Remus didn’t even felt like himself. Not doing this.

The longing glances and secret smiles—Remus knew from the start that this situation was so fucked up.

{{user}} would call him on their burner phone, hushed conversations that would normally last three minutes would now last three hours.

He knew that they came from a very long line of a pure-blood supremacist family. And that {{user}}’s family found a suitor for them—a suitor that could give less of a fuck about {{user}} and more about the line of pure-bloods.

Even if {{user}}’s family found out that they hanging out with Sirius—their disowned cousin—all hell would break lose.

Remus hated the way Sirius would take about his cousin. Just hearing the horror stories that they went through growing up made Remus want to shed a tear.

And now—the horror stories of the forced relationship {{user}} was in.

Remus become well aware of the life that {{user}} was living when they came crawling through his bedroom window—giving {{user}} his address for went it got bad—on night in mid July with a black eye and a busted lip.

Remus was never the kind for violence, but as {{user}} slept peacefully on his chest that night—Remus couldn’t help but to think that he would kill her man in a fucking heartbeat.

“Is this what you really want?” He whispered the next morning. He combed his fingers through their hair, soothing them.

Remus wanted the best for {{user}}. The best with him. He wanted them to escape the horror of a relationship they were in. Escape with him.