A/N: So I usually have this rule for myself where I never post anything unless it's over 1000 words, but I found this in my files on my flash drive, and figured that, after I edited it a bit, why not? It's short but sweet, I suppose. Kinda reminds me of my first story, in a way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Remus has never liked his scars. Just watching him look at himself in the mirror every morning has made that much clear.
I suppose I can understand why he hates them, why he looks them over with such loathing and disgust. After all, it is he that has to remember how it is that they came to be. It's him that has to forever have a reminder of unbearable pain.
What I don't understand though is how he can call them hideous, or even disgusting. I don't think I'll ever understand how he can look at himself and say that he is ugly.
How can he not see what I see?
Remus is the most beautiful person I've ever seen, even with the scars. In fact, the scars only add to his beauty, showing that it does not mean perfection. The scars make him appear fragile, all though I've never met anyone who is stronger.
Sometimes I get lost in his beauty, in the softness of his brown eyes, and in the soft curve of the smile he tries so desperately to hide. I get lost in him, in the way his hair flops into his eyes, and the way his hands curve into themselves, long, slender fingers twisting together as he gets nervous or excited. I get lost in him, in the way he bites his beautifully scarred lips as he tries to hold in his laughter, and in the way his shoulders shake slightly when he is feeling too much.
I get lost in Remus, and I don't think there's anyone better to get lost in.
Sometimes I want to just grab him, to hold him in front of that mirror that he seems to despise with every fiber of his being, and to strip him bare. I want to run my fingers along every piece of palely freckled skin I can find, to trail my lips along ever scar he has, and to tell him that he is beautiful. I've done all this before, and I will continue to do this until he can look me in the eyes and say, yes, I know that I am beautiful.
He's stubborn though, and that's fine. Because the longer that he resists me, resists saying what I know to be true, the longer I can touch him and hold him and love him. It's one task I don't mind doing forever.
A/N: Please review. And I'll get working on updating my chaptered fics after exams this week :O Check out poll on my profile too :D