his mind drained of anything other than small thoughts, what was leftover after he had cried

everything else out.

The radio was soft, he had turned it down when James first drifted off, and he wasn't sure what to
do. Remus assumed Lily had fallen asleep but thought he should probably be there when Sirius
woke up that morning. Felt like he should step up, gather some accountability, and shed the small
and selfish feelings because it was beyond that.

Remus could speak but needed to figure out how to articulate his words well enough.

So he tried.

The changing of sunlight to moonlight

Cleared his throat and spoke to the room. The empty air filling it and the silence. To James, asleep
next to him, maybe it was easier talking to someone, knowing they could not hear you.

Reflections of my life

Oh, how they fill my eyes

“When I think of Sirius, I imagine him outside. Running or standing, there were always sunsets,
which I guess means he was always there. In the morning, with cereal, and at night to watch the sun
go down. I think he was always the prettiest during the sunset, just slightly different than sunrise.
We would sit on the couch, and the sun would rest on the top of his head. He would ask me to read,
and I’d read to him. He’d ask me to play him a song, and I would after he taught me to play.

I only ever learned to play because it meant a whole lot to him.

I’d watch tv with Sirius, and I’d stare and stare at that screen because I couldn't move my eyes. It
was like knowing something you shouldn't look at was right next to you. But God, I looked. He
would fall asleep on me, always touching me, always on me, and I’d look.

The greetings of people in trouble

Look and memorize and think, fuck; he’s a real person. Fuck me, he’s real and laying on my bed or
on me or brushing his teeth at my sink. Here in front of me, I can see the gap between his two front
teeth, I’m that close, and I can see the shape of his nose and his hands, and he touches me, and I
feel like I’m the luckiest person in the world.

Reflections of my life
Oh, how they fill my eyes

I’d watch him sleep and shift and lean on me like he knew it was what I needed. Something to
ground me. But he also was the only person who could move me. And I think of us running through
that field, and maybe the grass is dead cause it's winter, or maybe it's not, and it's really high, but
we would cut through there sometimes because it was quicker than going around to get the store or
because it was fun. I guess I’ve always been sad. I don't know, born into the wrong place, wrong
time. But life with Sirius was always fun, and that's really simple but true.

I’d chase him to the end of the earth, James. Back and forth, and I’d climb and free fall and bloody
my fucking hands. Just to see him smile.
I think he’s the prettiest. And that's such a simple word, and I don't think it really covers it, but
when I look at him and try to describe what it's like to look at him, all that comes to mind is pretty,
but I think maybe beautiful would work. Lovely and enchanting and delightful and pleasing and
darling. It all makes me fucking sick.”

Remus glanced over at James, turning on his side and resting his head on the floor, looking up at
the orange lines of the sun.

Oh, my crying
Feel I'm dying, dying

“He reminds me of hot summer days, and I love making him laugh. I’d do anything to make him
laugh and happy. I’d do absolutely anything. And I worry so fucking much. About him and not
even about me but about him. What more I could give him. If I'm missing something.

Take me back to my own home

Because there's something sad there in him, and there always has been. What his parents and life
took, and I just want to make it better. But people can't fix people, and I hate it.

I think of lunch at school. Eating together and him telling Billy to go fuck himself and throwing a
french fry at him. Walking home from school, and girls driving by, and Sirius flashing them a smile
and grinning and then turning to me and telling me they were really fucking rude to him the year
before. That he hated girls.

I think of him coming out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower. Small things, unimportant
things that make up something much more important. Pulling him back onto the couch when he'd
almost fall while sleeping. When he decided he really liked coffee one summer and never made it
right but I drank it anyway.

I think of how I’d watch him go home, and the only thing that made me feel better was sleeping on
the couch where we had the night before, the blankets smelling of him. The one time I went to his
house, his room looked sad. Nothing in it, and I went home that night and saw his things in my own
house. His laundry was folded with mine and his bags and school books he had left. Stuff in the
fridge he had picked out I’d never eat.

It was always just us. Entirely too codependent. I think I know that, and I think I'm suffering
because of that. But it's hard when I feel like I die when I look at him. Like I'm only happy if he’s
happy, and I’d devote what little I have to make that happen. Drive across the fucking world for
him if he asked. And I’d drive around the world twice if he asked with a smile.

We raised ourselves, and it was too fast. Too much and too interwoven, and so I suppose I just
feel,” Remus sighed. “If he were to leave, it would rip me in half. I don't know what I would do
with myself. All the pieces of me only he knows about. I don't even know things about myself that
he does, and then, what would happen to those things?

I think of Christmas, and I don't think of my parents when I think of my childhood. I don't think of
being raised; I think of Sirius and me. Dragging each other along when the other couldn't stand. I
think of the light above my kitchen sink and the rug in my bathroom and how he bled on it one
time, and it stained, and the stain is there still. Saturday morning cartoons and the one time he met
my parents—he hated them. They hated Sirius, it was kind of sweet, in a way.
I think of sitting on the screened in porch and fireworks on the fourth of July. Whispering ‘happy
birthday, Moony’ and ‘happy birthday, Sirius’ and a cupcake with a candle in it.

I'm changing, arranging

It's so depressing, but it's beautiful. To know of all people in the world—I got him. I got him, and I
have him, and I’ve had him, and I get to look at him, let alone have him rest his chin on my
shoulder or cut my hair for me. I got to patch him up and tuck him into bed when he had too much
to drink."

I'm changing
I'm changing everything

Remus took a deep breath and steadied his shaking hands.

“It was all these horrible things, a childhood so unideal, but it was with him, and so it twisted and
turned all these lonely holidays and walks home into something special. Sirius has that power—to
see the world for what he wants, and he’s dragged me into it. I fucking sing, and I dance for him,
and I crack jokes, and I fucking smile through all the bad in life for him and because of him.”

Remus pressed his lips together, fighting back a sob, the shake of his shoulders.

“Always for him, and I think it will always be him. I know it will, and it's strange and doesn't make
sense. It's pitiful and sad, and maybe I’ll always be his. Like we’ve known each other in other
lifetimes, my feelings span fucking space and time and are that all-encompassing and big—could
wrap around the earth a million times.

Like I was in love with him long before I ever saw his face. The long hair and the quick wit and the
way he pushes and pushes and shoves the bad things away in the process.”

Remus laughed through the tears and turned to look at James.

“I tied that knot in his boots. A really fucking long time ago, and it's been there this entire time. I
remember kneeling and looking up at him. He set his boot on my knee. “Tie my shoe—please,
Moons?” and I tied that shit as tight as fucking possible, and it’s never been undone.

Everything around me

And you’re asleep, but I needed, and I need someone to know how it feels to wake up every day
and love someone like him. Makes me fucking nauseous, but I’m so fucking obsessed with it. Need
it like I need anything else vital to be able to let me sit here and spill my fucking heart.”

A long silence and Remus drew his knees up.

“I’d dance with him forever if he asked,” He took a deep breath. “But I’m so tired of spinning in
circles.”

Remus walked back into his room, and the lights were low.

Sirius was asleep on the bed, back turned to the door, and Lily was next to him. Curled up on her
side, reading a magazine with the little bedside table on. Back pressed to Sirius’s, she hadn't left his
side but looked up when he came in.
Stood, walked over, and pulled Remus into a hug—arms tight around his waist and squeezed. It was
silent, and he brought a hand around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head, and looked at
Sirius in the bed.

Blending in with the dark corner, he was just a black mass, sucking everything out of the room, a
vacuum in space made of brown stripes, lace pillowcases, and long black hair.

Lily pulled back, giving him a small smile. “Cigarette?”

Remus only nodded, cracking the door and falling to sit on the pavement outside their room. Lily
sat next to him, held out her hand, and Remus gave her a smoke, lighting it for her.

It was quiet for a moment before she spoke.

“Jame’s is terrible at consoling.”

“The worst. I feel so much worse,” Remus laughed, actually laughed, and wiped at his eye with the
back of his hand. “Better, I guess, too but not really.”

“He gets high and talks all prophetic,” Lily took a drag, shaking her head. “Sometimes, he makes
sense.”

Now it was Remus’s turn to be silent. He let his cigarette hang from his fingers and looked at the
road in front of them. Swallowed and wiped at his eye again, and Lily was there. Lily grounded
while James threw him through a loop.

And Sirius was the center of it all, something like the sun, he supposed.

“Tell me a story?”

Remus looked over. “What do you mean?”

“Just a story from when you were both younger.” She shrugged. “Sometimes, I think the best way
to handle things like this is to remember.”

Sirius’s hair was shorter, and the sky was the brightest shade of red Remus would ever see.

Stunning blood red and oranges so deep they looked like they would be hot to the touch if he could
just get high enough to reach the clouds. Just lift his fingers far enough to skim the undoubtedly
cool air up there.

Remus heard Sirius laugh and watched his hair bounce as he took off. Through the back pasture,
across the way. Cutting through the tall grass that was scratching at Remus’s bare legs. Stickers
sticking to his socks as he let out heavy breaths, running where Sirius just had.

He was much faster than Remus, but he was keeping up.

Pushing past the tall stalks, trying to keep them out of the way, the sky had pinks and purples in it.
The air had a yellow tint, almost a green color, that had Remus worrying about tornados even
though it wasn't the season.

“She said she was getting off at nine!”

Remus pushed harder, and the air was hot. It was late, the sun behind them as they ran away from it
but just as humid. He chased after him, both trying to make it to the gas station before Marlene got
off work.

Time seemed to slow, and Sirius looked back at Remus.

And he was red—always red.

Red was the color of love and the color of violence. Two opposite ends of the human experience,
both in front of Remus at that moment. Time pulled back, as it sometimes did, and Sirius spun
around before starting to run again.

Hair bounced again, and the grass got shorter. Someone had mowed, and Sirius was wearing
Remus’s boots. The pale grass was scratching at his legs, and they had cut the sleeves of his shirt
earlier that day.

Remus chased after him, stumbling and laughing.

“Just wait—going too fast.”

“Moony, come on!”

Hair sticking to the back of his neck, Remus just fucking ran—chased after him.

Couldn't see far enough ahead to know where the fence broke into the road, but Sirius could see, so
Remus followed.

They made it to the road, he ran up, and Sirius grabbed his shoulder, letting Remus lift him up and
over the tall fence. Landed with a huff before Remus climbed over himself.

He threw out a hand, trying to steady himself on Sirius’s shoulder, almost bringing them both down.
Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist, keeping him from falling, and laughed, trying to
pick him up.

It was a knock of limb and knees, awkwardness in its most basic sense. The discomfort of being
young, sneaking around in a town far too small to sneak around in. Running through back pastures
to get beer, because it added to the experience that was raising yourself.

Sirius’s voice floated through the hot summer air, and Remus shoved at his shoulder. Knocked
Sirius around until he picked him up from behind, around the waist. Watched as he kicked his feet
out, worn boots with untied laces.

Lily went to leave, but Remus grabbed her hand, kissing her on the forehead, and she only nodded.
It was unspoken, but there:

It’s time to talk to him.

He sighed, closing the door behind her before standing and looking at Sirius asleep on the bed.

The lights were off in the room except for the bedside table lamp, still on and a dull yellow. A
disgusting color that made the rest of the room look like one giant brown stain. Lily’s magazine she
had been reading was still open, and one of Sirius’s shoes was lying at the foot of the bed.
 It was silent compared to the past few hours, and Sirius’s chest rose and fell where he was curled
on his side. One arm was thrown over the other, his wallet and smokes tossed on the end of the bed,
and his socks mismatched, one of them Remus’s.

Remus went and showered, which was a bleak affair. He brushed his teeth, which was just no fun,
and changed and sniffled again when the only shirt he had left that was clean was one of Sirius’s.

Sirius hadn't moved when he left the bathroom, tossing the towel near the small television. Remus
stood there, unsure of what to do with himself.

He was exhausted, all cried out, and felt awful. James and Lily helped. Remus would have surely
been a complete lost cause without them, but he missed a time from before. He wanted to sit in
silence and pinpoint where it had all gone wrong so he could reminisce on a time before then.

Remus drew a hand over his face before making his way to the bed. There was hesitation before he
grabbed the quilt at the end of the bed and covered Sirius. He didn't shift—there wasn't a peep from
him—so Remus reached down and pulled off his jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed before
going to the record player in their room.

Snagging the record he had stolen from James and Lily’s room, he turned the volume down before
setting it on the table, crouching to line up the song. He set the needle, walked over, and dropped
himself into a chair at the small table in the room.

Looked over at Sirius, turned away from Remus, and closed his eyes.

Well, there's no stronger wind than the one that blows down a lonesome railroad line

No prettier sight than lookin' back on a town you left behind

But there's nothin' that's as real as a love that's in my mind

Close your eyes, I'll be here in the morning

Close your eyes, I'll be here for a while

Chapter End Notes

*jazz hands* hope everyone's having fun! sorry this was late, i got dumped but also thats okay
because i realized i was gay. woo chapter 13!!

if this chapter was written in a book, you would be able to see my tear stains on the pages.
from having to write this and how much i feel like i could work on this chapter forever and it
would never quite be what i wanted.

anyway, we're almost through the thick of it. and then i promise the most sickeningly sweet,
crouched over screaming its so sweet, fluff for a solid six chapters.

it's the least i could do.

hope this chapter made sense. i originally wrote all the way through 13 and 14 and knew when
i went back, i'd have to do a ton of editing. which ended up turning into two extra flashbacks,
an extended jamie scene, and the longest monologue fucking ever from Remus. hope y'all
liked that one.

loves n hugs, we'll get through this together.

greenie
 'Til Forever, On It Goes
Chapter Summary

the last cigarette, a mirrored headboard, and always and forever.

Chapter Notes

TW & CW / heavy angst, mentions of hospitalization and violence, mentions of unhealthy

coping mechanisms and fighting, reference to and implied homophobia, mentions of suicide in
passing.
(if i have missed anything, please let me know)

and the end of this chapter is so explicit, i was appalled i wrote this. but that is what the
heavens decided black mass was to be, so i rolled with it.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

April 15th

He watched as Sirius walked back into the motel room, carrying two coffees and a bag of what
Remus assumed were donuts by the small smiley face and ‘Thank You!’ printed on the front.

Remus was still sitting in the chair he had fallen asleep in the night before, and his back felt like it
was about to crack in half. Ass was utterly numb by that point, not to mention it was fucking cold
in the motel room, and Remus swore if anyone looked close enough, they would be able to see his
breath.

And the pit in the center of his stomach was back with a vengeance that rivaled anything else he
had ever felt.

Remus felt sick. Like, to be safe, he should be curled over the toilet in the bathroom and not
watching Sirius walk in like he was fine. Lying down in bed or going to the doctor's, not watching
Sirius swing the little bag of donuts in his hand like it was any other Saturday.

He gazed at Sirius as he came in and turned to close the door. It took a few moments, but his eyes
widened, and a small smile appeared as he noted Remus was awake.

Remus only grimaced, the smile doing nothing for him in his current state, which only made him
feel worse because that meant things were really not good.

He wanted to scream.

“I got you a coffee,” Sirius said quietly, holding it out, and on instinct, Remus took it before
glancing up and giving him a hesitant look. “You took forever to wake up. James and Lily are
already packing.”

And it was like the night before never happened.

Sirius didn't even look hungover, which felt like a slap in the fucking face if Remus were being
honest.

Because if anyone should feel sick, it should be Sirius, but he didn't seem phased, and it was as if
all the animosity Remus felt swarming in his gut was unwarranted. He was filled with memories
fresh in his mind and had nowhere to shove them.

Things and thoughts were at the surface but could not well over.

Remus’s throat was scratchy, his nose raw from rubbing it, and he could tell his eyes were still red
—probably had bags under them as well. Yeah, he took forever to wake up because he had just
fallen asleep.

Took him almost an hour to fall asleep early that morning, fighting off the urge to look away from
the wall, stare at Sirius, and cry some more.

Which had happened.

Remus was only so strong, and when it felt like everything was going to shit, he looked to Sirius—
always had.

So he had stifled another cry when Sirius shifted in bed, turning to face Remus. Hair an absolute
wreck, clothes all twisted, and Remus had gone to the bathroom at some point, finding more of that
lavender toilet paper, and had a come to Jesus moment staring at himself in the mirror.

Had tried to scrub the mental image from his head, everything Remus cherished and valued in the
bed not ten feet from him. Sirius in the bed not ten feet from him—the embodiment of the
sentiment that there was good in the world.

Felt acceptance of the things you could not change in how Sirius's shirt was twisted, riding up his
side.

Saw how the world could give and take, yes, but also tempt and make you beg in the way his hair
had fallen over his eyes, hands lying on the mattress—soft, and Remus had never seen Sirius
another way.

Always soft, even in the destruction. Like Sirius crept up on you, only twisting the knife once he
was behind you and too close—but you had never felt it pierce you in the first place.

So Remus knew he looked a mess and thanked Sirius softly for breakfast, but it was only an
impressive display of putting on a happy face.

Because Remus didn't feel any better, and by the look on Sirius’s face as he gathered their things, he
would bet he was feeling worse than Sirius at the moment. Remus met his eye as he brought their
suitcases out the door, and there was nothing there besides what usually was, and it told Remus all
he needed to know.

Sirius had always been a sort of an enigma.

Which would be frustrating if part of his charm was not those unknown things.

Those surprises and those smiles that meant more than he was willing to offer up. The things that
made you want to crawl inside him, dig around and see how things worked because that's the only
thing that could ever possibly bring you peace.

The charm was intoxicating—the need to understand part of the reason Remus fell in love every
day.

He never tired of wanting to figure out why he loved Sirius because, yes, there were numerous
reasons, but there had always been an overarching sense of just because.

That's how it was supposed to be—forever and always.

It was something Remus was never meant to figure out because then, what would be the fun in
that? Life was full of mysteries; Sirius was one, and some things weren't meant to be fully
understood.

How could you not fall in love when he looked like that?

Remus was long past dwelling—never had because he counted his lucky stars that Sirius had been
given to him in the first place, and he was to the point of revering those stars after being on the road
for so long, really seeing how many people were in the world.

It was easy back home, the same toss up of people, but on the road—there were so many.

And Sirius had been given to him.

Seeing all the people in the world gave Remus as much gratitude as fear, wondering what his life
would have been like had Sirius never been there.

What Sirius would have been doing with someone else instead of Remus.

If the smiles he shared with Remus were indeed just for him, or if he was only privy to them due to
circumstance.

Would anyone else smile back at Sirius the way he did? Love him the way he did?

Remus doubted it.

Had Jon thought Sirius’s smile the most dashing in the entire world?

Probably not like Remus did.

Would Sirius marry someone else? If life had been cruel and saw it fit for Remus never to meet
him, would Sirius have ended up with someone else on this trip? Getting married and kissing in
motel rooms?

Or was that something only for Remus?

He would let Sirius drag him to the ends of the earth and back a million times over just to be on the
receiving end of a joke—or a kiss because he now knew what those were like. A hug was worth its
weight in gold and a million shifts working overtime. A brush of fingertips worth all the stars in the
sky, and to love him?

Priceless.

Remus would give it all in a heartbeat because life was terrifyingly short. Never long enough.

He wished it would go on forever and ever just so he could live through everything with Sirius.
Like, if Sirius were there with Remus, then watching the sun spin towards the earth and crash and
burn would only be a poetic end to everything.

Something beautiful, and he would smile at Sirius, and there would be tears in his eyes only
because even if they lived for a million years, it would never be enough. And the only solace would
be the bitter idea that if the sun killed them all, he wouldn't be able to miss Sirius the following day.

It was wicked—how important Sirius could make you feel.

As if, when he was looking at you or laughing with you, you were the only person that mattered.

It was disastrous how precious and cared for and wanted Sirius could make you feel, whether it be
from a single act like getting you donuts or a coffee or buying you a coke in the gas station or
something bigger, like filling up extra space in an empty home.

Creating something out of nothing.

And maybe that said a lot about Remus once again—that he would let Sirius hurt him no matter the
consequences. That he had never been shown love as a child, so he searched for it in someone else,
but it wasn't like that. It wasn't.

Had it been anyone else—it wouldn't be like that. It was something about Sirius that made Remus
go along with it all.

That had made him get in the car that day anyway.

Something about his voice on the phone at three in the morning and something about seeing his
eyes every day since pushed back thoughts and deluded Remus into thinking there was something
more—something after all of this. And if there were a chance, he would never not take it.

He’d let Sirius drag him along until he was bloody and scraped raw, just for a glimpse of what
could be—a few stolen kisses and an empty marriage contract.

Shared cigarettes and shared beds.

Limbs tangled together and open and panting mouths.

Love was awful—it was dreadful—and when combined with life, they made a good team. Could
cut you down in a moment and pick you back up a second later, on wobbly knees and with blood in
your mouth.

The only saving grace most days that made it all worth it was that it was Sirius Remus loved, and
that was enough for him to plant his feet again and carry on with it all. Smile through the feelings
of being flayed raw when he looked at Sirius and wanted to cry about how pretty he was.
How ethereal he made smoking a cigarette look.

How he embodied everything you could want in a person.

And as Remus sat there, driving towards Tennessee that morning, with Sirius playing the guitar
next to him, it was a harsh thought—that maybe he had done this all to himself.

He couldn’t figure out what Sirius remembered and what he didn't.

Hadn't asked because Remus was afraid of speaking to him despite his good mood that morning. A
mood that had Remus assuming he might not remember anything and James's words from the night
before ran through his head, and as much as it had hurt, he didn't want Sirius to hurt.

Remus didn't want to argue—he didn't want to bicker or fight. Didn't even have the energy for a
back or forth or trying to put words to what he felt. That alone felt exhausting, and like if he had to
sit there and tell Sirius what he had done the night before—explain how it had hurt him—that
might just be the worst thing he could imagine.

He might as well go ahead and spill his guts—leave himself bloody and raw in the truck's cab.

Remus already felt small, unimportant, but still significant enough, and didn't feel like making a
case at a little past ten in the morning. He was managing, keeping the peace, whatever you wanted
to call it.

So he drove on, listening to Sirius mindlessly strum the guitar, pointing out a few things they
passed as they made their way to the next state. They needed to get to Alabama on time, and Sirius
was excited, so Remus did just about the only thing he could manage: smoke and keep driving.

They made it to Union City a little past four and stopped to get milkshakes.

Not lunch or an early dinner—milkshakes.

And why you may ask?

Because Sirius wanted a milkshake, the small restaurant had a burger for James, and Remus was
hopeless, and he had said ‘sure’ despite it burning as it came out of his mouth.

He had become so accustomed to saying yes, it was out before he could think.

They sat down on the tailgate of the truck, Sirius sipping away at his strawberry milkshake like
nothing in the world was wrong, and either he had no idea what had happened and was blissfully
unaware of how tense things were, or he had a fantastic poker face Remus would scoff at.

Either option just made him mad.

Remus was getting angry because it was not fair that he was standing there with a deep and ragged
chasm in his chest because of Sirius—happily sipping away at his drink.

And he hated it so much because he didn't want to be angry at Sirius. Never wanted to feel anything
other than complete and total delight when he looked at his face, but Remus found he could hardly
stand to look at him.

Because don’t you see what you’re doing to me? What you’ve done? How you’ve made me feel?
But it was also a moment of peace—watching how Sirius brought his legs up to his chest, sitting on
the back of the truck. He rested his chin on his knees, holding the little red and white cup in front of
him, and just stared.

Let out a sigh and stared and Remus came apart at the seams.

Sirius looked out at the world with Remus right next to him, like he knew something Remus didn't.
As if he had never known what it was like to fear not having him.

And Remus fucking loathed that fact as much as he was grateful. Wanted to get down on his knees
and thank whoever was out there, if that was the case, because he would never wish that longing
upon anyone, let alone the one he loved the most.

The sun behind them was ready to go down for the day, and James and Lily were there, and Remus
was the weight weighing the moment down because he couldn't let it go. Despite how lovely Sirius
looked in the evening light and how Lily smiled softly at James.

Sirius was wearing one of Remus’s shirts and mixed with the volatile feelings swelling in his chest,
he looked like home, but Remus was reminded that home was a construct and one he had created
and crafted on illusions and hopes.

Not reality.

Remus felt sick, awful, like a monumental fuck up that ruined any good thing he had in his life
because Sirius had made him feel terrible, but Remus had made him feel some way if his tone had
indicated anything the night before.

Remus had done that, had brought it upon himself, and he felt lightheaded at the thought.

That things were close to something. It was in the air and hanging over them both. It just seemed
that Sirius had not looked up yet, and noticed it.

Remus was looking, though. He could see it, and it was something heavy and quite frankly,
terrifying.

It was as if Sirius had not noticed the sun going down, threatening to toss them all into darkness.
The red was back and mixed with cool blues. It was a warning Remus could see very clearly this
time.

“Can I have a sip of yours, Moons?”

And Remus spoke without looking at him because he couldn't. “No.”

Instead, he focused on how the light was changing, eclipsing them all in that evening tone the sun
sometimes took on—where everything was a bit gray and yellow despite the colors in the sky. Just
like he had seen at home, except now he had traveled across the country and still felt the exact
fucking same.

Lost, maybe. Unsure of everything—afraid and alone.

Remus felt so alone; it was pitiful. Like he was a child again, staring down the vast and dark
hallway of his empty home. Like the spot next to him, always warm and accompanied, was vacant.
“Also, I’m sorry, Lily, if I was a handful to deal with last night.” It was silent for another moment
before Sirius spoke again. “I didn’t mean to get like that. Sometimes I just—I don’t know.”

And Remus jerked his head down, looking at the side of Sirius’s face as he took a sip of his drink
and then at Lily, who Remus could tell didn't know what to say. She only shook her head,
mumbling an ‘It’s fine’ before glancing at Remus, questions in her eyes, but he had no answers.

To what was going on or what to even say to that.

Because where was his apology? Where was the thank you, if Sirius thought he deserved one, for
making sure he didn't make a fool of himself? It was a lot of things, the situation, but it was sour
most of all.

Maybe Sirius had wanted to talk to Jon.

Maybe Remus had really fucked up his chances, and he guessed that sucked, but it was all just a bit
confusing.

But where was the ‘I’m sorry if I was really fucking awful to you last night’ for Remus?

He wasn't sure he deserved one, but he felt it might make him feel a bit better—it would be a start.
Even an acknowledgment of feelings would have been nice, fuck, even if it was to shoot him down
and tell him Remus had no reason to be upset he was flirting with other people.

And that's when Remus knew he couldn't push off the conversation any longer because he felt like
he was going to break in two from the hurt, making a home in his chest.

He rather be miserable and have his chest torn open to relieve the ache than pretend he could go on
like this.

Remus had never run track or played football or any sports for that matter, but how he felt right
then is how he imagined one would feel before a big game.

Before a big anything, really.

The apprehension, the doubt, the anxiety, and the fear were running rampant through his body so
much that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove—if only to keep them from
shaking.

Scenario after scenario, a speech was being planned in his head and rewritten—over and over.
Trying to figure out the best way to fix it all without too much fall out or collateral damage.

That seemed nearly impossible.

“Can I have a cigarette, Moons?”

“No—” Remus shook his head, eyes on the road. “That’s my last one.”

Remus passed the sign letting them know they were nearing Nashville and sighed.
James and Lily were prepared to drive all night. He knew it. They had kept up with him as he
(admittedly) sped through their drive for the evening. Sirius had long fallen asleep, and Remus had
long passed the point of giving a single fuck about much more than having a fucking conversation.

Because it wasn't fair, he had come to accept and understand that, and Sirius owed him answers and
fucking apologies because no matter the reason, if you make someone feel like shit, you owe them
an apology.

Remus would get on his knees and grapple—plead and cry out all his apologies—but Sirius was
going to do the same because Remus deserved that.

And he had never been in this situation with Sirius and had no idea how to navigate it, but he was
blindly fueled by a coffee that had long gone cold and the last cigarette he was saving for the motel.

He pulled over at the next exit, ensuring James followed, before finding a gas station to fill up at.

Remus got out of the car, not sparing Sirius a glance as he slept, and met James inside. They both
bought a pack of cigarettes, and there was an internal war in Remus’s head for a moment about
whether or not to get Sirius a pack, but he did just in case the evening went south, and at least then
Sirius would have a vice, same as him.

A level playing field, preparing for the worst. If it all crashed and burned, Remus decided he’d
smoke his lucky first—light it using what little he had left going up in flames.

He threw the pump in to fill up the truck and went over the Lily, resting her head on the passenger
window, smiling softly as he walked up. Her hair was windswept, and her eyes were tired, and
Remus nodded, understanding.

“How are you, babe?”

“Angry,” Remus shrugged—being honest for a rare moment. “Angry and high and exhausted.”

“Then let's find a motel. Is he asleep?”

Remus nodded.

“Then, if he wakes up, have the conversation. If not, wake his ass up.”

Remus tossed the spliff out the window, glancing over at Sirius, still asleep, before pulling in
behind James to the motel they had found for the night.

They hadn't been spoilt for choice, and this was the third option. Remus was tired and wanted a
shower, and he was high and probably thought he might want to cry and was going to cry soon, so
it was probably best just to take what they could get.

He thought, maybe if he could just make it to the bathroom and have a good cry and pity session
again, things could go back to normal. Remus could bury whatever he felt about whatever had
happened and go on the following day as if it had never happened.

He just needed to make it to the bathroom, away from Sirius, because as they got closer and closer
to the motel room and having to wake Sirius up, Remus was shaking with anxiety.
Absolutely riddled with it.

Couldn't keep his hands steady on the wheel and was jerky when talking to James. Fidgeting and
couldn't sit still, he didn't know what the fuck was going on.

Remus rested his head on the steering wheel, listening to the radio play softly and the light snores
of Sirius, and he hated how angry the noise was making him. He felt wrong—like he wasn't
himself.

He rolled down the window as he saw James walking up, catching the key he threw him a moment
later.

James shook his head before sighing, looking up at Remus like he wanted to laugh. “Two rooms for
the night. Got them, but, uh—sorry about the choice of rooms. They were the only two left, man.”

And Remus wasn't really sure what that meant until he pulled up, grabbed their shit, and opened the
door.

And it was another fucking honeymoon suite, which he really fucking despised because weren't
there people honeymooning right now?

Didn't they need this room?

Because Remus would have driven another hundred miles if this motel had been fully booked just
to not have to step foot in that room.

He went back to get the rest of their things and wake Sirius up, and he felt awful, yeah. Because
Sirius looked like he always did—sleepy and small—and Remus didn't feel fit to be around
someone so precious when he felt like fucking screaming.

But because it was like a curse—Remus was aware of that now—they were destined to have it out
in a purple honeymoon suite in the middle of Nashville at—a little past midnight.

With the purple velvet couch and the mirrored headboard as a witness to it all—the purple
wallpaper was so tacky it almost seemed sentient. Shag carpet that was too soft and a purple
tablecloth on the small dining set.

And Remus almost decided to wait.

Almost wanted to push it back another day because the color was having the same effect as the red
in Vegas, and that had led to bad decisions—even worse, now when put into perspective—but then
Sirius opened his mouth.

Sirius opened his fucking mouth, and if anything, that was poetic because everything started and
ended with Sirius and what he had to fucking say, it seemed.

“Moony—” He gasped, throwing his things on the table. “What kind of room is this?”

He winked, and Remus grit his teeth.

“And champagne? What—” Sirius squinted at the bottle. “Fancy name—Amortentia. It’s got little
hearts on it. Do you think it will make you fall in love with me?”
I put up with your shit because I’m in love with you, and all I’ve gotten is a few kisses, a black eye,
and to feel like shit.

But that's not what came out because that would have been a bit harsh. Remus thought maybe the
way he was feeling right now, anything that would come out of his mouth might be a bit harsh and
hurtful, but Sirius was grinning at him as if he had never known hurt from Remus in his life.

And Remus knew what it felt like to be hurt by Sirius, and it burned like pouring alcohol in a
gaping, bleeding, and lethal cut.

He dropped the bags where he stood and turned fully towards Sirius. “Do you even remember what
happened last night?”

Sirius had the audacity to look confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember—” Remus shook his head, taking a few steps toward him. “What happened last
night?”

“I remember dancing with Lily and sitting at the bar—putting your cowboy hat on and then Lily
asleep next to me.”

And Remus laughed because wouldn't that have been just fine?

Remus would have loved that—he loved when Sirius wore that stupid cowboy hat that had been
sitting on the dash for days. “You did dance with Lily, but that wasn't my fucking hat.”

And Sirius still looked confused, and Remus almost felt bad, but then in Sirius fashion, he crossed
his arms, tilted his head, and pursed his lips.

Did just a bit too much at that moment.

Poked Remus where it hurt, right in the dead center of his chest.

“Can I have your sweater? It’s cold.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no,” Remus snapped, and he could tell Sirius knew what was about to happen.

It was apparent in the straightening of his shoulder and the way he shifted his feet. The air around
them seemed to change, ready to buffer whatever came out of their mouths because maybe who
they were would never leave that hotel room—perhaps that would be best. Maybe everything was
about to crash and burn, but Remus had been hyping himself up all fucking day for this moment.

“But we’re married, Moons.”

And it was like throwing gasoline on a fire that had been burning under the surface for much too
long.

Remus clenched his fists, turned, and kicked the door closed before whipping around to look at
Sirius.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”

It came out louder than he had wanted—would have thought it would have been easier to ease into
the anger. Maybe let it out in small waves, but it was there pushing at Remus and making the words
spill from his mouth. Erratic and harsh, and it only egged him on more because why was he talking
to Sirius like this?

But it was no use, and this had been years coming.

After years of longing and crying and pushing everything away, it was like a dam that burst, and no
matter the number of hands trying to stop it from breaking entirely and flooding everything in front
of it, it pushed on.

Overflowed onto the carpet under them, staining everything.

“What the fuck does that even mean—we’re married?” Remus was getting hot, cheeks flushed and
like his fingers were fucking prickly, and he was never one for confrontation, so it felt like the most
unnatural thing in the world.

“What?” Sirius whispered it on an exhale, his shoulders folding in like he was hurt that Remus
didn't fucking understand what this strange fake marriage meant to the person in front of him.

Like things had been clear and concise, and like Remus had two fucking heads because he was
questioning Sirius’s, what? Loyalty—capabilities in marriage? Eligibility? Remus was lost.

He was so fucking lost for the person in front of him; it was nauseating.

Remus thrust his hand out, the one with the fucking ring, and waived it in Sirius’s face. “This!
What does this even mean?”

Sirius laughed, but it was dry, and his eyes shifted to look at the hand Remus was holding out
before meeting his eyes. He swallowed and forced a small smile, but it wavered. “What, you don't
like the ring? If you didn't, you could just say—”

“Siri—”

He was cut off by Sirius taking a few steps forward, roughly pulling a few rings off his own fingers.
He was struggling, yanking them off. His hands were shaking, and his head bowed, not daring to
meet Remus’s eyes.

“If you didn't like it,” A humorless chuckle. “You could have just said something.” Sirius tossed a
ring to Remus that had been on his middle finger. “I have this one—”

This one Remus let drop to the floor.

“Or this one, Moons,” Sirius's voice faltered, and his hands were unsteady. He was talking over
himself, the words coming out rushed and panicked.

“Or even this one, I got it in New York—” He tossed another at Remus, something flashy and
Sirius.

“What happened in New York?” Remus finally cut him off, snatching the rings out of his hand and
tossing them on the bed. He grabbed Sirius’s chin in his hand, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“No.” Sirius spat back, and Remus watched as his jaw locked—he held his place.

It was vicious, all apprehension from the moment before gone in the face of being asked to speak of
something Remus knew he wouldn’t. The rings were forgotten about, a valiant effort in avoidance,
but Remus wasn’t having it.

“Tell me what happened in New York.”

“Remus, I said it wasn't that big of a deal.” Sirius gritted his teeth, voice rising, and he squeezed
Sirius’s chin tighter before roughly letting go.

“Okay—then, if you won't tell me that, tell me why you never called. Why didn't you ever send
anything or reach out to me?” Remus scoffed, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn't hear from you for
four years.”

And he knew it was all related—he knew something happened, and he was so tired of trying to get
it out of Sirius or figure it out himself. Sirius had his own life, but when it caused this to happen
between then, Remus felt like he was owed some sort of explanation.

And he wouldn't leave the hotel room until he got it out of him. They’d stand there all night
because he wanted it back.

Remus wanted them back in whatever capacity he could have.

At that moment, he wished more than anything to go back—redo it all.

Remus wanted to get back in that truck and vow to take what he could get, not be selfish and fish
for more because the more had brought them to where they currently stood, and it was nearly
unbearable.

Oh, it felt like dying.

With Sirius looking at him like he wanted to combust, jaw locked and tongue pressed against his
cheek. Remus only stared back, crossing his arms and looking down at him. Using everything
wrong coursing through his body to stand his ground, replaying all the moments it could have gone
south, trying to figure out the correct answer to it all.

Vegas.

The night in the truck.

Tight pants.

Jon.

Sirius went to turn around, and Remus grabbed his wrist, but he broke out of his grasp, making his
way over to their suitcase and opening it. He tossed all their stuff to the ground, throwing shit left
and right, and he dug through it all before walking back to Remus, a piece of paper in his hand.

He shoved it into Remus's chest before letting it drop and taking a step back. “Outside
communication is hard when you’re in the hospital.”

“Hospital?”
“Hospital—the hospital.” Sirius laughed, his face drawing up in disgust. “Or I wouldn't call it a
hospital because it sure as fuck didn't make me feel better—it didn't help me. Or, as my parents
would say, it didn't ‘fix’ me.”

The quotation marks Sirius threw up around the words fix were brutal.

Remus wasn't sure what was going on—his mind was trying to catch up and finish putting together
the pieces. Trying to find the correct answer. “That still doesn't answer my question.”

“What fucking question, Remus?” Sirius threw his arms out wide, brows drawn.

“All of them!” Remus shouted, pulling at his hair because it was like talking to a brick wall that
could talk back but refused to do so—and was built of vague answers and stubbornness.

Sirius only stared at him—bore fucking holes into Remus—as if he was asking, ‘Do you really
want to know?’

The tilt of his head was like asking, ‘You really want to hear this?’

The crossing of his arms and shift of his jaw saying, ‘You’re not going to like this one bit.’

“What do you want me to say first?” Sirius scoffed, kicking a foot out and crossing his arms. “How
I tried to send you that letter and reach out to you, but it never made it because my parents found
out?”

Remus looked down at the small piece of paper on the ground—noted it was composed of a
handful of ripped pieces, taped back together and puzzled into one another.

“Do you even want to know what happened the night they found it? Do you, Moony?” Sirius raised
his voice, coming up to stand in front of Remus. His cheeks were flushed, and he pushed a handful
of hair behind his ear, pointing at Remus’s chest. “Or do you want me to tell you about how I woke
up one night to a handful of random fucking people dragging me out of my bed?”

Remus went to open his mouth—to try and ask Sirius to slow the fuck down and make more sense
because he was getting answers, but they were like a fucking riddle, and he was still high, and
Sirius looked absolutely mad standing in front of him.

Stunningly beautiful, like nothing he had ever seen before, but fucking mad.

Remus had never witnessed him like this; completely new territory. Sirius’s jaw locked, and he was
fucking shaking with it all. Like he was so uncomfortable with confrontation and the fact that it
was with Remus.

The air was dense with things that needed to be said, but it was hard when Remus was getting what
he wanted, but Sirius was looking like that. Like he was handing him those things, but Remus
wasn't picking them up.

Always the prettiest, even when he was yelling at Remus—beyond seething.

Sirius scoffed. “April fourteenth, Moons—do you want to know? Do you? Tell me!”

And Sirius screamed the last part before bending down and picking up the letter from the floor.
Tears were in his eyes as he shook it in Remus’s face before tossing it behind them. It fluttered to
the floor near the bed, entirely too gentle for the current situation.

“I woke up from a dead fucking sleep to all these—people—around me, and they dragged me
through that fucking house. Dragged me, and I knew what was happening. I had been waiting and,
yeah, you know what?” Sirius shook his head, drawing his brows together. “I let them take me
because what the fuck was I supposed to do?”

Remus brought a hand up to try and grab Sirius because he was shaking, making him feel a bit sick,
but Sirius only wrenched his hand away from Remus and glared at him.

“There was nothing I could do, Moons,” His voice went quiet, only for a moment. “I didn’t have
anyone.”

Remus watched Sirius swallow before speaking again.

“They were angry.” He pressed his lips into a thin line before taking a deep breath. “My parents. I
knew they were going to do something—they were fucking angry, and I didn’t know what it was,
but then I woke up that night, and I knew.”

It was like the night before all over again—Sirius stepping just out of Remus’s reach—and he was
reminded once again why this was happening. The night before, the bar seemed entirely too
unimportant but still significant enough because it had been the tipping point.

Everything seemed to be leaning towards crash and burn at that moment, and the realization settled
like lead in Remus’s stomach. But Sirius reared up again, shaking his head, and his brows drew
together, all quiet and softness of his last confession gone.

“Because I'm gay—how fucking awful, right?” Sirius laughed, and it was humorless—like nails on
a chalkboard. “My father is an asshole—my father is fucking abusive, Moons—but my parents
draw the line at me being gay.”

Tears were falling now, Sirius’s face wet, and god, everything was purple.

Remus thought he might much prefer the red because this was new. It was too new, forming, and
fresh, and he was so afraid of what it would become.

What the color purple would forever mean to him because there was purple in sunsets, and Remus
would never look to the sky again if it all went to shit.

“They won't take me to the hospital when they crack my head open but are more than happy when I
have feelings for my best friend,” Sirius only stared at Remus like he was pleading for it to make
sense. “How is that right?”

He turned around, kicking at the letter on the floor, and Remus was swaying a bit, standing in place
because his brain was flying at a million miles a minute, trying to finish putting the pieces together.

“So fucking what? It never mattered to me. Never gave a second thought about who I liked—”

Sirius choked on his words, wiping a hand down his face. Remus’s palms were sweating, and there
was a weird swelling in his chest, like a tug threatening to buckle his knees.

“I don’t like anyone else, so where’s the comparison? But what does that matter? Surely it wouldn't
fucking matter if I was,” He scoffed, muttering, “But it does fucking matter, apparently.”
‘When I have feelings for my best friend.’

Sirius was giving Remus what he wanted—he was explaining—and Remus was too dumb and high
at the moment and too stuck by what he was saying to truly comprehend. Because it sounded
horrible—fucking awful—and maybe he couldn't fathom Sirius going through that. It hurt too
fucking much.

Remus was hot; his hands were clammy, and he was entirely too high for the magnitude of a
conversation like this. It was happening, though, and maybe that was best—that they were both still
a bit stoned. Time was slowing, which was either helping or allowing for more things to be said
that were leading to disaster.

This had been a bad idea, and Remus wanted to backpedal.

Grab Sirius and tell him he didn't have to explain—that he would make it all better. That everything
would be fine, they can revisit this later, and ‘Please don’t cry.’

“But I told you I fought, didn't I? And I knew you’d be proud,” Sirius said. “And you would have
—I gave them a run for their fucking money, and I’m not sure who was happier for me to turn
eighteen—them or me because I left the moment I could.”

“How long—” Remus started, and his voice sounded strange—a bit slow. He cleared his throat to
speak again, but Sirius cut him off.

“Eight months,” He said. “Eight months, and then I turned eighteen, and then I was out. I couldn't
go home. I met some people there—they let me stay with them for a while.”

Sirius’s voice had gone quiet again, shaky. And the distant look on his face made Remus reach out,
only for Sirius to step back again.

What have I done?

“Why didn't you just come to me?” And God, Remus hoped that made sense because he had to
choke the words out—past the massive fucking lump forming in his throat as he finally began to
understand.

His brain was catching up, and he felt sick—extremely fucking ill.

Sirius’s eyes met his, and he wiped his nose roughly, shaking his head. “They fucked me up bad.”

And it was silent for a moment, Remus opening and closing his mouth, praying something came
out, but Sirius spoke again.

“I wasn't any good to be around.”

Remus hadn't heard him sound like that ever. It was full of broken pieces, mismatched into
something resembling Sirius but not quite.

He went to shake his head because no—that's not how that worked. Sirius could have come back
any time, whenever—Remus would not have cared a single bit. Sirius was himself, at the core of it
all; he was just him, and Remus would forever take him any way he could.

But then Sirius laughed like he knew what Remus was thinking, waving a dismissive hand.
“And besides, they tried to dig you out of me—” Another laugh, Sirius swiped a tear away. “They
really fucking tried, and the most they did was make me doubt myself. Doubt you, but only in the
sense, I had no idea how you felt. I knew how I felt, but why on earth would I go back to you? Why
would I go back and mess up your life?”

Bullshit.

“No, you know th—”

“But of course, I couldn't stay away—I’m selfish,” Sirius spat the word like it was the worst thing
in the world to be—like being selfish and getting what you wanted was something so damn awful.

“Dad died in the hospital, which was fine,” A shrug. “Wish I had known what I knew now—would
have loved to visit him—but he died, and everyone was beside themselves. I got the inheritance
still. They tried to stop it—everything under the fucking sun, but it was mine.”

Remus wanted nothing more than to just touch Sirius. To grab him and hold him and squeeze all
the awful out of him and tell him it was okay to be selfish and want and need and covet so bad it
makes you fucking sick.

There was nothing he would not do to show Sirius that anything he ever wanted was at his hands—
from Remus.

“It was fucking mine,” Sirius urged. “And I stayed on friends' couches until I got that money, and
then do you know what the first thing I did was?”

Remus was quiet until Sirius cocked his head, waiting for a response. He swallowed. “What?”

“I called you.”

And Sirius threw his hands up, shaking his head like it was simple. Like Remus should have known
because it was obvious. Sirius’s shoulders dropped, and he stood there, brows raised in indifference.

“I called you from a payphone in the middle of fucking nowhere, and I was terrified, and I was
scared, but I called you,” Sirius said, and Remus watched as he roughly brought the hem of his shirt
up and wiped at his face. “And I didn't think you were going to answer. I mean, I was just so
terrified.”

Sirius threw a hand out towards Remus—to drive his point home. “But you did—you did answer.
And then I heard your voice I had heard a thousand times before, and you answered, and it was
three in the morning, and you sounded like you had just been asleep—”

“I was—”

“—And then you spoke, and it was like it was all worth it. To hear your voice again, I knew—I
knew that they could never take you from me. I may not have you—but you were mine, and they
couldn't take that.”

Remus was quiet because it felt like equally a horrible time but also the best time to tell Sirius that
yes, he was his—wholly and completely and one hundred percent.

That he had been Sirius’s all along and that nothing could ever change that. He wanted to tell Sirius
that he had him—could continue to have him—until there was nothing left.
But Sirius pushed on, moved past that point like it was nothing.

“But go on,” He arched a brow. “Why don't you tell me why didn't you call me?”

“Your parents—I didn't,” Remus was talking without even thinking, panicking because he felt like
he had to make a case, but now it all seemed so stupid and silly, and why hadn't he called? What
was important enough to cause this?

“Your dad—I didn't want to make things worse.”

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat, pushing down the fear, and just—fucking spilled his guts.
Like a knife to the stomach, one end to the other—spilled them on the fucking purple shag carpet
under him.

“I didn't want to make things worse for you, and then—you never called. Graduation came and
went, and I never heard from you, and I thought about calling, but I just assumed,” Remus grit his
teeth, willing the tears not to fall and his chin to stop fucking wobbling. “I assumed you forgot—
about me. Moved away and found better, I don't know—friends, people. Things.”

Objectively, Remus knew he could have called, but after what happened with Orion and not being
there for any fall out—he couldn't do that. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn't stand being the
cause of Sirius's pain and not being there to pick up the pieces for him.

“Why would I want you to come back home when it's a miserable place to be, and I was even more
miserable?” Remus shrugged because it was that simple—point blank.

Sirius would have returned to someone who was not Remus, and he didn't want him to see him that
way. Remus hadn’t even wanted to see himself.

“Okay, that—doesn't even make sense,” Sirius shook his head, scoffing. “We can get to that later.
Are you going to tell me what's going on with you—all the fighting?”

And it was pretty straightforward, and Remus was honest. “You left, and I was angry.”

Sirius looked at him like he was fucking crazy, as if the two had no correlation, but Remus felt like
they had all the correlation in the world. Buckets and buckets of it—overflowing.

“I know it's more than that—don’t bullshit me, Remus,” Sirius said, taking a step towards him, and
he stood his ground, shoving a finger into his chest. “Tell me.”

“It's just fucking that—I was angry and alone.”

“That doesn't make any fucking sense!”

“Well, it doesn't help nobody could keep your fucking name out of their mouth,” Remus shouted,
leaning down to meet Sirius’s gaze.

Which was a fatal flaw if he were honest. Like a punch straight to the face—the look in Sirius’s
eyes, the crunch of his nose, and the tears welling the blood that would inevitably run.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth because even like this, crying and the other half of
the whole that was the mess of them, Sirius was just so beautiful. Wet lashes and eyes fucking
furious, all his attention on Remus, and it was a whole slew of new emotions he had never felt.
He had to assume it was the red mixing with the purple—like mixing ammonia and bleach, and
they were running out of time.

“At first, I was angry because they were talking shit about you, but then I couldn't even hear your
name.” He scoffed. “Why would I need to hear it out loud when it was all that was running through
my head?”

Sirius’s jaw locked again, and Remus watched as he turned away to face the opposite wall. He
pushed on, though, watching as Sirius dropped his head forward, a hand coming up to wipe more
tears.

“You left, and I had no one. My parents don't give a shit, and you're well aware of that. As sad as it
sounds, you were all I had, and you left. What was I supposed to do?” He shrugged, watching as
Sirius shook.

Remus laughed, and it was something disgusting—unfairly dismissive, he knew it.

“So yeah, I went out and would get drunk, and then a few nights after your dad rocked my shit,
someone was sayings something about you, and I hit them, and then they hit me, and it felt good.”

Sirius turned then—eyes red and sniffed. “What?”

He asked it like he couldn't believe what he was hearing—as if he had already decided that Remus
was fucking crazy, and his choice of coping mechanisms only confirmed that. Remus tilted his chin
up, taking a breath.

“It felt good to feel something other than your pain—the pain that accompanied the thought of
you.”

Please don't make me elaborate—it’s that simple.

But Sirius only looked on, bringing a hand up, urging him to explain before wiping away more
tears. It felt like Remus was drowning himself, and he was doing it willingly.

“So I went to work, spoke to no one, and got that shit beat out of me every night because I missed
you so much.” Remus scoffed because, yeah, it sounded fucking wild. “Drinking numbed it all a
bit. Sometimes I didn't want to stop drinking because I didn't have to deal with it because I drank to
stop feeling you, but then I missed you and didn't want to drink you away anymore. Couldn’t risk
losing what little I had.”

Remus sighed because this was his ‘New York’—this is what he dreaded fucking telling Sirius and
wished he didn't have to, but his eyes were wide as he looked at Remus, and he just wanted to get it
all out. Just wanted to unload every single fucking thing that had been weighing him down, so there
was nothing between them.

He was terrified of the guilt Sirius would feel, but he hoped he could understand if they made it
through this.

“And then there was the night I got beat up so bad—I honestly don't even know how I woke up,”
Remus shook his head, shrugging. “But I did, and my nose was broken, and I was bleeding all over
your fucking carpet in your old house, and then you know what I did then?”
Sirius shook his head, lips parting.

“I went home, and my parents hadn't even noticed I was gone.” Remus smiled, nodding to himself
because wasn't that fucking awful? The words he spit out next were bitter—full of resentment and
anger.

“But you would have noticed—” Remus pointed at Sirius, shaking his head, and the tears finally
fell. “And always did, and it might not have been for the same reason I noticed you—but you did,
and that was always more than enough for me.”

The silence between them stretched on for what seemed like forever. Like it was a stalemate—
neither quite understanding what had just been said. Remus understood, but he didn't understand.

Where did this put them?

What was accomplished just now?

Where do we go from here?

And then Remus watched as Sirius’s shoulders fell, and a sob escaped him. He watched him wipe
at his tears, chin trembling before he took a few steps towards Remus and looked up at him.

Remus felt the first hit like a final blow—Sirius shoving against his chest.

“You were going to fucking leave me?” Sirius shouted, pressing his head into Remus’s chest.

Not guilt, but anger.

Remus was shaking, and he wanted it all to end. Wanted more than anything to tell Sirius it hadn’t
been like that. He would never. That Sirius, even just being in the world, was enough to keep
Remus there for as long as he could wring out his breaths and keep his heart beating.

“I would never, but I thought about it,” Remus said, shaking his head with conviction. He heard
Sirius’s teeth clench tighter—heard his teeth scrape against one another as they ground. “But you
did leave me.”

He felt another shove—and then another and then another, but the last was harder as Sirius
slammed his palms into Remus’s chest over and over. He sounded almost unconsolable, and Remus
had never heard him that way and felt entirely responsible, so he braced himself.

Locked his legs and took each hit like penance for even considering something so awful.

“You were going to leave me,” Sirius said, tears running freely with every blow. “And all I was
trying to do was get back to you! What would I have done if I came back and you were gone?”

Remus had honestly never thoughts of that because he thought he would never see Sirius again.
Why hope—that would have just made things worse. But now Sirius was in front of him fucking
berating him for even thinking about it.

Too many things were happening at once—about a million conversations were being spoken at the
same time. It was making Remus's head spin because he didn't know what to focus on—didn't
know what the fuck to do right then if he were being honest.
Sirius went to hit him again—still fucking yelling about him leaving—and Remus reached out,
grabbing Sirius’s wrist before he could hit that soft spot in the middle of his chest that was fucking
aching.

“Stop it.”

He tried to move his hand again, but Remus brought it close to his chest. Sirius looked fucking
murderous—lifting and leveling with Remus as he spoke again.

“I had no choice,” Sirius hurled the words at Remus so hard he actually drew his head back. “We
were children. If I could have stayed, I would have—you know that, Remus! I told you as much.”

And Remus sighed because, yeah—exactly.

There was no counterargument there because that was precisely the point. They had been children,
helpless to the world and the pull of things they had no control over. Remus let go of Sirius’s hand,
taking a step back and turning, running his hands over his face.

Remus heard him scoff before watching as Sirius made his way over to the torn through suitcase,
tossing a few more things to the ground before snatching Remus’s sweater up.

He made a beeline for Remus again, sweater only half on and finger pointed—something on the tip
of his tongue, but Remus cut him off, grabbing his outstretched hand and pulling him close to his
chest.

“So what was Vegas, then?” He asked as Sirius stumbled, finding his footing.

Remus heard the scoff as he pulled his head through the sweater. “We got fucking married. I mean,
we were hig—”

“What about the nights in the truck?”

Sirius yanked the sweater down, pushing the sleeves up before looking at Remus like there was
something he just wasn't getting.

“Because I like you, you fucking idiot—” Sirius said, breaking out of Remus’s grasp and bringing
his hands up like he wanted to grab his head and fucking knock his brain around. “What are you
not underst—”

And Remus had long understood the importance of timing.

Of how the world worked, and it was bittersweet—the lessons life taught you. Lessons about
longing, wanting and accepting what you had because you were not owed anything, and some days
it seemed like life was predetermined.

Like your life was already written, you were going through the motions—playing the part.

And either this was a moment that they had been barrelling towards for a very, very long time, or
things had just shifted, and it was an opportunity—something elusive and almost hesitant. Either
way, Remus was an idealist at heart, and reached out, grabbed one of Sirius’s arms, and pulled him
into a kiss.

And it was like a first kiss—like a new first kiss.

It didn't erase the ones before, but Remus didn’t want it to.

It was something shiny and new—something fresh. The start of something that acknowledged
stupidity and highlighted it and fucking hailed it.

Like there was nothing more remarkable in the world than two hopeless fools falling into one
another after skating around something so unavoidable.

It was something that applauded them for making it—for trying and sticking their necks out when
everything was at risk. For throwing caution to the wind and reaching out and grasping that
selfishness and strangling it to death—molding it into something tangible and real.

It was a reward, and a big one at that.

There was so much something between them at the moment. The air was sickeningly sweet as
Sirius opened his mouth, letting Remus in, and he felt like he was going to fucking choke on it all.

Like it was sliding down his throat, and Sirius was painting his insides with it, making a home
somewhere deep down. Wading through the good and the ugly woven into who Remus was and
realigning everything.

It was four years, a hospital trip, a handful of bar fights, and the bitter taste of love swapped
between them—carried through each other with spit and kisses, and everything brutal and hurtful
poised on their tongues left their bodies.

It was harsh and hurt, and Remus questioned if loving Sirius hurt or if life had made it painful. The
kiss stung—it was teeth biting into skin and the feel of Sirius’s hand on the back of Remus’s head
—shoving them as close as possible like he wanted to consume him whole.

And Remus would let him and smile as he was devoured, but Sirius pulled back, glancing up at
him. There was hesitation in his eyes, and it was ridiculous. He stumbled back a few steps, but
Remus followed.

“Do you like me back?”

And it was exhaled on a breath, like one last question. As if it would fix everything if Sirius got the
answer he wanted, and Remus would give Sirius anything, and he smiled as he spoke next,
knowing he knew the answer to that question like the back of his hand.

“So fucking much,” Remus laughed, pushing a palm against Sirius’s forehead and watching as he
fell back onto the bed behind them. “Holy shit.”

And it was like a dream and a memory all woven into one, watching Sirius fall into that sea of
purple polyester bedding. Remus wished there was a genie—one would suddenly appear—and he
would only ask for one wish, and it would be to replay that moment in his head.

Over and over again—paint the back of his eyelids with it and call it the moment he became
hopeless for everyone but Sirius.

Forever watching as Sirius fell back against the bed in slow motion. Hair fanning around him and
the sound of his fucking laughter, and the grin on his face. It was like it broke through it all—
whatever had kept them where they had been before that moment. Like things settled as he fell, and
as he hit the bed, the pieces finally stilled—wherever they may lay.

And they were never moving again. The pieces made a home where they had always meant to be.

Remus then knew what James had meant, about nothing else mattering.

Sirius’s eyes were red with tears, and his nose was rubbed raw from crying, but he fell back and
looked so fucking beautiful and like he might be Remus's. He watched their reflection in the
headboard—saw the grin split across his face to mirror Sirius’s—and he felt young.

It was a sea of purple, and Remus supposed purple was the color of Sirius. Yeah, there were flowers
that were purple, and grape Pop Rocks were purple, but Sirius liked cherry.

Flowers were just flowers, candy was just candy, but Sirius—he was everything.

When he hit the bed, a handful of pillows fell to the floor, and he was there before Remus, and then
Sirius opened his mouth and spewed fucking poetry, and Remus wanted to balk and ask him how
he learned to do that—how he learned to spin simple but remarkable words that were spilling from
his mouth on the end of a laugh.

“I’m never leaving again.”

Remus shoved Sirius’s knee up, crawling over him on the bed. “Please don't.”

And he sounded wrecked because they had made it. They had reached the grappling stage—the
moment Remus could look at him, with tears in his eyes, and plead.

He could finally say what he had always dreamed of, it seemed.

“Promise me I never have to go a day without you.”

“I promise.” Sirius shook his head, meeting Remus’s eyes, and he had never seen so much
conviction in one person. It was a look full of honesty, stripped bare and exposed only for Remus.

He hovered over Sirius, eyes not knowing where to look first—like everything was competing for
his attention while his brain was fucking screaming at him, ‘He’s yours!’

“Please let me do this every day,” Remus begged, and it came out needy and pitiful, but he was a
dying man—begging for something to keep him going. He didn't know what he meant by the
question, but he hoped it was all encompassing.

“Always,” Sirius nodded, biting his lip before it was no use—a smile broke through.

Soft eyes and all fucking teeth—pearly white and sharp and fucking stunning. A smile just for
Remus, a new one formed from the breathy ending of a kiss and promises of every moment after.

Remus wanted to swallow Sirius whole—dig his fingers in and claw out his favorite parts of the
man under him, except there would be nothing left because he loved every single fucking thing
about Sirius, and it made him absolutely nauseous.

He wanted to possess him, covet him, not dare to let anything or anyone even think or consider that
he was anything other than Remus’s. It was an intoxicating sense of possession he finally let
himself feel.

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “No—just want to look at you.”

“I think you should kiss me,” Sirius whispered.

“You're too pretty to kiss,” Remus mumbled, bringing a hand up and tucking a strand of hair behind
his ear, allowing himself to feel it—to touch his fucking hair with a sense of something more. “Too
fuckin’ pretty.”

“I don't think that makes much sense.”

“Makes plenty of sense,” Remus hummed. “Trust me.”

He paused again, looking down at the sweater Sirius was wearing and had seen him wear a million
times by now. Swallowing him whole and Remus just—he didn't fucking know.

It was like wanting and wanting, and yearning and hurting for so long, and then suddenly, what you
wanted—what you needed—was being handed to you on a silver platter.

“Are you mine?” Remus whispered, and it sounded small—he meant to speak it himself, but he
watched Sirius tilt his head to the side.

It was the most vulnerable Remus had ever been in his life, no illusion as to what he meant by the
question. It was open and honest and painful to ask because that was the end and beginning of it all.

Yes, Sirius was the beginning and end of what he needed in life, but that question was the question
of all questions.

The start of one thing and the end of another.

“We’re married—it’s a little late for that kind of question, is it now?”

“I just want to hear it,” Remus confessed—pleaded, really—and he wanted to cry as Sirius seemed
to understand finally.

Sirius looked at him like he had known hurt before.

Like he understood the bitter sense of yearning for something that had always been out of reach.

“Always—forever and always.”

“That’s a long time,” Remus muttered, leaning down, brushing his nose against Sirius’s. He pressed
their cheeks together, reveling in the cozy warmth, and was just so warm. Sirius was warm, Remus
was hot, and it was too much and not enough all at once. He turned, brushing his lips against
Sirius’s.

Sirius grinned, shaking his head softly. “You think?”

Remus only hummed because, sure, forever was a long time, but it would never be enough. He
kissed him softly, grinning because he couldn't help it, and Sirius darted his tongue out, licking his
lips, and Remus could taste him, and it tasted like that forever he had just spoken about.

“I can do this any time I want?”

“Yeah—” Sirius nodded, and his breath hitched as Remus bit down on his bottom lip. “Anytime.”

“Good.” Remus grinned before looking down, slowly pushing up the fabric of his sweater—
running his palm over the soft skin of Sirius’s stomach before curving it around his waist, digging
his nails in. “And I can do this?”

Sirius nodded, but that wasn't good enough—Remus gripped his waist tighter. He needed words
and sounds and affirmations of the filthiest sense. He needed pleas, whines, and pretty words for
the rest of his life.

Remus needed Sirius’s devotion in waves—monumental floods of promises threatening to drown

him.

Tell me I can do anything I want with you—you can do whatever you want with me.

Always and forever.

“Yes,” Sirius whispered, leaning into the touch, and Remus was enthralled by how he fit against
his skin and how Sirius’s waist fit effortlessly into his grasp. As if Sirius was made for him.

Like the world had been waiting for Remus to get to this moment to show him that he deserved
good things—that there was someone for him.

That he deserved something in life, and instead of fortune or fame or anything as silly and
insignificant as that—he got Sirius.

Of all fucking things, he had Sirius.

Fucking had him—forever and always, apparently.

Remus moved his fingers lower, brushing his thumb over the waistband of Sirius’s jeans before
letting out a low laugh. “This—”

He pushed his finger against the Moony tattoo, smoothing the skin like he was finally getting a
moment to understand it was there—forever on Sirius’s skin.

There were a lot of ‘forevers’ being thrown around at that moment, and Remus was high and
absolutely delirious with the concept.

“This drives me fucking crazy—you’re fucking wild and stupid as hell.”

“I missed you,” Sirius whined, lifting his hips, and Remus nodded.

He took in the tattoo for a moment longer, eyes heavy because it was all his. He glanced up at
Sirius through his lashes and took in his parted lips and the way his chest fell with every labored
breath. His eyes were heavy as he stared at Remus like he was also sinking into the gravity of the
situation—understanding how sweet life could be.
Sirius’s cheeks were flushed, and the way the blush had trailed down his neck was utterly indecent.
His eyes were blown wide; he looked mad—like he was something wild and unstable.

Like something you couldn't catch, Remus always felt like he would never be able to—but he had
pinned him.

Had Sirius now and refused to let go.

“I’m here, baby.”

And Sirius threw his head back, twisting his hips against Remus’s hand. “Please.”

“Anything you want, I’ll give it to you—” Remus urged, tilting his head, pausing. “After you go
lock the door.”

And as serious as it had been a moment before—the air in the room taking on something thick with
importance and significance—Sirius scoffed and laughed. His grin was wide, and Remus pressed
their foreheads together, feeling his lips as he spoke in protest.

“Why do I have to go lock the door—”

“Because you hit me,” Remus scoffed, sitting up.

Sirius looked appalled, and Remus fell to the side of the bed, letting him get up. “I did not hit you
—I smacked you.”

“It hurt,” Remus said, throwing a hand over his heart. “Wounded me—think I need you to kiss it
better.”

“You’re full of it,” Sirius narrowed his eyes before pushing off the bed, marching over to the door,
and locking it—raising a brow as Remus heard the bolt latch. “You know James and Lily are
probably listening next door.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus rolled onto his back, watching as Sirius walked back towards him. “I’m sure
breakfast will be great in the morning.”

Sirius stood in front of Remus, crossing his arms. “I was promised anything I wanted.”

“You’re impatient—I was promised a kiss to make it better.”

“I’m actually extremely patient—and I never promised that,” He glanced up. “Actually, I should
probably get an awar—”

Sirius yelped as Remus pulled him on top, and he settled, straddling Remus’s lap. Sirius pursed his
lips, crossed his arms, and tried his hardest to look stoic—stern—as he spoke. Like it was just
downright terrible that Remus was ‘The most handsome.’

Sirius muttered it, shaking his head softly like he just couldn't believe what he was seeing. As if
Remus was indeed the most handsome, and he couldn't fathom that he was there, on top of him.

Join the fucking club.

“I’m so fucking gone for you,” Remus sighed, pulling at one of Sirius’s arms. He fell forward, hair
falling around them both, and Sirius smelled like Southern Cuts and laundry detergent from Lily
and James’ apartment, and like the most irresistible mix of sweetness, Remus could gag.

“How gone?” Sirius whispered against his lips.

“Like I’ve lost my mind,” Remus confessed, slowly running his hands over the dip of Sirius’s back,
digging his palms in. “You’re too pretty—how could I not? I was doomed from the start.”

“Are you going to kiss me? We can discuss—”

And yes, Remus did want to kiss Sirius, actually. He wanted to eat him fucking whole so something
could fill the pit in his chest that was no longer there. It was an empty ache, and something needed
to go there—and it was Sirius.

He curved an arm around Sirius’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Remus felt Sirius slot
his leg between his own, tilting his head into the kiss, and it was like settling in after a long time
away from home.

It was like letting your bags fall from your hands after unlocking the door and being on the road for
too long.

The kiss was slow like they had all the time in the world. Like they were in their own private haven
made and crafted for them of the purple shag and gaudy ruffled pillows in the same color but not
shade.

It was heavy, and Remus still couldn't believe it.

The colors swirled around him, and Sirius’s hair was so fucking soft between his fingers. Remus
opened his eyes, leaning back, and felt lips against his jaw as he took in the sight of Sirius on top of
him in the mirror.

It was unimaginable, knowing that was Sirius and he was seeing it, experiencing it, and feeling it
all at once.

Sirius moved across Remus’s neck, and he hissed, feeling teeth bite at his skin and he briefly
thought of the absolute shit he was going to get from Lily in the morning, showing up at breakfast
covered in bruises.

It was a disgusting and greedy swap of spit when Sirius’s mouth found his again. Full of heavy
breaths and moans and vicious gripping fingers, like they were both allowed more now, and neither
of them were shying away from the opportunity to take.

Remus wanted to take until there was nothing left, and he threaded his hands into the back of
Sirius’s hair, pulling him away to meet his eyes.

“You’re so fucking good,” Remus cursed at him like it was a crime and moved a hand into Sirius’s
boxers, gripping his hip. “So fucking good, baby.”

Sirius whined, something eager nipping at Remus's bottom lip. “Wanna be good for you.”

He groaned, throwing his head back but couldn’t help but smile, something dark. “You—”
Remus stopped, hand stilling on his hip, and Sirius lifted his head, turning.

The pounding at the door was sharp, and they both paused, brows drawing together. Remus brushed
his fingers against his skin as they both listened, feeling the shift of Sirius’s on top of him and
digging his thumb against the bone.

He looked at Remus, cocked a brow, and he shrugged. “Maybe it—”

Another set of knocks rang out through the room and Remus groaned. And then another and
another, and then he was fed up. He tossed Sirius off him, who landed with an ‘oof’ on the bed, and
straightened his boxers, walking over to the door and wrenching it open.

“What—”

Jamie was standing there, squinting at Remus, and he sighed, adjusting himself in his boxers,
hidden by the little light outside.

“Man, I love you, but—” Remus started, but James cut him off, holding up a hand.

“The truck light is on.”

“What?” Remus asked, entirely not focused on the conversation and more on the fact that if one
more thing stopped him from fucking Sirius into the mattress one more time, he was going to
scream—yell and bang his head through the door he was currently holding.

He would not be liable for his actions.

“The truck light is on—y’all have the keys.”

Lily poked her head out from their motel room, and Remus leaned out, giving her a wide-eyed
look.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I know—I know, but you guys have the keys, and I didn't want the
battery to die.”

“We're busy!” Came from Sirius, who was still sitting on the bed.

Remus sighed, letting the door swing open fully, squinting at the truck parked in front of them with,
yep, the interior light on.

He shook his head, cursing that fucking light even though it didn't matter. Still, it was stealing
precious time, and Remus would never forgive that light for delaying what he wanted, and he
almost thought about just fucking letting the thing die—dealing with it tomorrow.

“Where're the keys?” He shouted to Sirius, turning to look at him, lying on the bed, lighting a joint.
He took a deep breath. “Baby—keys.”

Sirius’s head shot up at that. “What?”

“Oh my god, the fucking keys,” He turned, walking to the table and rifling through their bags.
“Where the fuck are the truck keys?”
Remus went over, almost tripping in his haste to dig through his jacket for them. They weren't
there, and then he swept across the dresser and the chair, both coming up empty. Sirius’s jacket was
picked up, keys found in the pocket, and then promptly slung across the room.

He threw the door open, not even caring he looked thoroughly debauched in the middle of a
random motel parking lot because he was turning that fucking truck light off and locking the door
and telling James and Lily to ‘fuck off’—in the nicest way possible.

Opening the truck door, he heard Lily shout from behind him.

“Love—I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Remus shot back, angrily punching the light out before the truck door slamming rang
out through the parking lot. He tossed—overhand threw, really—the keys at James and walked
back into the motel.

“See you at breakfast,” He went to shut the door before pausing, peeking out. “Love y'all.”

He didn't wait to hear their response, instead locking the door very pointedly and walking over to
where Sirius had already righted his sweater and was taking a drag of the joint. Remus went over to
the radio on the dresser and turned it on—turning it up loud.

They were busy.

The door would not be opening again unless necessary, and maybe even a little after that.

If there was a fire, it better skip their room. If the world was going to end, it better wait at least an
hour.

“I th—”

Sirius started, but Remus cut him off, grabbing his arm as he took the joint, taking a hit for himself
before ashing it out in the tray on the bedside table. He pulled Sirius along with him before pushing
him back on the bed.

Remus tore his sweater off Sirius, mumbling an apology as it knocked his head around. “Why’d
you even put this back on?”

“I thought—”

“Stop talking,” Remus gasped, bringing his lips to meet Sirius’s again, hand cupping the back of
his head as he leaned over him. “Just stop fucking talking and kiss me.”

Sirius gave into the touch, and Remus gripped his waist tighter, keeping him in place as his hips
lifted, and a low whine escaped his lips.

“You’re mine,” Sirius said, and it wasn't a declaration or a question. The words were laced with
wonder like he was truly just realizing, and as if Remus hadn’t been holding a flashing sign over
his head since fucking forever stating that exact thing.

Remus dug his nails into Sirius’s back, lifting him closer. There was entirely too much space
between them for Remus to be comfortable. He needed nothing between them—needed to be inside
of him and to consume him and take Sirius whole and ruin him so there would never be another
moment of questioning.

About who Remus belonged to and how fucking gone they were for each other, and Remus wanted
nothing more than to make it crystal fucking clear.

“Always,” Remus nodded into his mouth, brushing his tongue against his own. Sirius whimpered,
hand coming down to fumble at Remus’s waistband. His fingers were shaky with need, eyes blown
wide and red. Remus lifted his hips, allowing Sirius’s hand to slip inside and wrap around his cock.

“For how long?” Sirius said, gripping tightly and dragging his hand down.

“Forever,” Remus shook his head, mouth falling open at the feel of Sirius’s hot fingers wrapped
around his length. It was like a little slice of heaven, wrapped up in daring looks and dangerous and
lethal insinuations. “Fucking forever.”

And it was how long he would be Sirius’s as well as how long he had desired to be. How long
Remus had imaged what his cock felt like in Sirius’s warm grasp and what sounds the drag of
Sirius’s hand would make him breathe out.

“I want you to fuck me,” Sirius whispered against his lips, and Remus felt the smile. Like a fatal
blow that knocked him breathless. Felt it like a gut punch that would toss him off a fucking cliff,
and he would never recover.

Didn’t want to, anyway. That was the end goal—to have Sirius.

“We don’t—”

“I don’t care,” Sirius moaned. “I don't care, just need you inside me.”

It was a desperate and pitiful sounding confession that went straight to Remus’s head. He was a
strong man, but not that strong.

Was it the best idea? No, absolutely not. Things had been said, things needed to be talked about, but
there was faith—within them and in the kiss and the spit between them, which was coating Sirius’s
chin and making his skin as glassy and shiny as his fucking eyes—that things would be fine.

And Remus took that faith and ran with it.

“You wanna get fucked?”

“More than anything,” Sirius said as Remus batted his hand away. The loss of pressure on his cock
was fucking painful, but he was losing focus as much as he was gaining it—solely focused on the
fact that this was fucking happening.

“Say you're mine,” Remus hissed, shoving down Sirius’s boxers and feeling him kick them off.
“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” Sirius whispered as Remus gripped his hip, flipping him over and settling on top of
him. It was freezing in the room, but Sirius’s back was hot against Remus’s chest. He reached up,
brushed his hair away from his neck, and leaned in close.
“And my baby wants to get fucked?” Remus asked, dragging his nose across Sirius’s shoulder.
“Tell me—beg.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Sirius said, gasping as Remus pushed against his head, pressing his face
into the pillow to lift his hips.

Mouth open and panting, Sirius was a vision underneath him. He ran his hands over the dip of his
waist, skating his fingers over the moon tattoos that were there just for him.

He dug his fingers into Sirius’s ass, reveling in the feeling of him underneath him—writhing and
pleading. And then he looked up and saw them.

Saw them in that headboard and the sight would never leave his mind. For the rest of his days,
Remus would forever remember the sound of Sirius begging and the look of utter ruin on his own
face.

“Please, Moons,” Sirius pushed back, pressing his ass into Remus. “I need it—”

Remus watched himself lean into the touch, watched with fascination as his finger trailed down
Sirius’s spine. It was grounding, as much as it was fucking him up completely.

“You’re gonna get it, baby,” Remus said mindlessly as he tore his gaze away and leaned down,
trailing his lips across the phases on his back.

He licked across them, tasting the mix of sweat and Sirius. He decided it was his new favorite thing
—the taste of him. Remus wanted to eat him alive and savor the flavor forever. “I don’t want to
hurt you.”

“I don't care.” And it broke off into a cry as Sirius looked over his shoulder at Remus, hair stuck to
his forehead and eyes wide and pleading. “I don't fucking care. I want you to.”

“Yeah?” Remus leaned down close. “You want me to fuck you until it hurts?”

“God—” Sirius let out a breathless groan as Remus grasped his cock, swiping his finger over the
tip. “Please, yes—please.”

“You want me to fuck you until you’re crying?”

Say yes—I want to taste your tears.

Sirius nodded his head, mouth parted, and Remus grinned as he watched his eyes roll back as he
gave his cock a few more tugs, squeezing it lightly in his grip.

“You’re filthy,” Remus said, kissing his tailbone softly. “But you can have anything you want—
always.”

“Want it to hurt,” Sirius mumbled, hands reaching back, grappling for Remus. He caught Sirius’s
wrist before pinning them to the bed.

“Safe word?” Remus asked, leaning back and running his hands over the curve of Sirius’s ass.

And Sirius let out something close to a laugh, choked off like he was in heaven, and Remus was
praying, hoping to God that Sirius meant what he said. Because Remus would be whatever—do
whatever—for Sirius, but more than anything, he wanted to fuck him.

Into the mattress, through the mattress, until Sirius could only look at him with fucked out eyes,
and the only sounds he could make were choked as tears trailed down his face. Tears just for
Remus, and he would savor them, worship them, and lick them away as he swallowed his gasps.

“Purple,” Sirius leaned back into Remus’s touch, and he cried out as Remus brought his hand
down, watching as the pink bloomed on the soft skin of his ass. It was the prettiest color—a color
new and just for him—and he leaned down, licking across the skin and soothing it.

“Purple,” Remus agreed, dragging his teeth over the hot skin. “Promise me you won’t let—”

“I promise,” Sirius begged. “I swear to—”

Sirius's words were cut off as Remus roughly spit on his fingers, rising to his knees and pressing
Sirius into the mattress with a hand between his shoulders.

“Look at you, fuck,” Remus grinned, gripping his hip roughly, watching the color spread where his
fingers pressed. Digging his palm into the skin, spreading, Remus couldn’t fucking figure out
where to look because there were two of them.

Sirius was needy and begging under him, but Remus saw it in front of him as well, like a fucking
dream in the reflection.

Remus spit on his fingers, the sound loud in the room, barely drowned out by the radio. He could
hear Sirius, though—the little whimpers and moans he was letting out as he ground back against
Remus’s cock.

Sirius turned his head, panting against the purple sheets as Remus trailed his wet finger over his
hole, absolutely devouring the way Sirius’s eyes grew heavy as he let out a huff, leaning back into
the touch like he needed more.

More of what Remus was about to give him. What a fucking concept.

“Fuck, oh—” Sirius scoffed, something heavy and nasty—full of incredulity. “Moons.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, it makes me sick,” Remus spat out as he slowly pressed a finger into
Sirius, stretching him out, and he only whined in response. “You’re so fucking good—so pretty.
Just for me?”

Sirius nodded, eyes shut as Remus drew his finger out slowly, leaning back and spitting once more
before pushing it in again.

“Just for you.”

And it was mumbled and breathy, and Remus smiled because what a fucking sight.

He couldn't help it; Remus grinned, glancing up at them in the mirror before throwing his head
back, taking in the purple ceiling and just feeling Sirius underneath him. Feeling Sirius open up for
him and listening to his little cries and pants muffled by the bed.

“Another?” Remus asked, pulling out and smearing his spit. “You think you can take another?”
“Please—yes,” Sirius pushed against Remus, letting two fingers slip in, and he hissed, eyes rolling
back at the thought of Sirius taking his cock. “More, I can take more.”

“I know,” Remus leaned down, brushing Sirius’s hair away from his face. “I know, baby. I know
you can because you’re about to take my cock, and you’re going to look so fucking pretty doing it.”

“Want it,” Sirius gasped as he began to push his fingers deeper, Sirius stretching out so good for
him and taking him so well. Remus straightened, spitting again and watching as it trailed down, and
some of it collected in the dip of Sirius’s back.

He spit again just for the fuck of it and reveled in the sound that left Sirius as he felt it hit his back.
Remus gripped his waist, and it was slick under his hand.

“Again—” Sirius spread his knees farther apart, pushing back. “Please—spit.”

Remus reached down, threading his fingers into Sirius’s hair and pulling him up, back flush against
his chest with his fingers still inside. Sirius gasped at the change of position, and Remus held him
with an arm around his waist.

“Look at you,” Remus said, pulling his hair further back. Sirius’s head lulled to the side, eyes
blown wide as he looked at them both in the mirror. He arched back into Remus and whined.

Sirius’s hair was a fucking wreck, and Remus could feel it falling over his own shoulder. His cheeks
were even more flushed, the loveliest shade of red he had ever seen, and he was something ethereal
there—entirely consumed by his need for Remus.

“Open your mouth.”

And Sirius was so fucking perfect; he opened his mouth. His lips parted, and tongue rested on his
bottom lip. Remus couldn’t help but grin before pulling his head back and to the side, spitting in
Sirius’s mouth as he pulled his fingers out.

“How do I taste?”

“Like heaven,” Sirius moaned, low and deep.

“Sweet talker,” Remus chided before spitting on his fingers, reaching down and easing a third into
Sirius.

Sirius cried out, head falling forward.

“No,” Remus said, pulling Sirius’s head up and resting it against his shoulder. “I want you to look
at yourself while I fuck you.”

“Pull my hair,” Sirius breathed out, and Remus wanted to fucking wreck him—turn him inside out
and into a writhing and babbling mess. “Pull it harder.”

Remus fully intended to ruin him and pushed Sirius back down onto the bed, fucking him with his
fingers, feeling the drag and how fucking tight he was, and setting a pace that was apparently not
enough for Sirius, who was pushing back against his fingers like he was desperate and Remus
wasn't giving him enough.

That wouldn't do.

Remus reached forward, gripping Sirius’s hair, wrapping it around his wrist, and pulled his head
back as he pulled his fingers out. He met Sirius’s eyes in the mirror and let out a huff, chest heaving
and fucking burning up.

He was well on his way to looking wrecked—eyes shining from where Remus was tugging at his
hair, and Remus knew that was his spit that coated Sirius’s chin.

He was well on his way to being Remus’s, and it was the most stunning sight in the world.

“Fuck me,” Sirius gasped, neck pulled back taut, and Remus watched as he swallowed, pushing
himself back onto Remus’s cock. Shifting his hips around like he needed to convince Remus, which
was entirely laughable.

Remus wanted to lick—to bite and claim and consume. He leaned away, pushing his jeans off and
kicking them to the floor. Sirius’s breath hitched as Remus reached around and held his open and
waiting palm in front of his mouth.

A moment later, he felt the warm spit pooling in his hand. Remus looked up and met Sirius’s eyes,
mouth open, and he was wrecked. He was hardly spitting, more drooling into Remus’s hand as if he
couldn't help himself. He was just that much of a mess.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Sirius nodded fervently as Remus roughly wiped away the trailing wet from his chin
before stroking himself with it, head thrown back as Sirius’s spit coated his cock. He lowered his
eyes and watched Sirius writhe under his grasp—looking entirely too much like what Remus had
always dreamed of.

“Please—” Sirius chanted the word like a prayer, bucking his hips against Remus’s hand on his
cock. He tapped his length against Sirius, slicking him with spit. He wanted it wet—messy, though.
Wanted to watch Sirius take his cock, slick with his own spit. Push it inside of him and fucking stay
there.

“Smile, baby,” Remus pushed forward slightly, watching Sirius’s lids lower. “Wanna see your
pretty fuckin’ smile.”

And he watched an absolutely wicked smile spread across Sirius’s face.

It wasn't a new smile; it wasn't something Remus needed to decipher or try and understand. It was
the same smile he had always gotten. The same curve of his lips and quirk of the mouth.

Sirius laughed, but it was cut off and wrecked—deep and something dirty. He gripped his hair
tighter, feeling Sirius push back against him as his grin spread, eyes closing and leaning into
Remus’s grip.

“Oh fuck,” He gasped, eyes fluttering as Remus pushed into him. Slowly, savoring the way Sirius
took him and Remus took a heaving breath, looking down and watching as he pushed himself back.

He watched Sirius fuck himself onto his cock, pulling forward ever so slightly before pushing back
again, taking more of him each time, and Remus felt like he could come right then at the sight.

It was a moment of transcendence like the pieces just fucking disappeared.

Fuck them being settled.

It was all them at the moment—Sirius’s sweat slick skin under Remus’s fingers as he steadied him
because he was so needy for Remus that he couldn’t wait—was pushing back against him quicker
now. He could hear the little punched out breaths escaping Sirius each time he took more of Remus.

“Stop fucking moving,” Remus managed to wheeze out, gathering all he had not to slam his hips
forward and find home. It was painfully slow, the feeling of stretching Sirius out, and he was a
writhing mess by the time Remus bottomed out, leaning his head forward against Sirius’s back.

Heavy pants filled the room, broken up by whimpers of Sirius’s end and the tail end of pleas,
begging Remus to move. But he couldn’t—needed a fucking moment—because Sirius felt like
heaven under and around him.

Remus let go of Sirius’s hair, running his fingers against his scalp before wrapping both his arms
around his stomach, pulling him close.

And it was just them. Remus inside Sirius, arms wrapped around his waist as he squeezed the fuck
out of him, feeling Sirius’s ass flush with his thighs. It was all cold sweat and sticky skin—the
smell of Sirius and Remus just needed a moment.

But Sirius seemed to understand, relaxing against Remus’s grip. Pushing his head back and
bumping it against Remus’s.

The world was a lot of things, but he thought maybe it wasn't as cruel as he originally thought.

Sirius had relaxed, hips beginning to move as he shifted on Remus’s cock. They were silent until
Remus finally spoke, able to catch his breath.

He leaned up, let go, and unpeeled himself from Sirius. Remus grabbed his hair again, took a deep
breath, and pulled his head back, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Gonna make a mess of you.”

And then he pulled out and snapped his hips. It sent Sirius forward, the force of it, and he cried out,
a hand coming back to grip Remus’s wrist where he was holding Sirius’s hip.

“Oh god—”

“Gonna fucking ruin you,” Remus grit out, pulling back before leaning into it—slamming back
into Sirius. “Oh, fuck—baby.”

“Faster.”

“So fucking,” Remus spit on his hand, smearing it over Sirius’s ass before his hand landed against
the skin—feeling Sirius clench around him tighter and fall back onto the bed. Remus gasped.
“Greedy.”

Sirius’s knees fell further apart, his back arching further into Remus. Shakily lifting to his hands, he
met Remus’s eyes in the mirror. “More—please—”

“Want to fucking make a mess of you so bad,” Remus moaned as he gripped Sirius’s hips tighter
and pulled back. Over and over, he steadied Sirius, dragging those fucking noises out of him. “Want
you a drooling and crying mess.”
Remus picked speed—faster because Sirius got whatever he wanted, always—and watched as
Sirius’s eyes went wide. His hair fell in his face, staring straight into Remus’s fucking soul as his
chest heaved and Sirius’s brows drew together.

“More.”

And his lips were red and swollen as he bit down on them, muffling a scream that broke into a
groan.

“Harder.”

Remus’s head was spinning, his thighs fucking burning, but he was determined to make him break.
“Say my name.”

“Moony.”

“That’s not my fucking name.”

It was brutal, the push and pull between them. Heavy pants from Remus and Sirius falling forward
with each thrust, trying his hardest to keep his hands stable as Remus fucked into him like they
needed it.

It was punishing, and there would be time for soft kisses and slow, meaningful things later, but that
moment was the start of it all.

It was Remus taking and Sirius giving as much as it was Sirius taking from Remus—stealing that
little bit he would have held onto in case he never got this chance. But he had it and was watching
and listening to Sirius come apart under him because of him.

“Remus—please,” Sirius gasped. “Harder—oh fuck.”

Sirius looked helpless, and it was heady. His eyes were glazed, shoulders lurching forward with
each thrust, and Remus couldn't stop staring because, God, he was just so beautiful. Fucked out and
drunk on what Remus was giving him, staring at him like that was what he needed.

“Remus—fuck,” Sirius spoke his name like it was all he could think—like all he understood at the
moment was him.

“Take it,” Remus panted, bottoming out again before reaching out and pulling his hair back.
“Fucking take it.”

“More,” Sirius pleaded, voice broken and letting out a strangled cry as Remus gave him more.
“More, more—pull harder.”

And Remus threaded his fingers into Sirius’s hair, gripping at the base and tilting his head all the
way back, leaning over Sirius and meeting his eyes. Mouth parted, Remus grinned before pursing
his lips—seeing Sirius understand and open his mouth wider—before spitting in his mouth.

“How do I taste?” Remus gasped, asking for continuity.

“Like heaven,” Sirius gasped out. “Like heaven and something sweet. Please—”
He was babbling at this point, strung out and out of it. Staring into Remus’s eyes and it was that
fucking poetry again, and it had never sounded so sweet. Would rival the capabilities of
Shakespeare and Poe—Sirius fucked out on Remus’s cock.

“You feel so fucking good,” Sirius groaned, shoulders shaking.

“Please don’t stop.” What a ridiculous idea, Remus almost laughed.

“Moony—baby.”

“I’m your baby, huh?” Remus felt his forehead brush against Sirius’s nose as he met his eyes. “I’m
yours?”

“Mine—all mine,” Sirius cried as Remus pulled out before slamming in again, having to steady
Sirius as he almost fell forward. Remus grinned, doing it again and hitting the perfect spot that had
Sirius’s eyes rolling back.

“I want you to come, and I want to hear all these pretty fucking noises.”

“More,” Sirius begged, eyes glassy and blown out. “Hurt me.”

Remus groaned before laughing because fuck what a sight. Reaching around, he wrapped both his
hands around Sirius’s neck, felt him swallow and moan underneath his grip as he snapped his hips
forward, burying himself.

The sounds in the room were vicious, throaty and choked groans coming from Sirius as Remus
fucked him closer to that edge. Relentless because he wanted nothing more than to watch Sirius just
completely lose it.

He pressed his thumb against Sirius’s tongue, mouth open and panting, and felt the tightening in his
lower stomach. Remus leaned back on his knees and brought Sirius with him; the angle shifted,
making him let out a broken sob, back arching against Remus’s chest.

“So fucking pretty coming apart on my cock,” Remus slammed up into him, squeezing his eyes
shut because he was going to come—he was right fucking there—and he wanted to come to the
look of utter fucking bliss on Sirius’s face. “Look at you.”

He hissed in Sirius’s ear, letting go of his neck and bringing a hand around to grab Sirius’s cock.
Sirius sobbed again, close and near Remus’s ear, and it made him feel drunk—Remus was
surrounded. The feel of being buried inside Sirius, flush against him, the feel of his ass on his
thighs, and the desperate sounds he was letting out.

“Can I come inside of you?” He choked out, absolutely reeling from the idea.

Sirius’s eyes went wide as Remus stroked his cock twice. “Please—“

He was nodding his head, frantic, and his hips ground down, matching Remus’s thrusts.

“Please—fill me up.”

“Please, want you to come inside of me.”

“I want it, I need it—“ He was mumbling over and over, and it was an out of body experience,
honestly. Hearing Sirius beg.

He let out a choked gasp, meeting Remus’s eyes in the mirror before arching back.

“Please, please—”

And it was the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen. Far beyond anything his brain could have
ever conjured up.

Watching Sirius’s mouth drop open, seeing the tears falling from his eyes—painting his face in wet
that was just for Remus. Red cheeks and mused hair, fumbling for words as his back tightened and
he tried to cry out.

Sirius’s brows were drawn like he wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t or wouldn't. Like he
needed to see Remus and wanted Remus to see what he was doing to him.

He felt Sirius spill over his fingers before he slicked Sirius’s cock with come, reveling in the
slippery feel of Sirius’s in his hand for a moment longer before letting go, falling over Sirius again
as he felt his release right around the corner.

Tears fell down Sirius’s face as Remus wrapped his arms around his middle again, holding tight.
Sirius held his head up, panting as Remus pulled out before slamming his hips forward.

“Gonna make you mine.”

Sirius let out a punched out breath, and Remus went still. Time stopped as he felt that tightening in
his lower stomach suddenly break—shattering and cracking and collapsing apart all in one—and
Remus jerked his hips once, twice more before pulling Sirius back all the way and coming.

“Fuck.”

The air was heavy and thick with labored gasps. Sirius’s chest heaving under Remus’s hold, they
stayed like that for he had absolutely no idea how long. Feeling Sirius’s back press against him
with every breath, trying to even out.

Remus let his arms fall from around Sirius and rested his head on his shoulder, pressing his lips into
skin.

Not quite a kiss, but something close.

“Holy shit,” Sirius gasped, hanging his head. “Oh my god.”

Remus tried to mumble something in agreement—holy shit, indeed—but it came out as nothing
more than a hum. Sirius went to sit up, and Remus lifted, steadying a hand on his waist.

“I could high five you right now, fuck”

It was silent as Sirius’s words caught up to Remus, and then he laughed, reaching forward and
brushing the hair away from Sirius’s neck. He was hot—sweaty—and Remus fell back on his
hands.
“You gotta get up,” he panted, trying to catch his breath because he was not out of shape, but fuck.
He had smokers lungs, and Remus had not put that much physical exertion into anything, maybe,
ever.

“Damn—” Sirius shot back. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay” Remus nodded, hanging his head, breath beginning to slow. “Yeah, take your time.”

Sirius groaned before lifting, and Remus winced as Sirius flopped forward, pulling off. “You didn't
tell me you were fucking hung.”

Remus chuckled, falling onto the bed. He meant to land closer to Sirius but only made it halfway
and ended up somewhere near his legs. “You didn't ask.”

“I should have, fuck.”

“Did I hurt you?” Remus said on one last heavy exhale, scooting up and meeting his eye. “I didn't
—”

“Shut up,” Sirius threw a hand out, limply pushing the hair away from Remus’s face. His hands
were cool, and Remus leaned into the touch.

“We’ll see if I can walk tomorrow,” Sirius’s eyes went wide, and he shot Remus a coy smile. “But
that was better than I ever imaged—holy fuck.”

“Imagined?” Remus closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the air cooling his skin and Sirius’s
fingers scraping against his head softly.

Sirius nodded slowly, rolling his head against the pillow, letting out a long groan between heavy
pants. “All the time—yes.”

Yesterday, and days before

Sun is cold and rain is hard

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Sirius mumbled, dragging his lips and face over Remus’s chest, digging his
fingers into Remus’s shoulders as he lifted to straddle him. He sighed heavily. “I’m also sorry about
last night—and the guy. Earlier and for not apologizing when we got milkshakes, and for being
mean in the car, and—”

“Stop apologizing,” Remus whispered against the top of his head, pulling Sirius against him. His
chest caved at the feel of Sirius trialing his fingers along his scars. “You don’t need to apologize—
I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t you start apologizing either—”

“I didn’t mean to get upset earlier—yell at you,” Remus threaded his hand through his hair, sitting
up, and he sounded wrecked because he felt wrecked—in all senses of the word, good and bad.
“Promise me I didn’t hurt you?”

Sirius fell back on the bed next to him before propping himself up on his elbow. “I’m sorry I didn't
tell you sooner—and no, you didn’t. I asked you to.”
Remus scoffed, shaking his head and drawing a hand down his face. “I know, you’re too much.”

“Too much?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, Remus peeking through a few fingers of the hand over his
face.

“You’re trouble,” He shook his head, reaching his arms out and just losing it as Sirius fell into
them, resting his chin on Remus’s chest and meeting his eye. “More trouble than you're worth.”

I know, been that way for all my time

“I think you like all the trouble.”

“Debatable.”

“I think—” Sirius paused, raising a brow.“You love me.”

And Remus didn't miss a beat.

“I do.”

“How much?” Sirius grinned, leaning against Remus’s chest and looking up at him.

“Too much—like I’ve never loved anything else.”

“Sweet talker,” Sirius shot back, and Remus gave him a lazy smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“You love me too, or what?” Remus asked, quirking a brow, waiting and acting like he was not
about to die the moment the words left Sirius’s lips. Like it was already known, and Remus was
hearing it for the millionth time.

“I’ve always told you I love you.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“I love you—” Sirius said, voice going heavy. “I love you, and I’ve always told you.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Love you, Moons.”

Remus only stared, enthralled by Sirius in front of him. In that horribly ugly room, reminiscent of a
time that seemed so long ago when they were in a different state, Remus only loved him more now,
somehow. It seemed inconceivable, but Remus’s threshold for nasty and overwhelming feelings
was broken every single day because of the man in front of him.

It was utterly overwhelming.

“Be mine,” Remus spoke softly, letting out a breath. “Please.”

 He pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, and Sirius leaned into the touch, kissing his fingertips as
Remus pulled away. “For how long?”

“Always.”

“What do I get in return, huh?”

Remus grinned, something wide and broad. “Anything you want.”

'Til forever, on it goes

Through the circle, fast and slow

I know, it can't stop, I wonder

Chapter End Notes

*jazz hands again, but in a good way*

HOW ARE WE? ARE WE LIKE SO FINE NOW? i hope so, cause this one was a doozy to
edit. but, as promised, it is only up from here.

now, some chapter 14 lore and tid bits, if you'd care to know, because this was the chapter
when writing this fic:

'Would rival the capabilities of Shakespeare and Poe—Sirius fucked out on Remus’s cock. the
best line i will ever write in my entire life—no contest. i don't remember writing that but, boy,
did i laugh when i read it while editing. peak literature, right there. remus lupin, you're just too
much, thinking all that.

in the Black Mass vaults there are about four other versions of the sex scene. what you ended
up with was the fifth one, and i'm quite pleased. i had a vibe i needed to get right, and none of
the others fit.

i will say, i didn't put music behind it like i originally wanted to, but there is a version out
there where they fuck for the first time to American Pie by don mclean. i don't know why, i
thought that was so fucking funny, and the song starts playing and i think sirius was on top and
remus is trying to throw pillows at the radio to change it but they're missing and sirius is going
to town and...it was funny but didn't fit.

EDIT: someone did, in fact, ask for the don mclean so i gave the don mclean. the alternate
scene can be read HERE.

when writing it though, and editing, i did, in fact, listen to dream weaver by gary wright on
repeat so...don't really know what to do with that but i thought it possibly important
information to put out into the world.

one of my favorite moments in this entire fic is when Remus shoves Sirius back by the
forehead and he falls onto the bed. writing that was really fun and the whole visual with the
purple and the pillows falling and his smile and laugh and time slowing and Remus watching
—made my heart swell and i love it.

anyway, happy sunday! it's like 7:30 am and i have an early christmas to go to today and i
don't have a gift exchange gift so i'll be showing up with a candle and a blanket because that's
always safe and walmart is on the way.

— greenie bean (green giant brand cause those are the best canned green beans)
 Some Call It Magic, The Search For The Grail
Chapter Summary

ding dongs, crimson, and clover.

Chapter Notes

TW & CW / brief mention of thoughts of suicide in passing, mentions of blood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Beth?”

Sirius shook his head as he looked up. Remus could see the easy curve of his smile and the sharp
edge of his jaw, the top of his knuckles brushing against it.

“I think Anne.”

“No, that’s not right,” Remus leaned down, squinting at his fingers. “That’s who Mikey is taking.”

“That kid in English?”

He nodded. “The one that was in band last year, yeah.”

Remus pulled the bottom of the tie through, frowning at how it was just a tad crooked. It looked a
little wonky and was a tiny bit wrinkled. Surely a frequent tie wearer would frown at the sight, but it
just so happened they were not, indeed, regular tie wearers, and there were none around to see the
monstrosity, anyway.

Remus didn’t even know a tie could wrinkle. He hummed.

“I think you’re right,” Sirius mumbled, tilting his head to the side but glancing down, meeting
Remus’s eye. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“I watched my dad do it a few times,” Remus shot back, brows drawing together, trying to mess the
tie into place. “I mean, it looks okay, I guess.”

It didn't look okay, but it looked good enough.

Remus adjusted it once more, taking a step back and admiring his handy work. Grimacing a bit,
Sirius looked miserable, and he felt the same. They stood there, staring at one another in their little
outfits that made them look much more put together than they actually were.
He missed Sirius’s shorts—missed seeing his busted and bruised knees—and Sirius missed Remus’s
cut off t-shirt, he had said as much earlier.

What a pair they made.

Remus’s shirt was stuffy, but he had rolled the sleeves up a while ago and knew he couldn't pull
them back down because there would be wrinkles. Sirius had demanded a tie which was odd, he
looked like it was suffocating him, and Remus knew he would take it off as soon as they got to the
dance.

He gave it ten minutes, max.

“Your hair is a mess,” Sirius pointed at Remus’s head, taking a step forward, reaching up, and
kinda just moving a few pieces around. Standing on his tiptoes, Remus thought he was making it
look worse by the unnatural way it was lying then, but it was okay.

He felt fine—totally cool.

“What time are we supposed to meet them?” Sirius asked, pulling back, tilting his head to the side,
and pursing his lips before nodding to himself. “Beth and—”

“Heather.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Beth and Heather, then, yes.”

“Seven is what she said.”

Sirius took a deep breath, leaning on the counter in Remus’s kitchen. He looked good, cleaned up
well in some mismatched and put-together illusion of a suit.

April 15th

“Pants, Moony,” Sirius stressed. “Where are my pants?”

Remus looked up from where he was lying on the bed, throwing his head sideways. He blew the
smoke out his nose, so incredibly not concerned with finding Sirius’s pants. Squinting at the radio
still playing on the dresser, he debated the pros and cons of telling Sirius where his clothes had
ended up.

If anyone asked him, he’d say fuck the pants—throw them all away.

Sirius was standing there in just a pair of boxers which were actually Remus’s boxers. No shirt, a
whole slew of bruises covering that fucking tattoo on his lower stomach. He watched Sirius crack a
smile, swiping a hand down his face before laughing and searching the ground again.

Remus was admiring his handy work.

He may not be a poet, but he sure could paint a pretty picture.

Call it The Delineation Of Infatuation.

When he bent down, Remus could see the faint red marks from his fingertips on the sides of
Sirius’s waist, and wasn't that just the damnedest thing?

“Think you kicked them off the be—”

“Found them,” Sirius tossed them to Remus, and they landed on his bare legs. “No help from you.”

“I was emotional support,” Remus laughed. “Fuck you.”

Sirius shot up from the end of the bed, hair a fucking wreck and falling in his face. He quirked a
brow because, alright, Remus did fuck him before reaching out, grabbing one of his ankles, and
yanking him down.

Remus heaved himself up on the edge of the bed, raising his brows as his brain adjusted to being
vertical again, and squinted down at Sirius, who was on the floor before him.

Sitting back on his hands, looking at him, Sirius drew his knees up, knocking them against Remus,
and it felt like what he could only assume would await someone on the other side of the gates of
heaven.

It would all be purple and red, maybe some pink and blue thrown in there, if only to compliment
the other colors. It would be Sirius, just as he was.

Eyes bright but soft—sharp and lethal, but Remus loved the bloody nature of it all.

Reveled and relished in the ache that could only come from daring to look into the eyes of the man
in front of him, and Remus was more than willing. To toss himself off that fucking cliff because he
now knew what waited for him, and he would have tumbled forever, but he was so glad he didn't
have to.

It was all so lovely at the bottom.

“I’m hungry.”

Remus tried not to laugh, a smile breaking through the heavy thoughts. “Hi, hungry. I’m thir—”

“You’re the worst.” Sirius tossed himself back, his head hitting the ground with a loud thunk before
lifting a bit and staring at Remus. “Please?”

“It’s four in the morning.”

Sirius sulked before sitting up, snatching the joint out of Remus’s hand. He turned around, coming
to rest his back against the bed between Remus’s legs, and looked up at him.

Just as beautiful upside down.

“We’re in love, so you have to get me food.”

“Oh, we’re in love?” Remus shot back, hand coming to rest around Sirius’s neck, something gentle
as he felt him exhale the smoke curling in the air between them.

Floating up towards Remus’s lips and he stuck his tongue out, tasting the air, and it was so fucking
wonderful. Sirius grinned and stuck his tongue out as well before Remus leaned down, licking.
That seemed to appease Sirius. He looked fucking thrilled Remus had played along, and he wanted
to tell him he’d always play along now. Anything Sirius wanted, he could have—dancing. Remus
would tell him he loved him with every single breath if Sirius only asked.

He’d do it all with him—the pleasant and nasty things in life—the gruesome and the simple. Remus
would argue about bills but grocery shop all in the same twenty-four hours.

Go to sleep with the lights on, and then yell about feelings and the mushy stuff when they woke in
the morning to the sun competing with the undoubtedly more expensive electric bill that month.

Sirius’s head tilted as his smile broke through. “How do I taste?”

And Remus fucking loved him.

An inconceivable emotion, one you only understood once you were in the throes of it, but he was
so fucking deep. Suffocating on it and feeling it slip through his fingers and sink into his boots.
Weighing himself down, he loved the push and pull of trying to wade through it.

Remus grinned, shaking his head slowly. “Like heaven.”

And Sirius’s expression softened as he tried to suppress another smile, but it eventually reached his
eyes. Heavy and red, he was blown out of his mind in front of Remus, looking up at him. Neck
leaned back, milky skin and red eyes, and he was the most gorgeous thing in the world.

Transcended a corporeal body—Sirius was greater than that.

A thing if the word held no negative connotations. Something in the sense it was sentient. Knew
what it was doing and barreled through life—carefully crafted to bring the world down,
unintentional but destructive all the same.

Something that cared very little about more than itself, but Remus had always been a part of Sirius.

They had always been two halves of one whole, and Remus looked at Sirius and saw what he loved
but saw bits of himself too. Like calls to like, he could see the past and how it related to themselves
in the present.

Born of unideal circumstances and too much time alone.

Two children left to figure it out. Angry at life for making them do so, they turned a blind eye to it
all. Sunk into one another and looked to the other for confirmation that they were managing.

It was freeing, knowing someone in the world knew Remus like that.

The inside and the out, how he looked in the morning, and when he was upset. Knew how he cried
and that he liked silence when life got to be too much. Sirius didn’t spare him a glance when
Remus walked out of his room, boxers askew from sleep, and hair looked like he had slept on it
wet.

Sirius saw Remus for who he was, not himself.

A thing, much more than just a person.

Flesh and bones meant very, very little when it came to the two of them. You could reduce Sirius to
nothing more than bits and pieces, cells and tiny little moving things under a microscope, and
Remus would still be able to look at it and say, ‘Yep, that’s Sirius.’

He wondered if Sirius had always loved those early morning moments, too.

Because heaven may be purple and red with the little bit of pink and blue, but only just. Maybe the
world there takes on the hue of a sunset, but Remus would walk through those gates and see Sirius
in the morning.

Walking out of his room, boxers askew and hair fucked, Sirius on the couch sleeping.

Slept like a fucking menace—always had.

Sometimes it was a leg hanging off the couch, a sock bunched up, and shirt wrinkled. Other times it
was a leg stuffed between the cushions and hair in his face. Blanket drawn up over his shoulders,
Sirius at peace with it all.

Remus never woke him up—not once.

He’d go in the kitchen and ‘make breakfast.’

Which was almost always cereal. But Remus would bang around in the kitchen, something
domestic, a reflection of a life they had seen in the shows on tv. Late at night, early in the morning,
or mid-day—whatever was on the program.

He would fuck around in the kitchen, making them breakfast until Sirius inevitably woke up to the
sound of Remus squeezing what he could out of life.

Sirius would groan, mumble, or something. One time he fell off the couch and knocked into the
coffee table.

He would walk into the kitchen, arms crossed, hair a wreck like it was the embodiment of Sirius—a
thing. Something unruly as he was. Shirt wrinkled or bare chested.

Sometimes he wore jeans to sleep or just boxers. Other times, a pair of Remus’s sweatpants or his
PE shirt. Sleepy, he would come over and help Remus, even if it was just putting the spoons in the
bowels. Remus would step back and let him do what he was to do, and then Sirius would finally
meet Remus’s eye.

Sometimes he fought off a smile; sometimes, he didn't.

They had been children left to figure it out, but they had managed.

“Save that,” Remus sighed, gesturing to the joint and sitting up, giving Sirius’s throat a squeeze.
“I’ll find the keys.”

Michelle, ma belle

These are words that go together well

My Michelle
Remus began to laugh, bracing himself against the door, and turned back to shush Sirius. It was no
use. He laughed, too, throwing his head forward and knocking it against Remus’s shoulders.

Sirius’s hands were on his arms, trying to guide Remus forward, and he had never been so
enamored in his life.

Michelle, ma belle

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

He finally opened the door, stepped out, and looked back. “You drive?”

“You drive,” Sirius whispered, pushing Remus towards the truck.

“We don’t have the fucking keys,” He hissed, pausing, and suddenly regretted tossing them to Lily
in his haste earlier. Sirius cursed behind him, tripping and grabbing the back of Remus’s shirt to
keep himself upright.

“We can walk.”

“We’re not gonna fucking walk,” Remus looked at Sirius with wide eyes, laughing again because,
God, he was so beautiful.

“You go get them.”

Remus scoffed. “You go get them—I dealt with the truck earlier.”

Sirius looked heartbroken, holding his breath, and his cheeks puffed out, and Remus was so
obsessed. Sirius looked between Remus and James and Lily’s door before blowing the air out of his
mouth and silently walking over.

He tried the door, and it was unlocked.

“What the fuck is wrong with them?” Sirius hissed, looking back at Remus with wide eyes.

“Jame’s gets high—forgets to lock it,” He shook his head. “Lock it when you come back out.”

Sirius was frozen, holding the doorknob turned. “What if they try to—”

“Just be fast. You're the one who wanted food.” Remus urged. “And James is high. You could take
him, promise.”

“Fuck—”

I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

He watched with amusement as Sirius cracked the door open, and thankfully the keys were on the
little table right next to the door. Remus peeked his head around, leaning to the side and trying to
fight back a smile as Sirius crept in, trying so hard to be quiet.
The keys rattled when he grabbed them, and Sirius froze, turning to Remus comically slow. He
waved a hand at Sirius, because why was he taking so long, but sighed when he made it back out
the door, reaching around and flipping the lock before closing the door.

“I did it,” Sirius hissed, really fucking loud.

“Shh,” Remus whispered back, which was pointless because there was no one outside, but also
Lily was nosy, and he was all for shouting from the rooftops that, yes, that man right there in just
boxers and a shirt that was too small—it shrunk in the wash (not Remus’s fault)—was his. Forever
and always, apparently, but also, he was high, and Sirius’s eyes were half closed and red as the
devil, and they were having fun.

They managed to get the keys, Remus felt young, and Sirius looked like a dream.

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

Sirius got in the truck, falling over onto the seat, and Remus shoved his head away so he could sit
down. The car was turned on, and they both paused as the engine came to life, loud as ever-loving
hell in the quiet parking lot.

They stilled and then tried to hold back laughs, and it was like fucking sunshine and everything
warm in the world. Everything sickening and too good.

Remus made it worse, and Sirius scoffed as he backed out a bit too fast, jerking the truck forward
before pulling out onto the road.

It turns out they had both gotten her name wrong.

Sirius’s date’s name was Claire, but Remus didn’t feel bad because she was really fucking rude and
only wanted to take Sirius to the dance because he had money and her parents knew his.

She gave him one glance as they walked up like Sirius looked only just fine enough to be seen with
her, but she’d give it a try if for no reason other than a preemptive monetary exchange between
their parents.

Here's my story, it's sad but true

It's about a girl that I once knew

Remus didn't even smile at her, only narrowed his eyes. Sirius had tried to charm her, surely to
make the night more bearable, but everything he tried missed its target and hit Remus instead.

An arrow straight to the heart, coated in a poison that ran through his veins and painted life bleak
if not for Sirius.

They were dancing, Remus was leaning back against the wall, and his date was nowhere to be seen.

Cool, whatever.

She took my love then ran around

 With every single guy in town

He and Sirius had shotgunned a beer before going in, only getting a bit on their nice shirts that
Remus would have to wash and shove back in his father's closet. He was slightly concerned about
having to iron them first. He had never ironed a thing in his life.

Seemed silly.

His fingers were cool against the painted brick walls of the gym, and Sirius looked miserable but
was swaying like he did when he had a few beers in him, and they had been trying to hurry when
shotgunning, so three were about to catch up to him pretty soon.

It was an incredibly dull display of teenage angst and desperation, the gym filled with boys chasing
after girls and girls turning them down. Short skirts and the crowd was loud, but the music louder.
The lights were dim, and Remus wished he was somewhere else.

Or outside. Just not there.

“You want to dance?”

He looked over—didn’t know her name. Thought maybe he had a class with her, or had in the past.
Remus said no on instinct because, class together or not, you were hard-pressed to find a single
person who was nice enough to dance with at their school.

She huffed when she walked away, and Remus shrugged, wondering when Sirius would want to
leave. They had only been there for about forty minutes, but he much rather be at home. Literally
doing anything else, and he knew if he went up to Sirius right now, he’d leave too.

But Remus didn't, because Sirius was dancing and he was smiling.

Utterly unaware of pretty much anyone else, just doing whatever he wanted—what he did best.

Remus caught his date's eye. She was dancing with someone else—whatever.

He only came because Sirius had to come, and where Sirius went, he usually asked Remus to go,
and of course, he said yes. His date had been best friends with Remus’s, and it was really all great
and perfect, except it was a lot of people in one room, the music was fucking loud, and his mouth
tasted like shit.

His date was kissing some other guy, leaning into him, and Remus was tired.

He pushed off the wall, walking over to the little drink table, and he had to shove past too many
people moving around and doing their thing to get to the punch bowl. It was red and tasted terrible,
but he drank some anyway.

Turned around, and Sirius caught his eye.

Yeah, I should have known it from the very start

This girl'll leave me with a broken heart

He moved his shoulders a few times, doing a downright stupid little dance. Sirius knew Remus
wouldn't dance with him, but that’s okay. Remus was fine watching, and Sirius knew that as well.
Like it was just enough for Remus to be there—in his orbit.

Sirius stopped, stood there, and tried to fight back a smile before tilting his head and eyes toward
the back door.

Ah, listen people what I'm telling you

A keep away from a Runaround Sue, yeah

Remus set the punch back on the table, eyeing their dates before beginning to move through the
crowd. Sirius started walking as well, meeting Remus’s eye as they pushed through everyone to get
to the back door. Sirius was on the other side of the room but held Remus’s stare as they both tried
not to smile, picking up pace and shouldering through those dancing and contributing to the
moment.

Somehow it turned into a bit of a sprint—a race if you will.

Remus grinned, and Sirius matched it, making it to the door first before shoving forward, spinning
around as he held it open for Remus. He slipped out right after and let it bang closed behind them.

“I—” Remus started, but Sirius grabbed his arm, leaning down and narrowing his eyes at the bags
of chips in front of them.

“Ding dongs,” He said with a sort of reverence Remus himself had never felt towards the little
cakes, but he shrugged anyway. Sirius glanced up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t like ding dongs.”

“What.”

“Get them, but they’re all yours.”

“Well, what are you going to get?” He scoffed, throwing his arm out to the selection in front of
them before shifting slightly and bringing a hand up to try and hide a smirk. He pressed the back of
his hand against his mouth, and the little gas station they were in had a weird yellow tint to the
lights.

Remus added yellow to the list of Sirius colors, the humming bulbs above them only a few shades
away from the light above Remus’s kitchen sink.

He narrowed his eyes before pressing his lips together, begging himself not to laugh. “Tell me
you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding,” Sirius hissed, eyes wide and defensive. “Okay, you just have a—”

Remus balked, slapping a hand over Sirius’s mouth before glancing at everything in front of him
and then back at the woman behind the register. It was a lot to take in, and if he were being honest,
he didn't care about the snacks. He wanted to get back to the hotel and let Sirius eat his fucking
Ding Dongs so he could smack them out of his hand and kiss him again.

And they were in the middle of a gas station that looked like it was a miracle it was still open in the
middle of nowhere, and Sirius was walking funny, and God, life was so fucking sick.
There was a sense of freedom to it all, a slice of life with no consequence.

Remus reached out, grabbing a thing of chocolate snack packs. He looked back, and now Sirius had
a bag of Lays in his hands too—upon further inspection, barbecue flavor which was gross—before
surveying Remus’s selection and deciding it was sufficient enough.

He hummed, taking Sirius's things and leaning over. “Well?”

“What?”

“Get on my back.”

“I can walk.”

“Okay,” Remus said dismissively, shrugging his shoulders and starting towards the register.
“Remember that when we get back to the room, then.”

That shut Sirius up, and he just so awkwardly climbed onto Remus’s back. It was a lot of kicking
him in the thigh and dangerously close to his dick as Remus tried to hop, and then Sirius was
choking him with his arms around his neck, but it was fine.

“I’m getting the special treatment.” Sirius grinned against the side of his neck; teeth pressed to
skin. “A ride and snacks?”

Remus shook his head, walking over and pulling open the fridge with his foot before grabbing two
cokes and a water. He stilled and turned his head to look back. “You need something to ride?”

“Moony,” Sirius tightened his grip around his neck, and Remus could hear him grin as he spoke.
“You’re too much.”

He sat Sirius on the counter, scooting their selection towards the woman as she began to ring them
up. She seemed like she rather be anywhere but there, and her little name tag read Linda.

Linda smelled of cigarettes and looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in decades. A
permanent frown fixed on her face; she didn’t spare them a word or glance.

“You gonna buy me too?” Sirius leaned his chin on Remus's shoulder, looking up at him.

Remus gave him a once over, glancing at him like he was maybe a lighter or perhaps a chocolate
bar that had sat on the checkout counter for too long, waiting for someone to put it out of its misery
and buy it finally.

But he thought Sirius looked much too good to be a shitty lighter or a stale bar of candy. Probably
something not on sale and much too costly for a man like Remus to afford.

“I’ll take you too, I suppose.”

“Eat the Ding Dong.” Sirius was doing a fine job of pretending to be firm, which was such a
foreign look on his face Remus couldn't help but laugh and fall back on the bed, holding his hand
out, pleading to not have to eat the Ding Dong. “Eat it.”

“Baby, I told you—”

“Oh, don’t you sweet talk me now,” Sirius grinned, leaning close. “If you love me—eat the Ding
Dong.”

Remus sighed, opening his mouth, and Sirius stuffed the entire cake into his mouth. Nearly choked,
honestly, and a bit was spit out on the bedspread and landed on his bare chest. He looked up at
Sirius and rolled his eyes as he struggled to swallow because his mouth was so fucking dry.

“You’re a menace,” Remus finally got out, a bit of Ding Dong flying.

Sirius kissed him, handling the bit of chocolate cake still on Remus’s lips before leaning over,
turning the radio up, and relighting the joint.

“But, like—when did you fall in love with me?” Sirius asked, leaning into Remus’s chest where he
was sitting in his lap, a smile playing at his lips.

The headboard was cold against his back, but Sirius was so fucking warm, his feet stuffed behind
them. Shoulders folding into Remus, unbridled touching. As if Sirius couldn't stand not to have as
much of Remus as he possibly could at any moment.

It was all consuming, a short circuit of the senses, and it felt like dying in reverse, Remus thought,
and then laughed because how morbid.

“The moment I saw you,” He sighed. “Wish I was joking.”

Sirius turned his head, grabbing Remus’s chin and blowing smoke into his mouth. He pulled back,
studying him with a level gaze. “That long?”

“Mmmhm.”

His grip on Remus's chin was firm, like he had every right to dig his fingers in and toss Remus’s
head around if he pleased.

Sirius did—gave his jaw a little shake as he spoke again. “That’s a long time.”

“Felt like an eternity.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Remus shot him a look. “Why didn't you ever say anything?”

“I did, actually,” Sirius shrugged, dropping his hand and holding the joint out to Remus. “Like five
hours ago.”

“That does not count.”

“Better than you did.”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Remus rolled his eyes, leaning his head against the headboard. He
paused, bringing a hand up to play with the ends of Sirius’s hair. “Did you mean—”

“What?”
“Damn, let me finish.”

“You did finish,” Sirius’s nose scrunched, and he tried not to grin. “Like five hours ago.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny tonight, huh?” Remus laughed, pushing Sirius out of his lap and
following him onto the bed. Sirius let the box of Ding Dongs fall out of his hand, and Remus heard
them hit the floor.

“I’m always funny,” Sirius whispered, glancing down at Remus's lips. “I’m funny, and you’re the
sweet talker. That’s how all this works.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Remus murmured, leaning down and placing a chaste kiss
against his lips before moving across his cheek and down his jaw. “That wasn’t part of the vows.”

“We’re married.” Sirius sighed and tilted his head back, giving Remus better access to just fucking
attack him, trailing his lips over his hot skin and sucking bruises along his collarbone.

He left a hefty one right over Sirius’s ‘Bite here’ tattoo before nipping at the skin, and Sirius’s hips
lifted.

“Not technically,” Remus sighed.

“Technically, yes.”

“What about Jon?”

Sirius looked confused, the corners of his mouth turning down as he tried not to laugh. “Jon?”

“Oh, yes,” Remus nodded solemnly. “Jon. You gonna have a boyfriend on the side?”

“I don't know,” Sirius pushed Remus’s hair away from his face. “What did he look like.”

Remus shook his head, sighing heavily. His lips turned into a thin line as he shook his head.
“Blonde, I’m afraid.”

“Blech.”

He arched a brow. “Tall.”

Sirius scrunched his nose up, trying not to smile—Remus could see it thought. “Nah.”

“He even had a cowboy hat,” Remus whispered, giving Sirius a quick kiss.

His responding gasp was comical, and he grabbed Remus’s fingers, just messing with them. “What
color?”

“White.”

And Sirius only shook his head, like that was just the worst color a cowboy hat could ever possibly
be. He was silent for another moment before speaking.

“I am sorry about that—about how I acted.”

“It’s okay,” Remus said simply—because it was.

Sure, Sirius would get away with more than most, but Remus also understood. He had no issue
seeing the situation for what it had been. Had Remus known, maybe he could have helped Sirius,
but instead, he felt fit to deal with it on his own and got smashed.

Jon ensued, the next day happened, and then suddenly, they were lying in bed and kissing, and it
just didn't matter.

Not when Sirius was talking like that—messing with Remus’s fingers like that. Like he had a right
to do so, which was such a small gesture, but Remus would chew his arm off and give it to Sirius
wrapped in a fucking bow if it meant he never felt like he didn't have a right to anything he wanted.

All Sirius had to do was reach out and take.

“I think—” Sirius drew his brows together, biting his lip. “I thought it was you. I don’t remember
much, just getting there and then a bit of that, and then I woke up when Lily laid down with me
later.”

“I wish you would have told me,” Remus said honestly. “I could have tried to help—be there or
something. I didn’t know. I wouldn't have gotten so upset.”

“You were upset?”

Remus laughed abruptly and loudly, and Sirius gave him a wide-eyed look.

“You don’t remember leaving the bar? The guy kept trying to get you to stay, James went and got
the car, and I had to throw you over my shoulder. Kneed the guy in the dick.”

Sirius was silent for a moment, chewing on his lip again. It looked like he was digesting the story,
trying to piece it together. Slowly, a grin crept onto his face.

“You were jealous?”

Remus rubbed at his eye, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying not to smile. “Yeah, I was. Can’t
leave you alone for five minutes without someone trying to take you from me.”

“Well,” Sirius said pointedly. “I apologize for my poor attempt at adultery. You want to start over?”

Remus laughed. “What?”

“Start over.” Sirius gave him a look, bending his middle finger back a tad.

“The marriage?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “Starting now, we’re married.”

“No boyfriends on the side?” Remus whispered, leaning down, his lips brushing Sirius’s.

“Never,” Sirius shook his head, steadfast in his honesty despite it being such a trivial conversation.
“Give me a kiss.”

“I am giving you a kiss,” Remus whispered against his shoulder. “Multiple, actually. You shouldn't
be complaining.”
“Me? Complain?” Sirius let out a breathy moan, leaning into the touch. “Never.”

“Anything you want, always,” Remus said as he pulled back and smiled at Sirius.

Sirius smiled back, and it was something too good to be true. Something heavenly and lovely and
like the first of many smiles that said, ‘I can’t believe it.’

Remus couldn't either, but he was settling in. He was human, though, and prone to bad luck and
misfortune, so he would take reassurance where he got it, and Sirius was currently threading his
fingers through his hair. He gripped the strands, pulling back roughly, and Remus's head tilted as he
groaned.

“I want to make you come,” Sirius said against the side of his neck before he licked over his pulse.
“Can I have that?”

They somehow ended up in the shower, which was a sight to behold. Remus thought he might just
pass out, having smoked, and Sirius was there in front of him, hair wet and sticking to his skin.

It had been a frantic knocking of limbs in the general direction of the bathroom, which resulted in
Remus hitting his knee on the corner of a chair and Sirius pushing over a handful of records on the
dresser in his haste to turn the radio up.

Clothes were currently left in the doorway, blocking the door from shutting all the way.

There had been a brief moment where Remus had thought fuck the shower, when he had Sirius
perched on the bathroom counter, beautifully reminiscent of a different time Sirius had sat on a
bathroom counter in front of him, but then Remus had pulled back and declared a firm but slightly
wavering ‘No’ and started the water.

Sirius took hot showers, Remus felt like he was going to burn to death, but it was okay—no
complaining on his part as Sirius sunk to his knees.

Remus knew his mouth was hanging open. He was just absolutely stoned out of his ever-loving
mind. He felt the hot water against his back like it was scalding him, and then Sirius brought his
hands to Remus’s thighs, and his fingers were fucking hot, and everything was overwhelming.

Like time was folding over and enveloping them in the little moment.

Oh, now I don't hardly know her

Sirius looked up at Remus, grinning, and his hair was pushed back, a few strands sticking to his
forehead. His lashes were dark—wet—and Remus could see a few drops of water weighing them
down. Could see where the spray of the water was hitting his shoulders, running down his arms,
and dripping from his hands.

But I think I could love her

Cheeks flushed and lips wet; Sirius brushed them against the underside of Remus’s cock, and his
knees about buckled. Remus threw a hand out, steadying himself on the shower wall.

Crimson and clover

He gripped Remus’s thighs tighter, meeting his eyes as he dragged his tongue along the length of
him, torturously slow, and Remus felt like he was in hell. With the hot water long past the point of
uncomfortable on his back, easing into a dull ache as it hit the same spots over and over again, the
sight of Sirius on his knees before him was unreal.

The shower curtain was also purple, making everything look a bit surreal. A bit otherworldly, and it
cast Sirius in shades of light pink, his tattoos and hair the only things really standing out in the dim
light.

Ah, well, if she come walkin' over

Now I been waitin' to show her

That and his fucking eyes that were trained on Remus as he finally took him into his mouth like
nothing else mattered at the moment besides Remus and making him come and making him lose his
fucking mind.

Sirius was doing a bang-up job of it.

“Oh fuck,” Remus tilted his head back, ribs caving.

Sirius's mouth was hot, and his tongue was slick against the tip. Lips soft as fucking anything ever,
Remus grit his teeth and prayed to God he would last longer than about thirty seconds.

Crimson and clover

Sirius hummed around Remus as he took him further in his mouth, and he could do nothing but try
and steady his breathing. Chest heaving and the muscles of his stomach flexing, Sirius reached up,
lips still wrapped around his cock, and grabbed Remus’s hand.

Over and over

Set it right on top of his head, forcing his fingers to dig into his hair, and then stilled—Remus’s
cock brushing against the back of his throat.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Remus breathed out.

Sirius pulled back, and he got a moment to watch a bit of spit spill out of his mouth as he did so. He
took a breath, looking up at Remus, eyes heavy under his gaze and the spray of the shower.

“Want you to fuck my mouth.” He panted, blinking the water away. “Please?”

Remus could only nod, tightening his grip on his hair and leading Sirius’s head back.

“Tap my leg if it gets to be too much.”

Sirius nodded, tapping his leg a few times—testing it out.

Okay, great.

Fucking hell.
Remus scoffed before Sirius looked up, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. He watched
Sirius take his cock again and felt lips slowly brush against his length.

So fucking soft. All of it was.

Yeah, my mind's such a sweet thing

And Remus resisted the urge to snap his hips forward—was dying to feel Sirius gag. Mourned the
sight of tears that could have been in his eyes but would be washed away by the shower. Remus
pushed forward and felt Sirius swallow around him as he hit the back of his throat.

He pulled out just enough before tilting his hips, testing the waters because he didn't want to hurt
Sirius, but then he saw Sirius’s eyes roll, his shoulders sag, and he sat fully on his knees—tilting his
chin up.

I wanna do everything

The shift of angle allowed Remus to go just the slightest bit deeper, but it changed everything.

“Fuck,” Remus grit out. “You look so fucking sweet with my cock down your throat.”

He pulled out before sinking back into Sirius’s mouth.

“Prettiest baby.”

Remus thrust forward, languid and slow, but made sure he could see Sirius’s eyes widen a fraction
each time—going deep enough to where his gaze went a bit cloudy.

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

Sirius’s grip tightened on Remus’s leg, and he felt his nails dig into the warm flesh. His other hand
came up, fumbling around to capture his wrist, and used it to push Remus further down his throat.

What a beautiful feeling

Remus let out a humorless laugh before pulling back, snapping his hips a little harder. Over and
over, he watched as Sirius took him so fucking well—like he was made for Remus—and it was a
heady concoction of flushed cheeks and whimpers from Sirius.

“Wish you could see yourself,” Remus rasped, pushing and moving Sirius's head, taking a deep
breath before pulling him off. “Getting your face fucked—fuck.”

Remus reached down, swiping under Sirius’s chin, and was fucking delighted to run his fingers
through the slick feel of spit. Not water—spit—falling from his lips, and Sirius took him into his
mouth again, eager and holding Remus steady.

Crimson and clover

“You’re so fucking good, baby,” He shoved his knuckles into the tile wall, begging himself to
fucking wait, but his chest was heavy, and he could feel the white noise in his brain and knew he
was going to come. “Drooling all over.”

Over and over

“Do you want me to pull out?”

Sirius shook his head, teeth grazing Remus’s length, and he made a noise of protest—eyes red and
watery.

“You want me to come in your mouth?”

Sirius made a little needy noise then, something high-pitched and desperate. Remus choked,
nodding his head.

Anything, always.

Crimson and clover, over and over

Sirius closed his lips around Remus, sucking as he pushed back in, and it was no use—Remus
damn near almost saw stars. He fell into the orgasm, hunching over and stilling Sirius with his cock
down his throat, and then he felt himself fucking come down Sirius’s throat and felt him
swallowing around, and it was sublime.

Something close to godliness, surely.

“Oh fuck,” Remus panted. “Oh, holy shit—fuck—”

He jerked his hips back, supporting himself with the wall, and let his fingers fall from Sirius’s hair
—felt them sting after gripping for so long under the hot water.

Crimson and clover, over and over

Remus hung his head, trying to catch his breath before he fucking passed out, but looked up ever so
briefly and watched as Sirius opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Remus’s face was blank,
vacant as his head at that moment, as he watched Sirius swallow.

Remus crossed his arm, staring at James in front of him.

Clad in only a pair of red boxers and a hideous brown pair of socks that looked like they had seen
much better days and places, James looked worn out. Tired and like if you were going to stand in
your underwear in front of a motel, you’d have to look like that.

Remus glanced down at what he was wearing as well, absolutely thrilled to note that he and James
were matching—almost. His boxers were dark blue, and Remus didn't have an ugly pair of socks,
but the sentiment was the same. He had, however, managed to throw on Sirius’s flannel before
opening the door early that morning, if for nothing more than to reserve some dignity and modesty.

James’s hair was a mess, sticking up on one side, and Remus knew he looked the same. He had
quite literally rolled out of bed when he heard the knock a few moments ago. Neither of them
seemed like they had gotten much sleep, and Remus had only grunted when he opened their door,
noting it was around noon.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes with his sleeve, waiting for James to speak because he had been
the one to interrupt the morning’s festivities.

“Lily wants breakfast,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Remus’s mouth was dry. “It’s early.”

“It’s noon, man.”

“We’re still asleep,” Remus said, leaning back towards the motel room door because it was windy
out, and he was standing in a motel parking lot almost naked, and Sirius was warm in bed, and he
was finding it harder and harder to understand why he was even having this conversation. “We’re
going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, us too, then,” James scrunched his nose up, nodding at Remus like he just needed
confirmation. Like Lily had been nosy—and he knew that's what it was—and had sent James over
with a poor excuse at breakfast around lunchtime to see what he and Sirius had been up to.

“Ok, we’re gonna need the day.”

“What do I tell Lily?”

“Tell her we’ll see y’all later.”

“You know her, man. She wants to kno—”

“Tell her she’s smart. I know she’s been scheming with Sirius—” Remus ran a hand down his face.
“Congratulate her and let her know that had we not already been married, I’d invite yall to the
wedding.”

“Right on,” James grinned, nodding and holding his hand up for a high five. It was more of a hand
slap if anything, and then he turned, pushing his weight against their door and closing it behind
him. Remus sighed, going back into their own room.

He walked over to the bed, shoving Sirius onto his side because apparently he had been holding out
and was the absolute best—award-winning, indeed—at hogging the bed.

“Scoot the fuck over,” Remus grumbled, rolling him over to face the other way.

Sirius let out a few sleepy protests but went where Remus pushed him. He crawled back into bed,
pulling the comforter over them both before Sirius flopped down again, his back against Remus’s
chest, half on top of him.

It seemed incredibly uncomfortable, but Sirius leaned his head into the side of his neck, sighing and
settling.

And suddenly, Remus was wide awake, reveling in whatever the fuck had just happened.

Whatever had happened that made it possible for Sirius to sleep like that and whatever the fuck had
just tipped the scales, and whatever the fuck he had done to deserve what he was currently
experiencing.

It was a moment of panic, but in a good way, and Remus had never known there was a good type of
panic, but it was happening. He felt light, like Sirius was the only thing grounding him.

He had gained something—earned or won something.

Remus felt like a kid at a carnival, parading around the biggest prize everyone wanted. You look at
that kid and wonder how they ended up with it, but it didn't matter—they had still won big.

And his big prize took that moment to bring his hand up, pushing the hair away from his face and
hitting Remus in the side of the head.

“Ow—watch it.”

“Moons,” Sirius mumbled, shifting over on top of Remus and digging his shoulder bone into his
chest. Remus grunted, grimacing, but Sirius only shoved his nose further into his chest, bringing an
arm and leg around his middle—trapping him.

“You’re crushing me,” Remus wheezed, trying to bury himself further into the mattress to evade
Sirius's shoulder. “Just—”

“Stop moving,” He shot back, and it was enough to make Remus laugh. Sirius was still for another
moment before sitting up, hovering over Remus. He narrowed his eyes, staring.

Remus leaned further back into the bed, weary of the look in Sirius’s eye. “What?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, even more, leaning closer.

A moment later, he kissed Remus—something simple and quick—before pulling back and lying
down.

“Ah,” Sirius shrugged. “She was kissing some dude in the bathroom.”

“Oh shit,” Remus glanced at Sirius next to him. “I’m sorry, Pads.”

“No—I really don't care,” Sirius stuffed his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes. “I mean, I sure
as hell wasn't gonna kiss her, so whatever.”

He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. They walked on for another moment before he glanced up.
“She wasn't nice?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius smirked, rolling his eyes. Remus bit his lip, trying to fight his smile off as
well. “She smelled like fucking roses.”

“Aren’t girls supposed to?” Remus asked, reaching into his back pocket and grabbing his pack of
smokes.

“I was choking.”

“Mine smelled like coconut,” Remus offered up, lighting a cigarette and handing it to Sirius.

“Good coconut?”

“Nope.” Remus popped the ‘p,’ taking a drag. “Like my aunt's perfume or something.”

“She said I smelled like cigarettes,” Sirius laughed. “Made a huge fuss.”

“She said you smell bad?” Remus tried not to laugh; he really did.
Sirius laughed for him, leaning over and chuckling. Remus couldn't help; he joined in, and then
Sirius’s hand was on his shoulder supporting himself, and they were in the middle of the road
laughing, and he could hear the dance commotion behind them.

Sirius’s tie was thrown around his neck, and Remus’s sleeves were wrinkled.

It was dark, the street lights were on, and Sirius laughed so hard he snorted.

Looked up and had tears in his eyes.

“That whole thing was fucking awful.”

The sky was yellow, it was tornado season, and they were just walking. Remus’s car was parked at
the school; maybe they’d leave it there and walk to get it tomorrow. Perhaps they would turn
around later.

Remus pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. “You’re the one who said we had to go.”

“My parents,” Sirius groaned, kicking at a little pebble on the ground, trying to catch his breath.
“They said I had to go. I just dragged you along.”

“I can’t believe she said you smelled bad.”

“Do I?” Sirius glanced at Remus, raising a brow.

It was humid out, despite it being later in the year. The street under them was worn and cracked,
black spots bleeding throughout where it had been patched, run over a million times, and broken
back open.

Remus sputtered one more time, leaning over and smelling Sirius. Something quick, he drew back
and brought his brows together. Thought about it, really tried to see—put himself in that girl's
shoes, but it was no use.

Remus was not that girl.

He was not someone who enjoyed the smell of flowers and candy sweet gourmand. Loathed
anything sickeningly sugary; he much preferred something fresh, like the air between them as
smoke curled away into the darkening sky.

Hated the softness the world had to offer most days, delivered by those same roses or artificial
coconut. The illusion of the divine, something he had read in a book once. But it was always lost on
Remus because the divine was such an abstract concept.

If the divine was tied to a worldly body, Remus always assumed it to be Sirius.

And Sirius smelled as he always did.

“No, you smell like you always do.”

Cigarettes, adolescent defiance, and home.

Sweat slick skin and two-in-one shampoo. Whatever Remus smelled like, to some degree, as they
shared all that stuff sitting on the ledge of the bathtub at home.
Notes of folded laundry on the kitchen table, and ‘It’s your turn to take the trash out.’

A hint of a mess, just close enough to be slightly alarming, but something warm, divine, and
inviting, nonetheless.

Remus stared at the paper in his hand, glancing back at the bathroom door.

His focus was wide and unseeing on the floor beneath him, letting his gaze lose focus and swim in
the purple as his brain turned over everything.

The only grounding thing in that moment was Sirius—the sound of him in the bathroom, banging
things around and being there—because as much as Remus wanted to believe in pretty words and
stuff like soul mates and phrases like ‘Meant To Be,’ he had never considered himself lucky—truly
fortunate—until that moment.

The thought of what Sirius had gone through made him sick, physically ill, and like he wanted to
do something. He wasn't sure what, but it would be full of anger and screaming, and he wanted to
rip the small piece of paper to shred that was in his hands.

But it had already been through that once, and Sirius had thought it important enough to take the
time to piece it back together, so Remus held it carefully. Like it was everything, and he supposed it
was. The beginning and the end and all that lay between. Tangible proof that sometimes things
work out and suffering can be fulfilling in the end.

Doesn't mean you didn't suffer, but sometimes the excess weight was lessened when the end turned
out like this.

It was tangible proof that people can be loved and fought for, and Remus hadn’t seen the letter until
that morning, hadn't looked at it the night before or spared it a thought, but had grabbed it after
Sirius had gone to brush his teeth and read it.

Over and over, the handful of words clicked everything into place.

And he was a million miles from home, with hardly anything to his name. A handful of shirts and
two pairs of pants, and an old pair of boots, and it was all stuff from there—from then.

And the letter was from then and there but also now, and it was from Sirius, who was in the other
room, trying to talk to Remus like nothing was going on. Voice muffled around his toothbrush like
he was immune to all the bad in the world and what he had been put through.

Like it took him a long time, but he had allowed it to roll off his back.

He was talking to Remus as if nothing had happened and like they were as they always had been. It
was jarring, to say the least. He had dreamt of this day, fought for this day literally, and now it was
there, and Remus was swimming amongst it all.

He smoothed out the letter again, setting it on the table by his bags, and looked up as Sirius came
into the room.

He wasn't sure what to do, but it didn't matter because Sirius had already figured it out.

Long ago, it seemed.

And Remus didn't believe in much. He didn't believe in the ability to spin pretty words and write
poetry. He didn't believe in things that were meant to be, and he didn't believe in God. He had
neutral, at best, feelings toward getting what you wanted and the ability to have people make you
feel things in general.

And all that applied to pretty much everything and everyone besides Sirius—always had—and
Remus was just now realizing that. It was like the final drag—the last tug on his leash as Sirius
pulled him behind.

Like one last tug, he was no longer letting life and his awful feelings of love keep him back. He
was now standing there, in front of Sirius, able to reach out and touch and have and sure, he still
had bloody and scraped knees. Would always have lingering feelings of worry because how could
you not?

Remus had something invaluable, and life liked to take.

But he was no longer being dragged, and he was steady on his feet.

Remus felt like he could spin pretty words and speak from his fucking heart at that moment
because he wanted to scream. He could open his mouth and say everything someone would like to
hear because it was there—all those feelings of love and adoration bubbling at the surface—as
Sirius smiled at him, walking over.

He watched Sirius reach up, wiping a bit of toothpaste from his lips, and thought maybe it was
meant to be—would that be conceited?

Sirius pushed his hair over his shoulder, reaching out and grabbing Remus’s hand, and maybe there
was a God—had to be.

Sirius stood up on his tiptoes, hands going to either side of Remus’s face, and Remus thought I’m
getting what I wanted.

And as Sirius leaned up and kissed him—landed a fat one smack dab on the lips—Remus nodded
to himself with the taste of him on his lips because Sirius was making him feel all sorts of things.

Always made him feel things, and the kiss was a lot of those things. Minty from toothpaste and
warm from his chest pressed against Remus’s. Sirius’s hands were cold on his cheeks, his hair was
brushing against his face, and the kiss was simply declaring: we did it.

And because Remus was himself, prone to overthinking and being cautious—sometimes—and had
some sort of self-preservation and an understanding of how much shit he could take from the
world, he spoke against Sirius’s lips.

“Is everything going to be different?”

And he felt Sirius grin, teeth pressing against Remus’s.

“No.”

Remus stared up at the ceiling, out of breath. Sirius was lying on his chest, grinning at absolutely
nothing and everything—it was infectious, and Remus felt himself smile despite the words that
came out of his mouth next.

“Did it hurt?” He said softly, keeping his eyes trained on the texture of the walls and the pattern of
the wallpaper. “Was it scary?”

“What?” Sirius mumbled, going to lift, but Remus put a hand on the back of his head, keeping him
there—grounding them both.

“The night they took you.”

Sirius was silent for a long while, and Remus could feel him tapping a finger against his stomach.
Felt the heat and trembling—only slightly, but still there to some degree.

Remus didn't want to talk about it but knew it needed to be talked about.

He reached down, fumbling for Sirius’s hand before finding it and yanking it closer. Remus stared
at the stark black tattoos on his knuckles and chipped nail polish that needed to be repainted.

He would do that tomorrow.

“I think my shoulder was fucked up for a few weeks after, but I eventually got to my feet.” Was all
he got in response, and it was enough. “How long was my house empty for?”

“Six months,” Remus shut his eyes. “An older couple eventually moved in. They were nice—
replaced the carpet and everything. I think they gutted the place, actually.”

“It stained?’

“Yeah.” He nodded, pressing his lips against Sirius’s hair, threading their fingers together. “But I
ripped it all up—helped them move in. I think his name was Bill. I don’t remember hers.”

“The only album I listened to in the hospital was Abbey Road.”

“Why?”

“Because it reminded me of you and made me feel like they couldn't touch me.” Sirius gave his
fingers a squeeze. “I feel like I’ve done a lot of wrong, and you deserve a world of apologies.”

“Don’t,” Remus shook his head, moving his wrist to capture Sirius’s middle finger in his palm and
squeeze back. “Don’t do that.”

“I just want you to know,” He whispered, and Remus’s heart fractured just a bit.

Because he got it, he felt like there were going to forever be things between them. Good things and
things that came from and were born of time away. If Remus thought hard enough, he could feel the
anger threatening to rise from the fact that he lost even a fraction of time with Sirius.

He wanted those four years back but could not have them—simple as that.

There was no point in dwelling, and apologies were wasted breath because Remus didn’t blame
Sirius for a thing. Neither of them were at fault for the why, and he supposed he was grateful they
were both the type to see that.
Made it easier to appreciate time yet to pass.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Remus sighed. “About you leaving me. That wasn't fair, and I know
you wouldn't have gone if you could have helped it.”

“I tried.”

Remus was silent for a moment before speaking quietly. “I did too.”

Sirius sat up then, throwing his legs off Remus and staring at him. He frowned, eyes hardening, and
Remus braced himself for the impact of something.

“I would have never forgiven you if I came back and you were not there,” Sirius whispered, jaw
locking, but his voice did not waiver. “Never.”

“It wasn't like that,” Remus urged, reaching up to brush some hair away from Sirius’s face, but he
caught Remus’s hand, gripping his wrist.

Sirius leaned down closer. “I don't care—the only thing you could ever do that I would not forgive
you. I’d go with you if only to find you and drag your ass back up here.”

Remus grinned, despite the topic. He couldn't help himself, but his cheeks were starting to hurt if
he were being honest from all the smiling.

“Don’t you smile at me like that, Remus Lupin.” Sirius crossed his arms, throwing a bit of shoulder
into it.

“Not the full name,” He tossed his head back, groaning.

“Yes, the full name. I mean business.”

“Fine. Fine—you’re stuck with me. I’m stuck with you. Here we are, and everything is fine.”
Remus smirked but glanced up from where he lay back on the pillow, pausing. “Right?”

“Promise,” Sirius nodded. “Pinky, even.”

He held his pinky out to Remus, and of course, he accepted.

He was bestowed with the opportunity to enter a pinky promise agreement with Sirius; who was he
to deny? Curling their fingers together, Remus squeezed, and then Sirius brought both their fingers
up to his lips—placing a kiss there. Sealing the deal.

Remus took a deep breath. “You were crying that night you called me.”

“I just missed you so much,” Sirius laughed, and it sounded like relief. “I remember thinking, ‘If he
doesn’t answer, that’s okay’ and ‘You didn’t go through that for him,’ but by the fourth ring, I was
losing it. I was in the middle of nowhere, alone, and I—I was terrified. I felt awful like I wasn’t
worth a damn.”

He frowned as the laugh settled, and Remus reached forward, tilting Sirius’s chin down to meet his
eyes. He paused before speaking again, unfocused and looking at Remus’s outstretched arm.
“I knew if you didn't answer, I would call back one more time—that’s all I had change for. And I
remember the payphone was so fucking close to the road, and I was like fuck I’m going to get hit
by a car right as things might be okay.”

And then Sirius smiled, and it was wet and sad—filled to the brim with stale memories and
feelings.

“And then you answered, and I just broke down—I’ve never cried like that in my life. Thought I
almost fucking hung up, but then you said my name, and it was like the biggest relief I’d ever felt.”

Sirius cracked a smile.

“It was like home and everything I always took for granted and like a hug, and I was dying for a
fucking hug. And—and you said my name and said, ‘Are you okay?’ and I just felt seen for the first
time in a long time. I was so afraid that they had fucked it all up, and if they had, I would have
never forgiven them.”

He spat the words—laced with such conviction.

“But you asked if I was okay, and I said—”

“A lot better after hearing your voice,” Remus finished, pulling him forward to kiss his forehead.

Sirius nodded. “And I was—well, I suppose it all just fell away.”

He shrugged like that was it—like at that moment, Remus had, unbeknownst to him, fixed
everything.

“And then you agreed to come with me, and then I was crying happy tears, and I think I was so
fucking dehydrated from crying. It was so lame, but I left that night. Driving to see you but also
just the moment—driving towards the moment I could see you again in front of me and touch you
and give you a fucking hug.”

“You were yelling at the neighbor's cat,” Remus mumbled.

“What?”

“I opened the door, and you were—leaning out the car and yelling at Ms. Filch’s cat,” Remus
smiled at the memory but sobered a moment later. “And then you all but fell out of the truck, and
then you were there, and I felt like I died.”

Remus took a moment to pick his following words carefully. Leaned his head into it, hoping to lay
them out correctly.

“I had spent a lot of time the years before wishing I was not there. I wouldn't go as far as to say I
wished I was dead, I don’t think that was it, but I wished to be nowhere. And then you ran up to
me, and it was just—you.”

Remus was going to cry, and Sirius leaned forward, resting his chin on his chest and meeting his
eyes.

“I could never get away from you. I always assumed you left—found better things. You were
always so,” Remus brought his hands up, gesturing wildly. “Grand—something too good. Too big
for our small place in the world, and I was happy—happy that you moved and were somewhere
where you fit and could experience all life had—but it was like you never really left.”

Sirius's eyes were open and honest—he was listening and fucking understanding, and it was a
moment of shedding it all. The lessening of pressure was instant, melted off Remus as he spoke.

“I wanted to be nowhere, but I wanted to be away from everything most of all. It felt suffocating. I
was alone, and all I thought about every morning was how everyone I ever loved had left me. What
does that say about me, ya know?” Remus laughed. “What was it about me where I couldn't have
nice things—things I wanted? And everyone spoke about you as if you were just someone.”

Remus shook his head. “And you were never just someone—you were Sirius. And to hear everyone
speak about you—they didn't know you. I knew you, and they had it all wrong.”

“Did you get ‘em good?” Sirius whispered.

Remus grinned. “So good. My record proceeds me.”

“How did you get in?”

“I still have no idea,” He shrugged. “Y’all took the spare keys under the rock in the back. I have no
idea, but I left that morning—”

He took a breath, meeting Sirius’s eyes.

Remus had longed for so long to explain it all. To share the burden of the thing called feelings,
especially ones as deep as he felt. Feared it, yes, but had spent hours sitting and wishing more than
anything he could look at Sirius and tell him what he had been feeling.

Because Remus knew it was quite likely that Sirius was the only one that could begin to
understand.

The other half of their whole.

“I left that morning through the back door like I always did. Went through the garage and listened
to that noise it always made when it opened we hated. It opened, and the back field looked the
same, and I walked out, and it was daytime. My nose was still broken, and there was blood on my
shirt and hands, and I left—the same way I always did.”

Remus held a smile through the tears, wiping at his nose. “Left and walked down the driveway and
didn't look back because I knew you wouldn't be there in the window—flipping me off or yelling at
me like I would be able to hear you through the glass. And I went home and went to sleep.”

“Your nose?”

“Woke up and snapped it back into place,” Remus said. “It had already begun to set, I think,
because it was the worst. I screamed; there was blood in the sink, on that light yellow rug in the
bathroom, and on mom's nice towels. It turned them a nasty brown color. And then I kept
screaming—just fucking yelling.”

Sirius frowned, but Remus pushed on.