a story of sparks (moonyâs version) :
â!!! listen to while reading !!! â https://open.spotify.com/episode/5TiBkf3F1ZUKqUwc7pPxrn?si=93u1M8HlTRW9eXpniWRFMw&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A6uAOxZSuKkovh9HKmNUjdx
An open field of grass peeked through the sea of bodies crowding forward towards the stage where Remus stood, his body acting as Mecca for the people.
The sun had begun setting long ago, leaving the canvas above in some sort of dark lavender haze; wispy clouds fleeting with the end-of-summer night breeze that weaved through Remusâ guitar strings.
Tonight was their final day of the tour. Remus and his band had been traveling across the world for the past month, making stops in Europe and America, before now ending back in Wales: Remusâ homeland.
There was a special feeling floating around in the atmosphere; the crowd was electric and so was Remusâ bandmates who all wore grins despite their exhaustionâturns out you donât sleep much on airplanes and buses crammed full of the same people youâve been with for over a month straight.
Remus felt it too, the sparks in the air, though he couldnât muster up a cheerful attitude like others around him. Today was the last day of his tour, yes, but it was also the 10th anniversary of Sirius disappearing.
Usually on the 21st of September Remus tends to stay in his bedroom and try not to think of his feelings regarding the whole situation. His phone will buzz a couple times, though he never answers any of the texts from his old friends reaching out, asking how heâs been.
Itâs tradition, at this point, to flip open his phone the next day and read the Hey, Remus. How are you? or Thinking of you. Hope youâre doing well. and only giving a short text backâif that. He tries not to think of it, to think of him, to think of what could have happened to him. If he doesnât think, he doesnât feel, and thatâs exactly what Remus wants.
Though this year is different. Something is in the atmosphere, something feels differentâRemus is allowing himself to feel the difference.
And thatâs why Remus leans into the microphone, letting his raspy voice to sound out across the field.
âThis last song is one very special to me,â he says, taking a deep breath. âTowards someone who was very special to me.â
He pauses, a memory of a grin flashing by as a few whistles sounded out from afar, excited. Remus bends down to grab the plastic water bottle resting near the foot of the stand, taking a swig to help his rough cords smooth over a bit. And to stall. Mainly to stall.
The crowd was silent as they watched him, waiting in anticipation. He set the bottle back down and cleared his throat, his eyes catching a flock of birds that were like shadows flying across the purple sky.
Remus brought himself back to the stage, rolling his shoulders back to prepare himself. âAlright,â he nodded before adjusting the guitar slewn over his chest. âThis is Sparks, written by a 17 year-old-me.â
The lights that were once beaming on him lower to a soft yellow as he began strumming the strings, tender cords setting the tone of how Remus feels in this moment; his hands shaking and mind fuzzing like it was his first time on stage all over again.
Piano keys tucked behind Remus were like feathers falling from the sky, landing softly into the chamber locked around Remusâ heart.
A trickle of a breeze crawled upon his tanned skin where his loose checked shirt was rolled to his elbows, the undid buttons revealing a worn t-shirtâSiriusâ old one that Remus had stolen over a decade ago.
He felt the tension in the air rise, everybody's breath sucked away and given to Remus as a lyric fell out of his mouth, a question his teenage self asked repeatedlyâobsessively. It still roamed his mind from time to time, mainly when he gives into a cigarette, smoking until he ends up sitting against a brick wall, relishing in the smell that his mind automatically links to Siriusâa scent he can never quite get away from.
And with that thought comes a response, one he sings out to the crowd, though privately he listens to the voice in his own mind: the one that haunts his dreams, the one with a bark to every sentence spoken, the one that comes with two dimples and cherry-red lips that always seemed to be quirked upwards as if he found everything just a bit amusing, the one that belonged to Sirius.
He shakes his head, making Siriusâ voice fall out his ear and tumble on-to the tile ground below him, never knowing if it broke into pieces or not.
Licking his lips, Remus glances up at the sky which was now tinted with a deep blue. It was difficult to see any of the small dots that he knew were scattered above due to the warm stage-lights hitting him from different angles, though it didnât take Remus long to pinpoint the brightest blur and immediately latching onto it, speaking his promise with a chest that was heavy and empty; nothing quite making sense.
His dark eyebrows furrow as he mimics himself crying out, his voice soft and delicateâa large difference from the one that ripped out of his throat when he was 16 years old, realizing that Sirius had left.
Nevertheless he lets his voice drift away, his eyes falling down to where his pick was now loose between his fingers, surprising himself of how his body loosened since the beginning of the song despite only starting a couple minutes ago.
The guitar and piano danced with one another, the drum a fine line while steadying the two as they twirled around like dust swirling in sunlight, synchronized with every spiral made.
He made himself move around a bit, his stance too static for a feeling so fleeting. Remus didnât dare to look over at his bandmates, not wanting to disrupt his own world of melancholy and instead placed his mouth back against the microphone, mumbling about the truth of his heart and where it belongs, who he holds on to, and thatâs what he does.
He doesnât add on the part where his heart has picked up speed now along with his strumming, becoming more loud, more aggressive, more passionate before he belts it all out, his voice only matching the sound around himâthe sound of his feelings.
âAnd I know I was wrong,â his eyebrows furrow tight, eyes fluttering shut as he pictured his scarred hands scribbling these exact words down in his journal, hunched over in the dark with snot dripping into his mouth, unable to control the tears that ran along with it.
âI wonât let you downââ he cuts himself off, a sharp jolt in his chest causing him to remember the pain he experienced during that time, his voice rising to an agonizing cryâone that is practically wrenched from his throat raw. âYes I will, yes I will, yes I will,â he drags on, his entire body thrown into the passion moving with every beat while internally jostled with too many emotions, ending his final word with a crack and a sob.
Remus hadnât noticed the tears running down his cheeks until he opened his eyes, the world a sudden blur. His voice was a rough whisper, out of breath and tender as he went on without a second thought, the drumming in his ears from his heart too loud to overcome any rational thought.
His strumming was low again, softer than it has been during this song as if this was the aftermath of a painful climax, relishing in the release it gave nonetheless.
He felt his body also coming off of a rush; his heart-rate fading and bones feeling heavier than they did when he started, feet planted like an ancient tree that has stood here for centuries, watching over the lives that have passedâthe sparks it sees, just like Remus began singing about how he saw sparks over and over again.
Remus canât help but feel his lip begin to tremble when he whispers to the crowdâto the secret memories he had pushed away before now, seeing the glimmering silver eyes bold and shining against the moonlight that reflected over the lake, so captivating that after all these years later Remus still could pick out the small black dot inside his iris that left his pupil like it were a droplet of water.
With every repeated verse a new memory would pop into Remusâ mind, vivid and beautiful. It was as if a dam had been opened, creating a waterfall of moments once forgotten and now remembered in the midst of over 10 thousand people. Colours swirled behind his eyelids, his tears surprisingly clear despite the rush of hues that fogged over Remusâ mind, the past scenes hazed over but still there anyway.
And yet Remus still continued to sing, pouring his heart out for those who stood, silently watching him as he slowly opened his eyes, his lips quirking in the corners unconsciouslyâa smile about to break out.
It was now that Remus allowed himself to look at the ocean of faces in front of him, some blurred by shadows and others clearly seen from the flooding stage-lights above.
âLa-la-la-la,â he sang quietly on repeat, almost like a lullaby he would sing to help a child fall asleep.
Despite calming down, his eyebrows were still met in the middle, holding back another sudden wave of tears that threatened to break yet again. He blinked them back, a few escaping as he continued to look out onto the crowd, truly taking in everything. It was beautiful out; the moon now visible and full right in Remusâ eyeline, her glow beaming down on those farther out on the tilted hill.
His chest was now suddenly lighter, a feeling of gratitude entering his bloodstream and pumping his heart. It didnât surprise him, this sudden switch of feeling, perhaps it was the cause of suppressing them for so long. He felt nothing for so long that now he feels everything; itâll be a shock if doesnât have whiplash from just this song and how many waves of emotion his body has gone through.
Though he supposed that was before his gaze floated back down to the crowd, somehow locking on to gleaming silver eyes with cherry-red lips beneath them and two dimples to compliment each cheek.
La la la laââSirius?â
The comparison between the soft, comforting lulls Remus was singing before his heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, leaping up to his throat, then tumbling all the way back down to his gut was drastic. It isnât loud, the whisper, it is silentâa statement of question. Remus feels his blood turn cold as he continues to stare into those eyes, never blinking despite the tears that had started racing down his face, his heart also picking up the same speed.
Everything faded into the background; Remus didnât even realize he was still strumming along with the other instruments as he looked at Sirius who gives him a trembling smile, eyes a glass bottle with a storm swirling inside.
A million thoughts are running inside Remusâ mind, and yet all he hears is static. Sirius was here, at his concert, exactly 10 years from when heâd disappeared. He stands still, both arms now at their sides, dangling uselessly. People are shouting now, things Remus doesnât register because heâs now too busy watching Sirius jump the barrier, his body long and languid just as it always has been.
Itâs a blur of movements: swishes of black leather and tight boot-cut jeans; flashes of long curly hair that lets loose in the breeze of jumping and running up to the stage; beams of metallic jewelry glared into Remusâ eyes, reflecting against the stage-lights; a slight glint of cherry-red before the movements turn into pressure.
A clash of lips is what snaps Remus back into reality, eyes widening at the feeling but swiftly closing when he recognizes the plush feeling, immediately sinking into it. Arms are wrapped around his waist now, tugging Remus in almost desperately and he responds the same, instantly tangling his fingers into the soft curls he routinely prayed he could feel again once more.
The kiss doesnât last long enough, though that was on Remusâ diction. He pulls back suddenly, realizing what was happening, and cradles Siriusâ face in his hands. Their noses were inches apart, the manâs lips slightly swollen from their rough yet sweet kiss. Remus darts his eyes from silver to silver, taking in the small puddle of black in the right iris.
A breath tumbles out of Remus and before he knew it heâs sobbing, his hands now covering his own face as he howled with relief.
Remus felt arms try to wrap around him yet again, but he forcefully steps out of them, dropping his hands from his flushed face. His eyebrows once again furrowed but this time withâanger. âWhat the fuck!â He exclaims, hitting Sirius in the chest. âWhat the actual fuck!â He hit him again, weaker this time, feeling the energy draining out of him.
Sirius took the blows, only stumbling backwards once before physically forcing Remus into a hug, encasing him with his hold.
Remus tries to resist it once more, but Siriusâ leather jacket smelled like coconut shampoo and cigarettes and Remus cracked open from the inside out, tugging Sirius impossibly tighter as he bows his head and cries into the crook of Siriusâ neck.
âI missed you,â Sirius croaks and Remus only just now realizes that he too is crying.
Sniffing, Remus nods. âMore than you ever know.â
Eventually the two step away from each other, eyes burning and lips chapped from the amount of salt fallen from their tears. Remus forgot they were standing on stage in front of thousands of people, and when he does realize it, looking out at the sea of blank, confused faces, he doesnât offer an explanation.
Instead, he walks up to the microphone, and thanks everyone for coming, glancing back over to Sirius who is beautiful in the dim yellow light which beams behind his black curls, making them glow from behind.
They make eye contact and the two smileâRemus thinks heâs hallucinating until a cold hand is intertwined with his, grounding him into this strange reality where heâŠwell, he thinks to himself, looking back at Sirius who hasnât taken his gaze off of him, those thunderous eyes creating a light inside of Remus again.
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