Remus loves Sirius so much. It’s such an overwhelming thing, to feel this much love for another being, yet it’s still not enough all the same. There was just so much of him Remus had grown to appreciate — all the little bits and pieces of Sirius he holds so dearly to his heart. He hadn’t even seen himself falling; he had just tripped and fallen. Crashed, actually. Hard. He had actually told Sirius this once, when he had asked what made Remus choose him.
Oh, Remus didn’t even know where to start. As he looked into Sirius’ awaiting eyes, so grey and beautiful, he thought, there are no words in any dictionary of all the languages in the world that could explicitly describe this love of his.
“Well,” Remus started, “I guess there was your initial charm-” And then he stopped. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him from where he sat, — body close to Remus on the old tattered couch, toes tucked under Remus’ thigh all cozied up — encouraging him to continue with his story.
Remus smiled and told him, “I just fell for you. Hit the floor hard. It hurt.”
“Ugh, no! You’re always digressing whenever I ask you this. C’mon Moony, tell me,” Sirius whined, grabbing Remus by the shoulders and shaking him gently.
Remus laughed, happily and so, so gone for this boy. “I’ll tell you another day. Let’s go to sleep now, love.” He kissed Sirius tenderly on his forehead and pushed himself up to stand.
They walked to their bedroom — theirs, Remus thought giddily — hand in hand. It was meant to be, Remus thinks, his hand intertwining with Sirius’. It was like a final piece to a puzzle; that’s what Sirius was to Remus. For the better half of his life — or worse, probably — he had simply been clocking distances over vast land and space, unaware of the great enigma called Sirius Black. And then he saw him, got to know him, and he meant really, truly knew him, till there was no part of Sirius that has not been etched into his memory. Every star marked on his soft skin, the different sounds he was capable of producing, the multiple layers to his unpredictable persona Remus had the luxury of uncovering every passing day.
Sirius was the music Remus listened to, the sky he looked up to, and the stories he read. And now that he had him, he doesn’t, couldn’t, ever imagine a universe where Sirius Black does not always accompany every breath he takes.
Of course, that is to say that they have directed their respective swords towards each other before, piercing each other’s heart with silly misunderstandings and miscommunication. Instead of a weapon, though, Remus sees them as a, well, booster of some sort. Whatever disputes they’ve gone through brought them to where they stand today. Mutual understanding of one another has been enhanced, and cracks between them have been sealed. Remus would go through it all over again as many times possible if it meant he could be where he is with Sirius now.
Remus loves Sirius. It was an unequivocal statement. It was in every breath he took, every word he spoke, and every thought he conjured.
“I love you, Sirius. So much,” Remus told him. On their bed, where their limbs entangle with one another tightly, like they were trying to drown in each other.
“Love you too, Remus,” Sirius mumbled sleepily to Remus’ chest, snuggling into his warm arms in a way that made Remus’ heart melt. Remus left a soft kiss on top of Sirius’ head. He hoped he could convey all that he felt for Sirius in that one kiss, but he knew it would not be enough. For as long as he lived, nothing would quite emanate this love enough.