☆1. Cardigan☆

The weather was mild, not too warm, not too cold. It was perfect, really.

Autumn season had just started, the leaves turning a pleasant shade of yellow and brown, just about to fall down from where they had grown. Sirius felt like everything was finally at peace. He left home, he had the best friend group he could imagine, and he finally got to call the boy, he had been admiring for so long, his boyfriend.

They are sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet afternoon air after sharing a fag. Remus in his big brown cardigan that looked like it was already worn for way too many decades, the holes were patched up messily with some star-shaped fabric pieces, and it had those stupid buttons which were formed in a very odd way, Sirius had already made a mental note to purchase him a new one for his next birthday.

The werewolf was lying in the grass reading an old book, which again, in Sirius opinion, looked like it belonged to the Stone Age. Withered, yellow pages, looks like it's starting to fall apart. It fit the picture perfectly. Sirius glanced towards his boyfriends' shoulders and down to his hands, the long sleeves of the cardigan slightly pushed up, which he only ever did when he was around people whom he blindly trusted. There were a few new marks. A result from the previous full moon, which was not too long ago.

Scattered around the angry silver and red lines were numerous little black stars scribbled onto the surrounding skin.

"Looks like a whole galaxy! And now you have to think about me and the fact that I think that you are absolutely, fucking handsome, instead of whatever nonsense your mind is telling you" Sirius whispered one night after a bad moon, holding a weak, exhausted Remus in his arms. Both of them were laying on Remus's-, which now is actually both of their shared, bed.

Remus cheeks were flushed and wet as he shed silent tears. The younger one never cried much and when he did, it had never been with any heavy reaction. Sirius would sob violently, screaming, trashing around, punching walls, but Remus never let go of a sound.

He was usually so robust, but sometimes his self-made walls would crumble around him, and the stubborn guy would just silently limp around, picking up his own pieces, leaving no mess.

Remus was the one who always comforted Sirius when it got bad, got him to snap out from wherever his mind took him, made him calm down, and now he gladly gave that back, wanting to take all his pain and make it more bearable.

Right now they were both at peace. Sirius was unable to look away from Remus frizzy hair, which was flowing heavenly thanks to the mild autumn breeze, and Sirius could swear he fell again at that moment. He himself was propped up against a tree, guitar resting on his lap, mindlessly strumming a few chords. A small smile forming on his face while he peered at his partner. He never believed that someone would love him like that, that someone could really love him.

All the time during his childhood, people around him made him feel useless, unlovable to the point that, even though he would never openly admit it, he started to actually believe what they were saying too.

Fortunately, later on, Remus stumbled into his life, or more like crashed right into it.

And he became a significant part of the group of people who showed him how it feels to be cared about, how it feels to be loved, and how it feels to believe that you are deserving of that love.

His voice slowly began to sing:

“When you are young, they assume you know nothing”

He had gotten so sick of old people lecturing him about what's right or wrong

They could all tell him it wouldn't last, that it wasn't real, too young to know what they really want, too young to not mess it up. All he could do to that is rolling his eyes and flipping them off. Yeah, he wasn't particularly good with most people who think they know anything about him when they don't know shit

because he already knows exactly what he wants for his future. Or more precisely, who he wants in his future plans. They were a forever kind of thing.

“But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight”

The first time he realized he was crazy about the boy had been when they managed to sneak away from a party, laughing like mad, sides hurting from running way too fast, too drunk for them to care if anybody saw them.

They belted out a song which had been stuck in their brains throughout the entirety of the night, none of them being able to recall which damn song it was when they woke up the morning after.

Remus would spin around on the dark street, the pavement still slightly wet as a result of a December night's drizzle. They hadn't worn anything that was close to enough, but thankfully the fire whiskey, and the funny tingling in their stomachs, kept the both of them warm.

There was a single streetlamp glimmering, and Remus was dancing right underneath it, looking like an angel every time the light hit his

golden hair at the right angle, eyes sparkling as he happily slurred the words while Sirius had a whole internal crisis.

“I knew you

Hand under my sweatshirt

Baby, kiss it better”

Following that, two years later they both kissed each other for the first time, and suddenly it all made shockingly sense. A couple of confusing, awkward weeks later they opened up about the way they truly felt. Sirius had rarely felt more vulnerable before, but one tender kiss, two gentle hands, three spoken words and every single one of his worries had been gone.

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite”

His fingers hit the last chord, retracting his gaze back to Remus, who is already watching his every move with a bright grin, biting his lip, eyes sparkling just like they did two years ago, but this time he wasn't drunk, not from alcohol in any case. All it took was love.

Less than a second later, Sirius guitar is laying right next to him and instead an affectionate werewolf is wrapped in his embrace, kissing his cheek “You're without a doubt my favorite Sirius black”

It was sappy and teeth rotting sweet but it was them and they were perfect.

The black, curly-haired boy, couldn't believe that this was reality, this state of resting and healing. He would never want to lose this, now that he had a taste of it.

He would do anything to protect this.

Perhaps he should have thought of protecting this from his own hands.

No one, especially not the lover in his arms, would have ever guessed that it would be him who holds the knife that eventually would stab him directly in the back.

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