James
The refrigerator contained a grand total of three things.
A gallon of milk, a carton of eggs, and instant ramen.
Remus was looking into the strange barren portal of florescent lighting, eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed the instant ramen, not even to eat it, just to put it in the cupboard where it belonged.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he closed the refrigerator door, giving a girlish yelp when he saw Sirius standing silently behind it.
“Sorry!” Sirius quickly apologized, hands up as if to show he was no danger. Remus had a hand on his chest like his heart wanted to pound out of his chest.
“S’alright,” Remus assured, wondering how he hadn’t heard or seen him approaching.
“Yeah, I do that quite a bit. Light on my feet I suppose.”
Remus shot him a wary look, hoping to soften it with a polite smile. “I was planning on going out to get some food, did you or Regulus need anything?”
Sirius clasped his hands with a little clap where he was holding them near his chest, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well,” Sirius hummed, eyes bouncing around the kitchen. “You know what? Reg and I usually do takeout! So, no need to worry.”
“Right,” Remus shot him a look as he reached up to put away the sad cold ramen. He could see Sirius watching this, pursing his lips into a little line as if embarrassed. “I’ll be back soon, then.” Remus passed by Sirius, who kept following him with his gaze.
“We’ll be here.”
“Sure,” He chuckled awkwardly.
Remus pulled on his coat in the foyer, hearing the distinct slap of Sirius smacking himself on the forehead and muttering to himself.
The bright sun outside was almost blinding, making Remus almost knock whoever was approaching the front door off the small steps.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Remus steadied the other man by his shoulders, the figure finally coming into focus.
A shorter tan man about his age looked back at him, looking positively shocked to see him. His eyes were wide behind his set of wire-framed glasses. The man lifted a hand, still within Remus’ hold.
“You came from in there?” He pointed to the door he’d just come from.
Remus glanced back at the door. Was this just everyone in the neighborhood?
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
He watched the man's eyes drop to his neck and then back to his eyes.
Remus cleared his throat and released the man, who was still visibly confused, clearly missing a piece of whatever puzzle he was trying to solve.
“I’m Remus, I’m renting the room upstairs.” He gestured to the third story with his chin and extended a hand, which the stranger took and shook hesitantly.
“James, the next-door neighbor,” James explained. “Are you-?” James cut himself off, and Remus tilted his head wishing he did go on. “Are Sirius and Reg in?” James corrected himself.
“Yeah, they should be.” Remus treaded lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets and wishing this interaction would end and James, the next-door neighbor, would stop looking at him like he had two heads. “See you around.” He added as he sidestepped him and started off.
“Nice meeting you,” James said airily.
Remus glanced back before closing the gate, James had one hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at him.
_____
When he returned, James was on the sitting room couch, lying facing the back cushions. He breathed deeply as he napped, one arm tossed up under his head and glasses askew.
Regulus was out today; he hadn’t seen him since their first meeting. He had one foot up on the loveseat he slouched on, a napkin in his hand dabbing at a dot of something staining the collar of what looked like one of Sirius’ shirts. Remus avoided his eyes even if Regulus paid him no mind.
“Hey,” He mumbled to Sirius who was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. He dropped the groceries he’d gotten onto the kitchen island and got to putting them away.
“How was it?” Sirius chirped, scrubbing his hands and picking under his fingernails.
“Fine,” What an odd thing to ask. It was the grocery store, not much else.
“That’s James on the couch there, he’s the only one who can manage to nap on that thing.”
“We met,” Remus snipped, feeling one of those headaches come on. He thought maybe the old house had mold or something, but instead of making him sick, it produced the most annoying migraines.
A first-person point of view of him assessing red apples at the store flashed behind his eyes when he blinked, their waxy red shine intense.
He gripped the ledge of the kitchen, feeling fingers drive into the grooves of his brain. When he gave a stuttering breath Sirius turned, shooting him a worried look over his shoulder.
“Reg! Stop it!” He yelled in a reprimanding tone into the other room, his shout ear-piercing to Remus in his current state.
“Oh, boo-hoo.” He heard Regulus shout back, petulant and mean. Remus peeked back into the sitting room, head still hanging. Regulus was smirking, swinging the leg that hung off the chair, looking rather pleased with himself.
The headache vanished immediately.
“Need help?” Sirius appeared at his other side, “Why don’t you sit?”
“Yeah,” Remus muttered, dropping down into one of the stools tucked under the island.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me where everything goes, we were never really allowed in the kitchen growing up.” Sirius held up a box of cereal, a genuine expectant look in his eyes. Remus couldn’t even be mad in his state.
He pointed silently to the pantry, Sirius diligently put it away, coming back to hold another item up for Remus.
Remus had to chuckle, shaking his head. Sirius only shrugged back, an apologetic tweak in the corner of his mouth. Remus pointed at the refrigerator, and Sirius took his time and some pride in lining up all the sodas with the labels facing forward.
_____
Strangely enough, he’d started writing only the second night. He’d taken his chances with the library when he’d known Regulus was downstairs and picked up the first book he could grab, worried the little demon would wander in at any time with that same silent gait he and his brother shared.
Rain tapped at his window like a lover asking to be let in, and somewhere below Sirius had a record spinning—the voice of an old crooner. Remus tapping at his computer melded with the raindrops, and he was engrossed in drafting a title for his dissertation.
What Historians Got Wrong
Life at Versailles: Fact or Fiction?
Memoirs of the Court: A Manual for the English-Speaking Studebr│
“What are you doing?”
Remus jumped, stopping mid-keystroke, fingers slamming down onto all the wrong keys. The squiggly red line that appeared under the word taunted him.
When he looked back, Regulus lingered in his doorway which he remembered being closed. The boy was backlit by the hallway, his front bathed in the cool darkness of his room, casting blue light from the window and the light of Remus’ computer onto his pearlescent skin.
“I’m writing a school paper.” Remus shortens, not wanting to bore the kid with the specifics.
Regulus wandered close, his steps loose and wobbly, eyes drifting over all the signs of Remus in the room.
“I’m bored.” He sighed; hands clasped behind his back. Remus noted that he was barefoot, still in his brother's shirt from earlier. His feet skated lazily over the hardwood.
Remus hung an arm over the back of his chair, watching with slightly parted lips as Regulus swayed closer, his bright eyes finally falling on the bright computer screen just past Remus, then into his eyes.
“Your dissertation.” He stated rather than asked.
Remus looked back at the screen wondering if there was anything on the screen that gave it away. It was nothing but his shitty ideas.
His mind quieted of all questions when Regulus leaned over his shoulder, his eyes making horizontal races down the lines.
He smelled like honeysuckle, crushed and cold. It sent a chill up Remus’ spine, strong enough to make him twitch.
Brilliant teeth flashed when Regulus chuckled, tongue running over a canine, he straightened with a stifled little laugh biting his lip like he was remembering something Remus wasn’t in on.
“The court.” He blushed, looking out the window. Regulus didn’t regard Remus any further, just turned and seemingly danced without dancing out of the room. “Goodnight, Remus.” He said over his shoulder, leaving his door open rather pest-like.
Remus shot up from his chair to close it, catching Regulus on his way down the stairs, still giggling to himself, holding it back with little puffs of his cheeks, leaking out in snorts. Remus hung out of his door to watch until he disappeared.
He made sure his door was locked before he sat back down, hands flat on the wood of his desk and mouth still agape.