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“People always talk about how love is this totally unselfish, giving thing, but if you think about it, there's nothing more selfish.”
— Before Sunrise (1995)
★..-..-★-..-..★
Present Day
“I think we should have sex.”
Remus gulps, pulls on his ear awkwardly, nods his head ever so slightly. A beat passes until he realizes Jack is expecting a verbal response. He clears his throat. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I mean,” he takes a step closer to Remus, takes both his scarred hands into his smooth ones. “We’ve done everything else. Plus, it’s your birthday soon.”
“My birthday?”
Jack does that thing where he smiles, tongue peeking out, piercing caught between his teeth. “I was thinking we could do it on your birthday. Like…like a—“
“You want your present to me for my eighteenth birthday to be sex?”
“No! No,” Jack shakes his head, his cheeks getting ever so rosy as he swings their still clasped hands. “I already got you a present, this would be like…a fun bonus?”
“You’re really selling this, sweetheart.”
Jack groans, hiding his face in Remus’ neck, making Remus have to lift his chin ever so slightly. The angle is always kind of awkward, but he never minds, especially because he knows how much Jack likes it.
“I just thought,” Jack continues, his voice slightly muffled against Remus’ skin. “I just thought it would be sweet. Memorable, yknow?” He sighs. “I feel like I’m saying all the words and I feel like it’s your turn now.”
His tone is teasing, it’s playful and without an ulterior motive, but it still somehow makes Remus’ ribs ache.
Remus tends to like not having to say a lot of words. It’s probably the only thing Remus hasn’t been able to get over his annoyance of with Jack, his inability to accept that Remus is just…well, he’s quiet. He’s not rude, and yes, he is shy, but he also just has never been much of a talker. If he has something to say, he’ll say it, he just prefers to be present and listen more than anything.
Jack, however, has always felt as though this is a habit of Remus’ that he just needs help breaking, as if he’s the first to try. As if this part of Remus is something to be fixed, rather than it just being a part of who he is.
It drives Sirius crazy.
“Well,” Remus sighs. “It sounds nice, it’s just— is sex usually something people, like, set a date for? Shouldn’t we talk about having sex before we write it down in our planners with a sparkly pen? Doodle a little heart next to it?”
“Look, if you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine, it was—“
“No, no, I’m not saying no, Jack,” Remus pulls back to look at his boyfriend. “This is just new, for me at least. It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, it’s just…”
“Just?”
“Can I think about it? Again, not because I don’t want to, but because I wanna make sure I’m ready. Is that okay?”
Jacks eyes immediately soften, and he kisses Remus’ knuckles to confirm his understanding. “Of course that’s okay, Rem. Just let me know, yeah? It’s still two weeks away, and even if you decide you’re not ready, I’ll still make sure it’s the best birthday yet. How does that sound?”
Remus nods, follows it up with a kiss and a smile that gets lost in the touch as the kiss deepens. Jack’s hands find their way to Remus’ sandy hair the moment they fall on top of his unmade bed, fingers combing through soft tangles as soft gasps turn to quiet moans.
Despite his best efforts, Remus thinks of Sirius.
★..-..-★-..-..★
Three Months Before
They meet at a house party. The girl Sirius had been dating at the moment, if you could even call it that, was the one hosting.
Remus, never one for parties, had also never been one capable of saying no to Sirius. Since Sirius was fully aware of Remus’ knack for anti social behavior, he only asked Remus to come along from time to time. Which was nice because again, Remus tended to like being antisocial, but it also meant less of the already too much time that Remus would have to see his best friend hooking up with the pretty, popular girls.
The complicated life of someone who’d been in love with their straight best friend for six years, something that perhaps could be the title of Remus’ inevitable memoir.
Sirius had requested Remus’ presence at this party because he claimed Remus would be very impressed by the room of indoor plants. There’d also be a dog, and James, Remus’ other best friend, would be there, too. Remus had made a big fuss to keep up his image and ultimately ended up agreeing, despite the fact he would’ve said yes even if Sirius had told him entering the house would mean immediate death via elephant stampede.
If Sirius asked, Remus would always say yes.
When Sirius disappeared to get a drink for him and Remus — Anything fruity, right Moony? — Mary appeared. She had a kind smile, wore a mini leather skirt, and if she were to bend over she would be at risk of reminding Remus just how gay he very much was.
He wished Mary would go somewhere else; he knew what that outfit would do to Sirius the moment he returned and Remus, personally, did not wish to be present for it. He crossed his arms uncomfortably.
“Hi James,” Mary smiled. “I’m so happy you could make it!”
James pulled her into a friendly hug. “Hiya Mary. Do you know Remus? This is Remus.”
She should know Remus considering they had calculus together, but the way she looked at him said otherwise. “I don’t, no, but Sirius has told me so much about you! He said you like plants?”
As was common to happen, Remus was beginning to regret his decision to come. He tried to give Mary a polite smile, but he was uncomfortable and sober, and his arms were itchy. They always got a bit itchy when he was anxious.
Mary’s eyes, glossy and red, were quickly drawn to the movement of Remus’ fingers scratching his skin. He was wearing a t-shirt that night, because that was something he does now, but the moment Mary’s eyes lingered too long on his arms and her mouth fell into a tiny “o”, Remus desperately wished it’d taken him a bit longer to get to this step.
“Mary,” Sirius snapped, appearing out of nowhere, a drink in each hand. One had a bendy straw in it, and Remus knew immediately it was his.
He loved bendy straws and the fact that Sirius knew this about him.
The harshness in Sirius’ voice snapped Mary out of her incredibly rude, most likely marijuana inspired daze. She was quick to slap a smile back on her face, different than before. This time her lips curved in a way that went well with her obnoxious, flirtatious hair flip. Remus wanted to gag.
“Hi babe,” she purred at Sirius, taking a step towards him that Sirius all but ignored.
He’s turned to Remus, features softened, holding out the drink with the bendy straw to him. “Alright?”
“Yup,” Remus smiled, never good at faking real ones, sipping his fruity drink as a last minute attempt of hiding the truth. “Thanks, Padfoot. I’m gonna go find the dog. See ya a little later?”
“Moony—“
“Pads, it’s okay,” Remus told him firmly, not wanting to get into it. “I’m used to it. You go have fun, and I’ll make sure James doesn’t find any corners to cry in.”
“Hey!”
Remus shot James an apologetic look before turning back to Sirius. He immediately felt guilty over how distraught his pretty face had become, so he put a supportive hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “If it doesn’t bother me, then it can’t bother you, remember?”
Sirius searched Remus’ face like he was trying to find solid proof of a lie. “Okay,” he said quietly, relenting. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with? The dog really loves me, Moons.”
Remus rolled his eyes and removed his hand. “Everyone loves you, Pads. Go have fun with your girlfriend,” Remus glanced quickly at a pouting Mary, “And don’t worry about me and Prongs. We’re capable of having fun without you, I promise.”
Sirius finally smiled, it was small and weak but a smile all the same, so Remus’ heart didn’t feel as crushed as it could when he finally walked away with James in tow.
“I miss Reggie,” James sighed once they were in the kitchen, Remus making James a drink. “He says hi, by the way.”
“Hi, Reggie,” Remus mumbled, pouring mountain dew in a red solo cup already filled halfway with vodka. It was James’ favorite; he called it The James Drink. Sometimes he added a lime wedge and called it The James Drink Deluxe.
Regulus, or Reggie, was not only James’ boyfriend but Sirius’ younger brother. They’d been dating for a year at that point, grossly and happily in love, incapable of being apart for too long hence James’ current moping.
“He still having fun?” Remus asked, handing James his cup.
“Saw the Eiffel tower yesterday,” James took a sip of his drink, made a terrible face, then smacked his lips happily. “He’s seeing his uncle tomorrow. Says he’ll send lots of pictures so it can feel like I’m there with him.”
Remus had no choice but to smile at that. Most people find the relationship between James and Regulus confusing because of the whole grumpy sunshine thing they’ve always had going on, but sneak peaks like that show the truth. Regulus was grumpy to those on the outside, but for those lucky enough to truly know him, he was just as much the sun as James was. They’re two halves that come together to make a whole in the way that soulmates so often did.
“So,” James hummed after a thoughtful silence, another sip of his drink followed by a sour face. “Did you say something about a dog?”
It took five minutes for James and Remus to locate the dog, and another five minutes for Remus to finish his drink and realize James was no longer with him. Apologizing to the dog for his sudden departure, promising a return later to continue rubbing his ears, Remus tried to find James. He didn’t end up searching for very long.
It’s just. The second room he checked was not only practically empty, but it was also the room with the indoor plants. The room was like an indoor greenhouse, like someone who loved plants who took it a little too far curated it and Remus was instantly captivated by it. There were succulents, ferns, orchids, fig trees, monstera plants, cactuses, and everything in between. He was inspecting the beautiful bonsai tree, mouth dry from how long it’d been parted in astonishment, when he felt the presence of another next to him.
When Remus looked to his left, he had no choice but to stand up straight, his usually hunched shoulders pulled back before he knew what he was doing.
The man before him had silky blonde hair that wrapped around pierced ears, eyes green like the wet grass after it rains, thin lips, and straight white teeth that hold what appeared to be a tongue piercing between them. He wore a snug white shirt tucked into black jeans, and he was currently tucking his hair behind his ear — a small tattoo on his pinkie — as he looked at Remus like he was something to be desired. It was very possible he was flirting, or at least building up to it, and it was also very possible Remus was vibrating like he’d just stuck a fork into an electrical socket.
“Hi. I’m Jack,” Jack said, his voice deep and warm like a jazz musician.
Jack stuck his hand out to Remus, and Remus being who he was as well as no longer sober, startled at the beauty of the man and the motion of his hand that he took a tiny step back. Tiny, but big enough to do the trick.
It seemed as though Remus had made a very reliable and lifelong friend in the dog he had been spending time with only moments ago, because without Remus realizing, he had been following Remus around. Apparently, he had not only been following Remus around but he’d also decided to lie down by Remus’ feet, snoozing away once Remus had begun thoroughly admiring the bonsai tree.
So Jacks first impression would forever be just that: Remus being startled by his beauty, tripping backwards over a dog that lets out a gut wrenching yelp, and falling on his ass so hard that the dog runs away and a plant falls, soil exploding across the tiled floor.
It took a few very deep breaths for Remus to finally open his eyes once it all ended. When he did, it was to find Jack squatting in front of him.
“Well,” Jack sighed with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’ll be a great story to tell our kids one day when they ask how their dads met.”
Which was how Remus finds himself leaving the party with James an hour later, a new number saved into his phone.
It wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact Sirius was staying, that he barely pulled away from shoving his tongue down Mary’s throat to let James and Remus know he’d be staying, but it was still nice nonetheless.
A week later, the day before Jack was taking Remus out for dinner and a movie, Sirius first learned of the new person in Remus’ life, and proceeded to punch the wall so hard he broke his index finger.
★..-..-★-..-..★
Present Day
It’s important to know that it’s taken awhile for Sirius to warm up to Jack.
They’re at the table in their favorite secret corner of the third floor of the library when Remus breaks the news to Sirius.
It’s been a minute since Remus spoke, and all Sirius has done in response is stare at Remus, left eye occasionally twitching. Remus isn’t a big fan of eye contact, and he’s especially not a big fan of whatever it is that Sirius is currently doing.
“Are you quite alright?” Remus finally hisses, laying his hands flat on his open planner in discomfort.
Remus rolls his eyes and grabs his favorite sparkly pen when Sirius remains in his current state. He’s almost finished writing everything down — next he’ll pull out his highlighters to color code everything — when Sirius speaks.
“Sex?”
He uncaps the yellow highlighter. “Yup.”
“As in…sex sex?”
“Yes, Sirius.”
“As in—“
“As in I fuck him in the ass, yes,” Remus puts the cap back on and grabs the green highlighter. He ignores the way Sirius has begun choking on his spit. “Don’t be such a cunt, Sirius.”
“No, no, I'm not, I just…” Sirius is biting his lip, the right side not the left, which means he's trying really hard to think before he speaks. “Why not him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean, like, why isn't he…?”
Remus breaths harshly out of his nose. “Why isn't he the one fucking me in the ass? I mean, he might. But I think I'd like fucking him better, in all honesty.”
Another pause ensues, only broken by Sirius’ dramatic huff.
“And why is that?”
The way Sirius says it is enough for Remus to stop his attempt at filling his planner for the week; his voice is sharp. It’s rather unkind, and it makes Remus’ brows furrow. “Why do you sound so upset?”
“I'm not upset,” Sirius says, clearly upset, leaning back in his chair, letting his eyes wonder. “I just don't understand why you have to fuck him.”
“Because I want to?”
“But…why?”
“I don't know, Sirius, why do you fuck girls? There's plenty of ways for them to fuck you.”
“Who says they don't?” Sirius retorts, his smirk cocky and mean.
It's very difficult for Remus to sort out if this new tid bit of information makes him incredibly sad or incredibly horny. On the one hand, Sirius apparently likes being fucked. On the other hand, it's just another thing to add to the list of intimacy that Sirius does with people who aren't him. People he can never be, but will die wanting to.
Remus knows his cheeks are red, can feel the heat of them and how it spreads the moment he becomes aware. He rests his elbows on the table and his head in his hands in an attempt to hide his slip up. He's wearing short sleeves today, is feeling brave, knows if he were to ask, Sirius would pull out a pen and draw pretty pictures across his scars.
“Anyways,” Remus scrunches his nose, “We're getting off topic. There's a reason I'm telling you this, and it's because I would really appreciate your help on the matter.”
Sirius' eyes widen to such an extreme degree Remus might laugh, if not for the fact Sirius Black is blushing. Heres the thing: his cheeks turned a pretty pink for only two reasons, and those two reasons are if he's drinking or if he's shy. Shy was not often a word accompanied with Sirius — it’s practically unheard of — and Remus wants to devour the moment out of fear that savoring would make it go away.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Black. I need your advice.”
Sirius shifts in his seat and takes a drink from his orange water bottle. Orange is Remus' favorite color. “And why might you need my advice?”
“Well, I don't know. You’re my best friend, and when Jack brought it up, my first thought was that I wanted to talk to you.”
“Your boyfriend asked if you wanted to have sex and your first thought was talking to me?” and just like that, he’s back to being cocky.
Maybe Remus should've gone to James about this, seeing as he's Remus' best friend and he's also gay. Now that Remus thinks about it more, he's realizing that maybe he made a mistake.
“Moony?” Sirius interrupts Remus from his overthinking. “I'm sorry. Do you, like, wanna ask me questions? I wanna help, if I can. Will you let me help? I'm sorry.”
A secret thing about Sirius that Remus has learned over the years is that Sirius is quick to act like a puppy with its tail between its legs. When he feels like he's let someone down, most often when it’s Remus, he looks like a dog that's just been shouted at for eating dinner off the table. It's a crack in the Sirius Black persona he has worked so hard on curating, and every time Remus gets to see it, he loves him a little bit more.
“It's okay, Sirius,” Remus reassures him, because it’s what he always does. “I just have some questions and you're…well you're the only one I feel comfortable enough asking.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Pads. I always feel safest with you, you know that.”
And just like that, Sirius goes from pitiful puppy in the corner to a puppy first discovering the simple joys of chasing after a tennis ball. His eyes sparkle, his dimples show. “Lay it on me, Moonpie.”
“I guess we'll start with the basics. Um. Okay. So, like, how did you know you were ready?”
“In all honesty, Moony, I don't think there was a designated time when I knew,” Sirius takes another sip of water and sets the bottle back on the table, ice clinking against the metal. “She asked if it was what I wanted, and I knew right away that it was. I wasn't planning on losing my virginity that night or even to that person, but when it was brought up, well, I just knew.”
“You talked about it beforehand?”
“Not really,” Sirius shrugs. “It was only a one time thing, we both knew it, and I got lucky and had someone who was a friend before anything else to do it with.”
Emmeline Vance had taken Sirius' virginity one fateful night when he had begun exploring the potential of a high school party. They've gone to school with Emmeline for years, had even hung out with her and her friends outside of school on more than one occasion, and Sirius would always get a hard on if he stared at her chest for too long. He doesn't like talking about it much, says it was awkward and humiliating, but Remus always likes when he brings it up. It reminds Remus that Sirius is human, just like he is.
Reminds him how far they’ve come.
“Have you and Jack not talked about it before now?”
Remus fiddles with his highlighter as he slowly shakes his head side to side. It makes Sirius frown.
“He knows this would be your first time, right?”
“Right.”
Sirius' frown deepens. “Shouldn't he talk to you about it first? He sure does love talking.”
It's a jab at Jack and Remus knows it, so he scowls and quickly moves on. “Well he basically said we don't really need to talk about it. Like, if we've already done everything else, then this isn't all that different.”
Sirius freezes. “What?”
Remus realizes his mistake too late.
The one time that Remus had told Sirius about things with Jack going further than just making out was a little over a month ago. When Remus was telling him and James about how he wanted to take the next step with Jack, how the awkward dry humping was no longer enough and he wanted more, Sirius didn't talk to him for three days. James had suggested, spotting how close Remus was to a breakdown, that perhaps he should save these details for James instead of Sirius.
He hadn't understood why he couldn't tell his best friend about his personal life when all Sirius did was talk about the girls he fucked, but he wasn't willing to be stubborn about it if it meant Sirius would talk to him again. And although James' offer was very kind, Remus had only ever been comfortable enough talking about things as private as intimacy with Sirius.
The thing is, though, is that Sirius hadn't seemed to mind all the sex talk only minutes ago, had been quick to reign in his judgment of Jack in order to help Remus. So what is it about this specific act of touch that so easily and quickly made Sirius shut down?
Remus tries to continue being brave. “Why are you upset again?”
“I'm not. I just—”
“Sirius.”
“Why didn't you tell me that he's touched you?”
It's a weird way to word it, Remus can admit that, and he can also feel himself getting frustrated at a rapid rate. It’s like steam is coming out of his ears, like if he stomped his feet really hard the Earth might just shake.
“You can be a real hypocrite sometimes, you know that?” Remus is starting to pack his book bag with more force than probably necessary. He’s decided he would much rather be anywhere else but here, even if he's a little sad he didn't get to finish filling his planner; James had just given him some new stickers for it, the kind that sparkle under certain light. “All you do is talk about all the girls you're with, how you touch them, how they touch you, and I listen to it, I don't ever fuss. I've listened to you talk about mouths and tits and— and other body parts for years, about how fucking good it all feels, but the second I bring it up, you throw an honest to god tantrum. It makes me feel like shit, Pads, like I'm making you uncomfortable, like I'm allowed to talk to you about anything as long as it's not everything.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sirius stands up, hands stretched out like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Moony, Moons, I'm not uncomfortable—”
“You said you wanted to help.”
“I do!”
“So then fucking help, Sirius!”
One of the reasons they love this table so much is because no one ever comes here. Not only is it quiet for when they do homework or study, but it also allows for moments like this, moments that are common between the two of them, when their voices raise and their passion boils over the pot, sizzling when it lands on the stove.
Remus takes a deep breath. He loves when they bicker, when they fight and he can see with his own eyes how deeply Sirius cares for him, but sometimes it just leaves him feeling stupid and childish. Sometimes he wishes, when talking about something simple or important, they weren't so quick to blow things up.
Remus no longer feels like talking about this, at least not right now. He wants Sirius' help, craves it, but it feels like they've gotten to that certain place where it'll be hard to get back to the calm they had before. With a dramatic sigh through his nose and a glance at Sirius who's chewing the inside of his cheek and twisting his fingers, Remus knows what's needed.
He sits down forcefully and grabs a ballpoint pen from his bag before he stretches his arms across the table, towards Sirius. Like most things, Remus doesn't need to use words, because Sirius just knows.
It's a pause, not an ending. He’s waving his white flag. They both know it, are both grateful for the easy acceptance, of the forgiveness of the regret they've planted.
Sirius effortlessly gives Remus his favorite smile, sits back down in his own chair and leans across the table, taking the gifted pen and begins to draw. He softly rubs his thumb across the scar on the inside of Remus' right wrist, leaving behind burning lines of black across the skin Remus offers to him. It's the scar Remus hates most, the one that holds the biggest secret, and so it is the scar that Sirius always treats the kindest.
He’s the only one allowed to touch Remus in this way.
As Sirius continues making his creation, Remus' mind drifts. If Sirius were to ask Remus right then and there to lay him on the floor, to touch him in a way that would be new to the both of them, Remus wouldn't have any doubts in what his answer would be.
He would just know.
★..-..-★-..-..★
One Week Later
Sirius isn’t talking to him. Again.
It’s not the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last, but it still hurts Remus like a physical wound. If Remus were to be shot in the leg and left alone not to die but to suffer, it would surely feel like this.
Remus had told James and Sirius two nights ago while they were high off a shared joint that he’s going to tell Jack yes. That he wants to and is going to have sex with Jack on his birthday, which is exactly one week away. James had cheered and kissed his cheek, patted his back a little too hard, and Sirius had suddenly claimed to be tired, had gone to bed without saying goodnight.
That was two days ago. Remus’ birthday is officially five days away and Sirius won’t talk to him.
In five days Remus will officially be eighteen — eighteen — and he has yet to talk to Jack about his proposal. Jack has brought it up at least twice at this point, and each and every time Remus has made an excuse or quickly changed the subject. He’s trying not to overthink it. He’s without a doubt overthinking it.
It’s Friday night, and since Sirius broke things off with Mary and hasn’t been with anyone since, the party is at Regulus’ friend’s house. Remus (who had been invited to tag along by James, not Sirius) had only agreed to attend because he has a very important, extremely brilliant plan. He also had always liked Barty, Regulus’ friend. When they first met he had compared the scar on his back from his scoliosis surgery to Remus and his arms, making Remus feel welcome and safe with the simple action of well meaning stupidity. Remus had had to try very hard not to cry.
Barty and his partner Evan had to babysit Remus the first night he got drunk because Sirius had disappeared upstairs with some girl and James and Regulus had left early. At first Remus was embarrassed beyond repair, but shortly after he realized it was this very interaction that had made them go from knowing each other because they all knew Regulus to knowing each other because they were friends.
There was also the tiny detail, due to Remus being under the influence, that Barty and Evan were fully aware of how Remus felt about Sirius.
Remus is wearing the shirt he knows Sirius likes, the oversized and well loved Talking Heads t-shirt that has a habit of falling off his shoulder. He doesn’t know why Sirius likes it so much, he just knows that when he mentioned throwing it away, Sirius had threatened the life of his unborn child.
He likes feeling Sirius’ eyes on him when he wasn’t looking, which he did whenever Remus wore this shirt. There was no room to complain, really.
They’re all in the kitchen of a house full of people but they’ve made a space just for them. The music is loud, annoying and electronic, and everyone is already at least two drinks in.
James is making The James Drink Deluxe for himself and Regulus, Evan is on the counter with Barty between their legs, and Remus stands next to Barty, sipping on his drink that Sirius made for him. The culprit of the fruity drink that's making Remus’ tongue extra red, his teeth pink, stands on the side of Remus not occupied by Barty. He’s wearing an old shirt with the sleeves cut off, his bicep pressed against Remus’, and every now and then a breath is enough movement to cause Remus’ sleeve to rise so that their skin can touch directly.
Remus knows he’s looking at him, because Remus is doomed to always know when he has Sirius’ attention, and Remus wants to talk to him so badly he could scream. He decides to play it safe, so instead of using words, Remus snaps his head to the side to catch the other boy in the act.
He has fast reflexes, can catch anything you throw at him no matter what it may be, but alcohol makes things a little slower, and Sirius is not immune. Remus witnesses Sirius looking at his lips before his eyes snap up, glazed and real pretty, quick to respond but not quick enough to get away with it.
Sirius bites his lip, uses his beauty to his advantage as he tries to look innocent, but his cheeks are red like a sunburn and Remus knows it’s not just from the drinks.
“Hi, Moony,” Sirius says softly, finally breaking his silent streak in the blink of an eye, pushing his long dark hair behind his ear. It’s longer than Jack’s. “I like your shirt,” he says. “Do you like your drink?”
When Sirius pushes his hair behind his ears, he puts his golden hoops on display, two in each lobe. If Remus drinks enough, and if Sirius does too, Remus knows Sirius will let him tug on them.
Sirius always gets flirtier when he drinks and Remus always gets bolder. That’s why Sirius is currently looking at Remus with a body that’s unable to stay still, and that’s why Remus won’t adjust his shirt so that it covers his shoulder from the spot where it’s slipped.
Remus misses being the one on the receiving end of this version of Sirius. It’s probably been close to a year since he did it last, and Remus wants to retaliate by pretending he doesn’t like his drink to see if it’ll make Sirius squirm.
He doesn’t get the chance.
“Where’s Jack?” Barty is yelling in his ear, in that way he does when he’s trying to be quiet. Instead his voice is at a normal volume rather than a shout, and while Remus appreciates his attempt at subtlety, he also would very much like to hit him.
Sirius is no longer looking at Remus like he’s one of the seven wonders of the world. His scowl has returned, and his jaw has gone tight. Remus sighs in tired defeat.
“He caught his sisters cold,” Remus tells Barty, turning to face him. “He wasn’t feeling up to it. I was supposed to tell you he said hi, so. Jack says hi.”
Evan leans their head on top of Barty’s to join in on the conversation. “That poor thing,” they pout. “Hopefully he has a speedy recovery.”
“Eh, it’s just a cold. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Well thank God for that,” Barty exclaims, because he’s no longer trying to be quiet now that Evan has joined in, his voice practically dominating the crowded room. “Having a cold is the worst thing in the world while fucking, I’ll tell you that much, my friend.”
“Oh, yeah,” Evan nods in agreement, ignoring the look of horror that is no doubt encompassing Remus’ face. “Can you imagine sneezing on Jack, mucus still yellow from the cold, while he’s spread out on the bed and you’re finally putting your fingers up-“
The commotion of Sirius slamming his drink on the counter, the crunch of the cup and the eruption of red on top of white marble, is enough to cut Evan off before they have the chance to finish their sentence. Barty and Evan had never been known to have a filter which was in all honesty rather refreshing, but sometimes moments like this would happen and it would quickly become rather rotten.
There’s an awkward pause.
“Sirius?” James cautiously asks, his arm snug around a frowning Regulus. “You okay—“
“I’m fine,” Sirius seethes, clearly not fine. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.” He turns on his heel and stomps out of the kitchen, his exit quick, and he goes left instead of right, where they all know the bathroom is located.
James puts down his James Drink Deluxe, concern on his face as his eyes find Remus. “What happened?”
Remus holds up a finger to James — hang on for one moment, please — and punches Barty as hard as he can in the arm, then does the same to Evan, except slightly softer. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Um. Ow?” Barty rubs his arm, face twisted in confusion. Evan leans over so that they can rub Barty’s arm while simultaneously rubbing their own. “What was that for?”
“What was that for? Really, Barty? He’s finally talking to me after three days and you decided to open your big fucking mouth, ruining everything!”
“Well, I mean, I think my mouth is pretty average—“
“Barty.”
“Okay, okay!” Barty holds his hands up in surrender. “Look. I’m sorry if I said something to upset you, or Sirius, but I honestly don’t understand why what I said that was so bad.”
“Barty— or, actually, it was Evan, but I know the influence you have on them so it doesn’t matter— no, do not give me that look, Crouch, you know I’m right— stop looking at me like that or so help me God I will punch you in far worse places!” Remus gives himself a quick moment to catch his breath and scowls at Barty. “You were talking about me sneezing all over my boyfriend while I— while I— while I finger him, for fucks same!”
Barty looks at Evan with a raised brow, then to James and Regulus, then back to Remus. “Okaaay…Does he have a sensitive stomach or something…?”
“What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Okay, sorry, jeez,” Barty huffs, leaning back into Evan. “Is he, like, one of those people who gets really scared of getting sick?”
“Hypochondriac?” James supplies.
“Yes!” Barty points at James with a smile. “That!”
Remus drops his head in his hands and lets out a groan that makes his insides vibrate. “No, Barty, it’s—“
“It’s because every time Jack is around and every time Remus talks about Jack, especially anything to do with sex, Sirius does something idiotic and entirely too dramatic like we all just saw,” Regulus provides. “He can’t stand Jack, he can’t stand the thought of him with Remus let alone in any sort of intimate way. So, instead of expressing that and using his words that we all know he has, he does this. Throws a tantrum. Goes silent. Breaks a finger. It’s getting rather annoying, if I’m being honest,” he takes a sip from his James Drink Deluxe, licks his lips, making sure to look everyone in the eye. “Which, to clarify, I always am. Lying is so utterly boring, if you ask me. Been there, done that, blah, blah, blah.” Regulus takes another sip from his cup, then pulls it away and holds it upside down, as if to provide proof that it’s empty. He hands it to James. “One more, please. And this time make it two lime wedges, not one. I wanna really taste that zing.”
Suddenly the music feels too loud and the bodies too close. Evan and Barty are giggling like they’ve finalized their plan to take over the world, James is making Regulus another drink while they murmur back and forth, bodies pressed together, and Remus has decided he would like to go home now. No one seems to have been assaulted by Regulus’ burst of words quite like Remus, and he’s pretty sure his ears have started to ring and not because of the volume of the room.
Everyone is so immersed in their own worlds that Remus would feel stupid interrupting it to announce that yes, yes he knows the party just started but he’s quite sad right now, he’s very tired, and he needs to take his Lithium before he gets too drunk and forgets.
Remus sends a message in the group chat, the one with Sirius and James, Barty and Evan. James will just pass the message along to Regulus, who never checks his phone.
Remus: getting lyft and heading home
Remus: sleepy & need to take meds
Remus: night night be safe pls <3
He isn’t expecting a response and he doesn’t get one. He orders his Lyft and walks to the front door, the app telling him that his driver will be arriving in two minutes.
It’s a mistake to scan the room one last time before he leaves, he knows this he really does, but he is weak and sad and confused and sometimes he can’t help but wonder if his life would’ve been easier without Sirius in it.
He knows it wouldn’t be, knows he probably wouldn’t be alive if not for Sirius, but when Sirius makes him feel like this, like he’s drowning and no one has their hand outstretched to help him, the current pulling him so deep he’s surrounded by a cold blackness, well. Remus really, really hates him.
Sirius is on the staircase, his hand in some stupid red heads hair, her hand gripping the back of his shirt and palming the front of his jeans. Sirius has never known the abusive relationship between a human and embarrassment and Remus hates him even more for it.
Remus knows what happens next. He doesn’t want to see, so he walks outside and waits for the Lyft at the end of the walkway instead.
He has to ice his wrist when he finally makes it home with a bag of frozen peas. The force of his push and the angle of his hand did something to Remus’ wrist in his haste to escape, leaving him in a sorry state.
With a mug covered in frogs filled to the top with pulpy orange juice and his favorite silly straw, Remus eventually makes it safely to his room. His movements are robotic as he takes his meds, strips to his boxers and takes a piss. The peas are wrapped in a towel so he doesn’t wake up to a puddle beside his bed in the morning and his oj has been gulped down, which means he can turn off his lamp. He keeps his phone on his bedside table with the screen facing down so not as to tempt him.
He dreams of staircases, sticky skin, lime wedges, and hands in sandy hair, not red.
★..-..-★-..-..★
Three Years Before
Remus had just finished a week of outpatient after a month of inpatient, and it was his first day back at school. He was wearing his favorite wool sweater and jeans despite the heat, and James would be waiting for him by the entrance so he didn’t have to walk in alone.
They were both fifteen years old, except James turned sixteen soon. Prior to Remus’ temporary departure, Sirius had just turned sixteen, the oldest of the group and proud.
Sirius was two weeks away from sixteen when Emmeline Vance took his virginity one fateful, horrible evening. It had unleashed an inner beast that Remus had not known lived within him, resulting in Remus feeling nauseous every time Sirius was around. What started out as a fascination quickly turned into an unhealthy, increasingly obsessive habit, and Remus missed the safety Sirius previously provided. Missed the easiness he often struggled to find in anyone else but the best friend he loved in ways he shouldn’t.
Remus had requested James be the only one to meet him out front today, and he simply refused to feel bad about it. He most definitely did not lose any sleep over it the previous night, and he was most definitely not doing this because he was scared of seeing Sirius again after how they last left things.
Remus had just completed a month of intensive therapy, thank you very much, and he was all about putting himself first. His therapist would be proud.
James was waiting for Remus where he had promised to meet him. He was wearing a red polo shirt, khaki shorts, dirty white converse, and his signature sunshine smile. He looked obnoxious, handsome and familiar, and Remus didn’t realize just how much he missed his friend until he was in the safe embrace of his strong arms.
They were walking down the hallway not even three minutes later when James finally broke. “Have you talked to him?” he asked.
“Really? That’s the first thing you want to ask me?”
“What else would I ask?”
Remus gave James a knowing look. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about that,” James shrugged.
“But you assumed I’d want to talk about Sirius?”
“Not necessarily,” James replied, thoughtfully. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s off limits in a casual way that’s clearly not working.”
“Is this how it’s going to be now? I’m not some invalid, James,” Remus stopped walking. “I’m not going to rush home and try to kill myself again if you bring up topics you would’ve brought up without second thought before I left, got it?”
James was silent; the corners of his mouth were pulled down in a very out of character frown. Remus crossed his arms. “Well, go on, spit it out.”
“You really fucking scared us, Remus,” James said, his voice rather quiet. “You don’t know what it was like, okay?”
Remus scoffed. “Oh, cmon—”
“No, listen to me, alright? You need to hear this,” James lightly held Remus’ elbow and pulled him into an empty study room. He leaned against the door after closing it. “I’m not trying to treat you like a fucking invalid, I’m just trying really hard to find the balance between supportive best friend and whoever I was while you were gone. Do you know that it took twenty four hours for us to find out whether or not you were alive? All your mom told us was what happened, but she didn’t say a single thing about the outcome until an entire day passed. Twenty four hours with the knowledge that I potentially might never see my best friend, my brother, my fucking person, ever again.”
“James—”
“And I’m not saying all of this to make you feel guilty, I’m not saying all of this to act as if it was harder for me than it was for you, I’m saying all of this because I want you to understand that I might mess up every now and then, that I know you like to use humor to cope with whatever shit you have going on but that I’m not quite ready to fully embrace jokes about you killing yourself. Okay?” James slowly wiped a hand over his mouth, then stared at Remus with what felt like defeat. “I’m also saying all of this and asking what I’m asking so that when you finally talk to Sirius — which I swear to God better be soon, Remus — you promise you’ll keep those jokes to yourself.”
Remus glanced at the clock on the wall, then sat on top of a desk once he saw there was still ten minutes until the first period bell rang. He shuffled around, avoided James’ eyes for a bit longer, folded his hands in his lap and wiggled his nose like it itched. “Why?”
“Because,” James sighed, sitting next to Remus, close enough so that their shoulders touched. “When we found out you were okay— well, as okay as you could be, Sirius…I mean…” James took a deep breath in, blowing it out through his mouth like a sigh. “He locked himself in his room and refused to come out. I still don’t know what he was doing in there, but when I told him you were okay, that you were alive, he finally opened his door.”
Remus stayed quiet.
“His room was destroyed,” James continued. “Things thrown everywhere, anything that was breakable was broken, the glow in the dark stars and moon on the ceiling were in the trash, his dresser was leaning to the side and his clothes were all over the floor, his sheets were ripped and hidden under his bed, and when the light from the hall hit him, I noticed there was…well, there were splotches of blood in his hair, right where it met the skin of his scalp.”
James paused to eye Remus who gave him a curt nod, encouraging him to continue. James nodded in return, and did just that.
“He’d torn out his hair, Moony. He collapsed and I caught him. He cried until his eyes stopped providing him tears and took to mumbling under his breath like he was possessed, and I held him until he was quiet once more. A week later he spoke a full sentence for the first time, and it was to ask if mom and I would help him shave it all off. He finally showered the following day. His hair’s still short, but it’s better now because it’s no longer obvious where the hair was pulled. He still wears a lot of hats, though. He even has a special note from his doctor saying he’s allowed to wear them during class.”
The room was so quiet that the ticking of the clock sounded like a violent drum. They had five minutes until class started. Remus began to question, not for the first time, if maybe it had been too soon to return to school.
James playfully nudged Remus’ tense shoulder. “And don’t tell him I said this,” he teased. Remus really hated when he did this. “But let me tell you,” a sad shake of his head, “He cannot pull off a buzz cut.”
Remus knew he was trying to lighten the mood because that was just what James did — lovely, kind, strong armed James — but that felt like a rather impossible task right now, and Remus couldn’t help but feel coddled. Frustrated. Perhaps a bit heartbroken. “Why?” he asked, again, because he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.
“Well, it turns out he’s got a really weird shaped head—”
“James.”
He sighed, tugged on one of Remus’ curls as a poor attempt at stalling, then looked at his friend with a sad smile. “I really hate that you have to ask that.”
Remus had met Sirius when they were both twelve. It had been a week after he took a razor to his skin for the first time, and two days since James had returned from summer camp. James introduced them, and Remus had hated Sirius with an intensity he had not known he was able to feel.
The first thing Sirius said to Remus came in the form of a question. He lifted his arm, his finger pointed, and he asked with a slight lisp, “What happened to your arm?”
The first thing Remus said to Sirius came in the form of a question, too. When Sirius had lifted his arm to point at Remus’ healing flesh, the sleeve of his t-shirt had risen up his bicep, revealing bruises in the very obvious shape of finger prints. With a meanness that wasn’t in Sirius’ voice, Remus had retorted, “What happened to yours?”
It only took another week for the previously felt hatred to turn into an overwhelming devotion. It was hard to not adore Sirius Black, but Remus always felt like it was hardest for him, seeing as he had to endure the torture of being in love before he had fully hit puberty.
James was his best friend. Sirius was always something more.
They confined in each other with secrets they didn’t dare share with anyone else. James often joked they had a shared language, that they didn’t need words because they always knew what the other was thinking, whether that be from facial expressions or body language or, more times than not, from simple intuition.
The bell woke Remus from the memory before he could ask James what he meant by I really hate that you have to ask that. It didn’t bother him too much, though, because he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. James had figured him out from the moment Sirius had pointed to his shame and deemed him worthy of his attention.
“You have math first, right?” James asked, hopping down from the desk and straightening out his khakis.
“I do.”
“And then—“
“—history, yes.”
James stopped trying to fix his already perfect clothes to meet Remus’ eye. They really ought to be heading to class, but Remus felt there was no harm in giving James whatever sort of comfort he may need in the moment, even if it felt silly and rather small. He owed him that much.
“I’ll wait for you outside the room so we can walk to lunch together, okay?”
“Okay.”
They started walking towards the door. James opened it, stopped, and pulled Remus into a hug that bordered on embarrassing. Remus hugged him back. “I love you so much, Moony. I love you so, so fucking much.”
Remus nodded in response.
“You’ll be okay?”
Remus inhaled the smell of his apple scented dandruff shampoo before pulling back. He tried to smile in a way that would put the other boy at ease, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis. “I’ll be okay,” he reassured, and he really thought he meant it, too.
He got a lot of questions throughout the day. Lots of where were you’s, is everything okay’s, were you sick’s, what happened’s. Remus did his best to answer them without giving himself away.
For lunch he ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and James shared his salt and vinegar chips. Sirius had respected his wishes and kept away. If he were here, he’d probably let Remus have his cookie.
His last class of the day was biology, and they apparently had assigned seats now, something that wasn’t a thing before he left. It wasn’t as surprising as it should be that Sirius was in the seat next to the one where the teacher told him to sit. He was wearing an orange beanie — Remus’ favorite color — and Remus briefly considered telling Mrs. McGonagall that he needed to go to the nurse immediately because he was pretty sure he was going to start throwing up.
Sirius still smelled like axe body spray and clean laundry, and Remus wasn’t sure why he thought it would be any different. Maybe because a month away from the other felt like decades, and maybe because he made the horrible mistake of forgetting how something as simple as a scent could feel better than a blanket fresh from the dryer.
He also still picked at his hangnails when he was nervous, which he was doing when Remus plopped down in the squeaky chair that was apparently his, shoving his backpack under the table before scooting in. For the first time since he was twelve, Remus wasn’t all that sure as to what he should say; wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all.
The last time the two of them shared words was only a few days before Remus’ mother found him on the floor unconscious, an empty bottle of pills beside him and his right wrist slit open. They had fought in a way that was very different from the other times they had argued.
Remus had overheard at lunch that Sirius had finally lost his virginity to the girl he’d been drooling over for weeks. He had kept himself together rather impressively, but the moment his head had hit his pillow that night, he sobbed until he gagged. His sorrow quickly turned to a full body numbness, and James had been quick to connect the dots. James, who loved Sirius like a brother, didn’t do a very good job at keeping said connected dots to himself.
When Sirius had confronted Remus after school about the way he was acting, he was vibrating with the type of anger that he usually reserved for his parents. Sirius accused him of being a bad friend, told him that he was being weird, that anyone normal would’ve asked for details or at the very least given him a congratulatory fist bump rather then going silent. Remus had tried his best to protect himself, tried to stay quiet and obedient, but ended up vibrating with an anger he usually reserved for himself.
Sirius did most of the talking. Remus tried to pretend he was upset because Sirius hadn’t told him first. Sirius saw right through him because that’s how it was between them; sharing secrets meant it was awfully hard to get away with lies.
Remus thought that Sirius was only getting more frustrated because Remus wasn’t giving him the reaction he wanted. Growing up in an abusive household meant it was difficult for Sirius to seperate love from pain, and he often fell into the habit of pushing people too far in order to find out if the love that tore him apart was reciprocated.
“Just because people don’t get grossed out when I take off my shirt doesn’t mean you get to make me feel bad about it,” he’d said.
And he’d said a lot of things that day, but that one was the one that had hurt.
In his defense, Sirius had no way of knowing that that would be Remus’ tipping point. He of course knew it would hurt, that’s what he was going for, but he couldn’t have known the real weight of his words because Sirius didn’t often think when he was like this.
The moment Remus had watched his face crumple in realization, however, had encouraged Remus to punch him square in the face. He walked away after, just spun around on his heel, hand clutched to his chest, before he could make sure Sirius was okay. For the first time in his life, Remus hadn’t felt like making sure Sirius was okay was a priority.
Fast forward a month and one week later, he was glad to know, based off of what he can see of Sirius’ side profile once the teacher begins speaking, is that he hadn’t broken his nose. He’d worried that might be the case those first few days after he’d been admitted, and he had learned in therapy that it was important to celebrate the small victories, so he does his best to take the win.
Sirius was still picking at his hangnails. Usually Remus stopped him by gently placing his hand over the fidgeting fingers. It hadn’t felt like the best idea to do that right then, but the urge was still there.
This was how it had gone, those first few days back. Sirius stayed true to his word, James tried to act like the separation between their trio wasn’t killing him, and Remus did his best at pretending Sirius Black hadn’t always been his soft spot, his achilles heel.
He’d returned on Monday. He only made it to Thursday.
The bell had rung, signaling the end of the day, and Mrs. McGonagall had dismissed them with a reminder that their papers were due next week. Almost everyone was out of the classroom except for a few stragglers, including Sirius and Remus. Remus had realized early on that Sirius was packing up slowly on purpose to allow for Remus to have an easy out. Usually Remus greedily accepted it. He couldn’t do it today.
“Sirius?” he asked gently, holding onto the other boys sweatshirt sleeve with his thumb and pinky, trying to hold him in place in a way that wouldn’t draw attention.
Sirius’ head had whipped around to look at Remus like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. Remus had missed the feeling of having Sirius’ eyes on him. He’d felt as if he might cry. “Yeah?”
“Can we go to the park?”
Usually Remus would say can we go to our park, rather than the park, because that’s what it was; theirs.
It wasn’t really even a park. It was just a patch of grass on a hill by Sirius’ house with a weeping willow tree. Sirius had discovered it one night when being at home was too much and wondering around the streets was safest, and the only person he ever deemed worthy of sharing it with had been Remus. Even James hadn’t known about it.
Perhaps it was unkind of Remus to pretend as if there was nothing special about the suggested location, but things still felt too awkward between them to introduce any of the closeness from before. This was hard enough as is.
“Together?” Sirius clarified, and Remus decided that he was indeed being unkind, finding himself unable to recall a time when his friend looked so unsure of himself, so small, so fragile, like if someone breathed on him he’d be at risk of falling over.
“If that’s alright with you.”
Sirius smiled, soft and cautious, and Remus had felt it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “Yeah, Moons,” he said, eyes briefly glancing at where Remus still unknowingly held onto him. “That’s alright with me.”
When they arrived to their park, they sat beneath the willow tree like they always did, leaning their backs against the thick trunk. The ground was a bit damp — it had rained the night before — and when they stood up they were sure to have wet stains on their butts. Neither of them mentioned it, though. Neither of them really cared all that much.
At first no one said anything. Remus knew if he were to glance at Sirius’ hands he’d be pulling at his nail beds until he started to draw blood. The urge to reach out still remained. It was likely it always would.
It didn’t feel fair, but Remus knew it had to be him to speak first. Not only was it his idea to come here, but he also knew that Sirius wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries given the state the two of them were still in.
“Can I see your hair?” is what he’d come up with.
Can I see your hair? Remus cringed the moment the words left his mouth. He was about to apologize or redirect, but Sirius pulled off his orange beanie before he could utter anything else.
James was right; it looked like a plain, simple grown out buzz cut, no signs of the truth behind it. James was also wrong, however, and Remus would be speaking to him about that later.
Sirius looked utterly beautiful. Remus was trying his hardest not to give into the siren song that was Sirius, but it was a rather difficult task when his lips seemed to be betraying him. Sirius wouldn’t meet his eyes. Remus reached out and rubbed his hand over the soft black fuzz, petting his friends hair like he would a dog.
“I like it,” he smiled, inevitably giving in. “I miss the long hair, but this suits you too. Rather annoying, innit?”
“What is?”
“That even bald you still look handsome.”
It was a rather bold thing for Remus to say, to call Sirius handsome when there was so much more meaning to the words than Sirius realized, but Remus found himself not caring all that much. Especially when his words made the other boy blush.
“You think so?” he asked shyly.
“Yeah, Pads,” Remus replied softly. “I do.”
“James says I have a weird shaped head.”
Remus laughed. “Yeah, well, we both know James is an idiot.”
They smiled at each other. The string that always kept them together — attached to their hearts, sometimes their pinkies — began to loosen. It’d been so horribly taut for so long, but it was as if they now held the invisible string in their hands and they’d taken steps closer to one another, so the string was no longer at risk of breaking.
Maybe that was why Remus launched forward once he’d had enough of the brief silence, maybe that was why Sirius somehow saw it coming and caught him, maybe that was why they held each other with a fierceness that only so few ever got to experience. Who’s to say?
“I was so scared, Moons,” Sirius whispered, holding Remus tighter. “I thought it was all my fault.”
Remus shook his head, voice coming out muffled due to the way he pressed his face into Sirius’ neck. “No, no, it wasn’t your fault at all. Sure, it didn’t help—”
Sirius squeezed him tighter, momentarily making it hard for Remus to breathe.
“—but,” he continued once he’d adjusted. “What happened was nobody’s fault but my own. It had been getting bad for awhile, and I’ve been known in the past at not being the best at asking for help when needed. Incase you were unaware.”
Sirius let out a wet laugh. Remus found it hard to swallow with the revelation that his best friend, the one who he’d only ever seen cry just once, was doing just that. Remus heard him sniffle, felt salty tears stick to his forehead like watered down sweat. He knew better than to draw attention to it.
“I really missed you, Sirius,” Remus whispered. “I learned a lot of things while I was away, and one of them was that I don’t really care much for not having you around.”
“I learned something, too. While you were away,” Sirius whispered in return.
“Yeah? What was it?”
“I failed.”
Remus sighed. “Sirius—”
“I failed at the one thing I was trying my very hardest not to do, and that’s taking care of you. I didn’t take care of you, Moony, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t need you—”
“—to take care of you? I know that, Remus,” Sirius pulled back slightly so he could look Remus in the eye. His own were red, puffy, and wet. “I know you don’t need me to take care of you, okay, I know. But that’s what we do, isn’t it? We take care of each other.”
“It’s not your fault, Sirius.”
“But I didn’t notice, Remus. I didn’t notice that it was getting bad again.”
Remus rubbed his hand over Sirius’ fuzzy head again, finding comfort in the motion like he did when he took deep breaths such as his therapist had taught him. “I’m gonna tell you something, okay? And I want you to promise me you’ll listen, and I don’t mean smile and nod and pretend you’re hearing what I’m saying, I mean that I need you to listen. Can you do that for me?”
He hesitated at first, but then Sirius nodded once.
“When someone is sick the way that I was, the way that I am, it gets really easy to convince everyone else that you’re fine. No one knew, Sirius. No one knew what was going on because I’ve perfected the art of seeming so okay that no one questions it. My therapist says it’s common, because, y’know, asking for help means there’s potential to bring others down with you. There’s potential that I feel like a burden — shut up, I’m not finished — or that I’m causing the ones I love most to live their lives in constant fear and by default constant sadness. I know what sadness is, and I know that if anyone has to go through it, I much rather it be me than my mom, or James, or you. It’s just how my brain works, yeah? I know what you’re going to say, you’re going to say I’m not a burden, that the people that love me would much rather I tell them what’s going on then keeping it to myself. And I completely agree.
“But my brain isn’t so easy to convince. Does that make sense? Like, I know that me being severely depressed and suicidal isn’t a burden on all of you, that if it was the other way around I would be livid at anyone who kept such things to themselves, but just because I understand that doesn’t mean my brain does. It’s like there’s me, and then there’s my brain. It’s like we’re seperate, and because we’re seperate, I ended up in the hospital. I’m working on it. I’m getting better. But I sadly can’t do anything about the fact that my brain is my brain, but what I can do is learn how to work with it. It’s not something that can be fixed, but it’s something that can get better.
“It’s no one's fault that I have the organs that I have. It would be nice if it was, God I wish there was something or someone to blame because then the solution would be so fucking easy, but that’s not the case. So instead I’m gonna do what Dr. Dumbledore keeps telling me, and I’m going to take things day by day, I’m going to do the best that I can do, and I’ll go from there. That’s all anyone can do, really.”
When Remus finally finished speaking, it wasn’t lost on him that he couldn’t remember a time in his life where he ever said so much in one sitting. He blinked slowly, like he was waking up from a long slumber he wasn’t aware he was taking in the first place. He felt a bit embarrassed. He did his best to look anywhere but at Sirius. No one said anything for quite some time. Then,
“Your therapist’s name is Dr. Dumbledore?”
And Remus loved him so much he wanted to peel off his skin and gnaw away at his exposed tendons and muscles, wanted to write poems and novels inspired by the feeling that consumed him, wanted to pet his fuzzy head and then pull him in for a kiss, only pulling away when they were on the verge of passing out because they’d gone too long without breathing.
Instead he smiled, let himself laugh, and then he pulled Sirius in once more, holding him in a way that felt like it might be impossible to ever let him go.
It helped that Sirius held him even tighter in return.
★..-..-★-..-..★
Present Day
Two days before his eighteenth birthday, Remus breaks up with Jack.
Jack cries, and Remus does, too, but not because he’s sad.
He’s uncomfortable because he doesn’t typically know what to do when people cry, and also because he’s frustrated with how he hates Sirius for making him be this person. Hates Sirius for his silence that feels never ending. Hates that he’s still thinking of Sirius, even now.
Sirius is supposed to be able to read Remus’ mind, that’s always how it’s worked. So why is he so unaware of what he’s doing to Remus? Can’t he see?
Jack asks if it’s because of Sirius, and Remus doesn’t answer.
Jack asks if Remus ever loved him, and Remus reminds Jack he’s never actually told him that he did.
Jack rips out a handful of grass and throws it in Remus’ face before he walks away for the final time, and Remus makes sure to close his eyes and mouth for safety upon impact.
Remus had thought that breaking up with Jack in a park, especially on a sunny day, would make the whole thing less horrible. Jack hadn’t seemed to agree.
It’s moments like this one when Remus just really, really needs Sirius. But Sirius isn’t talking to him.
If he needed Sirius, if he hit a certain point in a spiral, he knows Sirius would drop everything to be by his side, no matter what.
Remus, unlike Sirius, is very aware of the abusive relationship between a human and embarrassment, and that is why he decides the spiral isn’t bad enough to ask for help just yet.
He knows his limits. He’s fine.
★..-..-★-..-..★
The Next Day
Tomorrow Remus turns eighteen, and as it turns out, Remus is arguably not fine.
It’s very likely it has been building for longer than he realized, which would explain why it feels like the moment Remus opens his eyes the following morning, it’s to the cold embrace of an episode.
He can’t get out of bed, and he can’t leave his room. His mom leaves him snacks when she catches on to what’s happening, light things like crackers and toast, melon and cucumbers. She kisses him on the head, lightly suggests emailing Dr. Dumbledore, then goes to the bathroom and takes his razor. His phone buzzes, but he doesn’t look at it. When he’s not sleeping, he’s staring at the wall, the window with the curtain pulled, the inside of his duvet.
His bladder is full, but he can’t get out of bed and he’s so scared of what might happen if he doesn’t move soon. He tries to sleep, ends up with little success but dozes at some point, because when he wakes up, it’s to someone spooning him.
Cinnamon, mint leaves, and an aftertaste of clean laundry; Remus’ first thought is that sometimes he misses the axe body spray, but that’s a secret he prefers to keep to himself.
Remus freezes before he relaxes when he fully digests what’s happening, unable to stop his body from its natural response to Sirius. He hums in acknowledgment, more uncertain than anything else. “Hi, Padfoot,” he mumbles.
“Oh, Moony,” Sirius says with a shuddering breath, face pressed firmly into Remus’ back. He tightens his grip in response to Remus’ words, holding him impossibly closer. “I’m so scared you’re never going to forgive me. I did it again, didn’t I?”
Remus counts to fifty.
“Hey, Pads?” he finally asks, wondering if Sirius can hear the shake in his voice, if he knows it’s because of how fast his heart is beating.
Sirius sniffs. “Yeah?”
“Can you help me to the bathroom? I’ve been in bed all day, and I have my old man knees.”
Sirius pauses. Then, “Want me to sit on the other side of the door and sing a song so I can keep you company without you feeling uncomfortable over me hearing you pee?”
“Yes, please, but you can’t sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat this time. Okay?”
Sirius kisses the back of his neck. “Okay.”
It takes awhile to get Remus to the bathroom. His legs are confused from all the rest, and he keeps having to make stops to make sure he doesn’t wet himself. Sirius sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, leaving the door wide open, but sits just outside against the wall so Remus gets some form of privacy.
After, Sirius helps Remus back into bed and resumes his position as the big spoon. He’s under the covers with Remus, the warmth of his body a remedy in itself. Remus rubs his finger up and down Sirius’ index finger, the one he broke three months ago, with a whisper of a touch.
“Did my mom call you?” Remus finally asks.
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were safe, but you were sad, and that she thought I could help.”
Remus takes a steady breath. “And why is it that you’re scared I won’t forgive you?”
It takes a little bit of time for Sirius to respond, and Remus realizes it’s because he’s crying. There’s a wet patch where his face lays, still smushed against his back where it can so often be found. Remus doesn’t hesitate when he turns over to hold Sirius in his arms, and he welcomes the way in which Sirius holds him in return, like it’s the answer to everything.
Remus twirls his hair in the way he knows is guaranteed to help Sirius relax. He intertwines their feet and tries not to cringe over the fact Sirius isn’t wearing socks. He lets Sirius cry, and makes sure he feels safe while doing so.
“I made it impossible for you to tell me it was getting bad. Instead of not seeing it like the first time, I did something a million times worse and— and I don’t get why I still fall into these awful habits, Moony, but I can’t seem to shake them and I’m so fucking sorry,” Sirius says. “When your mom called and said you were safe but sad I got so scared, I was so scared because it’s been ages since she last called for something like this and I’ve been so awful, I’ve been so fucking awful, Moons.”
“Sirius—“
“I swear I like Jack, I don’t know why I always act the way I do when he’s involved and I know I’m not being fair because you’re always lovely to the girls I date because you’re just so lovely, Rem, you know that don’t you? And I’ve never been lovely to Jack but I’m gonna try, I’m gonna try for real this time because I don’t understand why it makes me so mad whenever he’s involved, but I’m gonna try, okay? You know how hard it is for me to not understand things, but Moony I swear, I—“
“I broke up with Jack yesterday, Sirius,” Remus tells him, interrupts him with a fragile voice and holds him closer. Maybe if he holds on tightly enough they'll meld like hot metal, the point in which they connect something a welder would take pride in.
It's endearing how the gasp Sirius gives results in a coughing fit. Remus rubs his back to try and help him get through it, biting his lip to fight what is likely the beginning of a smile.
“You did?” Sirius croaks once he's gotten ahold of himself.
“I didn't like how difficult it was to know if I was ready to have sex with him or not,” Remus says. “I wasn't in love with him, I don't think I was ever going to be. Don't get me wrong, the whole tongue piercing thing was amazing, but everything else…I didn't feel sad when I did it. If it was something that mattered, I think I would've been sad.”
And then Sirius makes a noise, a mix between a growl and the oink of a pig, and claims with alarming sternness, “Maybe I'll get a tongue piercing.”
Remus feels Sirius' body stiffen a split second after his, then Sirius starts knocking his head on Remus' chest. It's soft enough that it doesn't hurt but hard enough to make a statement, and it's accompanied by Sirius grumbling under his breath.
Remus tries to will his body to relax. “What was that?”
“I said: this is not how I wanted this to go,” Sirius groans, still banging his head.
Remus is confused. “I'm confused.”
Sirius nods his head in understanding, then pulls back slightly to meet Remus' eye. He brushes the hair off Remus' forehead, his face is calm and his smile soft. He lifts his hand to Remus' cheek, and his hand is steady, because he's not going slow out of fear. It feels as though he's going slow to make sure he'll never forget a single thing about this moment.
“Can I be honest?”
“Sure,” Remus says, leaning his head to fully rest upon Sirius' cupped hand.
“I've been talking with James.”
“Oh no.”
“You know how he can be, like, weirdly wise sometimes?”
“I do.”
“Well,” Sirius sighs. “This was one of those times.”
“In what way?”
“Oh, my Moony, my Moony, my darling Moony,” Sirius says fondly. “He said I should be honest. And I just want to clarify, I'm not trying to steal your thunder, this is your depression day and I'm only here to serve, but. Would it be alright if I told you something?”
Remus gulps, thinks he should see a doctor because there might just be a tornado in his stomach. “I suppose.”
Sirius wiggles around so that every part of their bodies that could possibly touch does. It's not out of the ordinary, Sirius is a very physically affectionate kind of guy, it's just usually he doesn't also caress Remus' cheek in the palm of his hand. Usually he doesn't look at Remus like that.
“I've been such a fool, Remus, and I'm so scared you'll never forgive me.”
“Sirius, I already told you—”
“Your favorite color is orange,” Sirius says. “You love orange juice that has pulp and you're weirdly fond of fun straws. You're favorite animal is a manatee, it has been since you were six, and you love smutty romance novels just as much if not more than you love the classics, the ones that you annotate with your favorite pens you can't be with out,” he tells Remus, leaning forward so their foreheads rest together. “You're the strongest person I know, you're brave and kind and sometimes you get angry and I know you hate it, so I'll love it for you. Also, I lied; I hate Jack, but only because he got to have what I’ve always wanted. He made it so that you weren’t just mine but his, too. I think it just about broke me, Moons.
“You always kill the spiders even though I know you hate them as much as I do, you taught me what trust was and I love how when you hug me you can rest your head perfectly on mine, like the spot where your jaw meets your neck was made just for me. You mouth the words whenever you read something you love or that you don't understand, you're patient to a fault and for some reason you’re always wiggling your toes. You're my best friend in the entire universe, and I've wasted so much time denying myself of the one thing I've always known deep down to be true. Forgive me, please, for I love you so dearly that I'm no longer capable of anything else. It'll always be you, and me, and us. It'll always be us, Moony, and I’m so very sorry that I was the last one to realize what that truly meant.”
Sirius swipes his thumb over Remus’ cheekbone, lets out a big enough breath that Remus feels it stick to his teeth. He whispers in that way that’s always been reserved for moments like this, for moments between just the two of them, “It’s you, and it’s me, and it’s us. Always.”
And, for a brief moment, the world stops in the most beautiful way.
Thirty seconds pass, then a minute, then two. Sirius' mouth awkwardly twists to the side, never one to be very good at sitting still or staying quiet for long.
Sirius puts his knee between Remus’, flexes his feet a few time and moves his mouth around like it’s taking everything in him to keep it shut. He lasts another minute. “Too much?” he blurts. “Was that too much? I feel like that was too much. Should I have, like, waited? Oh, God, I should’ve waited, right? Oh fuck, Remus—”
“Hey, Sirius?” Remus interrupts, rediscovering the ability of speech now that the world continues to move. He rests his hand over Sirius’, the one that still cups his cheek adoringly.
Sirius swallows. “Yeah, Moony?”
“If I forgive you for being the biggest dickhead to ever exist for coming to this realization only just now, will you forgive me for kissing you even though I haven't brushed my teeth in over twenty four hours?” Remus’ asks, voice playful and quiet. “I think your timing is perfect,” he whispers. “And I'll make you a deal.”
“A deal?” Sirius smiles, their lips close enough it feels like the universe is mocking them.
“For now, you kiss me. After my birthday, we talk. Deal?”
“Deal,” Sirius says so quickly it's out of his mouth before it's fully left Remus'. His eyes are blue like a cloudless sky, shining with excitement and anticipation.
They both lean into each other even more, impossibly close, taking their time because there's really no need to hurry. Not when they've already waited for so long.
At the first whisper of touch between their eager lips, Remus smiles, watching Sirius eyes close in preparation. He whispers, “Padfoot?”
“Hmmm?”
“I've loved you even before I knew you,” Remus breathes across Sirius' mouth. “Just thought you should know.”
Remus finally leans in the rest of the way.
They kiss until their lips and tongues dry like sandpaper, and Sirius gets them a cup of orange juice with a single bendy straw to share. Sirius, who always has some form of chapstick in his pockets, applies far too much of it as he is wont to do. Instead of passing the tiny tube to Remus for him to use as well, Sirius returns it to his pocket and kisses Remus silly, sharing via the slip and slide of their newly moisturized mouths.
They fill the afternoon with sacred touches and making up for lost time. They talk and listen, about thoughts and feelings, about Remus and what caused his episode. They make plans, about how to inform James of recent events, about the grammatically correct way of writing certain sentences in the email Remus sends to his therapist. Remus eats the stale toast his mother left for him, and Sirius eats some, too, so that he doesn’t feel awkward about it. They whisper I love you’s and prove it with hums of a happiness that words don’t exist for. They fall asleep with tangled limbs, and wake up the following morning with sore muscles and swollen lips, sleepy smiles and honest eyes.
A new beginning is born through the power of a discovery, of a long awaited reunion for an event that had always felt distant and impossible.
When Sirius moans in response to a soft touch up his shirt on the sacred skin of his waist — the first true touch to go beyond the barrier of clothing — the birds chirp outside the window as the sun begins to fully rise, and Remus thinks he knows what it means to feel like a king.
He bites into his lovers flesh until he mewls like a drunken kitten, leaving behind splotches of blues and purples against porcelain skin, for Remus’ entire world has always come in the form of a beautiful boy. He flushes from the tips of his ears to his cheeks, his neck, below the collar of his disheveled shirt. His eyes glimmer with an unabashed openness, and the corners of his mouth appear to be permanently stuck in a smile that Remus has never seen before, one that makes it rather difficult to take a full breath.
He thinks I am his and he is mine.
He asks, “You? And me?”
And Sirius gently replies, “Us.” He says, “It’ll always be us.”
So Remus bursts into a million shooting stars.
★~..-..-★-..-..~★
Epilogue, Six Months Later
They have sex for the first time exactly six months after Remus turns eighteen.
They’d talked about waiting, about how there wasn’t any rush and how they didn’t mind taking their time to get to know the other in the one single way they had yet to fully explore, to discover.
But Remus knows. On a Friday evening when his mom is away for work and they’re eating dinner together on the sofa, watching a movie with Sirius’ feet in his lap, Remus knows.
Feeling rather plucky, Remus puts his bowl on the coffee table, grabs the remote where it sits by his glass of water, and pauses the TV at the exact moment when Mr. Darcy and Lizzie are about to dance together.
“Ah!” Sirius squawks, sitting up straight, half chewed food in his mouth. “Moony, no! Moony, Moons, they were—”
“About to dance, I know honey, but if it’s alright with you I rather think I’d like to go up to my room and fuck you instead.”
Remus had realized, a few days after they had officially started dating, that he had been wrong. Previously, he had thought his boyfriend blushed for two reasons and two reasons only: he was shy, or he was drinking. Remus now knows there’s actually three reasons: when he’s shy, when he’s drinking, and when he’s so thoroughly turned on that his cheeks go past a pretty pink and into a lovely, delicious splotchy red.
Sirius pauses his dramatic flailing at his lovers words. Swallows his mouthful of food. Puts his bowl robotically next to Remus’. Faces Remus, splotchy cheeks begging for fingertips to touch, and swings his legs over so that his feet lay on the carpet. His posture is immaculate. He clears his throat. “I would like the record to show that yes, yes that is quite alright with me.”
Remus reaches out for him. Sirius reaches back.
★..-..-★-..-..★
“I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed, but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.”
— Before Sunrise (1995)