Sirius’ presence felt like a stain, an invasive pest. The way her perfume clings onto his pillows and sheets, even after multiple washes. Or the way she would sometimes leave strands of her black curls. Or how she’ll forget the silver rings left idly on his nightstand, gleaming at night every time his eyes seem to linger and close. It was an offense, almost, to the room that was supposed to be filled with the smell of old books and the taste of strong cigarettes that stained the used to be pristine walls. Remus hates how easily he lets Sirius lay down on his bed, like he should’ve kicked her out each time she dared to step foot in his sanctuary. It’s pathetic, how his calloused fingers would graze at the indent on his blanket, left in the shape of Sirius’. It was like getting to know the curves of her body, without her ever having to be bare and unclothed. All Remus needed is an hour or two, of just lying down with each other’s steady breathing, maybe a book or a cigarette in his hands, and that was enough for Remus to fall in love with every inch of skin he’s forbidden to see.