyall clears his throat a few times to no avail.

“Stop,” Remus says. He realizes that his hand’s clenched firmly around the prongs of the fork, the metal cutting into his skin. “Stop this. Stop pretending everything is okay.”

Lyall and Hope exchange cautious looks. “Stop what, Remus?”

“This.” Remus waves his hand, indicating the House, the room, them. “This...subfuckery. This idea that we’re some perfect family.”

Lyall shakes his head. “Remus, look - “

“Dad.” Remus cuts him off. “You are - “

“Did you know,” Sirius cuts in, eyes flashing in the dim room, “That I’ve seen Remus’ back? It’s beautiful really, all threaded with scars and cuts. And you know what else? Some of those marks match the ones on my own back. And God, I do hope that’s not what’s happening. Still, I don’t know how a werewolf can leave a mark so clearly in the shape of a buckle in the middle of someone’s shoulder blades.”

Lyall is shocked into silence for 3 whole seconds before turning on Remus furiously. “You told - “

“Oh yes,” Sirius says. “Well. We figured it out.”

“You disrespectful - “

James shakes his head, setting his cutlery down. “Disrespectful? Us?”

“How dare you come into my family’s home - “

“Oh it’s not my home,” Sirius laughs. “And Remus ran? Remember?”

Dread floods through Remus’ gut. He reaches out - Sirius’ hands are balled into tight fists at his side, nails cutting into skin. “Father - “

“How. How could you let - let him know about - “

“That what?” He can feel the anger now, coloring his words, adrenaline pulling him up into the clouds. “That I’m a Werewolf?”

A clatter makes him jump - Lyall had knocked back his chair in fury, eyes bulging. “Shut your mouth. You - “

“And an example of the extreme anger demonstrated by Lyall Lupin,” Sirius says and James lets out a low laugh. “See Remus has told be quite a bit about you. Including your temper.”

“Until you become a parent - “

“My parents tortured me, Lyall. You think I can’t recognize another one in a heartbeat?”

Remus swallows hard. Lyall levels a hate-filled glade at him. “How could you tell this - this whore that - you’re - a “

“And who’s fault was that, Father?” The anger is coming now, in waves of white hot fury that made him want to puke. “If you hadn’t criticized Grayback - “

“He deserved it!”

“That’s what you said about me. I deserved it. Didn’t I?”

Lyall’s eyes burn a hole right through him. “You were always an ungrateful brat. Coming into my house with this - this fag - “

“Don’t,” James says quietly, “Ever call him that again.”

“How could you tell a random - “

“He’s not random!” Remus spits, his vocal cords so tight he thought he’d rip them to shreds. “I’m in love with him!”

Hope gives a faint faint of gasp. “A...it’s just a phase - “

“No.”

“Re.”’ Her gaze was pleading. “Pleas. You’re already making it so hard by being a...a werewolf. Why must you make it harder for yourself?”

Remus laughs, low and wicked and brutal. “Father stared it when he challenged Grayback to prove one thing he had that Father didn’t. I can’t, Mum. I can’t live in this lie.”

“You,” Lyall says, “Will come home. We will enroll you in summer programs - “

“Like what?” Sirius spits. “Conversion camps?”

Lyall’s gaze is steady. “If that’s what it takes.”

“No.” Remus stands, chucking his napkin on his untouched plate with the same motion. “No. We’re leaving.”

Lyall just points at the door. “Get out.”

Remus flips him off and stalks out of the dining room.

how can i be ready for future when i’m not even ready to get up in the morning

In the mood to sleep for 3 years