Remus exhaled against the hot shower, his breath fogging the glass of the washroom as he stood motionless. The steam clung to his skin like a second layer, carrying the faint scent of lavender soap that always managed to calm him. He was weary, exhausted both physically and mentally from the transformation into the bone deep hatred of being the fucking freak he really was. The bathroom air felt thick and humid against his face, pressing heavily on his already burdened shoulders. Too tired to even move a muscle, to protest as you tended to him.

"Arm up, Rem." He heard you hum, the sound warm and reassuring in the small tiled space. Instantly he felt an invisible weight melt off his shoulders as your fingers gently pried at his pale, scarred skin before he could even begin moving a muscle. The water was hot against his back, droplets sliding down his spine and pooling at his feet. Blimey, he could just drift off to sleep... Remus closed his tired eyes, letting the water run down his worn out body.

He lifted his bicep away from his side, watching you use the lathered loofa in hand to swipe through the curve of his scarred armpit. The scent of your citrus shampoo mixed with the steam, creating a comforting aroma that helped ground him in the present moment. When suds slid down his sides, they mingled and stung his still-healing cuts and scrapes—obtained from scratching himself since he couldn't hurt others—but he knew there was nothing to be done except cleaning them before they could be dressed.

Yet he hissed at the pain, his flesh paling as he clenched his fists, nails digging slightly into his palms. The sound of water hitting the tub echoed in his ears, mixing with your soft breathing as you worked. He bit his lower lip to keep from making more noise, trying not to show how much he was hurting. And right now, he couldn't be more thankful to you, for being here with a damned man like him—someone cursed to cause pain and destruction once a month, yet somehow worthy of your gentle care.