r e m u s

YOU BETTER KEEP THE WOLF BACK FROM THE DOOR. 19. ucl english and comparitive lit major. sick kid.

[serendipity-x]

[tacetmonstrum]

snap out of it | remus+james

[coffeeandcolorcoding]

I didn’t realise I was hungry, that song accompanied James wherever he went, but that probably was because he carried food with him everywhere. He loved the long breath of any of the Marauders when they entered their flat to find James in the kitchen, the delicious scent of whatever it was that he was cooking. Oh, thank goodness you are cooking James! I didn’t realise I was hungry.” Or Dorcas surprised smile whenever he reached their usual study session with homemade cookies or something he brought from the cafeteria. You read my mind, James. I didn’t realise I was hungry! It was James’ pleasure and responsibility to make sure everyone he cared about had a full belly and a smile on his face. 

Remus eyed him carefully, and James was further reminded that something was up with the Marauders, a problem that he wasn’t aware of and therefore couldn’t solve. But if pushing, and pushing and pushing was the way to get information out of Sirius, it was exactly the opposite with Remus so he simply took another bite of the cinnamon roll and decided to oblige his friend by talking about himself.

“Try not to scold me too much, but remember the glow party? You left a classically drunk and heartbroken James Potter go back into the party, and I bumped into Lily who gave me her classical eye roll. And then I ran into an obviously drunk Dorcas, who wanted me to draw a dragon on her bare back… and well, the rest was history.” James was aware of the way it sounded, but he didn’t feel it that way. “Whether Lily knows or not, I don’t care. It’s not like Dorcas and I are… uh, dating. Yet, I mean, I don’t know. It’s not a secret, anyway. I just need to talk to Doe first.” 

[tacetmonstrum]

Ah, the glow party. Remus popped another bite into his mouth with a nod, remembering the night through hazy recollections of neon paint and dubstep. He hadn’t seen James much throughout the night except for the few moments his friend spent outside, trying to escape the noise only to be met with a very high Remus sitting on the porch avoiding everyone and everything. He remembered James not quote acting like himself and some joke about a threesome. But that was about it. The whole story, together, made a ton more sense.

“Damn that classically drunk and heartbroken James Potter,” Remus chuckled softly, leaning down to shuffle in his bag and grab a bottle of water. He did resist the urge to scold him, just a little bit, for making any hasty decisions, but considering his current situation he hardly had room to scold anyone. The James and Lily dynamic boggled him enough, but adding Dorcas into the mix, no matter how much James liked the girl, just threatened to further complicate things. Sure, Lily always insisted that she could never and would never feel anything for James. And maybe she really meant it, but Remus did have a hint of something else underneath that constant annoyance and overall irritation of his existence. Maybe he was just imagining things. 

After cracking open the top of the water bottle and taking a sip, he set it down beside the box of rolls and looked back up at James. So far, his friend made no motion to suggest he knew anything about the mess he and Sirius found themselves in. Remus intended to keep it that way, so he sighed, glad the focus was on James’ love life. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a little complicated, yeah? I mean, I would imagine Doe knows how you’ve felt about Lily for so long, and they’re such good friends. And -- well, I would just hate to see things go wrong and you lose Doe as a friend in the process.” Remus ran a hand over his face. “Was that scolding? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean for it to be. I’m happy for you, mate.” 

[ivoryelegance]

Late Night Dinner Guests | Open

Shite.

Everything was coming out shite no matter how many times she drew, erased, drew, and erased again. She’d seen some inspiring post online about how crappy art was only at the tip of the pencil and you had to work past that to get to the good stuff, the stuff worthwhile, but everything that the blonde put on paper for the last two hours was absolutely dreadful and Narcissa was ready to pull her hair out. There was no way she wasn’t past the ‘bad stuff’ by now, and she felt like she had only herself to blame.

And so she sat there, the picture of frazzled elegance with her blonde hair escaping the confines of her hair tie and frizzing out, tickling her face and neck. She brushed angrily at the fly-aways before she let her forehead fall with a ‘thunk’ onto her sketchbook. She needed coffee. She needed a  loud all-night diner with colorful characters and lovely, personable waitresses, and so that’s where she went, stuffing the sketchbook into her bag and doing her best to pin her hair completely away from her face, she pushed the door open and was met by the dull roar of the bar crowd. The place was pretty full, but she didn’t want to leave, and instead she approached the first table where only one other person sat.

“I’m sorry, but do you mind if I have a seat here? I promise I won’t be too loud,” she said with a smile. 

[tacetmonstrum]

It wasn’t the usual place Remus sought for a late night study session, but it provided some safe haven away from the flat, and, along with a friendly staff who kept his coffee mug filled, the menu bragged of an endless array of dessert options . And for whatever reason, coffee, two (or three) servings of pie, and some early century Lit readings sounded like a great night to him.

Quite the party animal that uni turned him into these days.

Through his earphones that played an endless loop of Twenty One Pilots since he sat down, Remus heard the increasingly loud rumble of nightly noise from the bar as it began to fill with the nocturnal students starting their fun. The sound didn’t bother him, not yet. He just bumped up the volume of his music a few taps, then sunk lower into the booth that now molded to his shape. As usual, his colorfully hi-lighted literature textbook sat in front of him open, pens resting on a messy notebook under his hand, mug of coffee nearly empty and crumb-filled plate pushed to the side. He looked tired. He always looked tired, he supposed, with purple-tinted circles draped under his eyes and pale skin hiding under constellations of freckles on his cheeks. But under the harsh fluorescent light of the diner, he looked even more exhausted than usual, and he stifled as yawn as he glanced back down at his book. 

The waitress passed by, refilling his coffee and stealing his plate away. Remus said nothing to avoid conversation, but offered the woman a kind smile before returning to his paragraph on alliteration devices. He nearly didn’t notice a few moments later when another woman approached his table, only looking up when the shadow of the figure passed over the words holding his attention.

Popping an earbud out of his head, Remus glanced up to see, to his surprise, Narcissa Black standing there. An awkward, maybe nervous chuckle stumbled from his throat. She always seemed nice enough to him, but with his and Sirius’ current predicament, the last thing Remus needed was a member of the Black family racking up his nerves. “Of course, go right ahead.” He leaned over to clear some of his things off the other side of the table. “Sorry -- I’ll just, move these -- there you go.”

[thoroughlymodern-lily]

The Grouch Monster | Open

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Lily dropped her bag heavily on the ground and kneeled down to pick up the stack of papers that had slipped out of her hands. Her entire day seemed to have been shit–in fact it probably had been her entire week. With a low growl she began to shove the papers in as neat a pile as she could manage to patience. 

[tacetmonstrum]

The fury of red hair Remus spotted in the distance belonged to Lily, he hoped. He hadn’t seen his friend in a while, maybe not since the party thrown at her house that seemed like forever ago now, and he really could use a conversation with someone that didn’t start with unnecessary prodding or end in awkward apologies. Skirting through the various students travelling to their classes, Remus let out a soft chuckle as he reached her. “Alright there, Lily?” He asked, bending down to help collect her papers that threatened to blow away.

[ivegotwarinmind]

[geekypetey-blog]

“Right….that definitely sounds believable.”

[tacetmonstrum]

“What? I’m serious -- I really have been stuck at school all week. I’ve got papers...and classes...and lots of things to do. Tons of things.”

[tacetmonstrum]

snap out of it | remus+james

[coffeeandcolorcoding]

At the mention of the Lair Keeper ― Sirius’ nickname for Madame Pince ― James cracked a muffled laugh. It was true that Madame Pince would never trust him half as much as she treasured darling Remus, but James attended the library often and left without causing trouble (as long as he was alone, of course) which meant she would most probably leave them alone as she’d trust Remus would control him. “Well, it’s not like we are using any library books, right? Against popular belief James Potter owes something other than football gear, and that’s books. Still, let’s just try not to get caught, I was in line for like an hour to buy these.” Beaming, James opened the box and broke a piece of the sugary dessert, taking it to his lips and pushing the box towards his friend.

He waited patiently for his friend to dismiss his earphones and check his phone, returning the smirk before mimicking Remus position, leaning back on his chair, not one single glance towards the books. James hadn’t bought the Cinnabon with an interrogation in mind, unlike Sirius the man in front of him was skilled in the art of keeping secrets (even from James) and he didn’t want to risk pushing a little too far and getting into a fight. But even when no questions had been asked, and no deep topics had been touched, it was obvious that something was up.

So, anything new? Since when any of the Marauders had to ask each other that question? Evelyn Potter― who had more than once welcomed the four boys for breakfast, witnessed pranks being planned telepathically and  performed with harmonious synchronization and accepted them all as James’ brothers ― once said that they were the living proof that a single soul could inhabit more than one body. Usually, James would have told his friends about Dorcas right away, and not even he knew what he hadn’t. The question was odd, and James smile twitched slightly before he returned the smug grin to his face.

“I’m over Evans, or getting there at least,” he started with a shrug, leaning forward in the chair. “Remember my short yet everlasting crush on Dorcas? Turns out it wasn’t entirely one-sided.”

[tacetmonstrum]

Remus let out something of a snort as he pulled off a sugary sweet portion of a cinnamon bun and shoved the food into his mouth, happy to have something to eat other than dry toast and a green smoothie. For the past few days, his stomach refused much of anything. But now with James sitting here, with him, stupid grin on his face, things melted into a normalcy that he forgot existed outside his latest conundrum, and he nearly forgot about it as he ate. “Thanks,” he mumbled finally, after chewing, “I didn’t realize I was hungry.”

That was James though for you, always putting other’s needs before his own and, sometimes, knowing those needs before Remus ever recognized them for himself. Although he’d mastered taking care of himself, James took on the duty naturally. Remus appreciated it -- really, he did -- but then came times like this, and James couldn’t fix this. James didn’t know about the current mess he’d gotten himself tangled up in, and Remus intended to keep it that way. He’d keep mute on the subject of Sirius, any comment surrounding their mutual friend, and refuse to give himself away. Because James knew him, knew the both of them, and Remus didn’t doubt his ability to catch on too quickly. He needed time to figure out some sort of explanation of all of this, and if James figured it out before he made up an excuse, well -- Remus didn’t want to think of the joint interrogation he’d force upon Sirius and Remus with Pete’s help, the four Marauders awkwardly sitting around the kitchen table and discussing their feelings.

Eyeing him cautiously, Remus let out a relieved exhale when he didn’t see a waver in his smug grin as he started on about Lily. Over her? Remus’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. Wasn’t it just last week that James felt heartbroken over her refusal when he asked her out? And sure, it wasn’t the first time he declared that his crush on the evading Lily Evans ended, but something about it seemed different. And, ah -- Remus’ head tilted, twitching smile playing on the corner of his lips as the other name entered the conversation. Dorcas. “Oh? So you and Dorcas...really? When?” He leaned forward in his seat, chin resting on his fist. It made sense. James pined over the brunette for a while, and while Remus understood why, with her contagious laughter and fun-loving personality, the fact that she and Lily shared a close friendship appeared possibly problematic. “D’you think Lily knows?”

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

Sirius looked at Remus and tried to find the man he used to see. The boy who, months before, he’d observe with a crooked, bemused smile: the same expression he wore watching YouTube videos of giraffes falling over or kittens confuse by televisions. Ever since he’d arrived Remus had always been a focal point, something Sirius never quite took his eye off, someone who he’d tilt his chair backwards to hear passionately refute film adaptations because it was entertaining to hear such intelligent words be gracelessly used for such a benign purpose. He’d count the stray hairs glowing like dust in the rare bits of sunshine that made it through the kitchen window and then put that down to his voluntarily terrible attention span. He’d admire him, distantly, for being so strong, even when Remus seemed determined to admit he was everything but.

In the ghastly unnatural light of the seminar room, that image was crumbling. He looked uncomfortable but not wavering, pale and vulnerable even compared to the stark white walls, though Sirius still couldn’t bring himself to admire him any less. This was Remus. That was Remus. And even if Remus ran stark naked through the streets declaring himself a Tottenham supporter with foot fetish tendencies tomorrow, that would still be Remus and Sirius would still want him. Toe-licking and all.

“So what if we can’t do that stuff?” He exclaimed, perching himself on the edge of the table nearest the desk and fiddling, uncharacteristically, with the collar of his jacket; up, down, up, down. Anything to stop the itching of his palms. “Just because we. That doesn’t mean we have to. Ugh.” Sirius gritted his teeth and ran his nails over his scalp because he didn’t know what he wanted, and Remus clearly didn’t either, and they both existed in this moment like two floundering turtles stuck on their backs. “There’s a reason I don’t commit and generally that reason is because the girls I go home with? They don’t want to either. It’s all mutual, no-strings-attached fun. But, shit, Moony, we’ve had strings attaching us for months, years even. Maybe now we just have to … tighten the knot. A bit.”

The idea, in all honesty, was terrifying. As much as Sirius adored a cuddle on the sofa with whatever Marauder was available, relished in piggy-backs and leant dramatically on the nearest shoulder (or lap) in times of great, grave distress, there was always the platonic barrier making sure any advances were just viewed as one of those Sirius things. The thought of not flirting with attractive cashiers or buying a drink for the girl with the hottest piercings seemed impossible, the idea of candlelit restaurants and cheesy valentine’s day cards unreachable, but then he looked up at Remus again and it didn’t seem all that bizarre.

Maybe he could live with a little hand holding. Perhaps relinquish the role of little spoon for a night or two.

“Whatever happens, what we just did was irreversible, right? And I’m not suggesting that we start tearing each other’s knickerbockers off and gallivant into the sunset draped in roses, or start leaving post-it note poems on the fridge and keep couply photobooth snaps in our wallets. We just have to admit to this something, admit it will never be nothing, and then. Make out every now and then. In private, secret,” he ignore the treacherous buzz that created in him, “so we can figure it out slowly and naturally and not make any decisions right now while I’m still horny and you’re having a mental breakdown.”

“If not,” he said, weight lifting from his chest surprisingly fast, “we move forward. You get your first-class honours, I get with more questionably clean women, and we make sure to meet for Sunday brunch every week, if only to make each other jealous.”

[tacetmonstrum]

Remus raised a finger to his temple, pressing the skin with a wince from the forming pound behind his skull. Sirius always did have a habit of saying everything with this air of casualness like nothing in the world mattered, like a smoke and a drink could solve all the world’s problems, or at least master the demons he knew shared the space in his head, but that habit of his just annoyed Remus in the moment. This changed everything. The moment they stood so close, the second that friendship of theirs ended with a question mark changed everything Remus called home for the past year. And things like this, he knew from all his books and all the movies Sirius forced him to watch, only ended one of two ways -- in something called forever, which Remus doubted existed for someone like him, or in a fiery and catastrophic death that took down everything else with it, which seemed more probable. 

A sigh caught in his throat as he turned back around to face him. He surprisingly now looked a little more undone, but the sight of Sirius stressing only succeeded in making Remus more worried himself. “Those strings are different. Those are strings never involved...this.” Hips leaning on the edge of the desk, he gestured awkwardly at the pair of them. Some settling, loud distance sat between them now, and he felt lonely in it. “And sure, we can tighten the knot.  But it eventually loosens. Unties. And then we’re fucked. It’s all fucked. Yeah, you have your fun with random, like-minded people that leave in the morning. But us -- we’d never go back to what we had before. Or what the four of us had before. I just can’t think that this is worth jeopardizing a whole collection of friendships just because we gave into some misguided, unwarranted impulses.”  

He hated being the one four steps ahead, planned out, decisions analyzed, cons weighed. He was always responsible, smart, decisive. And he refused to look at this and think in rainbows and butterflies and positivity, no matter how much Sirius pushed his nonchalance into convincing him, because Remus learned a long time ago that life wasn’t like that. It didn’t play out like a three-star romance comedy on the big screen. And that was fine, he knew that and accepted it long ago, too. Sure, that reality caused him to sound like a pessimistic arsehole most of the time, but, hey -- at least he never got his hopes up.

Some choke of a scoff followed Sirius’ words, Remus resorting to his usual token sound of sarcastic retort when his friend happened to comment something relatively dumb or too unbelievable. Which, in this case, he happened to say something both relatively dumb and unbelievable. “Make out every now and then. In private and secret.” The words repeated, this time with a stain of cynical pique that tasted bitter on Remus’ tongue. Something about the earlier mention of tearing each other’s knickerbockers off unsettled him, first with a scarlet sweep at the top of his ears, and then at the thought of sneaky escapades behind the Marauder’s back. But, as much as he despised admitting it, Sirius somehow made a point, and figuring this mess out naturally and slowly seemed much better than figuring it all out now in an echoey seminar room this very moment.

That, and his stomach dropping at the thought of Sirius with anyone else, any questionable clean women or men or anyone else at all, demanded that he give in. Kind of, anyway -- in the only kind of giving in Remus perfected, priding itself on making the exact sound that instant regret makes after a bad decision.

“Yeah. Alright, yeah,” he sighed, hands that spent the last moments resting a top his head in frustration finally swinging to his sides in defeat. “Something, to figure out. Slowly. Very, very slowly.” A sudden relief melted from his shoulders, leaving him exhausted. He slumped back to rest his heavy body unto the corner of the desk more, tired eyes looking over Sirius with a glint of grief in his stare. What he wanted from this, Remus didn’t know. He just knew that once Sirius had it, he’d realize what a mistake he made. Remus Lupin was not worth the mess, that he could promise. “If only to prevent you from making a fool of yourself and ruining some nice Sunday brunches trying to make me jealous.”

[matt-holdmedown]

By Pete Voelker: “fuck you, 2011” (x)

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

The only thing Sirius had got out of his system was the fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be a good idea to ‘test the waters.’ He’d tested, thoroughly, and now he wanted to dive right in, fuck the insecurities and the questions he’d been too scared to ask himself; this is what he wanted, and Remus couldn’t dangle himself like something shiny in front of a cat and expect not to get pounced on.

He shrugged Remus’ hand off his shoulder, stepping away to glare at the offending fingers with a look of disbelief. A friendly touch, a pat on the back that may have well been a golden 'You Tried’ sticker stabled to his chest. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, but all that came out was a choked laugh.

Sirius. The way Remus said name, desperate and uninhibited, vibrated through his skin still, and the thought that he wouldn’t be the next person to make Remus moan, to breathe obscenities into his skin and push their bodies closer, was enough to push Sirius into a full-blown strop.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, voice poisoned, body still not quite accustomed to Remus not being on him, “all done and dusted. Lovely. You wanna grab a subway on the way home?”

What was the point in hiding the bitterness in his tone? Remus had to know what he was saying and the effect that it would have on Sirius, who, after it all, just felt exhausted. What they’d just done: that wasn’t normal. It was enlightening passion, a make-out session fan-fucking-tastic enough to kick-start an epiphany, it was a revelation of religious proportions; there could be books and movies based entirely on how Remus’ skin shivered at Sirius’ touch. Poems, ballads, on those damned noises that Sirius knew would keep him occupied for the next thousand years.

But a repeat performance? Nah, who’d want that?

In one quick, last-ditch attempt, Sirius stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of Remus’ face, his fingers gently entangled in his scalp, and tilted his face towards him. There was a reason Remus was avoiding looking at him, the same reason anyone avoids looking at anyone – they’ll see something, scattered across the other’s features, that they don’t want to see. 

For once in his life, Sirius needed, wanted, to have his every vulnerability on display. More than that, he wanted Remus to see that his own weaknesses weren’t enough to give up on this. “You can’t make noises like that,” he implored, as calmly as possible, “and expect me to be happy with never hearing them again. Shit, Remus, what do you think I am? A monk?”

Working with all the knowledge of romance he had – too many Richard Curtis movies and Rachel and Ross’ complete disastrous relationship – Sirius rested his forehead against Remus’; this had to be sorted, now or never. “Look. The way I see it, there’s too options: we leave this room as best friends who never want to touch each other like that again, or we leave as two grown men who know that won’t be possible. Your move, Moony.”

[tacetmonstrum]

Something shifted, just like that, at Remus’ utterance of insulting nonsense, and he felt the bitterness seeping from Sirius like  an open wound. The hand holding onto Sirius’ shoulder was shrugged off, away, the sting of his glare forcing Remus to swallow the dryness forming in his throat. He supposed that he said the wrong thing. But what else could he say now, now that everything changed? He couldn’t walk out of this room and laugh about their days around a kitchen table without the other two Marauders knowing that he and Sirius carried something so monumental, so wonderful, so scary of a secret like this one. He couldn’t pretend that inside he remained composed and collected, his bones not rattling in terror at the rash decision he made in demanding Sirius kiss him.

Good god, what was he thinking?

And now Sirius stood there, obviously hurt, venomous words rolling off his tongue that Remus remembered the taste of so fondly, while he just stared back at him dumbly and silent. “Sirius, don’t.” The name sounded so different, wrong even, compared to the way he said it moments ago, a terrified choke of a plea. What he was pleading for, he wasn’t sure yet – for Sirius to stop, for Sirius to say that this wasn’t the explosion he so desperately wanted, for him to call it mistake. Anything to free Remus from needing to deal with this situation and fit it into his life like a jagged, newly discovered puzzle piece.

But that acidity brewing in Sirius’ glare drained, once his hands reached and forced Remus’ head up, to look him in the eye. Under that stare, those fucking eyes of his that started to feel like coming home, Remus faltered. As much as he fought to stay cool, placid, like the boy in front of him hadn’t just turned his world completely upside down, the ticking fear of this new reality increased with every loud pound of spoiled blood in his ears. The panicking twisted at his usually smirking features, unable to hide. He shook his head lightly, skin brushing against the softness of Sirius’ palms, and just the reminder of his touch silenced him calm for a moment. 

What did they do now? Not that Remus knew anything of the subject, not really, but this wasn’t just a drunk hookup at a party or a meaningless dare among friends or a non-earth-shattering harmless encounter to forget. This was him, and Sirius, his best friend, and this was every colossal, altering moment in history bursting, unconfined within a single second and brush of lips. This was every single feeling he ever felt and ever single heartbeat all at once. And as much as he wanted to, needed to, for the best of both of them, he couldn’t turn his back and go on living knowing something like this existed. This existed and it ruined everything and destroyed all the walls Remus built to keep himself safe and guarded and untouched. And that, that terrified him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins causing his hands to quake at the thought.

Sirius’ voice sounded calm again, a soothing tease of all those noises Remus didn’t realize he could make, and his ears reddened at the thought. He hope Sirius couldn’t see that as he rested his forehead against his, and his eyes squeezed shut to keep him from seeing the battle his head currently fought. The shaking hands slipped up Sirius forearms and settled to hold onto each of Sirius’ wrists. 

“That’s not – no, Sirius, it isn’t that simple,” he started quietly, hating his friend’s habit of indulging the emotion of the moment and giving no cares about every second after that. “I can’t do that. I can’t be like you, and just - just –” A groan, frustrated, finished his thought and he twisted away from Sirius’ touch to pace back to the desk with his hands running through his hair, over his scalp, to erase the sting of his fingers there. “It’s more complicated than that. Because, fuck, you’re one of my best friends, and now what? We can’t walk out of this room as best friends pretending  that this didn’t happen. We can’t. Our entire friendship would be a lie, acting as if this never happened. So, then what – we become…something? We hold hands walking down the street, go to the movies together, sleep in one room instead of our own?” 

A sudden realization, he turned back to look at Sirius with a retched, rattling laugh, because that didn’t sound much different than their friendship now. Except then, he thought, was all in funny jest, and now – now it would be real. The alarm of that jolted in his stomach, his mouth refusing to stop babbling out of nervousness. “You and I don’t do that. I’ve never seen you care enough to commit to a sandwich, let alone something like that. And I…I…” Remus shook his head, the things he needed to say about himself burning in the back of his throat, silent. “We’ll end up fucking up, and ruining everything. Not just this, but everything. We can’t.”

[tacetmonstrum]

snap out of it | remus+james

[coffeeandcolorcoding]

James had always been overly sensitive for the changes in the air. When his parents were on a fight, when they talked to someone they didn’t like on a party, when they had problems at work. His one and only preoccupation growing up was keeping everyone laughing and happy, and that hadn’t changed, he just had added three more people to the list. He was very talented in capturing the slightest changes on people’s mood. But Moony hadn’t particularly been subtle. He’d disappeared in thin air, leaving only small hints of his existence, such as the carefully closed door in the morning (way more early than necessary), the missing pills in the kitchen (most probably transferred to his room), the lack of indie music blasting from his bedroom (which was now probably heard on his headphones in an attempt to pretend he wasn’t there). And then there was Sirius, who was being weird (and that is a word you don’t use lightly on Sirius Black).

Something was awfully wrong in the Marauder’s house. And James felt his fingers twist in need of doing something, anything to fix it, to get his friends and his life back. Because if he ended up back alone in a house full of servants, expensive furniture and shiny silverware then he would have lost everything he had fought for. And that simply couldn’t happen.

Fiction wasn’t his area of expertise, and he found that sort of literature boring and mostly useless (with the exception of mystery novels and Jules Verne, that is) but it was necessary for his English class. He usually could manage on his own, but any excuse to spend some time with Remus would do. James had yet to talk to him about Dorcas, to ask him advice that didn’t involve the words ‘she-demon’. But most importantly he needed to make sure things would fall back into place.

Making sure to be early (something quite unusual on James), he crossed the door of the library, gifted his thousand-watts smile to the pretty girl behind the counter and navigated the aisles finding Remus at his usual spot. He slid into the chair opposite to him and dropped his books along with a Cinnabon box over the table. “Brought supplies,” he said smiling.

[tacetmonstrum]

He’d only known James arrived because of the shift of the table underneath his elbows, the blast of his music covering up the sound of a chair skidding against the floor or the drop of James’ books. Remus lifted his head and popped one earbud from his head and then another, shooting his friend a wide grin. Leave it to James to sweeten up the current situation, quite literally. He hadn’t eaten yet, though, really hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days, and just the sight of the cinnamon buns caused his stomach to protest in hunger.

“Let’s hope Pince doesn’t see you with these,” Remus snickered, nodding in the direction of the entrance. A hawk-like, thin, irritable woman guarded their library. And while it seemed, sometimes, that Madam Pince had a soft spot for the ever-frequent and always-present Remus, she despised seeing any sort of morsel threatening hanging about around her books, and even Remus couldn’t stop her wrath if she discovered their snack. Luckily, she tended to leave Remus and his little setup in the corner alone because she never assumed him to cause any trouble. Unless, of course, a certain dark haired pair of boys joined him. She never did seem to trust them.

After turning off his iTunes and slipping his earphones back into his bag, Remus checked his phone with a quick glance (nothing) and set it to the side. So far, James seemed normal -- big grin, usual messy hair, and even spoiling him with sugary breakfast pastries. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to sit here and stumble over explanations. Or, on the other hand, maybe James was just doing the very James-like habit of providing some level of comfort that allowed from some deep discussion that Remus really didn’t feel like having. What could he even say, anyway? Oh, in case you were wondering, Sirius and I had a moment and now I need to avoid him because all I can think about is him and, oh, I’m so fucking terrified I can’t breathe. No, there was no reason to divulge that secret, He’d kept secrets from James for much longer than a week, and he could do it again.

Besides, James had enough going on. They shared a heavy discussion outside the party, but Remus never learned if anything big happened that night. But knowing James, the night surely didn’t pass uneventful. He leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms over his head then let them collapse in his lap, and smiled again, small and smirking and calm all at once. “So, anything new?”

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

The agonizing few moments, the seconds that felt like centuries, where Remus just stood, resisting, brought Sirius’ heart up to his throat and stopped it beating. He almost faltered, his grip on Remus loosening and the well, that’s that then, I’ll pack my bags tonight speech writing itself in his mind. But, oh, then he started kissing back, and Sirius’ ability to think vanished along with any previous attempt at holding back. It was every kind of kiss in one: the awkward first kiss, adjusting to the other’s movements, every nerve working towards not fucking up. It was a drunk kiss on the dancefloor, passionate rhythm on an unbridled high, confidence drawn from the anonymity of the dark. It was a kiss goodbye and a kiss hello and Sirius was completely lost.

If they truly had resigned themselves to laughing about this as a mistake over Sunday brunch, Sirius swore to himself that such conversation would happen after Saturday night was spent repeating this exact activity until neither he nor Remus could look back at this instant as an error of judgement. He’d send his mother a bunch of roses before admitting defeat now that he could taste Remus, fresh ink and hot chocolate, on his tongue, and there was no way, there couldn’t be, that Remus didn’t feel it too. The Earth fucking shifting beneath them, his bones rearranging within him to make way for the heart attack that was building in his chest.

Every inch of Sirius’ skin that Remus touched felt like fireworks, and Sirius all but growled into Remus’ mouth as he moved his own fingers to Remus’ hips and pulled him forwards, stumbling backwards until his back was flush against the door. The same door that he’d been planning on walking out of minutes before because, obviously, he was a very stupid man who couldn’t stop, might never stop, not with the possibility that this could be his last chance.

Somehow he managed to break away, barely catching his breath before moving to press his lips to Remus’ jaw, his neck, just below his ear, a slow drag of teeth and tongue until he found his fingers pulling at a collar and kissing there as well because why not? Something told him he should say anything, crack a joke, hunt for subtle irony, maybe even discuss how this is making them feel (good god, Padfoot), but the only word his brain could offer was Moony, Moony, Moony with the occasional Shit, Remus and that was far too embarrassing to allow, so Sirius kept his mouth busy, pleading with Remus using every trick in the book to make this a regular occurrence. Fuck, he’d even settle for once a year if it always felt like this.

[tacetmonstrum]

He wondered, briefly as his mouth pleaded open and his tongue risked itself over Sirius’, what ever mattered before this moment.

Before his moment, Remus accepted his lack of romance, his no need for hot kisses or holding hands, his unusual (for a young lad in university, anyway) avoidance of anything involving a possible one-night stand or lustful groping in some shadowy back room of a party. And any run-ins he did experience -- mostly a result of the persistence of his friends and their annoying need for him to be loved, or desired, he supposed -- those ones couldn’t, never would, compare to this. The girl he vomited on at that party last year after having her tongue down his throat for five minutes, the son of his mom’s friend that kissed him secretly when they were seventeen and playing Halo in his bedroom because his mother begged him to be social, anyone past or present or future, anyone he’d ever kissed or would kiss or imagine kissing -- none of that could compare to kissing Sirius Black.

And, until this moment, with Sirius moaning in that way and his hands trailing burning hot down his side and clutching at his hips to pull his body closer, Remus believed he could live without knowing how this felt. Sirius tasted like bad decisions in the best way. He tasted like driving too fast on a back road, or  jumping headfirst into a cold river, like the buzz of a too-loud rock band, like glass shattering right under his feet. The hint of smoke and last night’s many whiskeys and the spark of mint infected his tongue, and his head filled with the overwhelming musk of his friend that he knew too well, and everything, everywhere, all around him, was Sirius.

He’d gone nineteen years without this, and now he didn’t know what he’d do with knowing the feeling of kissing him.

Remus tried to stifle a groan in his throat as the mangled mess of them fell into the door behind them, hips colliding in a way that could only be described as heavenly sinful and Sirius’ fingers digging into his jeans to hold him in place. There was a clinking of their teeth and bumping of noses, but neither of the two cared in the heat of all of it. Remus slid his hand from Sirius’ back to grasp his neck and the other, messily, skidded to the neck of his shirt, long fingers blazing over the boniness of Sirius’ clavicle under his collar. He wanted to stay composed, unruffled and unaffected unlike all the others who let Sirius Black this close. But his hips ached to close the nearly nonexistent distance between them, and his mouth hungrily moved to the sync of Sirius’ own, and he kept making this low, animalistic choking noise he never heard himself make before. 

Suddenly, they parted and Remus, through heavy-lidded eyes could only see Sirius’ head, and then there was the scorch of lips on his neck, his jaw, his ear, his hidden skin under the collar of his jumper. “Oh.” His head rolled back on his spine, allowing Sirius permission to where ever he wanted to go. And dammit, fucking dammit, he wanted to stop making that bloody embarrassing sound but god. “Sirius.” His name came out as an unwillingly growling, famished noise. Another moan, he bit down on his own lip and wanted. Wanted so much more, all of this, all of him, more more more more. But he didn’t know -- fuck, Sirius’ tongue over the curve of his neck did horrible, wonderful things to him -- he didn’t know what to do now with whatever this was. And having more sounded like a whole horrible mess that he knew, by now, did not promise to end in anything other than broken friendships, crushing goodbyes, and too many regrets to make this worth it.

“Sirius, I--” God, but why stop this? Why go back to living without this, some voice questioned when he and let go of his hold on Sirius’ neck to rest his hand on his shoulder, a friendly and unassuming touch. His chest heaved with gasping pleads for air, chestnut hair tousled and lips swollen. A gruff, awkward clearing of his throat filled the moment. He still stood close enough to feel Sirius’ breath on his skin, and as much as he wanted to feel the press of his body against his own again, Remus ran a hand through his hair and kept his face down. Despite the familiarity and the fact that his tongue had just been in his mouth, he refused to look at him. Because if he looked at him, looked straight into those fucking eyes, he’d lose it. He’d lose whatever little composure and dignity still remained and that couldn’t happen, not when he needed to figure out what to do now. He needed to stay composed. He needed to deny that this moment changed everything. “That’s out of our system now, yeah?”

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

There was nothing to say to that, really. All things considered. It was a do or die moment and Sirius had never been famed for backing down in the early rounds. The air surrounding them was thick, crushing, but through the anxiety and fear in Remus’ eyes Sirius could see the anticipation. He wanted this, requested it, and Sirius had never been very good at telling Remus ‘no’ if he could see the other boy was lost. 

“Kissing the teacher after class,” he quipped, the familiar feeling of barely a breath between the two of them bringing back a flood of nerves and the foreign lack of confidence that almost made Sirius turn his face away. Instead, the reality that Remus was just as scared and confused, the knowledge that he might want this, really want this, pushed Sirius forward so they stood chest to chest, cheek to cheek. “You need to stop illuminating new kinks in me, Moonbeam.”  

Sirius Black was good at many things, kissing one of them. Certainly in his top ten of enviable skills. But something held him back from putting on his usual 5-star show and that same something told him it was the fear of scaring Remus away; he had to step cautiously, move slowly, and pray that Remus responded in place of shoving him back and leaving Sirius looking like the stereotypical, melodramatic, Romeo-esque fool. 

The first move: a soft, gentle press of lips against the corner of Remus’ mouth, just a tiny indication that this was really going to happen, that Remus could pull back now if he wanted to and everything would simply continue as is. Unfortunately, 'as is’ was currently terrible, and Sirius had a helpless feeling overwhelm him that, if Remus did step away now, it would take more than a week of drinking and a black eye to recover.

The ground burned and Sirius shivered as if a spotlight was shining directly on him, he was on the set of a terrible sitcom with the audience sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting to see if they should laugh or groan or cry. Sirius was fighting a similar battle, knowing, really, that he should ask ’are you sure?’ and say ’we can stop this now, if you want’ because Remus was acting reckless and senseless and encouraging this felt, well, how it always felt when attempting to nudge Remus into the wrong side of the moral road. Remus was, after all, standing less than an inch from the embodiment of reckless and senseless and –- fuck, Sirius completely forgot where he was going with all of this when he heard a small, tantalizing hitch of breath in Remus’ throat.

In a terrifying, exhilarating moment he was overcome by the unmistakeable scent of Remus: warmth and comfort, like well-loved books and homemade quilts, with the small, captivating hint of rebellion that made Remus’ eyes glow. A breathless, disbelieving laugh left Sirius lips before he could stop it, and the sudden realisation of how peculiar the situation was pushed him forward the final step: one hand cupped Remus’ jaw, the other tangled with Remus’, thumb stroking along his skin to try and ease them both in. Fingers entwined and breath as steady as Sirius could make it, he gave one last teasing kiss to the edge of Remus’ mouth and then pushed forward. The hand resting on Remus’ cheek now curled firmly around his neck, pulling him closer and softly taking his bottom lip between his own. A do or die moment, and if Sirius couldn’t get Remus to believe everything he said with words, he’d have to show him.

[tacetmonstrum]

He almost, in the split second after his demand filled the air between them and Sirius stepped closer, took every word back. A warning, a gut-wrenching don’t of a plead roared through his head, and he remembered that Sirius blocked his only way to run.

There was no other choice, not anymore.

Their bodies touching again, Remus could feel the nervous heat bleed through his jumper, and he wondered if his heart really could burst through his chest, like how those old and goofy Saturday morning cartoons show in animated hilarity. Surely it happened once, right, for artists to paint the idea into some Loony Tunes strip? Or perhaps he’d be the first, and they’d throw him on a gurney, rush him to the hospital weaving through busy London street traffic, and when the doctor asked, they’d all say ‘oh, his heart exploded because he thought he could handle snogging Sirius Black in an empty classroom against a door after a lecture full of sexual tension.’

His eyes, narrowed and shifty, met Sirius’, and he wondered why his mind decided to ramble on about cartoons now, right now, with Sirius’ chest pressed up against his and his breath rattling against his lips. Really, he wanted to make a joke about that stupid nickname he refused to stop calling him, or even mutter something dryly about the student-teacher fantasy surely not being a new kink in that screwed up head of his. But Sirius stole all the words off his tongue already, and all Remus had left to offer was a shuddering, sigh of a laugh that didn’t sound like a laugh at all. The nervousness catching in his throat and shaking his hands was obvious. Remus hated it. He wanted to be confident, sure of himself like Sirius, not this burbling mess of jitters. Quite the turn on he must be now, the burbling mess of jitters in an old jumper and covered in chalk dust. 

Remus couldn’t help but notice that Sirius moved, inch by inch and decision by decision, so slow, as if Remus would startle and bolt like some wild animal. The brush of lips, carefully, tested their place on the edge of Remus’ mouth, the reality of the motion forcing his eyes to squeeze shut. Something groaned in his stomach and his lungs pressed against his ribcage, full, breath held in torturous anticipation. 

Step back, he thought again. Step away. What a reckless, reckless decision you’ve made.

But then a hand twisted in his, fingers fumbling, and another trailed over his jawline, and Remus tried not to flinch at the touch, hair standing on the back of his neck, eyes still tightly pressed shut to ready himself. Long fingers curled around Sirius’ as he tilted his neck, slightly downward, letting Sirius’ caress burned towards his neck as one last, patient and light press of lips met the corner of his again, one last time. And then, the world started or ended or made sense all at once, Sirius’ lips colliding with his own finally, soft and damp and Remus thought he heard himself let out a quiet whimper of surprise as Sirius’ hand moved to hold his neck, Remus squeezing the other (nervously) between their intertwined fingers. 

For a few seconds -- or it could have been hours really, years even, he wouldn’t  of noticed -- Remus stood tense and stiff, his lips not moving against Sirius’ mouth and his neck position uneasily straight. But, god -- he wanted so bad to hate this, hate him, hate the taste of him and the feeling of being pressed against him, held against him, and though his mind wanted to refuse to let himself enjoy everything about kissing Sirius Black, he gave in. He melted into him. He moved a hand to rest on his shoulder and the other on his back, lightly digging his fingertips into the fabric of the other boys t-shirt. Lips eager but still reserved, still nervous and quivering but wanting, Remus tilted his head and pressed himself into Sirius’ chest, tasting his skin on the tip of his tongue. 

Kissing Sirius Black was like drinking whiskey straight, like a much needed hit of a lit cigarette, like tasting fire and wanting more, not giving a shit about the danger of getting burned. And god, Remus thought as he dragged his hand from Sirius’ back to the nape of his neck, mouth opening more, wanting and wanting and wanting, he’d gotten himself into very dangerous territory. 

[matt-holdmedown]

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

The insinuation that Sirius was being dramatic irked him. Yeah, he was being dramatic, but he’d have no reason to be screeching like a banshee if Remus wasn’t so insistent on studying his intentions through a distorted microscope. The feeling of Remus close, not touching but closer than he’d been in so long, made Sirius’ hovering hand grip the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it. He let his knuckles whiten, though somehow he stayed still, trying with all his might to steady his breathing, swallow the lump in his throat and hold back any unwarranted tears; if he was going to get kicked out, at least he’d leave with pride. That’s how he did it the first time.

“I don’t-” he started, struggling to articulate a train of thought that he’d been refusing to follow since the kitchen had grown too hot last week. But he knew there’d be no progression in the conversation if he refused to outright admit everything, throw the truth bombs and hope they both survive the explosions. “I didn’t like blokes, I mean, I never even considered it, being heir to the Black family enterprise and all. I was supposed to marry a nice respectable young lady and birth respectable children, but then I fled the nest and it made sense to do the opposite? And then, I guess I kissed a guy in a club once. That was. New. But I’ve never really considered it until then when … everything started making sense. When you were there and it just felt right, all of a sudden,” Sirius looked up, embarrassed and ashamed and desperate to deny, “and I can’t forget that. Of course I can’t, damn. But if you don’t want it, me, then where else do we go from here? It doesn’t really feel like we’re in position to laugh about it over Sunday brunch yet.”

But then he froze, still calculating and organizing everything Remus had said, pushing back the things that he didn’t know how to answer and trying to form responses that wouldn’t fan the fire. He studied Remus curiously for a moment, the rage slowly draining from his chest and he spoke again, calmer. But his heart had rapidly increased in pace, a constant thud of painful anticipation against his rib cage. “You said act like we didn’t want to. We.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he pushed down the slither of hope that seeped into the strong, brick wall Remus had built between them (with drunken help from Sirius himself). “You did want it? Do you still? Want it, I mean. Me.”

His hands itched to cup Remus’ jaw, run his thumb along his lip and see if it made him shiver. Instead, Sirius stepped back to lean against the door. All of his energy had dissipated and he held back a bitter laugh, unsure if it would leave enough breath to utter another word. “The problem is that you can’t get rid of me?” A sad smile played on his lips as he asked, “but if you could, easily, would you?”

[tacetmonstrum]

“Oh.” The soft exclamation tumbled off Remus’ tongue lighter than anything else he’d said to Sirius within the past week, and the sound vibrated foreign but welcomed among the hostility. “Oh, well.” really , he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Oh. They were four male best friends; of course they didn’t have talks about kissing other blokes and maybe being attracted to the way certain ones look into leather boots and motor-oil stained t-shirts. Remus never asked. James, well, that never needed a question. Remus only saw him head over heels for redheads in skirts or loud brunettes failing at holding their alcohol, so he didn’t need to. And Sirius, he figured, chased enough tail that Remus couldn’t fathom the boy being attracted to anything else. Naturally, they never asked about Remus, because Remus never had anything to ask about. He never brought home a bird, never snogged a guy at a club, and the topic of ‘hey, mate, who are you attracted to?’ never entered dinnertime conversation. It wasn’t that he feared their reaction, or their disapproval (no, they loved him despite everything else), but why mention something that never needed to be brought up? 

He’d learned that it was easier to keep some people in the dark. 

Sirius still hadn’t turned the knob of the door, and Remus’ eyes flickered from his hands clenched around it to his eyes, staring back at him. A nervous, breath of laugh left his lungs, thinking about laughing about all of this over a Marauder’s Sunday breakfast, like they did with everything else that proved meaningless and, in hindsight, rather hilarious. ‘Ey, Pads, remember that one time we wanted to jump each other’s bones and both suffocated under existential crises because of it? Good times!’ Running a hand over his face, searching for an answer, Remus sighed. “I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know an answer to that.”

Something changed in Sirius’ expression, leaving Remus to tilt his head to the side, brows still threaded closely in examination. The air still felt heavy, thick, between them, and Remus wondered if he could drown out of water or suffocate with plenty of oxygen left in the room. A calmness in Sirius’ voice settled him, just slightly, but he still could swear he felt every beat of tainted blood pump through his heart. 

We. What a word.

“I –” Remus stuttered, caught off guard. “I don’t know what I wanted. What I want. Where to go from here.” He finally admitted in a quiet hush of a whisper, because maybe if he didn’t say it loudly, it would be as if it never left his mouth.

Though Sirius moved to lean against the hard wood of the door closed to the world, unknowing outside of here, Remus stood in place. “Well, I haven’t yet have I? I can’t. I wouldn’t. It would be…masochistic. I guess I need you, too.” That’s it, he’d broken down every wall Remus so carefully masoned to stand high, protective. He should have known he’d wreck right through them. “I just want us to be normal again. If whatever we had before was normal, I suppose. I just want us to move past it, and be back to being us. All of us.” He figured, sometime between meeting James Potter and getting woken up by Sirius Black jumping on his bed a year later, that he needed them, needed him. Like life support. God knows he wouldn’t have made it this far without them, and the thought of this stupid fight ruining everything he needed to survive ripped his heart, tainted heart, right out of his chest. Because of this, Remus’ eyes suddenly sparked with a very un-Remuslike idea, which seemed to occur always with the influence of this certain friend, an answer of where to go from here, just maybe, and he inhaled deeply.

Perhaps if Sirius hadn’t backed himself up against the door, no way out, nothing to do but tell him no, Remus’ mind wouldn’t have wandered down this road. But he took a few steps closer, and then another and another, and suddenly the two stood closer than they had been in a week, that intoxicating smell that can only be known as Sirius hitting him like the first scent of summer rain and a distance between them that two friends couldn’t call normal. “Just…do it. Get it over with, like we should have. Then we’ll realize it’s stupid and we shouldn’t and maybe it won’t even be that great and then, well – we’ll all laugh about over Sunday brunch.” Eyes darting between his to read whatever thoughts Sirius might share in his irises, Remus didn’t – couldn’t, even if he tried – hide the unsteadiness of his breathe or the nervousness in his throat as he stood centimeters from Sirius again, teeth biting down on his lip so hard the skin of it threatened to split open. But he didn’t feel a thing – not a single thing.

[ceruleanskiestellnolies]

Visit Original Link

[tacetmonstrum]

But if stars, shouldn't shine By the very first time Then dear it's fine, so fine by me 'Cos we can give it time So much time With me

If you want me Let me know Where do you wanna go No need for talking I already know If you want me Why go

[kingsiri-blog]

coffee (black) for the teacher | sirius & remus

[kingsiri-blog]

“God, Remus,” Sirius cried, jumping off the desk and pacing to the corner of the room, away from the relentless criticism, resting his head and fists against the walls. He could feel his eyes stinging as the absolute desperation of the situation continued to stab at him the longer Remus let it drag on. He took a deep breath, and then another one, then another one, then twisted around to slide down the wall and sit with his knees up to his chin, staring at Remus like a neglected, but angry, pup. “Is it really necessary to keep on kicking me when I’m down? I know I’m a piece of shit, I know what I did was wrong, and I know you have no reason to want me but you don’t need to keep on reading out the dictionary definition of fuck-up and pointing it at me like I’m completely oblivious to it all.”

It hurt. Fuck. Sirius didn’t realise how much hope he’d invested into the conversation until it was shattered instantly. He was trying, couldn’t Remus see that? That he was throwing everything he could – and admittedly, that wasn’t much – into salvaging what was left of a relationship that he’d previously, but wrongly, assumed had the strength and mutual enjoyment to last forever. Perhaps Remus did see it, maybe he knew that Sirius was wringing himself dry with useless attempts at reconciliation, but he just didn’t care anymore. With everything said and done, Remus had finally had enough of Sirius fucking Black and the swarm of mummy-issues and immature, rash decisions that followed him.

He rested his face in his palms, a shot of pain hitting him when he pressed down on his bruise and it only made everything ache more. “You’re twisting my words, you’re making the situation worse. Shit, you’re acting like this is a bad one night stand when we didn’t even kiss, Moony.” Sirius knew his words were muffled by his position but he was reluctant to move and watch Remus inevitably leave. Maybe this all would have been better if they had kissed, at least then he’d know for sure if this was all just a burning desire for the maybe or a quick-impulse move confirming the definite. Maybe if they’d kissed they could both go ‘huh, that was weird’ and not, instead, be screaming at each other because it nearly occurred.

“If you knew, if you could even comprehend how wrong you are. If you could step down from that tower of yours that lets you survey my each and every action in disgust, you’d see that I don’t just fuck and run like the world seems to think. I like sex, sure, demonize me, but do you honestly think I was going to use you like you mean nothing to me? I would never. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.”

Slowly, Sirius managed to pull himself up, trudging towards the door with the understanding that there was no way he could win this battle now. Before his hand could reach the doorknob he tuned to Remus one last time, no more pleading, no more trying. “For the record, I got this,” he pointed at his eye, “defending a guy and his boyfriend that some twat had decided to start on. Additionally, I’ve not had my tongue on anything but the rim of countless beer bottles this week, but who cares, right? Just. Tell me. If your opinion of me is really so low, why didn’t you cut your ties long ago?”

[tacetmonstrum]

The sudden spark of anger startled him, and Remus instinctively took a step back, his shoulders pressed against the cool surface of the chalkboard. He shouldn’t have said those things. He knew how he’d take them, and knew, after spending so long at the man’s side, how sensitive Sirius truly was. He wanted to act careless, tough, untouchable, but Remus recognized that charade very well. He poured himself into books and essays just as Sirius preoccupied himself with booze and motorcycles, avoiding or running from something all the same. But Remus knew, should have known, how big of heart like Sirius’ could break. And out the sound of him colliding against the wall sounded a lot like it smashing into pieces. 

“I never - no - I never said that.” Remus piped up crossly, shaking his head, but the look of Sirius balled up sitting against the wall, hurt gaze and bruised face, shushed into a bitter silence. He didn’t have any reasons to want him. Sirius was loud and annoying and obnoxious and dangerous and risk-taking and carefree and broken. So broken, Remus thought as he stared over at him, wondering how many times someone he loved crushed him in their fist, convinced him he wasn’t worthy of someone caring so much. 

He would give anything to turn back time and set it all straight. To never go home that night. To stay at the library instead, like he almost did, to grab dinner from the cafe and eat at a table while reading East of Eden. To stay far, far away from Sirius Black that night, and make sure they never touched. Then, this would be nothing but one of those strange dreams, the kind that feel so real upon waking but fade and fade and fade into nothing but gutting feelings and blank faces throughout the day, and by the time you lay your head down on the pillow that night, you wonder if you even dreamt of anything at all the night before.

Sinking to sit on the desk where Sirius sat moments before, Remus stared down at his lap. No, they hadn’t even kissed, but didn’t it mean so much that they toyed with the idea? Something like that lingers, and Remus thought about it every day since then. Because he wanted to, and Sirius Black wanted him (or so he said), and how could their relationship just magically return to pranks and inside jokes and orange socks after something like that? How could they sit in the kitchen across from each other, eating James’ famous chicken enchiladas, and pretend that electricity never existed? Maybe Sirius could do that. Remus didn’t think it possible, and maybe that’s why he felt so damn angry -- not at Sirius, but at himself for not being able to just let it go. 

“I didn’t know what you wanted with me, for fuck’s sake!” He finally, looking up with a tightened brow, voice loud but quivering. “And can you blame me? For the past two years, I’ve seen you with countless girls, whenever you felt like it, and that’s fine, I swear it is, but then all the sudden -- fuck, I didn’t even know you liked blokes! And then there’s us, or something like that, and hell, you want me to just -- what? Act like we didn’t want to? Act like everything’s exactly like it was before? Fine. If you can do that, then I will, too. Conversation over.” 

He threw his arms at his sides, but Sirius was making his way towards the door, and Remus felt his throat dry with everything he’d left unsaid, decaying on his tongue and disappearing to only exist in the imaginary scene in his head, the dream that would fade by nighttime. He pushed off the desk and took a few eager steps forward, stopped, then opened his mouth, then shut it with a sigh. Before he could gather enough sense to speak, Sirius turned and shut him up really quick with his confession of the reason behind his bruised eye. Remus, eyes darting away in a shameful wrongness, ran his teeth over his lip. It was odd, the mix of embarrassment for thinking Sirius spent the week with whatever girl gave him the time of day, with the relief of knowing that he didn’t. Remus frowned, glancing back up. 

“Oh, God, Sirius -- don’t be dramatic.” Remus mumbled, ignoring the fact that Sirius looking so brutally hurt was tearing down the guards put up to keep him for feeling those things he didn’t want to feel. “I wouldn’t ever do that. That’s the problem. With all of this.”