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On any normal day, Teddy Lupin would consider himself one of the luckiest lads alive. He was a metamorphmagus which, in his humble opinion, was the coolest thing a person could be. He was smart enough to work his way through The Magical University of London and get a solid degree in Magical Creatures and Habitats. He lived comfortably off of his fat account at Gringotts. He was, generally speaking, a happy person—able to smile as often as he could and give a hug where needed.
But then, he remembered himself. He remembered that if he didn't look in the mirror every morning, he'd walk around with his father's nose (too big for his face) and his mother's shoulders (narrow and thin). He remembered that the only reason he'd even taken the courses at uni was because he couldn't hack it as an Auror. He remembered that the only reason he had more gold than he knew what to do with was because his father with his too-big nose and his mother with her small shoulders had died and the money was paid as reparations—replacements—for a life he'd never get to experience.
He remembered that he smiled constantly because if he didn't, he wasn't sure what he'd do with his face otherwise. He was afraid it might fall apart completely and break into hundreds of little pieces and scatter about with the wind. He gave a hug to a friend whenever he could because if he didn't, he would rarely feel the touch of someone else.
It was exhausting, being one of the luckiest lads alive.
The feeling overwhelmed him at half past ten in the dark corner of the pub he was supposed to be celebrating in. He wanted to celebrate. He wanted to take shots of Firewhiskey, dance to old songs and congratulate James on becoming the newest Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons.
He should be the one congratulating James' largest achievement with him.
But, right now, as the bass of whatever song played vibrated in his chest and his stomach lurched with the conversation he knew he needed to have, all he could do was sit in the corner and pray to whatever was out there that everyone would leave him alone.
All he wanted to do was go home, their home, and go to sleep.
"Teddy!"
He looked up from the spot of something sticky and congealed on the wooden table to see Harry beaming down at him. Teddy forced a closed-lip smile his way and waved his hand at the seat across from him.
"Hey," He said, trying his best to put a bit of cheer in his voice. "You look well."
"I am, yeah. Bloody proud of Jamie, aren't I?"
"Yeah," a stiff huff of laughter tumbled out of him. "Me too. He earned it, that's for certain."
Harry's smile slowly slid from his face as he observed him, a hand ruffling through his salt and pepper hair. "Alright, Ted?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm brilliant. Just a bit tired, I suppose."
Harry hummed and Teddy could tell his Godfather did not believe him in the slightest.
"Jamie told me you two would be moving to Falmouth next month to get settled before his training starts. Looking forward to a change of scenery?"
No. No, he absolutely was not. But, Teddy nodded, plastering on the brightest, fakest smile he could manage. "Yeah. Can't wait. London's…well, it's London, isn't it?"
Harry laughed at that, waving the barmaid over. She blushed when Harry smiled at her and Teddy felt his stomach roll again. That Potter charm would get anyone who came in contact with it. It certainly had a vice grip on him.
Teddy accepted the bottle of lager Harry handed him with a mumbled thanks before he clinked the bottom of it to Harry's.
"Cheers," Harry grinned, impossibly wide.
Teddy let his head bob a bit, swallowing down the exhaustion creeping up the back of his throat, the sweet finish of the lager tasting bitter in his mouth.
"You know," Harry said quietly, leaning forward. "If you don't want to move, you don't have to. We could get you connected to Floo, make sure Jamie gets a flat with a fireplace so we can get him set up, too. It wouldn't be difficult to live apart. And it wouldn't be forever."
Teddy inhaled slowly, "I know. Yeah. Thanks, Harry."
Harry's eyes lingered on him for a long moment, concern creasing his forehead. "Unless…unless that's not what you want at all?"
"No. No that's not what I—of course, I want to go to Falmouth. It's just…it's a big move is all. I'll be okay. I just need to—"
"Figure out what it is you want?" Harry suggested.
Teddy gave a jerky nod, avoiding Harry's gaze. "Something like that."
"Not everything that's right can be easy, Ted. Sometimes the hardest thing is the right thing, you understand?"
Harry let his hand rest on the top of Teddy's forearm, a comforting gesture he'd done as long as Teddy could remember. Seconds later, before Teddy could answer him, Harry was called away to sort something out with the catering and Teddy was left in the dark corner alone with his thoughts again.
James and Teddy stumbled into their flat at a quarter past two in the morning. James was breathless and giggly, hiccuping a bit as the bubbles from the beer settled in his tummy and Teddy…well, he was standing upright. Which, felt like something that needed recognition at that moment.
"I'm going to bed," Teddy murmured, ushering James toward the kitchen for a glass of water to help stave off the headache he knew James would wake up with.
"Wait," James grabbed his wrist, pulling Teddy close. "What's up with you? You've been moping all night."
"I'm not moping," Teddy shook his head, thrusting the glass into James' hand. "I'm just tired."
He reached up and ruffled Teddy's hair, "I miss the blue."
"So do I."
"Why don't you change it back, then?"
Teddy shrugged, "I want to be a Professor. It's not very professorial, is it? Besides, I'm thirty. It feels like I should leave the silly hair behind."
"Leave the silly hair behind?" James scoffed. "And your sense of humour, clearly."
Teddy sighed. "Can we not—"
"Just change it for me. Please? Just for a moment?"
Teddy stared into James' soft brown eyes, noting how glassy and bloodshot they were from the liquor and beer. He shook his head again, "I don't want to. Can we just go to bed, please?"
James' jaw ticked as he let his hand fall to his side, his fingers tapping against the counter.
"No."
"No?"
"No," James confirmed. "I don't want to go to bed. I want to talk. There's something wrong and—"
"There's nothing wrong, Jamie, and you never want to talk. You're drunk and I'm just tired. It's been a long day, yeah?"
James bit the inside of his cheek, a futile attempt to tamp his anger, an attempt to bite his tongue and not say what he wanted to. Teddy had seen it thousands of times over the years.
James turned, pushing up on the tips of his toes to rifle through the cabinet. After a few moments, a little trill of victory left his lips and he faced Teddy again with a small, yellow phial in his hand.
"James…"
James plucked the cork out and downed it in one go, doubling over for a second as the sobering potion took effect. After a few beats of hissing in pain and clutching at his head, James stood upright again, eyes bright and as clear as they had been at two in the afternoon.
"There. Now I'm not drunk," he shrugged, chucking the phial onto the counter. "What's your problem?"
"Drunk or not, I'm tired. I don't want to talk about this right now."
Teddy turned on his heel and stomped off toward their bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Anger pulsed through him, eating at his chest and settling somewhere deep in his gut. He could feel it coursing through his veins, prickling at the back of his neck, burning into his tear ducts.
He didn't want to have this fucking talk. They should have had this talk weeks ago when James decided, on his own, he wanted the Falmouth position. They should have talked about it when he started looking for flats five bloody hours away. They should have talked about it when he didn't even consider Teddy's schooling—his career. All the years of work Teddy had done shoved under the rug like yesterday's dirt off his shoes.
And, truly, they should have talked even before all of this happened. When their extremely healthy and enthusiastic sex life began to dry up. When they began fighting about every little thing either of them did wrong, down to the washing being left in the basket for too many days. But, that wasn't what they did.
They didn't talk about things.
They laughed and joked and sang. They wrestled and fucked and danced. They ate meals together and drank together and showered together. But, Teddy couldn't remember the last time they had a proper conversation.
He sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, looking up at the mirror that hung on the wardrobe. He was too exhausted to fix his imperfections right now, and he wondered if he should even bother anymore. It wasn't as if anyone saw him anyway.
They saw James—the brightest in every room. The funniest. The most charismatic. The most athletic. Gorgeous and lithe James, who made everyone feel welcome and wanted.
Everyone except Teddy.
His reflection stared back at him miserably. A mop of messy honey-coloured curls, and a nose that was large with a bump in the centre—both a genetic courtesy from his dad. His dark blue eyes roamed over his narrow shoulders and wide mouth he'd inherited from his mum. He wondered how he could ever think this thing between him and James could ever be anything lasting. When James was all beauty and spark and he was…pretending. Pretending to be an academic, to be beautiful, to be happy.
Pretending to be in love.
And it hit him then, like a bludger to the back of the head, he didn't love James. How could he, possibly? James wasn't his to love. He was meant to be loved by the world, by adoring fans and expert hands. By someone who could be thrilled for him that he'd gotten a coveted Professional Quidditch Position instead of loathing him for accepting it so willingly.
A soft knock at the door tore him away from his revelations and Teddy's head jerked up as James walked in.
"I wanted to give you a few minutes," he murmured, closing the door gently behind him.
"Yeah. Thanks."
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. "Are you okay, Ted?"
Teddy's breath left him his a rush, his shoulders deflating entirely. "No. I'm not. But, it's late. We should sleep and then—"
"I don't want to sleep."
Teddy closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them, praying they didn't betray him. "What is it you want, then?"
James moved swiftly to where Teddy sat and placed himself in his lap, straddling Teddy's waist. He cupped Teddy's face between his palms and leaned down, pressing a slow, filthy kiss to his lips. James' tongue pushed into his mouth and Teddy wanted to cry.
He pulled away, panting. "I don't think it's a good idea, Jamie."
"I think it is."
"I know you do and—"
"—and clearly you do think it is," James' eyes travelled down to land on the obvious bulge in Teddy's jeans, a little smirk pulling at the right side of his mouth.
And, it was maddening. Because, even though Teddy's mind knew that he didn't love James—had probably never properly loved him—his traitorous body had yearned for his touch so pathetically for weeks that he couldn't even stifle the soft moan that escaped him when James rocked forward.
"We—we can't. We need to talk, Jamie."
"I know what you're going to say," James whispered, peppering soft kisses up his throat. "I don't want to hear it tonight. Please, just give me this."
He clutched at his shirt between his shoulders and pulled it over his head in one, swift movement, tossing it carelessly to the floor to land next to the basket. Despite knowing that this could do nothing but hurt James more, Teddy's hands were on him. He smoothed his palms over his broad chest, feeling every dip of his ribcage as his hands slid down his sides. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to James' collarbone, taking in the lovely taste of his skin as he dragged his tongue up to his neck.
"It's going to hurt," Teddy murmured, his voice hollow and raspy, not at all talking about the impending physical release.
"I know," James said.
Clever James, always a step ahead.
"This isn't—"
"Teddy, please. I can't right now, I just want you, okay?"
Teddy leaned back, feeling all of his anger dissipate and curl into something that felt a lot like heartbreak at the look on James' face. His eyes were wide and bright, his eyelashes wet, and his cheeks flushed. Teddy nodded and James stood up, removing the rest of his clothes as Teddy followed suit.
And, the thing was, this was the easy part for them. It always had been. A soft touch here, a kiss or two there, a murmured spell to help move things along. And within minutes, Teddy was hard and wanting, practically gagging for it as James climbed on top of him and lined himself up. The moans came easily as the heat of James surrounded him.
James began to move after taking a second to adjust to Teddy inside of him, just as he'd always done before. He ground his hips down, his thighs shaking as he tried to set the pace. Teddy's name fell from his lips when Teddy finally took control and bucked his hip up, driving into him as he gripped the meat of James' thighs.
It all felt so familiar—so simple. Yet, so completely different.
He tried to think it when his own breathless pleas refused to fall from his tongue. He tried to think that he loved this man and they could fix this. But, even with his chest flushed and sweat dripping down his temple as his hand wrapped around James' cock and pumped a few times, he couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't return the moans of the name of the man who had just painted his stomach with the milky white evidence of the only thing that ever came easily to them.
It was only when James rolled off of him and flopped onto the bed that Teddy realised he'd gone soft without even getting off.
This was supposed to be the easy part for them.
"Let me clean you up," Teddy whispered, sitting up to reach for his wand on the floor at the foot of the bed. Before James could protest, he flicked his wrist, clearing the evidence away.
He laid down on his back, staring up at the sharp, starburst textures of the popcorn ceiling as he grappled for what to do next.
"I like you like this," Jamie said, still a bit breathless. He ran the tip of his finger down the bridge of Teddy's generous nose. "I like when you don't change it all."
Teddy didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He just let his breath come quietly, counting every gentle rise and fall of his chest. He felt his eyes grow heavy after several silent minutes and he closed them, hoping James had fallen asleep.
"I don't want you to go."
It was so quiet that Teddy almost missed it. But, it was accompanied by a wide palm and long fingers that pressed to his bare chest. Teddy opened his eyes and slowly turned his head, searching James' face for anything that would change his mind. Anything that would tell him this was something with more longevity than they'd been given.
"I don't love you anymore," Teddy whispered.
"You haven't for a long time."
Teddy swallowed, his nose burning and his eyes prickling. "No, I don't think I have."
"We just need a change," James insisted, scooting closer to wrap his arm around Teddy's waist. "Falmouth will be good for us. All that fresh sea air and the stars are brilliant at night."
"Jamie…"
"I think it would do you some good. We can keep the flat here and just live there during Quidditch season. It'll be like…like an extended holiday."
"I can't go to Falmouth with you."
"But, I love you."
"I don't think you do."
"That isn't—that isn't fair. You can't just…just make assumptions like that."
"Look at us, Jamie," Teddy said, his voice shaking. "This is all we know how to do anymore. Fight and fuck. And, we've barely done the latter over the last year. This…it's not sustainable. It never has been."
"I have loved you since I was a kid, Teddy. I've loved you since I knew what it was to love someone. That isn't fair. You can't say what we have isn't sustainable."
"It was easy," Teddy cleared his throat, willing the tears to stay where they were. "It was easy, James. I was there. I was around all the time. That doesn't mean that we're supposed to be together forever. It was easy and now it's—"
"What?" James snorted, "it's hard now? It's gotten too hard for you so you're going to walk away just like you did with the Aurors."
Teddy inhaled sharply, "I was going to say unfulfilling."
"Right."
James moved swiftly from the bed, collecting his clothes quickly. He yanked his trousers up, turning away as he searched for a clean shirt. Teddy noticed the shirt he pulled over his shoulders was his but decided it best not to mention it.
"I'm going to go to mum and dad's," James said, summoning his shoes from the rack in the entryway. "I wouldn't want to make you feel unfulfilled for any longer than you have been."
"James…"
"It's fine. Good luck with your…" he waved his hand around toward a stack of books next to the bed "professor shit, I guess."
And before Teddy could say another word, James was gone, leaving only the echoing crack from disapparation to cut through the silence.
On any normal day, Teddy Lupin would consider himself the luckiest lad alive. But, as he watched the sun come up with eyes that burned from exhaustion and tears, he realised he wasn't sure if he'd ever had a normal day in his life.