No matter how many times you check your watch, the hands don't tick backwards. You're going to be late.
Nothing to be done about it, you suppose. Sirius is always late, anyway, though he'd texted you he was on the train so he might arrive at the bar before you. Your own train slows and the speaker reads out your station in a clipped tone. You step on to the platform and the strangest thing happens -- the air changes, somehow. Like someone is looking at you. In the moment before you turn around you hear your name in a voice you know very well and when you do turn, there he is.
"Were we on the same train?" Sirius asks as people stream past you towards the exit. "I don't think this has ever happened to me before."
"Different cars," you say.
"Fancy that." He holds out his arm once he reaches you and you hook yours through it and head towards the escalators. "You look lovely," he says. "Are we late?"
"Well, you're always late," you remind him. He rolls his eyes. "I meant to be there ten minutes ago." Sirius smooths down the collar of your coat and you allow yourself to admire him.
You never get tired of his face -- he's handsome in an edgy way, a way that makes you look away at first and then draws you back in. You're very familiar with how he looks by now. The slope of his nose, the intense line of his eyebrows and the length of his lashes. His eyes are dark, deep, mysterious. The rings in his nose and his ears stand out, gold against his otherwise dark features, and his hair begs for you to run your fingers through it.
He tolerates your staring. You know he likes it but you're kind enough not to call him out. "Remus texted me that they're all going to be at least a half hour. Bus is stuck in traffic."
You step off the escalator and emerge onto the street, the chill of the fall evening wrapping around you both. You press a bit closer to him. "Guess it's just us for now."
He hums. "How was your day?"
"Nothing of note. You?"
Sirius turns into you a little bit to speak as a truck passes. He smells like tobacco and the spicy cologne you bought him for his birthday. "By lunch I was ready to get out of there."
"You always are."
He's always on the go, your boyfriend, always looking for the next thing. Everyone who knew him before you met tells you the same thing -- he's wild, spontaneous, full of energy, but with you, he seems to become a centered version of himself. Not like you've changed him, not quite, but like he feels it's okay to slow down because you're around. He takes a breath, lets the somewhat permanent scowl settle into something calmer. You feel it too, like being near him is the most natural thing in the world. Puzzle pieces that fit, magnets that snap together, every cliche in the book fits.
The night is quiet, for the most part, so when you finally get to the bar and go inside the noise is a bit jarring. There's music and chatter, the clink of glasses and chairs scraping on the floor as they're pulled to new tables. You head for the bar and unwind your arm from Sirius's. He makes grabby hands so you undo your coat and turn around, shaking it off and into his arms.
"Do you want me to do drinks or find a table?" he asks, breath hot on your cheek as he leans in to ask.
"I'll do drinks," you say. "You got them last time. Do you want the usual?" He nods, squeezes your elbow and heads off to find a table with a wink.
You wait patiently and wonder what you're going to order. Sirius always gets a pint of whatever dark beer they have on tap and you'll take a sip even though you never like it that much. Maybe it's a wine night? Bit weird to get a glass of wine in a bar like this and surely James will tease you for it when he gets here, but it's a bit cold out and it sounds warming --
"Excuse me?" You look around to see if someone's just addressed you and find a girl about your age at your side. Her eyes are bright and her face flushed and she's holding a pint. Clearly she's a bit further along in her night than you are.
"You alright?" you ask her. She nods frantically.
"Was that your boyfriend?" she asks, the words tumbling out of her like she has to ask you or she'll combust.
"Uh, yes," you say. Bit weird, but alright.
"He's so handsome," she says. Her tone is the one that girls use in the bathroom at the club when they compliment each other, like she's so happy for you and wants to share in your good fortune.
You smile. "He is," you agree.
"And the way he looks at you!" She sighs like she's reading from a romance novel. What is she on about? He was beside you for mere minutes.
"He's got a bit of a stare."
The girl shakes her head, a few pieces of her bangs falling in her face. "No, I mean yes, but you guys were just standing here and I looked over and it was like he was..." She waves her hand in the air, her beer sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her glass. "He was orbiting around you, or something. The air was crackling, I swear."
You really should ask what she's having so you can get a glass too, whatever will make you feel her enthusiasm.
She puts her hand on your arm. "It's just so nice," she says. "To see love like that."
Her words take you by surprise. No one has ever articulated your relationship like that, so matter of fact. "Thank you," you tell her genuinely.
She beams at you and then seems to catch sight of her friends, giving your arm a squeeze before darting off into the crowd.
"Alright then," you mutter. "Wow." The bartender finally takes your order and you mull over this kind girl's words as you wait. You've always thought that you and Sirius were well suited. Both of you are quite private, guarded in front of people you don't know but endlessly loyal to those you do. He has always made you feel like a priority even when you've fought. Very early on you realized that he was an all-in kind of guy -- he laid his feelings out and promised you that if you felt the same he'd give you everything he could. And he has, even though you don't need much. His hand on your back, his voice in your ear when you wake, his smile across the room. Just being next to him has always been enough. You've just never known how to articulate it, how this kind of love is everything you've wanted for yourself.
You manage not to spill your drinks as you try to find Sirius. He's gotten a table in the corner that will easily fit your friends once they arrive, but for now you slide into the seat next to him.
He beams at you, a toothy grin that makes him look younger, and puts his hand on your knee under the table. "Thank you, darling," he says.
You lean into his side. "Good table." He takes a sip of his beer and nods his agreement. "A girl at the bar said the strangest thing to me," you blurt out. You don't know how you're going to explain this to him but you want to tell him. You always want to tell him everything.
"Oh?" He's got a bit of a foam mustache but he wipes it before you can.
"She said I had a handsome boyfriend."
Sirius scoffs. "You do." You roll your eyes.
"But she also said that --" you use air quotes -- "it was nice to see a love like ours."
His face goes very soft, almost like the way he looks first thing in the morning when you wake to find him watching you. "Very poetic," he murmurs.
"I don't totally know what she means," you admit. "But it was a nice thing to say. I think she might have been a bit drunk."
"Oh, I know what she means," he says. You raise your eyebrows, telling him to go on. Sirius blinks a few times, scratches the back of his neck. You know him well enough to know that he's nervous, which is a bit rare. He leads with confidence, oozes with it, but he's told you many times one of the things that he never gets tired of is how you can crack that exterior.
"It's like when we're in the same room and everything shifts," he says. "Like tonight. I stepped off the train and knew you were near, you know?"
Oh. "I --yeah," you say softly. You do know. It's like you and Sirius orbit each other, like being near him changes the makeup of the air in a room. Your heart beats in time with his and your very atoms settle when he's near. If you were good with words, if you were a little better at expressing yourself, you'd say that you two are made of the same stuff. Your life before him was great, sure, and by no means were you waiting for him for it to start. But now that he's here, next to you, it's like everything has snapped into focus. It just makes sense.
"I can't believe she noticed, though," he says. His tone is more teasing than sincere now, so you let your own musings fade for now. "I mean, I've barely even touched you! I took your coat! We could have been on a first date!"
"You never touch me that much," you remind him. It's not a scold, it's just how it is. You've never needed to touch him that much. Just his gaze feels like his hands are on you, sometimes. You can always tell when he's looking at you from across the room. Remus once said he was convinced you two could communicate telepathically. You find yourself looking at a doorway moments before Sirius walks through it. He digs out a tissue before you've even felt the tickle in your nose. You can sense each other's distress over the breeze like a bloodhound. It's a bit weird, actually. But you don't know how else to be.
"I can fix that." He winks and slings his arm around your shoulders.
"Don't be annoying." He smacks a kiss to your temple but releases you. You stay close to him, pressed together from shoulder knee. Sirius presses his lips to the shell of your ear and you shiver.
"I love our love, too," he says. What a sap.