James Potter sat at his desk in the gryffindor dormitory, the dim glow of the window reflecting off the parchment in front of him. His quill hovered hesitantly over the page, trembling just slightly. He had been here for hours now, staring at the paper, trying to find the right words, the right way to express... everything.
James was used to being bold. He was used to acting first, talking first, being the center of attention. But this—this was different. This was something he had no idea how to handle. How could he possibly put into words the way his chest tightened every time Sirius Black laughed? Or how his stomach dropped when Sirius' eyes locked with his in a way that made him forget how to breathe?
He had to do it. He had to write it down. For himself, if nothing else.
But no matter how many times he picked up the quill, every attempt felt wrong. This was not how he had imagined it all in his head. How do you confess to a best friend, someone you've known for years, that you're in love with them? How do you tell them without ruining everything?
Finally, with a frustrated sigh, James dipped the quill into the ink pot and began to write, though his hand trembled as he did.
---
Dear Sirius,
I’ve never been good at saying things out loud, you know that. I can crack a joke or make everyone laugh, but the moment something real is at stake, my words get all tangled up. I don’t know why I feel the need to write this, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Maybe if I get it out on paper, it will stop eating at me. Maybe this will finally make me feel something other than confusion.
I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was when you smiled at me after I finally managed to pull off a perfect dive in Quidditch—something about the way your eyes lit up, like you were proud of me, but it was more than just the game. Or maybe it was when I realized that, without even trying, you knew exactly how to make me feel better, even when everything else was falling apart.
What I do know is that every time I see you—whether it’s in the common room, on the pitch, or across the hall between classes—it feels like I’ve just seen the sun after a long storm. You’re... you’re the brightest part of my life, Sirius. You always have been. And I don’t know if that’s normal, if it’s something everyone feels about their friends, but it’s not just friendship. I can’t lie to myself anymore.
I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve tried to bury it. I’ve tried to laugh it off, to make excuses, to pretend it doesn’t matter. But it does. You matter.
I don’t want to ruin anything between us. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is something I can just put away. It’s bigger than that. And I don’t know how to fix it.
I think about you all the time. I think about the way you look at me, and I can’t help but wonder if you see it too. If you feel the same, or if I’m just imagining it all. And if I’m honest with myself, I think I’m scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of losing everything.
I don’t know what I expect from writing this. Maybe I just needed to say it, even if you never read it. Maybe I just needed to get it out, even if it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written. I don’t expect anything from you. I never will. But I needed to be honest with myself, even if you never know.
James
---
He sat back, staring at the words in front of him. The confession, the vulnerability, the rawness of it all—it was everything he had been too afraid to say out loud. It felt good to write it. Cathartic, almost. But he knew there was no way he could ever show this to Sirius. He’d have to burn it. Maybe he would, or maybe he'd hide it so deep that not even he could find it again. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he had gotten it out.
James folded the letter carefully, then tucked it into the drawer of his desk, where he could forget about it—or so he thought.
---
Two days later, Sirius Black sat cross-legged on the floor of their room, flicking through a Quidditch magazine when he spotted the envelope wedged under James' desk. It wasn’t unusual to see James leave things behind in the midst of his endless chaos, but this caught Sirius' eye because it was different—James’ handwriting, but no name on it.
Curious, he picked it up, knowing full well he should probably leave it alone. He told himself he wouldn’t open it, but the pull of curiosity was too strong.
Sirius slid open the envelope and began to read, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the words.
---
Dear Sirius,
---
Sirius' heart skipped a beat. He blinked rapidly, unsure if he was reading the right thing. His eyes flicked back to the letter, and the words began to blur as his pulse quickened. Was this a joke? Was someone pulling some sort of prank on James? No... this was serious. This was far too... personal.
And as he read on, his confusion deepened. It sounded like James. It sounded like... it was about *him*. But that didn’t make sense. Why would James write something like this to him? Surely this was for someone else.
But then came the line:
"You’re... you’re the brightest part of my life, Sirius."
His chest tightened. No. No, this couldn't be true. Was James really—?
---
Sirius had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the letter in his hand, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. It felt like the world was suddenly tilting on its axis.
Before he could process his thoughts any further, the door opened, and there was James, striding in, whistling loudly as if nothing in the world had changed. But Sirius was no longer paying attention to the sound of his best friend's voice or the usual cocky grin plastered across his face. His eyes were fixed on the letter in his hands.
James froze when he saw Sirius standing there, his face unreadable. He quickly noticed the crumpled letter and the look in Sirius' eyes.
"Sirius," James started, his voice strained, the humor gone from it. "I—"
"Why didn’t you tell me?" Sirius interrupted, his voice quieter than James had ever heard it. The intensity in his eyes made James’ heart skip. "Why didn’t you tell me, James?"
James' stomach sank. His worst fear had come to life. "Sirius, I didn’t mean for you to find that," he said, his voice low. "I never meant to... I never intended for anyone to see it."
Sirius took a step forward, gripping the letter tightly in his hand. "Why not? Why keep something like that hidden? Do you know how long I’ve been wondering? Wondering if maybe you—if maybe we—"
"Sirius, stop," James cut him off, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t want to risk what we have. I didn’t want to ruin anything."
"But now you have," Sirius whispered. "Now, everything’s changed."
The room was silent for a moment, both of them standing there, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, James moved toward him, his expression earnest.
"Sirius, I didn’t want to put this on you. I didn’t want to make it weird," James said, his voice cracking. "But I can’t ignore it anymore. I can't pretend I don't feel this way. I know it’s complicated, and I know it might not be what you want... but I had to be honest with myself."
Sirius exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest beginning to ease. His gaze softened as he took a step closer. "James... I—"
Before he could finish, James closed the distance between them, hesitating for a brief second before gently taking Sirius' hand. "I was terrified, you know? Terrified that if I said anything, you'd hate me. Or worse... you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore."
Sirius laughed, a quiet, almost disbelieving sound. "You daft idiot," he said, his voice laced with affection. "If anything, this is going to make things better, not worse."
James looked at him, bewildered. "What?"
Sirius smiled, the warmth returning to his eyes. "I’ve been feeling the same way for a while, you prat. But I didn’t know if you’d feel the same. I thought I was the only one who... who felt this."
James' heart skipped. "You—" His voice faltered for a moment, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You feel the same?"
Sirius nodded, his grin widening. "More than you know."
And just like that, with the confession out in the open, the air between them shifted. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start.
Sirius reached out, cupping James' face with one hand, and in a moment that felt like it had been years in the making, James leaned in, and they kissed.
It wasn’t the end of the story—there was still so much
they needed to figure out. But as they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, they knew one thing for certain.
They weren’t going anywhere.
---
The letter—now crumpled and thrown aside—had done its job. And as they stood there, together, for the first time in a long while, neither of them could help but smile.