“hey sirius?” remus shuffles into sirius’ house, hopping on one foot as he tries to get his shoe off. he can hear shuffling in the bathroom, a soft sniffle every other moment and a frustrated huff on occasion. he doesnt know how long he stands there listening to his lover get ready, but he’s starting to sweat from the heater blowing right on him in his puffer, so he shrugs it off and finally kicks off his shoes. he comes up behind sirius, watching as they work with precision. they don’t so much as glance at remus while the black liner wand is at their eye, instead staring steadily into their reflection. remus knows better than to touch them and possibly startle their arm to mess up the smooth lines resting on their lids, so he waits.
sirius pulls the liner away from their eye, admiring their handiwork.
“hey pads. you ready for tonight?” remus grins, leaning next to sirius and watching them in the mirror as they analyze the liquids and powders that they’ve mushed together into a mess on their face to create what the world knows as sirius.
“yeah.” they cock their head to the side, furrowing their eyebrows. they still haven’t looked at remus.
“whats up love? you okay?” remus unknowingly mimics their expression but looking straight at sirius themself and not the reflection. this only unsettles him more, as he can see the tears on sirius’ face.
“hey, sirius, what’s going on?” remus tries to wedge himself between sirius and their image perfectly repeated back to them in reverse, but they won’t move. they’re rooted in place, not analyzing features anymore but making unwavering eye contact with the reflected image.
“goodnight, my love.” the woman in blue stands over the boy’s bed, a slightly lopsided but faint smile on her face. she brushes his hair off of his forehead and plants a small kiss between his brows. the boy smiles softly, pulling the covers to his chin as his mother inches her hands down his sides over the blankets, gently and rhythmically nudging the quilt snugly over his body, tucking him in.
“goodnight, momma.” the boys eyes flutter shut without him even trying and the woman walks out of the room, clicking the door shut.
“my mom’s not home.” sirius turns their head to remus, looking at his hands and tracing the tattoos with their eyes as they breathe in deeply and blink back tears. remus knows exactly what they’re thinking when their head snaps back up, fluttering their lashes and smoothing their black hair into place. he knows the flicker of longing in their eyes, for a loving hand to brush their hair back for them. remus knows exactly what sirius wants, exactly what they need to feel okay again. his eyes soften and his lip quivers as he watches his lover try to arrange themself back into what they deem as pretty. remus always thinks they look beautiful.
“let me get my clothes on.” sirius mutters. remus watches them whirl away in a flurry of black and red pajamas and he looks back to the mirror, looking at himself the same way sirius did. his lip quivers again and fights back tears as he aches for the human in the room over. he can hear them shuffling, sniffling and huffing again, but this time remus feels a tender ache in his chest as he hears the coughs that sirius uses to cover their sobs. he swipes at the spills from his eyes and follows sirius into the room that the bathroom extends off of.
it’s a quiet room, undisturbed sheets and fluffed pillows. the walls are white and the wood flooring is cold under his socked feet. framed photos here and there, many of two young children with curly black hair, some of a kind looking woman and the children, but all of them from years and years ago. before all went wrong and then righted itself, before remus, before late nights curled on the couch, giggling under a heated blanket. before early mornings, so early the sun hasn’t even peeked its eyes over the horizon, awoken by phone calls. phone calls that begin with silence, sirius blanking on why they even called, why they ever assumed remus would care. those calls always ended with sirius leaving the back door open while remus clambers out of his own window back home. he sees sirius in the closet now, rummaging with shaking fingers through their own mothers dresses. through the fabrics that they’d cried into as a child.
the boy shoots up in bed, panting and sweating heavily. yet another dream, yet another fear, yet another nightmare. he brings a shaky hand to his mouth as he tries to be quiet. maybe if he’s quiet and asks nicely, momma will tuck him in a second time.
the boy walks, albeit a little wobbly, into the hallway, pausing when he sees his mothers lights off and the door wide open. this must mean she's still awake and watching tv, but the clock on the walls hands point straight up and to the right. he just finished learning time in school and is mightily pleased with himself when he remembers that this means its three o’clock. his pride fades when he realizes can't hear any chattering or laughter coming from what should be an on tv. now he's curious.
he's more certain in his strides now, skittering down the stairs as he convinces himself that his mother is working on crochet or writing poems like she used to do late at night. the boy doesn't realize that this stopped long ago, her yarn collecting dust and the pens dried out from lack of use.
he stops altogether at the opening to the living room though, seeing her sprawled on the floor. there’s a glass knocked over next to her, an acrid scent of liquor coming from her body and the dark amber stain that seems to have come from the glass.
the boy drops to his knees, whispering into his mothers ear as he cries again, full body sobs this time, begging for her to wake up. he doesn't understand at such an age the concept of death, so it doesn't even cross his mind the same way that it would plague him if it occurred to him as he's grown up now, into a human rather than a boy. he just breathes hot breaths onto her face as snot dribbles down his chin.
the little boy who picked himself up and carried himself to his own room, breaths shaky and eyes heavy from sobs, is still inside the human that he's grown into. it's the same boy that tucked himself into bed that night, lower lip quivering when his small hands couldn't quite get the quilt under him the same way. the same one who awoke to the carpet being white again and his mother being more to him the woman in blue than his mother.
“sirius?” remus knocks on the frame of the door. he tries to pretend he hasn't been watching them smooth their bony hands over imaginary wrinkles. remus is biting his lip as the being in front of him stares themself down.
“its my mommas. do you like it?” there's a crack on the -mmas that makes remus’ heart ache all over again. he walks up behind sirius, tightening the laces that cross over their pale back and tying them into a bow. he gazes over the constellations of freckles dotting down their spine, a showing of just how human they are. remus can't help but wonder how anyone could ever stand to abandon them.
“i love it pads. you look stunning.” remus presses a kiss to the base of their neck, wrapping his arms around their waist and pulling them into him. they giggle softly and remus smiles at his favorite noise.
“do you still want to go out?” remus asks, watching as sirius analyzes themself in the mirror again, swaying along with remus as he rocks them both side to side. the blue dress fans out around them.
“yeah. i'm okay.” they take a breath in before turning and looking remus in the eyes for the first time that evening. “thank you moony.”
remus’ heart stutters. “any time, my love. any time.”
they stand there like that, swaying softly, until remus turns them and sits them on the edge of the queen sized bed. “stay there.” he says, turning to go back to grab something from the bathroom. sirius does what they're told, the only movement being kicking their feet and tracking remus with their eyes. the shorter man turns back with a comb and two hair ties in his hand. sirius’ eyes well again.
“oh moony,” they start, but remus just sits behind them with a thigh on either side of sirius.
“just relax, pads. do you want plaits or pigtails?”
sirius murmurs “plaits”, embarrassed that they want remus’ fingers carding as gently as a breeze to sort their hair into the three sections. remus just presses a kiss to the back of their head. he combs through their curly hair, tip to root, making sure to not catch too hard and to be as gentle as possible.
he takes a finger and traces it from their forehead straight down to the nape of their neck, twirling the left side into a pigtail and getting to work on the right. sirius leans back into his steady tugs, eyes fluttering shut and softly sighing every time remus would tug. he ties the braid off.
remus repeats this process on the other side, humming a song that sirius doesn't recognize as he gets lost in the motions.
when remus finishes, he stands and admires sirius looking at him through their lashes, framed by the blue dress and the cascading pieces of hair falling into their black rimmed eyes. their lips and cheeks are tinged red. remus thinks theyre a picture of perfection, so he shows them so by grabbing the sides of their face and planting a kiss to their forehead.
“thank you.” sirius murmurs, hands coming up to rest on remus’.
“anything for you sirius. absolutely anything. okay?”
“okay.”