And there is a lonely, wrinkly note on the kitchen table.
Remus, it reads, don’t be angry with me, but by the time you read this…
The time is seven in the morning; a normal morning, where Remus gets up at six to leave at seven, where he takes a quick shower, drinks his coffee, black, smokes a cigarette, gets the newspaper from the mailbox, shakes his head at today’s joke of the day, and shoulders his worn out leather bag he got from Sirius around four years ago when he started his new job in Dublin, then heads out into the world of busy people on the phone, coffee stains, staplers and punches. A very normal morning.
And, yes, Sirius has been talking about how he wished that their mornings were different, over and over, but it was a good job, a great opportunity, and Remus hates it as well, hates it so fucking much that his bones ache at age twenty-six, that his mornings are so normal, that his evenings are so short and that his therapist has this look of wonder and confusion in her eyes whenever he tells her about how normal his mornings and short his evenings are.
And, yes, Remus thinks about leaving it all behind, running away to the countryside every day, giving up trying for promotion and well-earned raises and praises. Pack his bags and take Sirius’ hand, pick up Harry and walk them out of this life of consistency and self-loathing.
Give them what they deserve, give them what they want, give them what they need.
But Remus has never been good at making people happy and Sirius has always been faster and honest and he just knew. Sirius always just knows what’s actually going on, what the problem is and how to solve it, somehow. So, in all honesty, it isn’t surprising that he is also the first to walk away for good.
Sirius was the first to ask Remus out seven years ago, at the café Remus worked at while attending university. It was a tiny coffee shop — a counter and two tables with two chairs each — and Remus was in dear need of money and something to leave the house for, hated working there, too, but it was all worth it in the end, when Sirius stood in front of the shop after Remus had finished his closing shift. Remus’ heart almost stopped working right there and then. Sirius was a regular, but rarely stayed longer than the coffee machine and Remus needed to prepare his cappuccino and scone. And, oh, did Remus have a crush on him.
Him, with his jet-black locks, that always appeared to be blown by the wind and accidentally purposefully tousled and put into a half bun, a pencil holding up the perfectly messy hair. Him, with his charming smile and pearly white teeth, unfairly straight, and the dimples that appeared, everytime he laughed at something James had said, and that Remus had forever wanted to touch and kiss. Him, with the gray eyes and the little scorpion tattooed behind his left ear, that was only visible when Sirius put all his hair up in a bun and that made Remus go mad.
He stood there, flashing his pearly whites at Remus and asked him to go out with him. It wasn’t exactly a date. James was there, and Lily, and Peter, Marlene, Mary and— it was a start. And look where it got them.
Sirius was the first to kiss Remus. The very first, actually, and, thinking back, it was horrible and clumsy, and Remus accidentally bit Sirius’ bottom lip and not in a seductive, good way, but in an inexperienced, embarrassing way. Too hard, too much blood and too many I’m so sorrys and too much blushing and feeling like running away, preferably being swallowed whole. Though before Remus could pull back, Sirius, sweet and beautiful Sirius, had chuckled, let his tongue wander across his wounded lip, leaving merely a faint stain of dark red on his lovely mouth, and pulled Remus back in, tasting like iron, cigarette smoke and the cherry liquor they had emptied that night on the stormy rooftop of Sirius’ old student residence building in London.
And Remus fell hard, for all that Sirius had to offer, for all that Sirius was and still is to this day, seven years later.
Sirius was the first to say I love you. The weather was downright atrocious for a birthday party that lasted far too long and wasn’t even that good. They had barely been together for a few months when Sirius dragged Remus along to Mary’s twentieth birthday party at a restaurant that didn’t serve anything that sounded delicious and was gluten-free, so Remus just wanted the day to be over and lay on the sofa, pull Sirius to his chest and fall asleep. And they did leave, after finding an acceptable excuse (“I’m so sorry guys, but I’ve been feeling sick all day and Remus needs to get up early”), it wasn’t the best excuse, but five minutes and hundreds of Goodbyes later they found themselves running through the rain to Remus’ car, soaking wet when they arrived.
“No, fuck,” Remus yelled, hands searching every pocket, “I think I lost the car keys!”
“You’re joking,” Sirius yelled back from the other side of the car, the rain was too loud to speak in normal volume. “Where did you lose them?”
Remus shook his head. “They must be somewhere out here, I know I heard them in my pocket when we started running.”
And so they searched the whole parking lot in the dark, for some shiny keys among these shiny puddles. After what felt like hours of slowly giving up, Remus heard the triumphant “Found them!” right behind him. He turned to find Sirius, holding up a set of keys, jingling them once, twice, a proud and relieved smile on his wet lips. Remus could have kissed him, but only managed to lock eyes with Sirius, and then he was laughing. Right out, loud, ridiculous laughter, holding his stomach at the sight of how soaked Sirius was and how he still looked like a painting he’d stare at for hours, with his black hair sticking to his scalp, raindrops falling down the tip of his nose and the streaks of black eyeliner running down his cheeks.
Remus reached out, a smile still lingering on his lips.
His fingers found themselves playing with one dripping strand of Sirius’ hair, letting it slip through his fingers before wandering to the spot behind Sirius’ ear, where he knew the Scorpion to be, where he knew how sensitive Sirius was. Glazed, gray eyes were watching him, only the ghost of a smile, lips separated, and Remus wanted to take a picture or say it. Because he felt it. He’d been feeling it for weeks back then, the timing was never right. In that moment, he felt it again, like a surge of enormous affection and the need to keep this forever.
Sirius leant into the touch, eyes fluttering shut and when Remus couldn’t take it anymore, he closed the distance until he felt Sirius shaky breaths on his lips.
Remus fingers closed around Sirius’ jaw, a thumb running over his lower lip with the tiny crescent scar, catching raindrops as they landed on it. He was ready to say it, he needed to say it, Sirius needed to know— “Remus,” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ stomach flipped.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Sirius took this first as well. Remus wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Remus loves him, too.
Sirius was the first to suggest moving in together. It was less of a suggestion and more of a Christmas present. There was an envelope under the Christmas tree, maroon with a golden bow and the neat handwriting saying Moony. After branding Sirius with a crescent moon scar beneath his bottom lip, Sirius started calling Remus all kinds of moon-related names, to remind him of the most embarrassing moment in his life.
“Are you being held hostage by the man on the moon? Did he make you do this? You know, you can tell me anything.”
“I think you should bite your own lip as well, so that we match. We can be the moon couple. Imagine how unique and cool we’d be.”
“You know, I don’t mind this little scar thingy on my lip. I always think of you when I see it. Or when I see the moon.”
How nicknames evolve in a friend group, Remus’ turned from we should call him Remoon, how James suggested so proudly after one too many beers, to just moon, to Sirius climbing on Remus’ lap, completely high and gone, and called him my moonlight, to, and nobody really knows anymore who started it or how it happened, Moony. And it stuck with all of them.
Remus didn’t really mind anymore.
Remus picked up the envelope, almost feeling how nervous Sirius was on the sofa, worrying his bottom lip and shifting to be able to see Remus’ reaction.
“Is there…,” Remus’ fingers felt the envelope in his hands, “Is that a key?”
He turned to shoot Sirius a bemused smile, settling down next to him on the sofa. “What…?”
“Just open it,” Sirius insisted, scooting closer to curl his fingers around Remus’ biceps and put his head on Remus’ shoulder.
It was a key. And a note with an address scribbled on it. Remus recognized it immediately.
“Sirius?”
Remus felt his boyfriend snuggling closer and a kiss to his neck. “Surprise,” Remus could hear the smile in his voice, and felt the goosebumps on his skin.
“You didn’t…no fucking way, it was way too expensive for us, Sirius!” He was still staring at the key.
“But you loved it, and I love you. Let’s do this.”
That’s how they moved into the flat of their dreams with the high ceilings and old wooden floors, the small balcony and the sage-coloured kitchen with the cream floor tiles and the second bedroom that Remus wanted to have, in case James and Lily’s unborn child wanted to stay over, and Sirius had watched Remus in awe, talking about Harry’s room in such detail that Remus felt a bit stupid when he turned to find the amused and fascinated glint in the gray eyes, but Sirius had made love to him that night.
Remus misses that place. Their first home and Harry’s second home. He misses how happy Sirius was there, how he painted Harry’s bedroom ceiling dark blue with stars and a crescent moon above his bed. He misses the way Harry’s tiny feet came running up and down the hallway in the morning until Sius and Mooy woke up to make cat-shaped pancakes or whatever the little rebel wanted that morning.
Sirius was the first to talk about Dublin. Life had been rough, too rough. A year after the accident, a year after Remus found Sirius screaming on the bathroom floor, clutching his chest, breathing heavily.
“James!” Is all Remus heard coming out of Sirius’ throat, repeatedly, all throughout the next two hours. “No, please!” And Remus held him and didn’t let go, silent tears streaming down his face, because Sirius has always loved more, felt more, needed more than him. And then his best friends died.
Sirius was shivering in his arms, mumbling unidentifiable things into Remus’ sweater, all the while clutching the fabric of it tightly, as if he would sink into the floor if he didn’t. Remus’ knees hurt, but he didn’t even think about moving, holding Sirius to his chest, one arm around his shoulders and one hand stroking through the wild black locks, feeling the way Sirius’ body trembled and tensed.
It wasn’t until Sirius resulted to staying limp and quiet in his arms, that Remus decided to move them to the bedroom, carrying the wreck in his arms as if he would break any second, and pulled Sirius to his chest under the sheets, continually kissing his forehead, caressing his hair and back and whispering reassurances into his ear.
“Remus,” the raspy voice in his arms croaked after the third day of staying in after James’ and Lily’s funeral.
“Yes, love?”
“Please don’t leave me, I need you.”
Remus wanted to cry. His chest felt heavy and his head throbbed, “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, kissing Sirius’ forehead, “You won’t ever have to miss me. I love you, alright?”
It is a bit funny, Remus thinks now, holding the wrinkly note between his fingers. He always knew that he couldn’t possibly be enough for all that Sirius needed and still needs. Sirius is enough. Sirius is all one could wish for, really.
Sirius is charming and charismatic, easy to talk to and never boring. Sirius knows how to make you feel loved, he remembers what you said last summer about that trip to Dublin you always wanted and surprises you with plane tickets. Sirius notices when you need alone time, but puts a nice cup of tea in front of the bedroom door. Sirius kisses like his life depended on it, with gentle but passionate pushes and tongue strokes and smiling against your lips. Sirius defends you when he thinks you’ve been treated unfairly and speaks up when he thinks he’s been treated unfairly by you. Sirius takes your arm and lets his fingers run up and down the length of it while watching TV, because he knows that you love it.
Sirius is all one could wish for, and Remus isn’t. It baffles him, still, how Sirius stayed by his side for so long, when Sirius deserves someone better. Someone who is just as enough. Not Remus.
“You also won’t have to miss me,” Sirius murmured before falling asleep on his chest.
When Harry was two and a half years old, Sirius found a job for Remus in Dublin.
“Look at this, Moony, it’s around the corner from where we stayed the last time,” he turned his laptop to reveal a job offer. “You’d make double and then we can move to the countryside and buy a nice farm house and have chickens.”
Remus snorted, “And sheep?”
“And don’t forget the duck named Duck.”
“And the cow named Moo,” Remus said, scrolling through the ad.
Harry’s large green eyes went wide, staring at the bright screen that moved around, from where he sat on Remus’ lap, a stuffed toy duck named Duck clutched in his tiny hands.
“What do you say, Haz, should we move to Ireland and live in a nice farm house with Duck and Moo?” Remus pulled up a picture of the Irish meadows, looking down at the bundle of a blanket and a head in his lap.
Harry nodded enthusiastically, “Yes!”
“So, it’s settled, then. Harry has spoken,” Sirius laughed from the other side of the sofa, leaning over to ruffle a hand through his godson’s wild black hair that looked exactly like his father’s and continued to do the same to Remus, saying, “Don’t worry, you’ll stay my favourite Moo.”
Four years ago, they moved and found they’re second home in Dublin. The flat wasn’t as perfect as the one in London, but the thrill of living somewhere closer to their dreams overshadowed the lack of balcony and sage-coloured kitchen cabinets. That was, until Sirius decided to use his day off to paint all the cabinets in the exact same colour.
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” he explained, when Remus came home at eight, staring at the kitchen with wide eyes and a frown, “The old kitchen was perfect, and this one was just sad and not…not good enough.”
Remus didn’t miss the pained expression that appeared on Sirius' face for merely a second.
“No, I…,” Remus began, watching as Sirius worried his bottom lip again, but the words didn’t come out. There was nothing to say, really. So he just started laughing.
Because this was the reason Remus fell in love with Sirius. His impulsive and heart-driven decisions and strong will.
Harry arrived in the kitchen only seconds later, watched as Remus and Sirius shared a kiss before pointing horrified at the green cupboards. “Oh no, look! What happened?”
Life was starting to feel alright again.
Sirius had started working at the tattoo studio Remus got his first tattoo from when they went on holiday here.
A crescent moon, behind his left ear and then a small lightning bolt on his wrist.
When Harry missed a step one day and broke his little wrist, which resulted in a hysterical Sirius and a frantic call during his lunch break, Remus drove them all to the hospital, where they spent all day in the waiting room until Harry woke up from his slumber after the surgery.
“This is all my fault, Remus, I’m so sorry,” Sirius sniffed, pacing in the empty waiting room, hair in disarray and still wearing his slippers and the shirt he wore to sleep. “I’m a horrible parent, Lily would kill me, James would be so disappointed, I let them—“
“Sirius, stop it.”
Remus hates the way Sirius hates himself sometimes.
Ever since James and Lily’s death, Sirius is plagued by recurring nightmares and the heavy weight of guilt sitting on his chest and nothing helps. But Remus knows something that helps, momentarily at least.
There’s nothing Sirius needs more than physical contact and words of reassurance.
“Come here, love.”
Remus grabbed Sirius' wrist, pulling him onto the chair next to him and, almost automatically, leaned back so that Sirius could put his head in his lap, finding his hands in Sirius's hair immediately.
“It’s not your fault, Sirius. Harry is a child, this happens. Children are fragile. You love him. You’d never do something like this to him. It’s not your fault, love, it’s never.”
They’d done this a lot after the accident. Sirius would wake up from his nap on the sofa whenever Remus came home, looking at him desperately and longingly, tears shimmering in his eyes, and Remus would put down his leather bag, sit down next to Sirius and play with the long black hair while Sirius used Remus’ lap as a pillow. Remus found out quickly that it soothed the love of his life, and Remus would do anything for him. No matter how tired and exhausted he is.
After the surgery, Harry was left with a small scar on his injured wrist. Sirius was the first to point it out.
“Harry, you look like a superhero. Do you see this?”
Three year old Harry frowned at his scar, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. I don’t want this.”
Remus could see it in Sirius’ eyes, the flash of guilt and Remus needed to fix this. “But Haz, this is definitely a lightning bolt, isn’t it? You look like you can shoot lightning bolts from your hands.”
Harry looked up at them both, seemed to think about that statement. “Like Spider-Man?”
“Oh, no, way cooler,” Sirius grinned, stealing one of Harry’s chips when he looked down to trace the light tissue that formed the zig-zag shape on his tanned skin.
To prove this statement to be true, Sirius and Remus decided one night in bed that a lightning bolt tattoo would be a nice gesture and that it might help him come to terms with his new scar. Actually, Remus was the one to have the idea and it earned him a heartfelt I love you and a gentle kiss from Sirius, and his heart fluttered just the same as it did on the day Sirius stood in front of the coffee shop.
Harry beamed at them as he watched first Sirius, then Remus getting the same shape on their wrists at the tattoo studio Sirius worked at.
Remus remembers it vividly. That night, as they got ready for bed, Remus helped little Harry brush his teeth (“Okay, and now, once more at the front and don’t forget your tongue.”), when Sirius walked in with a grin, holding up a children’s book, much to Harry’s delight.
He felt Sirius gaze on him, as he read Harry his daily bedtime story, a new one that Sirius got his godson today.
It was about a pilot and the stars and the moon, and Harry tried hard to listen all the way to the end, but failed at the last two pages, breathing heavily and rubbing his eyes, before Remus put down the book and helped Harry take off his glasses, folded them and put them on the wooden nightstand next to Harry’s bed.
First Sirius, then Remus kissed Harry’s head, making sure his feet were tucked tightly under his blanket and turning on the small night light he couldn’t sleep without.
They made their way out the door after saying their I love you’s to their godson when Harry stirred behind them, making them stop and, for the first time, a small dozy voice whispered, “I love you, too.”
Sirius was the first to speak about marriage. They had spent the summer in London, visiting old friends. It was all due to Harry asking about aunt Mary and Marlene and Sirius missed them, too, so it was the obvious choice.
They’d spent two years in Dublin already, and even though he didn’t want Remus to notice, Sirius was terribly homesick and just couldn’t find a way to make himself feel comfortable in the new city.
It didn’t help that Remus’ office job required him to stay at the company until after Harry went to bed, and they both hated it.
“Give me another year and I’ll have enough money to get that farm—“
“It’s not that, Remus,” Sirius sighed, worrying his bottom lip and Remus reached out to run a finger over the crescent moon. “I miss how we were in London.”
Sirius was right, as always. London had been different. Remus had worked until four, just like Sirius, leaving them enough time to be together in the evenings and at the weekend. They’d come home at the same time, ordered take-away together or made food together or went out together, had gone on spontaneous trips at the weekend together, had gone out to find new bars they’d never heard of. Remus would stroke Sirius hair before bed, Sirius would stroke Remus arm in front of the TV, and their friends would stop by to share a joint, they’d go out to buy presents for their friends and make fun of the weird things people wrote on T-Shirts or cups.
They still did. At least that’s what they wanted to believe. It was way easier that way, instead of thinking about what would eventually lead to the end.
“Let’s go to London, then.”
They stayed with Marlene and her girlfriend Dorcas in their penthouse. It was a nice place. Open and bright and they prepared the guest room for them, as well as a bunch of toys for Harry, who couldn’t believe his luck and started playing immediately with one of the toy dragons that made, admittedly, quite scary noises and Remus watched the whole thing carefully until they sat down on the terrace.
“Moony, you look like shit, what happened to your face?”
Sirius snorted in his glass filled with coke, coughing and waving his hands in front of his face when it went up his nose. “Ah, fuck...”
“Serves you right,” Remus murmured, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before returning his attention to Marlene and Dorcas, who looked slightly taken aback by the whole scene.
“I work a lot,” he answered eventually, taking a sip from his water, “and I don’t look like shit.”
“Well, you’ve always been the hard-working one of us, haven’t you,” Marlene grinned, but there was something else in the way she looked at Remus. No, both of them. Maybe she’d always known.
“Uncle Moony,” Harry cried from inside, making Remus almost jump up in alarm and Sirius snap his neck, at the speed they reacted every time Harry was upset.
“Coming,” Remus called, following the upset noises Harry made, when he found him, one part of the dragon in each of his hands. “Oh, what’s wrong?”
Harry’s red-rimmed eyes looked up at Uncle Moony, his small hands holding up both parts of the toy dragon, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Remus kneeled next to the upset form of Harry on the floor, gently releasing the broken toy from his fingers and examining them closely. “Ah, I know you didn’t, Haz. It’s not broken. You just decided to become a…a strong little boy. Like a true superhero. You killed the monster, that’s very brave of you.”
“I’m not brave,” Harry sighed, sounded strangely old and played with the hem of his T-Shirt.
“Of course you are,” Remus nodded, assembling the dragon back to its true form before pulling Harry into his lap. “You are braver than all of us, you know? If the scar is any evidence.”
Something was off though and Harry stayed close to Remus the whole evening, on his lap, in his arms or around his legs.
Something was also off with Sirius, Remus noticed. He seemed more distant and in thought and even stroking his hair in bed didn’t make things better.
When their eyes met, it felt like a moment of now or never. The air was thick with questions and answers and want and need and Remus couldn’t take the way it felt like Sirius was going to break up with him, but instead he said “I want to marry you, Remus”.
“Me?” Remus asked intelligently, but undoubtedly flabbergasted, because if there was one thing Remus had never expected, it was getting married to Sirius.
Not that he didn’t want to. Remus had always known, the only person he’d want to marry was Sirius. It was Sirius or nobody. Remus had never believed in that one person you wanted to spend your life with and Sirius had always felt like a dream. How could someone so beautiful and wonderful love him enough to marry him?
And yet, when Remus thought he wasn’t enough, when Remus thought that the next step would be breaking up, because Sirius had finally noticed how boring Remus was, he asked Remus to marry him.
Sirius laughed, kissing Remus’ nose. “No, obviously I mean the Remus Lupin living across the hallway with that gorgeous smile and the freckles and that sweet little—mhpf!”
Remus shut Sirius up with his mouth, hands everywhere and adorable little gasps leaving Sirius lips. “Is that a ‘yes, please, marry me on the spot, Sirius’?”
“I would if I could,” Remus smiled, placing a peck to Sirius crescent moon.
“Sorry, I had to be the first again,” Sirius sighed, swinging a leg across Remus’ hips, straddling him, and Remus’ hands found their place on Sirius’ thighs automatically, rubbing up and down the way Sirius liked it, and Remus liked it, too.
“I don’t mind at all.”
But it was all too good to be true.
Four months later, Remus came home to find Sirius and Harry asleep in their bed. Not a strange sight, Harry had suddenly taken an interest in sleeping between them every night, snuggling up to Sirius when falling asleep, but waking up tangled in Remus sweater. They thought about going to therapy with little Harry.
Remus slipped into bed, making sure Sirius and Harry were covered in blankets before planting a kiss to Sirius forehead, then Harry’s forehead, and turned off the lights.
It didn’t take five minutes for Remus to notice Sirius shuffling under the sheets, taking a deep breath and whispering, “Remus?”
“Yes, I’m here,” he answered just as quietly, reaching out to find Sirius' hand under the blankets, interlacing their fingers.
“When did you come home?”
Remus swallowed. Sirius’ voice was merely a whisper, but there was a clear accusatory tone behind this question. I didn’t help that Remus came home even later than usual.
“There was a lot of stuff going on today, I’m so sorry.”
And when Sirius didn’t reply, he continued, “My boss said he considers giving me a raise soon if I keep up the good work. I’ve always been calculating and if he does give me the raise, we’ll be out of Dublin by—“
“Remus.”
“Right, uhm, it’s half past ten…”
But he was met with silence again.
“I’m sorry, Sirius, I’ll try to come home ear—“
“Good night, Remus,” Sirius spoke, louder now, and Sirius’ fingers slipped from his as he turned away.
Remus’ stomach dropped. “Good night…I love you.”
Sirius was done, though, and the three words hung in the air between them, before dissolving into nothingness.
So, really, Remus saw this coming. The note.
That evening had been the beginning of the end, and they slowly fell apart after that, every day. And Remus had tried, every day.
He’d make breakfast every morning. Everything Sirius and Harry loved, including scones and cat-shaped pancakes and fruit and tea and coffee and Harry held up a cat pancake mishap in Sirius’ direction, saying, “I think this cat is pretty ugly,” with such a straight face that Sirius burst out laughing while Remus looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“This cat just…likes to be different,” he explained, unable to keep in the laugh that made its way up his throat.
“You just can’t admit when Harry’s right, I think is the problem here,” Sirius retorted, a weird expression on his face, as if he wasn’t exactly joking, and Remus' laughter died in his throat, before he cleared it, “You are absolutely right, Haz, that’s quite an ugly cat, my apologies.”
“It’s okay, Uncle Moony. All cat pancakes deserve to be eaten,” and with that he took the largest bite, smiling at both his guardians a bit too happily.
Remus also started bringing Sirius and Harry small presents every other day. It was a desperate attempt at keeping his family, well…a family, but he was so close to surprising them with a house in the countryside.
He’d found it a while back, a nice little home with a huge garden and an empty shed, that Remus could easily turn into a chicken coop. It was perfect for them and Remus felt like running against time. He needed just a few more months of saving and the house would be his. He had talked to the owner, explained his situation and gained his sympathy, which took him more than two weeks of using his lunch breaks to provide him with all the documents he wanted to see.
All the while he felt Sirius slipping through his fingers.
“How was your day?” Remus asked, slipping into bed one night.
Sirius turned to face him, putting down his book.
The gray eyes were just as beautiful as the day they first looked at him, but they didn’t feel like they belonged to him anymore. Something was missing. Remus couldn’t pinpoint it.
“As always, and yours?”
Remus sighed. “Oh, don’t even ask. Helen came in today, asking for the documents she had to sign and I’ve told her three times already, that I had no idea what she was talking about. This woman is the bane of my existence. I swear, she only exists to make my life worse.”
Sirius hummed, nodding along. “Yeah, sounds…annoying.”
Their eyes met and Remus swallowed, a strange pain embracing his chest. “What’s the matter?”
Sirius stayed quiet for some time, frowning, but it didn’t look directed at Remus. It was as if his thoughts confused him. But Remus hadn’t been prepared to feel like throwing up this night.
“I…,” Sirius started, lashes fluttering in an attempt to keep himself from crying. Remus scooted closer. Seeing the person he loves in such distress, has always hurt.
“Talk to me, Sirius.” Remus interlaced their fingers before his stomach dropped through the floor. The air was thick, all of the sudden. Cold and hot and Sirius' eyes filled with tears, the same time Remus noticed the empty spot around Sirius’ ring finger.
This is it. This is it. This is it.
“I know it was my idea, but Remus,” a sob left Sirius’ throat and Remus was too stiff to do anything, “I don’t think I want to marry you anymore, I’m so sorry.”
The silence after was filled with heartbreaking sobs from Sirius, as he stood, gathered his blankets and pillows and stormed out of the bedroom. But Remus was faster.
“Sirius, wait, can you…,” in actuality, Remus didn’t know what to say, “You know, I love you, right?”
Remus hated the way it sounded like a silent plea. Don’t give up on us yet. Three months and we’ll have the house, I won’t disappoint you. I love you, I need you.
But Sirius's eyes never lied. And Sirius's eyes said, “I don’t know if I love you anymore.”
The next three days passed in a haze.
Harry became quiet, trying to stay close to both Sirius and Uncle Moony at any given moment. Either sleeping on the sofa, curled into Remus’ side or sleeping on Sirius’ chest in the bed.
“Uncle Moony?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you crying?”
Remus sighed, using his sleeve to dry his cheeks.
“You know, sometimes even Uncle Moonys are sad.”
This didn’t seem to satisfy the five-year-old, and both Sirius and Remus started noticing the way Harry tried to turn things around.
He started sleeping in his bed again, saying, “I’m old enough now” to which Sirius said, “You’ll always be my little baby” and Remus wanted to bang his head against the wall or snog Sirius to death, so he just nodded, granting Harry an encouraging smile.
Harry started eating his vegetables. “Broccoli isn’t so bad.”
“You don’t have to eat it, Haz,” Remus tried, but Harry stayed insistent, eating every last bit of broccoli on his plate, then looked at Sirius and Remus to show how good of a child he was, which made Remus…want to bang his head against the wall.
This behavior followed a long and painful conversation between Sirius, Harry and Remus, trying to explain to the little one that nothing of what was happening had anything to do with him. Harry had started sleeping on top of Sirius again, that night.
It wasn’t until a week ago, when Sirius approached Remus with a sense of urgency in his eyes.
“We need to talk.”
Remus’ chest tightened.
“Okay.”
Nothing could’ve prepared Remus for what Sirius wanted to talk about. A week later, Remus still tries to make sense of it all. Of how stupid he was to have believed that they would move into the house he had signed the contracts for that day.
They sat on the sofa, the distance between them almost suffocating, for Remus.
Sirius looked like a painting, as always. His lovely lips, straight and serious and Remus just wanted to lean in and kiss the crescent moon, remind himself of how well Sirius kissed. His hair in a half up bun, stray strands framing his beautiful face that seemed so far away and not for Remus to touch anymore. His gray eyes, that lost their twinkle when they looked at Remus, and Remus just wished he could go back to being nineteen and he would tell Sirius that he shouldn’t waste his time with him, because Sirius deserved someone who loves him right. Remus didn’t love Sirius right.
And even though Remus knew this day would come, because he had just been waiting for Sirius to fall out of love with him. For seeing him the way he really was. He wasn’t prepared for the heartache when Sirius said, “I’m seeing someone else.”
It killed him. Right there and then, Remus wasn’t longer alive. And maybe that was the reason he was able to get through this past week. Because he is no longer alive.
Remus finishes reading the note.
The clock strikes eight o’clock in the evening.
There’s nobody else in the flat and Remus looks up for the first time, notices how empty the fridge looks without Harry’s drawings and magnets on it.
Sirius’ perfume still lingers in the air, but he doesn’t wear it for Remus anymore.
Remus gets up, slowly, walks into his bedroom, doesn’t dare to look into Harry’s room. He won’t find any of his child’s belongings anymore.
Instead, he takes the suitcase Sirius and he got for their very first Dublin holiday, packs his things, and opens the drawer of his nightstand, where a green envelope with a golden bow waits to be opened by a person that’s merely a ghost in this flat now.
He takes it, feels the weight of the key to a better life inside and with one last click, the door of the flat closes, locking in what is no longer his.
Sirius was the first to fall out of love.
_____________
Remus,
don’t be angry with me, but by the time you read this, Harry and I will be back in London and I’ve moved in with
I know, you’ve seen this coming, I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to tell you in person.
There was a time when I thought that we would be forever. In fact, you were my first love, you told me I was yours, too. I think what we had was special, we were a real family and, god, I don’t think I’ll ever have this again, but maybe I can find something better somewhere else.
We both know that we weren’t good for each other, but I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You hurt mine, too.
I just couldn’t do this anymore.
Please don’t vanish, Harry will surely miss you.
At this point in time, I feel wonderful. I feel…free, in some way. You wouldn’t understand.
Stay safe and please don’t come looking for us. I’ll call you, when the time is right.
Harry says I should write that he loves you, Uncle Moony.
Sirius
PS: Don’t waste your time on buying that stupid house, Remus. I couldn’t care less for the house.