Happiness.
Remus’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he moved the pencil in small cursive letters over the page in his notebook. He hummed along to the song playing on the record player—Changes by David Bowie.
His good leg was bouncing; a habit he’d had since he was little. He lifted his chin and looked towards the window. It was sunny today. The first truly warm day that year.
His bedroom door creaked open, and he instantly focused on it.
Sirius stepped inside with a small smile, one hand behind his back. “Hi,” he softly said. “Am I interrupting?”
“No. Never.” Remus broke into a grin. “Aren’t you a bit early?”
“The last client for today cancelled,” Sirius said and got onto the bed next to Remus. “So, here I am.” His hand was still behind his back. He inclined his head to Remus’s notebook. “Writing anything good?”
Remus shrugged and closed it. He put it aside and rested his head on Sirius’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like anything I ever write is good enough.”
Sirius chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I can confidently tell you that it is.”
“Lately I’ve been writing mostly about you,” Remus said sheepishly. “It’s cheesy as fuck. All of it.”
Sirius laughed. “Oh, yeah? Can I see it?”
“Hell no. Not yet.”
“Alright.” Sirius pulled back slightly and Remus looked him in the eyes. “I’ve got you something since it’s your birthday and everything. Fuck, why didn’t I greet you by saying happy birthday? Am I a terrible boyfriend? Moony, say something!”
Remus manged to keep his laughter in for about two seconds but then he burst into a fit of giggles. “How come it that you, Sirius Orion Black, composed and sexy ex-Black heir, always get so bloody flustered around me?”
Remus really didn’t understand it. He was just… Remus. Disabled and zombie-faced.
“Because you’re so fucking hot,” Sirius sighed. “Can’t fucking control myself around you.”
The corner of Remus’s mouth quirked up. “I’ve noticed.”
A delicate blush spread over Sirius’s cheekbones. “Oh, shut up, you lunatic. I’ve got something for you, as I said.” He retreated his hand from behind his back and in it, he held a small, rectangular present. It was wrapped in blue wrapping with a small, grey bow in the corner. “Here.” He handed it to Remus. He looked nervous. “Happy birthday, Moony.”
Remus held the present delicately. It wasn’t hard to guess what was behind the paper. He could feel it through the wrapping; the hard spine, the dent before the pages.
A book.
Remus carefully opened the wrapping. It was a copy of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson from 1960.
“I know you already have a copy,” Sirius rushed, “but take a look inside.”
Remus dutifully opened the book to a random page. The page had many words on it. Not only the ones printed into the page with ink but words written in pencil, too. Some lines of the poem were underlined with yellow marker.
“Oh.”
Remus turned the page. The next page looked exactly the same. He turned it again. And again. And again.
“You—You’ve analysed every poem in here,” he whispered.
Sirius wet his lips. “Do you like it? I know it’s nothing big or expensive, and I know I can afford that, but… this felt more personal. More you.”
“I—I love it,” Remus whispered in awe. His eyes were wet. “You put so much work into this. Good God, love, this is incredible.” He closed the book and turned his full focus to Sirius. “Thank you.”
“Well, it’s not every day someone turns twenty-six,” Sirius shrugged.
Remus wrinkled his nose and looked down. “I never got you a present for your birthday.”
“Yes, you did!” Sirius said and took Remus’s hand in his. “The graffiti wall, remember?”
Remus smiled softly at the memory. “Yeah, I do. Wanna go back soon?”
“I would love to,” Sirius grinned. He kissed Remus and Remus kissed him back.
When they parted, Sirius whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for this. Truly, I love it.”
Sirius kissed him again. “Now, do your mum like wine? Because I bought her one. Red. Should it have been white? Shit, does your mum even drink alcohol?”
Remus broke into a fit of laughter yet again.
*
“Wait, so your mum’s name is Hope?” Sirius said as they stood on the train. He had a dufflebag slung over his shoulder. It was filled to the brim in the train car and all the seats were taken.
“Yup,” Remus said. His fingers were loosely holding onto his cane just in case it was needed.
“So your arm tattoo—”
“Yup. Why do you think I got it tattooed?” Remus asked with a glint in his eyes.
“I don’t know—Maybe you felt poetic or something,” Sirius laughed. “Anyway, so her name’s Hope. Easy to remember. She does like red wine. Tea, too. Her favoruite band is the Beatles. She loathes smoking inside. She has a lot of plants. She works in a bakery—”
“Love, you’re going to do fine,” Remus said and reassuringly intertwined their fingers.
Not far from them, a man was seated, and his eyes zeroed in on the spot where Remus touched Sirius. Disgust was evident in his eyes. He didn’t say anything. Sirius hadn’t noticed his glare.
Remus withdrew his hand.
“Okay, if you say so,” Sirius said. “But still—”
“Just be yourself, okay? That’s the best version of you.”
Sirius furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. At the next stop, the man got off, but not without knocking his shoulder into Remus’s. Remus gritted his teeth, doing his absolutely best to keep an insult back.
He just managed.
“You okay?” Sirius asked and touched the spot where the man had collided with Remus’s shoulder. “Not a lot of space in here, eh?”
“He did it on purpose,” Remus said lowly. “He—He saw me hold your hand.”
Understanding flooded Sirius’s eyes. “Oh. Well, fuck him, then.”
“Yeah,” Remus agreed.
They didn’t say anything more until they reached their stop.
*
It was a bit of a walk from the metro to Hope’s house, but Sirius didn’t mind. He did worry about Remus’s leg, though. It had been hours since he had applied the pain relief, and it was clearly beginning to wear off. Remus had brought his cane with them but with the hope of not having to use it. Now he did.
“We’re almost there,” he said as they moved slowly. “It’s fine. I’ll just apply more when we get there.”
“Or we could stop and do it no—”
“I’m not pulling my trousers down in public, posh boy.”
“Damn, you’re not into that?”
Remus snorted. Sirius grinned. He loved making Remus laugh. And fussing about Remus made his nerves settle a bit.
Sirius was really nervous about meeting Remus’s mother.
“I can see the gears whirring inside your head,” Remus mused. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I am. Now, look up there. That’s my childhood house.” They’d just passed a street corner, and Remus was now pointing towards a house a few blocks away.
It was small and modest. It had a porch and a small garage. It was one-storeyed and built in red brick. Behind it, stretched a small, cosy garden.
It looked like a home.
Sirius smiled. “It looks lovely.”
They at last reached the house and made their way over the porch. Sirius exhaled, clenching and unclenching his hands.
“It’s oddly cute to see you act so distressed,” Remus said as knocked on the door.
“Of course you’d think so, you little lovely piece of—Oh. Hello, Miss Lupin.”
Hope Lupin had opened the door just then, an amused smile on her face. “Well, hello, Mr Black. You can just call me Hope.”
“Hope, then,” Sirius said and held out his hand. He straightened his back and made his voice airy and light. “Just call me Sirius.”
She shook his hand, eyes gleaming. “What was it you were going to call my son when I opened the door, Sirius?”
Sirius's whole compure fell apart.
“Um, I—” Sirius looked at Remus for help, but Remus’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and he shook his head. “I was going to, er, call him a lovely piece of… shit?”
“That he is. Remus, stop laughing at him.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Remus said in between small huffs of laughter. “You’re doing great, posh boy.” He gave Sirius a thumbs up.
Sirius raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re really enjoying my distress, aren’t you?”
“As I said, it’s adorable.” Remus shrugged with a grin. Handsome prick.
Sirius turned to Hope again. “I really like your house. It seems very homely. I brought a bottle of wine for you.” He reached into his duffle bag and got the bottle. He and Remus would be staying the night, so he’d also packed extra clothes. Remus had put his things in Sirius’s bag, too.
“Oh, this is a good one,” Hope said and took the bottle he held it out. “Want a glass?”
Sirius quickly learned to relax around Hope Lupin. It was hard not to. She was very alike her son; charming and full of laughter. They didn’t look much alike—Remus must’ve got his looks from Lyall.
Hope served them Remus’s favourite for dinner—Lasagna. Sirius hadn’t known that. He couldn’t wait to get to know everything about Remus. After, she served chocolate cake with candles in it.
“Wish for something, darling,” Hope said just before Remus blew the candles out.
After that, they settled into the living room and Hope started feeding Sirius with embarrassing stories of Remus as a little boy. Throughout every story, Remus kept groaning, “Noooo!” “Mum!” and “C’mon, I didn’t piss in my trousers!”
Sirius was having the time of his life.
When it neared eleven in the evening, Hope yawned and stood. “I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve made Remus’s bed ready for you in his room. Go to sleep whenever you feel like.” She went over to the couch where Sirius and Remus were. She kissed the top of her son’s head and hugged Sirius. Sirius was surprised but quickly masked it and hugged back.
When it was just the two of them in the living room, Sirius scooted over to Remus’s end of the couch.
“Do you think she likes me?”
“Sirius.” Remus cupped Sirius’s face in both of his hands. “She bloody adores you.”
“Phew,” Sirius let out, relieved.
Remus rolled his eyes fondly and pulled Sirius in for a kiss. Sirius sighed against his lips and smiled as they pulled apart.
“I’m happy,” he murmured, relaxing into Remus’s body. “Thank you for making me happy.”
“It’s the greatest pleasure of my life,” Remus muttered. “And you make me happy, too, by the way.”
“No shit. I’m a fucking ray of sunshine.”
Remus snorted. “So full of yourself.” He kissed the corner of Sirius’s mouth. “Wanna see my childhood bedroom?”
“Good God, yes.”
Sirius got up and held his hand out for Remus. Remus gladly took it and let himself be pulled up. They stood in front of each other; eyes locked. Sirius didn’t want to move. He felt very small all of a sudden. He didn’t know how to describe it otherwise.
He supposed he’d always felt small. Small in his childhood home. Small under his father’s belt. Small under his brother’s gaze. Small in the Potters’ house that first summer. Small at St. Paul’s where he tried to be everything he wasn’t. Small in London where no one noticed two boys having a world-altering conversation in the middle of the street.
He felt small as he stood there under Remus’s gaze. He felt small in that house where the man he loved had grown up. He felt small because he selfishly wished that he’d grown up in a house like that; with a mother who would rather divorce her husband than abandon her son.
Sirius felt small and his feelings were too big for him.
He didn’t realise a tear had fallen down his cheek until Remus cupped his face and whispered, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. It was silly. It was silly and dumb. God, he felt so dumb.
“I just really like your mum,” he whispered.
And just like that, the tears were flooding. Sirius wasn’t crying for the mother he got; he cried for the one he didn’t get, and that, in his head, was not the same thing.
Remus kissed his cheeks where the tears ran down before pulling Sirius into him in a crushing hug.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered and stroked the back of Sirius’s head with his hand.
Sirius’s shoulders shook, and he clutched the back of Remus’s shirt in his hands.
They stood like that for a long time. At last, Sirius’s breathing calmed, and he stepped back from Remus, wiping his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know what came over me. That was so fucking stupid, God.”
“No it wasn’t,” Remus said and took his hand. “It’s okay to let yourself feel, love. Just like it’s okay to let yourself be held.”
“Throwing my own words back at me, Lupin?”
Remus shrugged sheepishly. “I’ll never judge you for feeling. As you recall, I broke down in a tattoo chair because I couldn’t walk. I’m not one to talk.”
Sirius gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hand. “You can walk now.”
“You can love now. We really have come far, haven’t we, Sirius Black?”
Sirius pursed his lips. “I suppose.” He pulled Remus’s hands up to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “Thank you.”
Remus’s eyes held so much warmth and love in them that it made Sirius’s insides melt. He’d never get used to being looked at like that. Not really. He found that he didn’t mind.
“Show me that childhood bedroom, Moony.”
Remus’s childhood bedroom wasn’t big by any means, but it carried the traces of a boy Sirius now knew as a man all over it. Remus had posters all over the walls, as well as pictures, and pages ripped from poetry books. The window at the far end of the room faced the garden, and by it, was the bed. Queen-sized. The desk was overflowing with boxes. Probably Hope’s doing since Remus barely used the room any more.
Even though Remus didn’t live there any more, the room was still full of life, love, and soul.
Remus left a bit of that wherever he went. It was one of the things Sirius loved about him the most.
“You… ripped pages out of books?” he whispered and let his fingers trail over one of the poems.
“Yeah.” Remus grimaced. “Fifteen-year-old Remus had a phase.”
Sirius chuckled. “I love it.”
They undressed until they were in their underwear. They got into the bed and faced each other as they lay there; hands and ankles intertwined.
“Happy birthday, Moony,” Sirius whispered.
Remus’s smile could light up the night sky.
*
Remus woke to the feeling of a sudden weight on his thigh and a flare of pain that shot through his whole leg.
“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes opening wide.
Sirius must’ve moved in his sleep, because his front was on Remus’s chest, but his leg was now also slung over Remus’s thigh above the duvet.
Remus tried to bite the pain back. He didn’t want to disturb Sirius when he slept like that, but the pain wasn’t one he could ignore.
“Sirius.” Remus shook Sirius’s shoulder lightly. “Posh boy, wake up, please.”
Sirius stirred and lifted his head to look at Remus. He blinked sleepily. “What time is it, Moons?”
“I don’t know,” Remus gritted out. “Love, can you please remove your leg?”
Sirius was wide awake in an instant and rolled away from Remus. “God, Moony, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Fuck, you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”
Remus couldn’t fight back a smile. “You can cuddle me in your sleep, you know. I don’t mind.”
“But I was hurting you,” Sirius said, distressed.
“Love.” Remus took Sirius’s hand. “It’s okay now. Just gotta lay still. I think today’s gonna be a really bad day.”
“But—”
“Are you gonna fuss over my leg like this even when we’re eighty?” Remus asked, amused now that the weight was off his legs.
“Without a question. I hate that you’re in pain.”
“What happened to ‘Pain is personal?’”
“It still very much is,” Sirius said. He sat up. “But you and me, we’re… we’re…” He didn’t seem to have the words. “When I said that—I didn’t know you that well yet. And of course pain is still personal, but now… I’m caring. I cared before, too, of course! But, now I’m entitled to do it out loud, does that make sense?”
Maybe no one truly ever had words. Not even poets. Not even Remus.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I think I get what you mean.”
“Do you hate that I care?” Sirius said. “Does it make you feel bad? I know how you feel when other people make a big deal about it.”
Remus wet his lips. “No, not when it’s you. I love you; you love me. I’m gonna love you forever. That love is going into the grave with me. I hate when people fuss about my condition or treat me like an invalid, but you… despite caring, never do. You’re walking a fine line in between. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe I just love you so much that I don’t care.”
Yeah, Remus didn’t have the words either.
“Alright, Moony. If you're sure.” He said it with a smile and bowed down to kiss Remus’s forehead. “Let me just get you some pain relief, okay?”
Sirius got out of the bed. The motion went straight to Remus’s leg, and he cursed lowly.
Sirius quickly got the pain relief from the duffle bag by the door and returned to Remus’s side. He didn’t get onto the bed. “Do you want to do it or shall I?”
“You, please,” Remus said and pushed the duvet aside.
Sirius opened the lid and seconds later got to work.
Usually, when this was done, whether it be at Remus’s or Sirius’s hand, it didn’t hurt. Not really. The light touch usually made for a relatively pain free—and quite intimate—affair, but sometimes it was days like today where Remus’s leg screamed with every single movement; every single graze.
He held his pillow close to his chest, breathing deeply in and out of his nose as Sirius tried to do quick work of it.
“I’m almost done. I’m so sorry, Moony. I know it hurts—There, all done.”
Remus let out a breath of relief as the cream got to work with numbing the pain.
Remus put the pillow aside and propped himself up on his elbows. “Do you think my scars are ugly?” he asked.
Sirius didn’t falter as he said, “I think your scars are paths on a map I couldn’t stop exploring even if I wanted to.”
Remus’s chin wobbled. “Thank you.”
Sirius smiled and proceeded to place a kiss on one of the scars. Then another. And another. Remus closed his eyes and leaned back into the bed.
Later, when the sun had risen, and they’d eaten breakfast with Hope, Remus brought Sirius with him to the garage where his mother’s car was.
Sirius had a confused expression on his face as he let himself be dragged along. “What are we gonna do out here? Please don’t say fuck. I’m all for fucking in all sorts of weird places, but I pull the line at your mum’s gara—”
Remus shut him up with a kiss. “No, we’re not. You and me, we’re going for a drive.”
Sirius’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”
Remus nodded. “But you’re driving, okay?”
Sirius nodded quickly. “Okay. Deal.”
Remus went over to open the garage door and then took the keys from the wall. “Let’s do this.”
They got into the car, Sirius behind the wheel. For many minutes, they just sat there. Remus stared straight ahead, hands fisted in his lap.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Sirius said softly.
Remus nodded tightly. He could do this. “You can drive now.”
Sirius turned on the ignition and then ever so slowly backed out into the sunlight. Remus held his breath.
Screaming. Glass. Pain. His screams. Pain. Pain. Painpainpain.
There was no pain. There was no screaming. There were no glass buried into his body. What there was, was the sun as it hit the car and shone in through the windows. There was Sirius’s hand on his thigh as he, still ever so slowly, got the car onto the road, and drove.
Sirius didn’t drive with more than thirty kilometres per hour, and he was whistling a cheery tune. Remus focused on breathing.
In.
Out.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dying. He was sitting in a car with his boyfriend. And it was okay. Remus found himself relaxing bit by bit. Sirius seemed to notice and squeezed his thigh, still not saying anything. His whistling had now turned familiar: Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles.
“We’re driving,” Remus said just as they took a turn. “I’m sitting in a driving car.”
“That you are, Moony,” Sirius confirmed softly.
Remus got a giddy smile on his face. “I’m sitting in a driving car, Sirius.”
Sirius matched his grin. “Yes, you are.”
“You can speed up a little,” Remus told him. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
So, Sirius did, and it was okay.
*
On March 16, the day of the anniversary of Remus’s accident, Sirius woke up facing his boyfriend’s face. His boyfriend, who was drooling onto his pillow. Sirius snorted and gently shook Remus’s shoulder to wake him up.
Remus grunted lowly and opened his eyes. “Ugh.”
“You’re drooling, Moons.”
“Ew. Am not. No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Leg?”
A brief moment passed while Remus stuck his tongue into the inside of his cheek. He furrowed his eyebrows. “No feeling today.”
“Alright.” Sirius kissed his cheek. “What do you wanna do? We can move to the couch and watch a movie? I’m sure James has some snacks here somewhere. We could also play Monopoly against Lily and James tonight and drink a bunch of wine? Or we could be lazy and nap and listen to music?”
“Yes, yes, yes, to all of it,” Remus grinned. “But, eh, I forgot my crutches at my place. I can still use my cane, but it’ll be like watching a LIVE comedy show.”
Sirius rolled his head fondly. “How about I go make some breakfast for us to eat in bed, and then we worry about all that afterwards?”
“Sounds great.”
Sirius got out of the bed and went into the kitchen. He got to work making coffee and put some toast in the toaster. He hummed lowly. The coffee finished before the toast, and he poured a cup for Remus. Sirius didn’t like coffee but he’d memorised the way Remus took his.
He took the cup and began to walk to his bedroom, but just then, the phone rang. He went over to get it and held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he said. “Who is it?”
He could hear breathing on the other side of the line but no words were said.
“I think you have a wrong number,” he said lowly, confused.
The person on the other side of the phone cleared their throat. “No. No, I haven’t.”
Sirius dropped the cup in his hand.