Sinking Friendships
They’d been texting nonstop for nearly a week. Sirius had been right to warn him about spamming—Remus was pretty sure he’d never heard of a paragraph before—or grammar, for that matter.
The moment Sirius got his first text, he was a chatterbox. He’d send memes and multiple messages in a row just to explain something, sending Remus’ phone buzzing off surfaces.
But really, he didn’t mind. Every buzz and ping made his heart skip a beat and something warm pulse in his chest. He was just as eager to reply as Sirius was.
He kept asking when they could find time to meet, that James and Peter were dying to see him. In that aspect, they were on different pages. The moment’s Lily’s encouraging words wore off, the trust issues returned in full might, knocking Remus’ confidence down immediately.
He didn’t know how to ask Sirius if they could just start off alone, just the two of them. Three against one were not odds Remus liked to find himself in. So he dodged the question whenever Sirius brought it up. After a few tries, the message seemed to have gotten through because he stopped asking. He still bombarded Remus’ notifications, but he seemed to be trying to wait for him to come around first, like before.
Remus wanted to meet with him, but he was also paralyzed with fear. Sirius made him feel things, which was not something he’d had to deal with in a long time. He had forgotten how to process and identify these emotions, and didn’t want to make himself a fool in front of his old friend that he very much wanted to stick around.
But he also knew if he kept dodging the question, Sirius might not stick around. Even worse, he might think Remus didn’t want to see him and stop contacting him entirely. That was not something he could allow to happen again.
So, on Friday night, he mustered up every scrap of courage to ask if Sirius was free Saturday afternoon. He threw his phone onto the bed, determined to ignore it and trying not to panic. Almost at once, it buzzed with a reply.
yeah!!!!
any time
where?
Stomach in knots and feeling slightly nauseous, Remus forced himself to reply.
——
That’s how he found himself sitting on a bench in Central Park, feeling lost as he watched people and their dogs jog by. Carriages drawn by exhausted-looking horses clopped past, hauling tourists who had no idea they were getting scammed of their money for a half block journey.
Remus didn’t much like Central Park. He used to love nature, and he still daydreamed about owning a little cottage in the woods somewhere, but as it turned out, getting brutally attacked in a forest made him suspicious of foliage.
It was fine. Central Park was bursting with people, quite the opposite of the forest Greyback dragged him into. And it certainly smelled different.
Remus tried to relax—he was just meeting Sirius. Sirius, who he’d yelled several profanities to the last they’d seen each other. Sirius, who he’d known like the back of his hand for four years, who became a stranger for seven, who crashed back into his life that could end up in disaster—
Before his mind could fully descend into chaos, Remus spotted Sirius walking towards him. He was wearing that leather jacket again, covered in patches and paint splotches. His hair was loose today, dancing around him in the vague winter wind that pinked his cheeks. He was beaming and waving at Remus, striding to him with confidence he wished he had.
He managed a weak smile in return, convinced he was going to vomit.
Give him a chance. He told himself repeatedly. Just give him a chance.
“Hey.” Sirius plopped down on the bench next to him like they’d done it their whole lives. “Central Park, huh?”
Remus shrugged. “It seemed like a neutral place. Free, too.”
“Ah, fair. It’s a bit brisk out, innit?” He burrowed in his jacket.
“We can go to The Strand or something if it’s too cold.” Remus offered quickly.
“Nah, it’s okay. It feels good too.” A waft of horse shit from one of the carriages hit them. Sirius wrinkled his nose. “You’d think after a year of living here I’d be used to the smells.”
Remus snorted. “I’ve been here for three. It doesn’t get better.”
“Wonderful. Better than London, though. I don’t smell sewage here as much.”
“You were in London?”
“Oh yeah. James, Peter and I went to university there after…well. After high school.” Sirius glanced at him warily. Remus rolled his eyes.
“You don’t have to dance around it. We’re good, remember?”
“Right.” He visibly relaxed. “Just…dunno…I knew you were hesitant about meeting up. I just worried maybe…”
Remus licked his lips nervously. “Yeah, well…” he forced himself to take a small leap. “that’s why I asked you here, right?”
Sirius smiled at that, pleased. “Right. Good. Right.”
They fell into silence for a while, but it was comfortable. Sirius lounged gracefully in the bench and Remus was a little stiff. The bitter New York cold was starting to seep through his jacket and sweater, making him regret choosing the park to meet.
“Shall we—?”
The same time Remus mustered up,
“Do you want to—?”
They both stopped and smiled awkwardly. Remus gestured at him, desperate to stop humiliating himself.
“I know a little cafe a block down the way. It’s cozy. My treat?”
Remus didn’t usually like handouts. It felt like charity. But the way Sirius offered somehow didn’t come off like it, and didn’t rub him the wrong way as it’d done with other innocent offers.
“Alright.”
They headed off down the street. They kept accidentally bumping into each other—either dodging murky puddles or people. They kept mumbling apologizes and exchanging shy smiles.
The cafe was a hole in the wall type, and blasted them with warm, sweet smelling air the moment they opened the door. Sirius snagged a table right by the street window, and Remus awkwardly hunched under the overhead lamp to slid across from him.
A tired-looking waitress swung by to get their orders. He tried to keep it cheap and just order a tea, but Sirius insisted on two large hot cocoas with all the fixings they offered. Once again, Remus couldn’t find a single part of him feeling offended by it.
“So,” Sirius said as they both warmed their hands on the cocoa mugs. It was the thick, rich kind, piled with a small mountain of marshmallows and whipped cream that he absolutely adored. “what have you been up to for the last seven years?”
Talking got easier the longer he did it. Remus gained more courage every time he glanced over the table to see Sirius giving him his full attention, never taking his eyes off him. He wasn’t even sure he’d blinked.
Remus talked about college, drifting through the art program and only really talking to his professors. College had been when his scars were at the peak of healing, so his face was still sunken and lumpy in some places with scar tissue. He learned in those four years how to tell when people were talking about him behind his back, detected what people were thinking when they stared at him. His observations only made him recluse further into himself.
He told Sirius about Pomfrey, how incredible she’d been even after his recovery. Every Christmas, Remus spent some time with her. She lived alone, and all her friends in the neighborhood had their own families to be with, so Remus’ visits were just as special to her as they were to him.
After college, he made a beeline for New York, found his roommate on Craigslist, and started working at The Clay Cat. Beyond that, he’d tried networking with galleries and curators without much luck, and eventually settled with teaching at the ceramic studio and working bars.
Remus wished he had a more fantastical story to tell rather than the slightly lame ending, and lowered his eyes down to his cocoa. His enthusiasm, bolstered by Sirius’ rapt attention, was quickly petering out. He stared down at the swirling chocolate, watching a marshmallow slowly melt into foam. Three years in New York, and he’d never accomplished much of anything. McGonagall’s connection to the MoMa was the best he’d ever gotten.
“I’m proud of you.”
Sirius’ response was not what Remus had expected. Maybe a “that’s cool” or “sounds awesome”, something vague and meaningless meant to sound supportive. Not…that. He looked back up to see him smiling, entirely sincere.
“Eh?”
“I mean…you got through college and immediately went to the city? Not a lot of people can afford that right out of the gate.”
“Well…rent was cheap with a roommate and…I didn’t exactly want to go back to my hometown.”
Sirius grimaced.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.”
Remus stirred his cocoa mindlessly, at a loss for what to say next.
“I mean, who’d want to go back to a place with diner food that gave you the shits?”
He huffed a laugh. He knew what Sirius was doing—he was trying to redirect the conversation from anything having to do with Greyback or the attack. He couldn’t help but appreciate it.
“It wasn’t that bad.” He tried to defend, but really, it was.
“I’d bet fifty quid they put laxatives in their gravy.” Sirius snorted.
“Quid?” Remus asked, amused. “I’d forgotten you’re posh. You’ve lost your accent a bit.”
“A bit?” Sirius looked at him in mock horror. “Clearly I haven’t been trying hard enough.”
“Does that mean you’ve lowered your standards in tea too?”
The sheepish look made Remus laugh again.
“Alright, fine. I’m posh in only one way. The rest of me is completely punk.” Sirius stuck out his tongue—Remus’ stomach did an odd swoop when he noticed it was pierced. “No one in America knows how to make tea. I’ll die on many hills and that’s one of them.”
“What a noble stance to take. Very brave of you.”
“Thank you.”
Remus poked at the last remains of his marshmallows, trying to make them melt faster.
“So…what are you doing at Painter’s Porter? The piece for SoHo?”
Sirius’ face switched through several expressions, and Remus couldn’t identify them all. He eventually settled on another easy smile, but it clearly masked something far more complicated.
“It’s a piece for a friend of mine.” He said. “His partner died during the AIDS epidemic. It’s…in honor of their story.”
“Wow.” Remus stared, cocoa forgotten. “That’s…that’s terrible.”
A moment later, he realized how bad that sounded.
“I mean, the story—his partner dying—that’s the terrible part. You doing a painting in honor of that—that’s amazing. Really. Wow.”
When will the day come that he didn’t make a fool of himself? He wanted to drown himself in his cocoa.
Before Remus could formulate any real plan to end himself in the embarrassment, Sirius’ foot knocked into his. He looked up to see his silvery eyes twinkling.
“Still so easily flustered.” He said affectionately. Remus narrowed his eyes, pretending to be mad.
“Piss off.” He grunted, taking a gulp of cocoa. “I’m smooth when I want to be.”
“I’m sure.” Sirius purred, and Remus choked on his cocoa, accidentally spraying it onto the table.
“Sorry!” Sirius yelped as they both scrambled for napkins. “Sorry! I don’t even realize I’m flirting half the time, James says—“
“I know, I know,” Remus croaked. “you turn everything into a flirtation, you told me at Sanguini’s.”
“Right,” Sirius helped him mop up the cocoa. “Sorry. I’ll stop. Again. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Remus cleared his throat, mortified at the mountain of cocoa-stained tissues. “Really, it’s fine. Just caught me off guard.”
“Are you alright, Moo—“ Sirius cut himself off, but the old nickname rang between them. They both sort of froze, staring at each other.
Suddenly, everything, their whole history, was sitting on the table between them. Four years of friendship, seven years apart, fear and anger and confusion and heartbreak—all sat illuminated under the too-low lamps on the greasy tabletop.
During their yelling match in the Artisan Village, Remus had told him he wasn’t allowed to call him that old name. He didn’t deserve it. But the truth was out now, Sirius was innocent. But he still wasn’t going to use the name until permission was given.
“I, uh…” Remus began awkwardly. “I guess this is the part where we talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.” Sirius said quickly. “It just sort of slipped out. If you’re not ready—“
“It’s okay.” He said again. “Really. You…you already know most of it. It’s…different. With you.”
Sirius’ mouth twitched, evidently pleased.
“Pomfrey, er, Pomfrey would tell us to use “I feel” statements.” Remus mumbled.
“Well, I feel very lucky to be sitting here with you.” Sirius said. “Seven years. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Remus swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I…I feel…lost.” He said quietly. “I don’t know where to go from here. How to talk to you again. How do we go back to the way things were?”
“Remus,” Sirius said gently, ducking his head down to catch his eyes. “we can’t go back to the way things were.”
Something dropped in his stomach, and he felt suddenly nauseous.
“That shouldn’t be the goal here, right?” Sirius continued. “We’re older, we’ve grown up. We’re different people. We should start fresh. Not try to go back to something that didn’t work.”
“But it did work.” Remus insisted. “We were fine until my dad fucked everything up.”
“Yeah, but there’s no point trying to be the idiots we were back then, either. We’re allowed to look at this like a new friendship and relearn each other. We’ve got a past, but shouldn’t we be trying to look ahead instead of behind?”
“I don’t know how to do that.” Remus whispered. “I’ve been stuck in it for so long.”
“This has been a good start,” Sirius gestured between them. “meeting like this. Catching up. We’ll take it slow. Whatever pace you want.”
“That’s not fair to you. Or James, or Peter.”
Sirius barked a laugh. “We’ve spent seven years waiting for you. It won’t kill them to wait a little longer. Me neither.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait. You shouldn’t have.”
“If I hazard a guess, Remus Lupin,” his boot nudged him again. “I’d say a part of you was waiting too.”
All this time, and Sirius could still read him like a book.
“Do you…” Remus mustered up a little courage. “Do you still use our old nicknames?”
“Yeah,” Sirius replied easily. “can’t get rid of them, at this point.”
“Could you…you can call me mine again?” Remus bit the inside of his cheek, hating how vulnerable it sounded.
But Sirius beamed at him, lighting up his entire being in a way that made the vulnerability worth it. He was almost blinded by him, struck by how prettily such a genuine smile accented his features.
“Moony.”
A tremor ran in his chest as Sirius uttered the name with such fond affection. He hadn’t been called that name in so long. It ached his heart, in a wonderful way, to hear it.
“Moony, Moony, Moony,” he sang, the affection turning into glee. Remus melted a little. “Oh Moony, my Moony, our fearful trip is done.”
Remus groaned.
“You’re not really going to recite Walt Whitman right now, are you?” He asked.
“Maybe. I’ve got permission to use Moony again. Maybe I’ll scream it to the rooftops or spray paint it on a building.”
“I’d like to withdraw permission.” He announced miserably, without any conviction.
“Too late, Moons.” Sirius sang as Remus hit his forehead on the table. He poked at his hair with his spoon. “Oh Moony, my Moony, rise up and hear the bells!”
Remus swatted his spoon away, trying to smother his amusement with a frown.
“You’re incredibly annoying.”
“It’s part of my charm. And you’re a sucker for it.” Sirius grinned.
“Am not.”
“Are too, Moonbeam.”
“That’s even worse than Whitman.”
Sirius just waggled his eyebrows at him.
“When are you free again?” He asked, letting Remus win their little banter.
“Not for a while. I picked up some shifts at The Clay Cat during my free time.”
“Maybe that’s a good place to bring James and Peter?” He suggested. “In a space you’re comfortable in?”
He shrugged.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Doesn’t have to be soon. Some other time?”
“No, no…” Remus mulled over the idea. It would be easier to rebuild their friendship if James and Peter were involved. That way he didn’t have to start all over with them after Sirius. It was terrifying to think about, but he shoved it away. It was his trust issues freaking out, not him. The Clay Cat was neutral ground, in a space that he’d always felt confident in. Marlene and Dorcas would be there too to back him up so it wasn’t three against one.
“You guys should come in for a class.” He offered. “I teach throwing on wheels on Thursdays at eleven. That might be a good place to meet.”
Sirius lit up again. “Yeah! That’s great! I’ll run it by the lads.”
And just like that, Remus was going to see James and Peter again in less than a week. Under all the panic, there was a tiny thrum of excitement at the idea of seeing old friends again.