ι ƒєℓℓ ιη ℓσνє ωιтн тнє вσу αт тнє яσcк ѕнσω | ѕ & я | au
Being a famous star had both pros and cons. And if one’s name was Sirius Black, it sometimes felt like there were more cons than pros. That day, Sirius was almost ridiculously gratefulto his past self for making the appointment at the artist’s place. His agent seemed to be never satisfied with his work and they’d been arguing a lot in the past few weeks, especially about the upcoming tour. The agent wouldn’t talk anything else, which only pissed the young star off - as for the first time in his life, he wasn’t too keen on leaving the country.
There was another drama going on in his family - of course very well hidden from the public - and he wished he could stay around for his younger brother, who was also the only reason he hadn’t run away from home years ago. Instead, he tried to find something to do in his free time. Something he’d like to do and be good at. And he did - pulling it all the way to where he was with hard work and all by himself, not helping himself with his parents’ money as a lot of people seemed to think.
He fell in love with music. It started off with playing the guitar he’d bought and later with singing - he took classes to improve it and with time, he was able to perform in public. However, the more popular he was, the less time he had to spend with Regulus. Wanting to give the younger something to remind him of the older when he’d be gone, Sirius decided to give him a portrait of himself. They never had too many photos and he had the impression that drawn portraits felt somewhat more real, more alive than mere photographs and not so distant. Of course, he wouldn’t pay to any of the artists he’d met in person - they were drawing for money, not because they liked art so much. Instead, he decided to give his money to someone who lived for art itself or at least didn’t only do it for money.
And as soon as he got the address for the ad in the newspaper that caught his eye, he knew he was doing the right thing. He knew the place where the other lived and it was quite clear he didn’t live in a big house or anything of the sort. It meant the artist would live in a smaller flat, and that meant he either didn’t want to or couldn’t live in anything more comfortable. In any case, Sirius felt that this particular person would do a good job.
Taking one of the family cars instead of the motorbike he usually rode, he hurried to the place he was supposed to come to. It was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t under the constant looks of his bodyguards or stressed out by his agent or some companies or huge masses of fans - he loved them just as much as they loved him but there were times when he just needed to be alone. It didn’t even seem to take that long. And he enjoyed the feeling of privacy and freedom up to the moment where he found himself in front of the door of the appartment, a little bit more nervous than he probably should be. It’s been a while since he went to meet a stranger for any reason all by himself.
He knocked on the door - with the small piece of paper with the address still in his hand, his heart pacing up in nervosity, not sure about what he should be expecting. For the shortest of moments, he even thought about going away again, feeling the same as he did back when he was a normal kid - not willing to talk to anyone. But then the door opened and he received the weirdest greeting than any other time in his life, leaving him shocked and mute for a few short moments.
"I hope I do.” He answered, managing to pull off a half-suppressed smile. He had been kind of thinking it would be nice if the other didn’t know who he was. But as he saw the expression on his face, he realized how very naive it was to even think something like that. “I’ve checked twice.” He let his smile take over his face, even though he was as nervous as he was right before his first public performance.
The person in front of him was the embodiment of everything Sirius ever associated with art in his mind. And a perfect opposite to the Black himself. While the artist looked acceptable to go out without being stared at, Sirius had longer hair tickling his chin slightly every time he moved, wearing a pair of straight-leg black jeans with torn knees, old army boots, a simple black T-shirt and a set of thin leater bracelets he almost never took off, now hidden under the sleeve of the leather jacket. If he wasn’t a music star, he’d probably be given all kinds of looks from people in public - just as he used to get back at high school.
"I’m here for the portrait.” He added after a short moment, his eyes barely blinking. Still absolutely amazed and excited to physically see exactly what he had on mind when someone mentioned artists, he examined the other’s face slowly. “I mean… if the address is right.” His lips formed another smile, showing his teeth this time as he handed the paper with the address he’d written earlier to the inhabitant of the flat - and probably the artist he was supposed to meet.
Remus stared at thee Sirius Black for a good ten seconds before shaking his head quickly. He took the paper and read over it, ❝No, no come in. I’m sorry. Excuse the mess.❞ He said politely, though he’d just thoroughly cleaned his flat. God, it’d never be good enough for someone like Sirius Black. A fucking rock god was in his home and it would never be good enough.. and suddenly Remus didn’t feel so confident in his approach. Sirius would probably see right through all of this and leave. But he didn’t seem so pretentious, so maybe it would be okay.
He smoothed his sandy hair out of his face and pushed up his glasses that had slipped down the bridge of his nose. ❝Um.. You can sit wherever you’d like. I have a stool there or you can pick any place else.❞ Remus’ hands were shaking and he couldn’t make eye contact with the rock star. His lips pursed and he made them disappear as he sucked them in and turned toward the kitchen, which was pretty much in the same room they were already in. ❝Do you want something to drink? Or.. I have a few — ❞ He used his hands when he talked and waved them as he trailed off. Remus always used his hands when he talked. Always.
But as it became quiet, a racket was heard and something crashed from the small hallway. A large, grey, great dane bounded from the hall and Remus’ eyes widened. ❝No! No, stay!❞ He pointed at the dog and it instantly halted. ❝You don’t — go back in there right now.❞ Remus told him, but the dog seemed to inch toward Sirius rebelliously.
❝Moony, I swear to God —— ❞ The dog paused, blinking up at the both of them innocently as Remus took him by the collar. ❝I’m so so so sorry. She wasn’t supposed to get out.. She’s overly friendly and I’m still training her.❞ He sighed with a slight, nervous laugh. Remus pulled her lightly by the harness and spoke directly to her, as if she were a person, ❝Come on, back in my room. You have to leave him alone. He’s not here for you. Not everything is for you.❞ And poor Remus, poor blushing Remus tried to get the large, stubborn puppy to budge. ❝I suppose she’s just as enamored with you as all other females.❞ No, Remus, that wasn’t funny.
ι ƒєℓℓ ιη ℓσνє ωιтн тнє вσу αт тнє яσcк ѕнσω | ѕ & я | au
Remus Lupin was an artist. A struggling artist. An artist who lived in a leaky, drafty flat and had to bundle up twice as much in the winter and smack his air conditioner to get the fan to work in the summer. Despite these things, Remus was very proud of his flat and the work he did inside of it.
He painted, sketched, doodled, and even used chalk on occasion. Anything Remus could get his hands on, he’d draw all over. Calligraphy was another thing he dabbled in and could actually make other people jealous with his letter ‘drawing’ skills. It all just came naturally to him… he was great with his hands. His fingers were always stained with ink and rather calloused from paper cuts and smudging his work, but they were hardworking and his.
But he was struggling. No one appreciated art as much as they once did and he couldn’t sell any of his paintings. Most of them weren’t conventional and people didn’t want some second rate artist hung in their home. So, Remus had taken to the local newspaper and one in London. It was extremely costly to have his ad posted there in the ‘classified’ section, but he did it in hopes to get someone interested. —— And he had. Someone had called him and made an appointment for later on that day. 2 pm.. and he was rather tickled. No, nervous and excited. Remus loved portraits… and he had that gift to capture the life that some artists couldn’t grasp.
So, Remus had tidied up his flat and put his easel up again (it’d been in his closet — there wasn’t enough room any place else in his small flat). He even vacuumed his couch and floor. All of his art supplies were out — from paints to colored pencils and simple, normal pencils. He was ready.
Sighing, Remus took to making himself a pot of coffee. He hated having people come to his flat sometimes… it wasn’t that he was ashamed, it was that it was so small and sometimes people rated his skills on his housing. That wasn’t the case. But he took the mug between his hands hand sipped it slowly. Remus didn’t need anything else to make him even more jittery, but he seemed to work better on caffeine highs.
His last girlfriend, Tonks, had called him just an hour and wished him good luck with his next drawing. She was a tiny girl, narrow hips, small breasts.. pretty face. She was Remus’ realization: he wasn’t quite as straight as he’d hoped. He hadn’t thought about it much but there was always something missing. Remus wasn’t attracted to her in the way he wanted to be.. as with all the other girls he’d dated. There was just something not there… But he hadn’t had a chance to explore anything else. It wasn’t as if someone could walk up to a man and hit on him — he’d get hit in the face. And Remus wasn’t very comfortable with men in the first place. He’d never been with one or explored those feelings.
But that wasn’t relevant to the situation he was in now. Now? He was waiting for a guy to show up so he could draw him. Remus wasn’t sure what sort of portrait he wanted… just a normal one or something outlandish. He’d even done nude portraits of women that wanted them for their husbands. Most of which … the women ended up hitting on him as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blushed at their provocative positions. Older women deemed him adorable and easy to fluster — which he was.
Remus pulled at his tan cardigan and his oxford underneath was an off-white from being washed one too many times. His jeans were dark, but somewhat faded. His hair was a sandy brown that had a slight curl to it, but he kept it short enough on the sides to just stay a nice wave on top instead. He had thick-rimmed glasses that seemed to suit him and he wore worn, white, Chuck high-tops.
When there was a knock at the door, Remus held his breath. He turned toward the door and leaned in, pulling it open. He only let out his breath when he saw who was before him.. it was undeniable who it was. Everyone had seen this man’s face on every single music magazine out there. Girls fawned over him and men wished they were him. It was none other than Sirius Black — thee rock star, Sirius Black. A soon-to-be legend, no doubt. Even Remus owned one of his albums.
“I — do you have the right address?” Was all that was blurted out of his mouth the moment he found words at all.
Send me one of following to see how my muse reacts (EA themed)
"Are you suffering?"
"I can't deny the past, it's written on my face."
"Nothing's alright, they're always watching me."
"What beautiful dresses and hair!"
"I know where you sleep."
"Whose is the voice ringing in my head?"
"I never told you I needed you, darling. Like a rose needs the rain."
"Let songs be sung 'til our throats are dry."
"Why should I trust in you?"
"Believe me, this wasn't what I wanted."
"I'd die for you, you know I would."
"Can I trust you?"
"I feel it's time to write a play."
"Just remember, a day gone by is never really gone."
"Is honour worth endless hours of silence spent alone?"
"If you like, we could play a game."
"Should we hide the scar?"
"Tell me no more stories and I'll tell you no lies."
"It's so easy to kill, this I've learned by watching you."
"How did your father die? Was he a good man?"
"You never did anything any man wouldn't do."
"You tell me everything's alright, as though it's something you've been through."
"I've reached the end and I won't fight any more."
"How do I save you from a fate so sweet as being torn to pieces by a loving hand?"
"Meet me beneath my balcony."
"When you are sleeping do you dream of me?"
"Whether I swim or sink, that's no concern of yours now."
"I would recognize your shadow in a crowded room."
"Rats, I've dropped a teacup!"
"I will find my brothers by the sword, I swear."
"You think I'm bluffing? Just try me."
"Why live a life that's painted with pity and sadness and strife?"
"You don't know me. You never will."
"If I burn, so will you."
"Will I ever see thee wed?"
"By the way, your poetry sucks."
"Wouldn't they stop when you asked them to leave you alone?"
"If you sing loud and clear, someone passing by will surely hear you."
"I want my innocence back."
"Well then, that explains a thing or two."
"Would you allow me to place these flowers in your hair?"
"I should be home by now..."
"This obsession is madness at its' most perverse!"
"Everyone else can watch as the sun goes down, so why can't I?"
"How did I get myself into all of this mess?"
"You're safe with me."
"You don't have to say goodbye, but I'll be right here if you want to."
"If tomorrow I don't wake up, what happens?"
"We're coupled together through hell, hurt, and hunger."
"Maybe that's why you don't see faces like mine every day."
"Thank God I'm pretty!"
"If it was an accident, where are the tears?"
"I want to show you all the beauty you don't even know you hold."