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chocolate-coated hearts | r.l. (part 3)



part 1 | part 2 | part 3
barista!remus x shy!reader
You smoothen the ruffles on your dress, twirling this way and that. One last glance at the mirror was spent convincing yourself you looked fine before you finally stepped out of your apartment.
The wind blew your hair back as you walked, the click-clack of your boots on the pavement mirroring the thumping of your heart. It was loud and fast, so much so that you wouldnât be surprised if there was a bomb waiting to explode in you.
The barista, Remus â possibly the loveliest human being on earth, had invited you to a poetry reading at Beanieâs. He scribbled down his number onto your coffee cup too, which had to have meant something.
The nerves were starting to get the better of you, your heart climbing its way up your throat as you neared the cafĂ©.Â
This was the first time you so desperately wished that you hadnât majored in literature, that you didnât feel the impact of words as deeply as you did. A poetry reading would definitely trigger the part of you which didnât shut up once uncorked, and you were praying you didnât mess this whole thing up with your tendency to ramble.
Beanieâs was always crowded, but as you pushed the door open, the largeness of the mob was startlingly obvious. You couldnât help but think it looked more like a fish market than a cafĂ©, feeling skin against skin as you pushed past people.
There was a small stage set up at the corner, fairy lights strung above it. At the moment, there was a teenage girl timidly reciting something from a scrunched up piece of paper. You paid her no heed, craning your neck to find Remus.
Just then, an arm wrapped around your waist and you yelp, head swivelling to come face to face with Madison. âHi, gorgeous.â
You sigh, feeling the tension leave your shoulders as she gives you a peck on the cheek. Of course, she came. Your best friend wouldnât shut up for hours after you told her Remus had given you his number. âHey.â
âWhere is he?â she asks immediately, trying to follow your line of vision.
You shrug, eyes darting around till you spot someoneâs gaze trained on you from across the cafĂ©. Itâs not Remus, by any means. But heâs undeniably attractive, long black curls and tattoos all over. Once you finally meet his eyes, he grins and wriggles his eyebrows. Who the fuck â
Just then, Remus sticks his head out from behind the stranger and beams at you, giving you a wave. You immediately shift your gaze to him, your heart feeling like it canât decide whether it wants to be in your throat or chest.
A small smile makes its way onto your face as you wave back, trying to shove your way over to him with Madison on your heels.Â
âAnd now, weâve got Remus Lupin, with The Bell Jar by Sylvia⊠um⊠Plait? Plaque! Sylvia Plaque!â a waiter suddenly squeaks into the microphone before scurrying off stage. You pause in your movements, Remus giving you an almost apologetic smile before he climbs up.
âHello,â he tests the microphone, his lips curving upwards as some members in the crowd cheer. You notice that the black-haired man from earlier seemed particularly enthusiastic, yelling âGo, Moony!â and sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle.
You train your vision back on Remus as he starts to speak. âSo, this isnât exactly a poem,â he starts. âItâs an excerpt from one of my favourite books. And it really resonated with me, so Iâd like to share it with you.â
You listen silently, anticipating whatever he was going to say next. It was alarming how much this mattered to you, that he had good choices in stories and poems and words. Because how were you to fall in love with a man who didnât feel lingo as deafeningly as he felt the beat of his heart? He wouldnât be able to understand you; you were sure, if he couldnât listen to the silent pleas of scribbles on pages. You conversed like a book, like you were begging to be understood and silently guarded in the heart of oneâs brain â and you only hoped that there was someone out there willing to peruse scripture after scripture till he memorised the language of your lips. Right now, you were really wishing that someone was the gorgeous man in front of you.
âI saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the storyâŠâ
Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in his soliloquy. You donât just hear his speech, but you listen. You listen to the ache that seeps into his voice, the silent rasp of air leaving his lips as he stresses on words he deems important, the sheer longing etched in every word. And you couldnât see it, but you could feel his gaze on you, you could feel the string connecting his heart straight to yours.
â...they plopped to the ground beneath my feet,â he finishes. A slow, somewhat hesitant round of applause sounds in the cafĂ©.
You open your eyes, unsurprised to find them misty. You bring your fingers to your cheeks and swipe the tears away. Madison was gripping one of your hands, squeezing it. The both of you were used to this, your onslaught of tears whenever you felt a little too hard.Â
You watch as Remus steps off the stage, disappearing into the sea of people. Someone else climbs up, and you zone out, getting lost in your thoughts once more.
âHey.â You blink, looking up to see Remus in front of you now, his pretty face scrunched up a bit in worry. âHey, Y/n. You okay? Saw you getting a little emotional just now.â
Madison makes a small squeal of excitement, and Remus flashes her a small smile before turning back to you, patiently waiting for you to respond.
A teary chuckle bubbles out of you, âSorry, yeah, Iâm all good. Itâs just â that was really something. It hurt in the best way. You have great taste, you know.â
He softens at your confession, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. âThank you. And I get it, I couldnât stop crying for almost an hour when I first read it.â
You let out a real laugh at the thought of that, and his smile breaks into a grin. He reaches forward, and you barely have a moment to comprehend it before heâs wiping away the tears on your cheeks. You really hope he canât feel the heat emanating from your skin, or hear the giggles from beside you.
You make it a point to shoot Madison a dirty look as he pulls his hand away. âOn another note,â he starts, and you can hear his slight cockiness at having you all flustered, âI didnât think youâd come.â
âOf course ââ you meant to say that youâd cleared your schedule to be able to make it, but the words die on your tongue as he whips a rose stalk out from behind his back and holds it out for you.
You stare up at him blankly, feeling your heartbeat growing more erratic by the second. âA small thank you for attending.â
âYou give it to all the customers, then?â
âNo. Just the prettiest one.â
You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from gasping, and shakily reach out to take the flower from him. Twisting it in your fingers, you feel your heart start to turn to mush â he had cut off all the thorns on the stalk.
âThank you.â
He grins, and itâs more endearing than the rose between your fingers. A sideway glance at your best friend tells you sheâs at the edge of combusting into giggles and swoons.
âHello, lovely ladies.â
Your gaze shifts to the right of Remus to see that man, the good-looking one who had been staring at you from afar. You arch an eyebrow, but Madison matches his energy. âHey, handsome.â
His eyes linger on you. âYouâre Y/n, I assume. Moony â Remus has told me all about you.â Your heart does a backflip and you glance at Remus, only to find him already smiling at you.
âBut you,â he turns to your best friend, his thoughtful expression morphing into a grin. âWho might you be?â
âMadison.â
âMadison,â he drawls. âSirius.â
You watch as Sirius compliments her dress, and she turns a red so deep it could rival how you had been minutes ago. And you smile, because you knew sheâd been belittling herself over her appearance with the baby bump.
Remus silently tugs on your hand, steering you away from them. He glances over at the two of them again, grinning. âSorry about Sirius. The asshole can be such a flirt.â
You huff out a laugh. âNo, itâs quite alright. Madisonâs quite the lovergirl herself, and god knows she needs this after her previous relationship.â
He nods understandingly, and a silence settles over the two of you. âIâm glad you came. You know, studying literature and stuff, I thought youâd like it.â
âIâm glad I came too. But Iâm sorry you had to see me like ââ you chuckle nervously, doing a jazz hands in front of your face, âlike this, tears and all.â
His curls bounce as he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldnât help but think that all the creative evocations youâve ever read fell short in describing the depth of his eyes. âThatâs nothing to apologise for, sweet girl. You look just as lovely even when youâre crying.â
You pull your lip between your teeth to stop the smile from spreading across your face.
âBabe ââ Madison comes over, out of breath. âCan we leave? I still havenât gotten the groceries for tonight. And youâre helping me with dinner.â
You glance over her shoulder to see Sirius watching her with hearts in his eyes, and you let out a soft snicker when you see tints of Madisonâs maroon lipstick on his cheek. âOkay.â
Madison pulls you towards the exit. You cast a glance at Remus, smiling and waving.
âY/n!â Remus calls out, and you tug on Madisonâs fingers to get her to stop.
âYeah?â
âHow else would you like me to see you?â
You blink. âHuh?â
He chuckles. âYou said you didnât want me to see you like this, in tears. How else â where else can I see you, sweetness?â
Your heart jolts at his obvious attempts at flirting, and how easily it was working.
âTammyâs Bookstore,â you almost mumble, shyness flooding into your voice. â8pm to 12am shift.â
Remus seems to have gotten the answer he wanted. âCool. Iâll see you there sometime.â
You turn around before he can see how pink youâve turned, urging Madison out the shop.
âAnd sweetheart? Use the phone number.â
a/n: okay so i had a lot of fun with this part!! but i'd love to hear feedback, if you think maybe i'm sidetracking or you have any ideas for the next part <3 also the excerpt mentioned is about how we can't take every opportunity we wish we could in our short life, and it's from the bell jar by Sylvia Plath. agonisingly beautiful, hits you right in the feels!! here it is if you're interested :)