Remus had an awful habit of closing himself off when life overwhelmed him. Gryffindor or not, he felt like a bloody coward when his emotions bested him, but sometimes he just couldn't deal with everything coming at him. As much as he wanted to be there as mediator, teacher, friend, and/or family member, there were moments when he just fled. It happened at home so why wouldn't it occur here too? He didn't regret his journal entry, but he did deeply resent that what he thought were carefully chosen words became twisted into something he could not remotely see himself saying. How had he allowed himself to be so misconstrued? Why did he take the bait? That was on him even if his intent had been innocent enough.
He largely ignored the journals until he returned from meeting with Victoire. The night before? Her sad words haunted him. Now? The dour (though beautiful) face to go with those sad phrases would not budge in his memory. Making matters worse were the various comments he could barely decipher from Marlene and seeing Fleur's and Tonks' wards. He didn't know how to approach them yet. He did mean Tonks should leave him. He always meant it. Everyone knew she could do better. Besides, sooner or later, people left when they stopped needing you. Remus knew it well. Yet, selfishly maybe, he loved her. He loved her so much it hurt. Scared him too. He felt much like the night he ran to Harry. Back then, a good talking to knocked sense into him, but now? Now he had nothing but thoughts swirling and nowhere to really unleash. He couldn't bother Lily or Emmeline with it, not when they had so much of their own stuff going on. And Caradoc? Eddie? James? Well, same. And as for --- well, lack of contact spoke volumes.
He wanted to sleep. He promised James and Albus that he'd go flying with them the next day and he really didn't want them thinking he was some stupid old man who couldn't keep up. James calling him "uncle" meant more than that boy could ever know considering Remus felt less like family and more like a stranger fighting for a place most days. Needless to say, he was tossing and turning when he heard the knock. He would have let it go if he didn't know Victoire would pop any second.
Tonks. Of course. She was always such a persistent thing. Part of her charm. Coward. Harry's words from so long ago fluttered through his brain and he sighed. "You are right, Harry." He straightened his nightshirt and opened the door. "I hope you like cotton pajamas. I wasn't expecting company." He smiled sheepishly, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.