6
The next few days seem to combine into one.
Regulus has been doing his treatments with James for a full week now. And, in all honesty, it’s not as bad as Regulus thought it was going to be.
James does everything Regulus tells him to do. He doesn’t complain or make excuses. Nor does he ever miss anything. James is usually the one calling Regulus a few minutes before his next set of pills need to be taken or he has to pour something into his G-Tube. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
They both teach each other things the other may or may not have known of. First, James had shown Regulus an easier way of taking a shit ton of pills at the same time. A more fun way, as James says it. It results in needing a bunch of pudding cups and a spoon.
“Basically, you just shove everything in pudding cups and then eat it, pretending you’re just eating pudding.” James explains, licking the plastic cover to be clean of extra pudding.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Try it!” James encourages, dropping a handful of pills into the cup, muttering a curse when one drops onto the floor.
Regulus had tried it and then pretended to hate it. In all seriousness, he hadn’t had pudding since he was a kid; a hyper kid addicted to sugary sweets and begging his parents to buy him candy and junk food, ignoring their mean words and scoffs. He loved it, getting a hint of his childhood back from the taste of the snack, seeming to focus his attention right on the chocolate instead of the pills. He’d never admit it, but James had come up with a brilliant idea.
Along with the pills, they did their AffloVest together. Regulus didn’t think he needed to be on a facetime call with James during this process, since they’re both going to be gagging up disgusting mucus into a bedpan, but he thought wrong. In James’ head, they had to be on a facetime call, directly looking at each other as the other coughed hard into their elbow before kneeling over to spit out the goo.
“I forgot how much I hate this.” James cries, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Regulus shrugs, clearing his throat. “It gets better towards the end.”
“Any tips and tricks?”
He coughs, aiming into his elbow before bringing the bedpan to his mouth and spitting out thick mucus. Regulus cringes, squinting his eyes at the sight before wiping off his mouth and directing his attention back to his phone.
“You trying to make the process go by faster?”
“You aren’t?” James questions, looking as shocked as ever.
Regulus had shown James a trick he used to do when he was younger and hated doing his AffloVest. He moved his phone to the floor and proceeded to hang upside down from his bed, hair touching the floor. He stretched his arms out, feeling the pressure of the vest lighten just slightly.
“When’d you figure this out?” James asks, copying Regulus’ position.
Regulus watches as he hangs upside down, his hair instantly falling back from his forehead and his glasses falling off the bridge of his nose, landing just by his eyebrows. He had a goofy grin on, his eyes exposed from the thick lens of his glasses.
“Bored one day,” Regulus states, turning his gaze to the ceiling. “Realized it helped the mucus make its way up fas-”
He gets interrupted from the loud coughing from James. Regulus turned his eyes back to his phone, seeing James wiping his mouth. He lets his arms fall back down, looking defeated from his sudden coughing attack, but nonetheless more comfortable than before. He lazily turns his head, giving Regulus a weak thumbs-up and a small smile, nose wrinkling slightly.
Regulus’ stomach flips. He coughs, sitting up and spat into the bedpan.
As the days go by, Regulus can sense his entire body slowly relax. He doesn’t feel as tight as he did before; not as irritated either. His head is clear and moving calmly, allowing him to think for once and choose what to ignore and what to bring his attention too. That itch is still there, lingering under his skin, but it’s getting easier to ignore it and push past it.
He doesn’t even feel that strongly towards James anymore. Regulus at first, had regretted his decision in doing this with James. He had almost called James back, telling him to fuck off and live with that fucking itch for the rest of his life. But, he bit his tongue and let this entire scenario play out. And, it hasn’t been that bad.
When James isn’t with his dickhead friends, he’s a pretty relaxed person. Regulus has noticed that he does like to talk, a lot, but at least he isn’t obnoxious. Plus, if Regulus tells him to shut the fuck up, he does. For a bit. But, it allows Regulus some time to mentally prepare himself to listen to James ramble about whatever is on his mind. Regulus doesn’t mind it, really. He sometimes will pretend he’s listening to another Barty or Dorcas rant.
James also likes small talk. Which, Regulus hates. There’s no point to it. He doesn’t even know why James is trying to find out Regulus’ favorite color. It’s not like they’re going to be best friends overnight. They aren’t even friends. They’re just people who need to do their treatment together.
“Favorite movie?” James asks, spinning a pencil around his fingers. They’re both hooked up to IV’s. Regulus would prefer to do this alone but James insisted he wasn’t to be trusted with this.
“Don’t have one.”
“Everybody has one.”
Regulus shakes his head. “Not me.”
“Is it something embarrassing?”
“Why would a movie be embarrassing?”
James half shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “There are movies you could be embarrassed about.”
“Like what?”
“I’d be embarrassed if somebody told me their favorite movie was Cars.”
Regulus squints his eyes at him. “Your favorite movie is Cars, then?”
“How’d you guess?” James snickers, looking directly into the camera. “Fucking love those movies. Best films ever created in cinema history.”
“Are you serious?” Regulus asks, stifling a laugh. “You truly believe the Cars movies were the best movies ever created?”
“Yep,” James says, popping the ‘p.’ “And what about it? Free will, Reg.”
“You’re stupid.”
“I just have good taste.”
Regulus snorts, dragging a hand over his eyes. “Sure, okay.”
“What’s yours?”
“Hm?”
“Favorite movie. I told you mine, you tell me yours.”
“I told you already,” Regulus mumbles. “I don’t have one.”
“Alright, fine, keep your secrets.”
At one point, James had somehow dragged Regulus to the gym. Regulus has no idea how he’s ended up here. He’s never even been to the gym. Not once in this hospital. He sees no point.
“How aren’t you hot?” Regulus asks, watching James use the bicycle machine. Regulus had quit about ten minutes ago, feeling his legs ache and his lungs burn.
“I am,” James says, glancing over at Regulus. His hair is wet, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The lens of his glasses have fog coated over them, and Regulus has to bite on his tongue, wanting very badly to wipe it away.
“Then why aren’t you stopping?”
James snorts. “You don’t stop just because you're hot, Regulus. You stop when you’ve had enough.”
“Haven’t you had enough?”
“Nope.”
Regulus exhales, finally feeling as though his lungs aren’t on fire. He doesn’t know how James isn’t tired. Or thirsty. Just looking at the machine had Regulus wanting to swallow the entire ocean up.
His hair is wet, droplets of sweat sliding down his face and he wrinkles his nose at the feel. Another reason he does not exercise. Sweat. It’s awful. It smells and makes Regulus’ feel sticky and unwashed and greasy. And most importantly, hot.
Finally, he hears James let out a pant and he watches as he stops pedaling, relaxing back into the seat. His arms go limp by his sides, and he leans his head back, neck exposed, adam apple throbbing in Regulus’ direct eye view. He swallows, once again wanting to drink the ocean up.
“Done?” He asks, eyeing James’ entire neck, feeling extremely hot.
“Yes.” James pants, reaching for his towel and sits up. He wipes his face and Regulus finally looks away from his neck, face burning hot.
“Why did you invite me here?”
“Because working out is healthy.” James says, glancing at Regulus.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I need to do it,” Regulus argues, using his arm to wipe sweat off his brow. He grimaces.
“Then why’d you come?” James teases, dropping his head to the side to look fully at Regulus. His eyes are drooping, almost halfway closed and his mouth forms the shape of a cheeky smile, almost smirking. Regulus watches as his tongue runs over the tops of his teeth.
“You invited me.” Regulus simply puts, half shrugging.
“Didn’t have to come.”
Regulus doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Wanna take a break?”
“I thought we were finished?”
James chuckles, standing up from the machine and wiping off his sweat. “I mean, I’m not finished.”
Regulus follows suit and then makes his way around James, keeping his distance as he takes the window seat, the sun pooling into the room and glistening on Regulus’ sweaty skin. He clips on his nasal, breathing easier as he observes James grab a chair and make his way to Regulus. He ensures they’re about six feet apart before sitting down, legs apart, hands on his knees.
“What do you usually do on your break?” Regulus asks, turning away and looking at his beat-up converses.
James hums, seeming to think about his answer. “Draw, mostly. I listen to music, look out the window, try and drag your brother out here,” He laughs quietly, “He never joins though.”
I don’t blame him, is what Regulus wants to say but keeps his lips tied shut. He runs his tongue over his lips before saying, “Who would want to come out here?”
“Well, apparently you.” James muses. Regulus snaps his head to glare at him.
He watches as James finally puts on his nasal cannula, looking more relaxed than he had been a few moments ago. Then, he fishes out something from his bag. It’s a large book, paint coating the cover of it with markers and stickers. He also pulls out a pencil.
“Lemme draw you.”
Regulus chuckles awkwardly. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m sweaty… and gross.” Regulus wrinkles his nose, bringing his knees to his chest.
“Oh, c’mon Reg. You haven’t kept up your side of the deal yet.” James says, drumming his fingers against the book.
“You haven’t either.” Regulus mumbles, knowing full well James has.
“I’ve been doing everything you’ve wanted me to do!” He tilts his head. “What more do you need from me? A cure?”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll finally be rid of you.”
“You love me.” James says, smiling.
Regulus frowns, shaking his head. “No. I really don’t.”
“Let me draw you.” James repeats, tapping his feet in a pattern beneath him.
“No. Draw me some other time.” Regulus says, his chin landing on his knees. “Just, not now.”
“Okay, fine.”
James leans back in his chair, feet tapping, and finger drumming stopped. He stares right directly at Regulus, a small relaxed smile sitting peacefully on his lips. Regulus cringes at him, the hair on his arms standing upwards as goosebumps form. Maybe hours have gone by, maybe seconds, Regulus doesn’t know. All he knows is this is extremely uncomfortable.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“That,” Regulus mumbles, waving a hand in James’ direction.
James tsks. “Gotta be more specific than that.”
“You. You staring. It’s unsettling.”
He smiles, looking as though he’s trying to hide it. “What would you like me to do then?”
“Not that,” Regulus mutters, turning his head to look out the window. He’s instantly blinded by the sun, but it’s better than looking at James. “Look somewhere else.”
“Can I draw you whilst you look out the window?”
Regulus sighs, looking at James’ reflection in the window. “You aren’t going to drop this, are you?”
He simply shakes his head, turning to a new page whilst still looking at Regulus.
“Fine. Whatever.” Regulus says in a rush, trying to force his mind to agree with him. “Just be quick. I don’t want to play model forever.”
“You always play model, Reg.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Regulus turns his head, looking at James. He’s already looking at Regulus, squinting his eyes and biting the end of his pencil, the other hand smoothing out the page. Regulus' eyes fall down to his teeth, lightly grinding against the end of it.
“You’re gonna bust your teeth if you keep doing that.” He points out, reaching into his bag and pulling out a book.
“I don’t mind,” James says, folding his leg over his knee and propping the book up against it. He rakes a hand through his hair as he pushes the pencil against the page, swiping and scratching. “Helps me think.”
“Doesn’t serve any good for your teeth though.”
“Are you a dentist?”
Regulus shrugs. “Could be. I’m smart enough to be one.”
“All you need to know is teeth.” James snorts. “I’ve got 28 right here to study.”
“Your teeth are probably rancid.” He leans against the wall, opening his book and letting the sun shine right onto the page. “I mean, with all that pencil biting. Who knows what your teeth are like.”
James laughs, placing his pencil down and cupping a hand over his mouth. He sounds like a child, giggling over something stupid; a dog chasing its tail, a ball rolling down a mountain, his father tripping over something. He doesn’t sound loud or obnoxious like he’s trying to drown out the entire world with his laughter. James just sounds like he hasn’t heard anything funnier, letting out his inner child into that laugh. Regulus hesitantly gazes over at him.
He blinks, letting his hand drop from his mouth, a smile spread wide across his face. He meets Regulus’ eyes and lets out a small chuckle, the sun peering onto him, making the sweat more visible on his body, shining his skin. His glasses reflect the light, a spot on the wall shows that and his hair looks softer, not rough and tangled, just wild and soft. Almost as if it would feel smooth and silky. He looks younger, even with the obvious eye bags under his eyes and the rims of his eyes being a light red. Even with the nasal cannula and eye crinkles.
“You alright?” Regulus asks, feeling wary. His finger slides over his book page, feeling the texture. His heart races.
“Never heard someone laugh before?” James asks, brushing hair out of his eyes.
He shakes his head, dropping his focus back to his book. He tries to ignore the sound of James’ pencil, scratching against the paper before stopping. Regulus knows James has either examined his work or he’s inspecting Regulus, forming shapes before his eyes before copying it down on the page in immense ease, as if he was born with a pen and paper. He lets his eyes drift along the words, trying to process them and fully understand the value of them but all he can hear is that damn pencil. He can hear James breathe and sigh, exhale and inhale, if he tried hard enough, Regulus could probably hear James blink.
“Whatcha reading?”
“Nothing.”
“So am I mistaking you for holding a book?” James asks, the sound of his pencil moving across the page stops.
“I guess so.” Regulus answers, peeking out the corner of his eye to see James looking at him. His cheeks flare red.
“Do you want to sit in silence?”
“Sure, I’d prefer that.” Regulus flips the page of his book, pretending as if he understood what he just read.
“Well, I work better with talking.”
“Well, I don’t read better with talking.”
James chuckles. “Fine, can I talk to you?”
“I’m not gonna answer.” Regulus replies, one hand going to touch the long tubes of his nasal cannula. He begins his tapping pattern. One, two. Stop. One, two. Stop. Breathe. One, two…
“I don’t expect you too,” James mutters, the sound of his pencil against the paper starts up again. “Just want you to relax, that’s all.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable.”
“If you say so,” James hums. He lets silence fill the air around them before saying, “How’d you and Remus become friends?”
Regulus glares at the page in his book. “I told you I wasn’t going to talk to you.”
“I’m just curious.”
He bites his bottom lip, trying to think of the most vague, short answer possible.
“We met at school.”
“Hogwarts?”
“What other school?” Regulus scoffs, eyes slowly drifting off the page.
“I dunno, I haven’t known you for longer than two weeks.” James says, “For all I know, you could have transferred to Hogwarts.”
“Don’t you remember my idiot brother showing me off in the train on my first day?” Regulus asks, regretting it instantly as it leaves his mouth. His breathing shallows up, his ears burning.
James goes silent. The pencil against paper fills around them.
Regulus cringes, swallowing hard. Why would he say that? Now what is he supposed to say? Well, he did wish for silence, but there’s tension in the air. How is he supposed to sit through this?
“A bit.” James mutters, the pencil stopping.
Regulus turns his head towards the window, meeting James’ reflection.
“I just remember a silent kid who looked as though he wanted to be left alone,” James shrugs. “So, I left him alone.”
“You asked me something,” Regulus says, his fingers tapping quicker.
“Did I?”
He nods. “Wanted to know if I wanted a chocolate frog.”
James blinks, nodding suddenly. “Oh yeah! And you just shook your head.”
“You still bought me one.”
“You looked half starved.” James notes, tsking slightly.
Regulus shrugs, his fingers slowing down. “I didn’t like you.”
“Ouch.” James chuckles. “Made that bad of an impression, did I?”
“No, I just found you annoying.”
“How come?” James asks, looking back down at his paper.
Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, gazing at the faint reflection of James. He had picked up his pencil and started sketching again.
“You looked forced.”
James looks up at that. “Forced?”
Regulus nods, resting his chin on his knee once again.
“What’d you mean ‘forced’?”
“Forced as in smiling. Looking happy. The jokes, the laughter.” Regulus says softly, his fingers tapping in a quite fast rhythm. “I dunno. That was ages ago.”
“I wasn’t forcing anything.” James says, oddly sounding a bit upset. He didn’t show it though. But Regulus is just staring at his reflection, not his actual body and face.
“Okay.”
“Can you turn back to me?” James changes the subject, tapping his pencil against the paper. “I need to see your face again.”
“Thought you were drawing me looking out the window.”
“Well…”
Stubbornly, he turns, meeting James’ eyes. But, it’s quick. James gets one scan of his face and tilts his gaze back down, pencil meeting paper. He draws lines and shapes, connecting streaks of lead with confidence.
Regulus turns back to his book, knowing he’s not going to read anything. It’s better than looking at James, however, so might as well just stare at yellowish pages with faint text. He listens to the scratching and the soft breaths James takes, flipping a page every so often. The silence is comforting, the tension still there but less than before, much easier to sit through.
The sun is warm against his sweats and exposed arms. Unlike every other place in this stupid hospital, he feels warm. Warmer than he has in days, finally getting the sun on him. Maybe once he leaves, his normally pale skin will be a tad bit tanner. That seems like a stretch though.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been, fully abandoning his book and settling on the window. More importantly, James’ reflection. It’s beautiful watching James sketch, looking almost bored as if this isn’t a challenge. Regulus wishes he was blessed with such gifted talents, remembering when he took art in his third year, thinking it would be easy. It was in fact not easy. Though, Pandora found it easy, surprisingly.
“Did you eat the chocolate frog?” James asks, breaking the silence. His voice is back to normal, no longer sounding as though Regulus had offended him.
“No.” Regulus lies, knowing full well he even kept the trading card. It’s with him too, just in his backpack, right in the first pocket. He doesn’t know why he kept it. It has no use to him, it’s not like he collects them. But, he kept it. Maybe it’s for nostalgia, maybe young Regulus didn’t know whether to give it to one of Sirius’ friends or toss it out, maybe Regulus cherished it, having experienced the first kind thing someone did to him in this new environment.
Regulus doesn’t know. But he knows that chocolate frog meant something to him.
“Damn you,” James whispers, playfulness lacing his voice, “Wasted my money on you and you didn’t even eat it.”
“Yep.”
He snorts, tilting his head back up. James takes a long look at Regulus, seeming to trace every detail. Regulus doesn’t move, scared he’ll disturb James and ruin the drawing he most definitely does not care about.
“You’re still that quiet kid from the train.” James says, eyes flickering back down to his paper.
“No shit.”
“No, I mean,” He snickers. “You’re still that silent kid who looks as though he wants to be left alone.”
Regulus shrugs, his eyes roaming over James’ reflection.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” James asks, his pencil stopping its movement for a split second.
“No.” Regulus says. He lets his eyelids flutter close, allowing the sun to soak into his clothing and exposed skin. “I like being alone.”
“You aren’t though.” James notes, “You’ve got your friends and even Sirius. Me.”
“I have my friends, yes.” Regulus agrees. “But, not Sirius.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” James shrugs, shoving the end of his pencil back into his mouth. “Just wanted to let you know.”
Regulus swallows hard, the walls of his throat closing up around him, shutting off his supply for oxygen and the entrance for saliva to get through. He opens his eyes, gazing at the reflection of James. “You done?”
“Almost.”
He places his book bag inside his bag, busying himself. He doesn’t want to sit here any longer. His butt is numb, and he’s fully soaked up the sun. He can still feel the sweat on him, in his clothes, in his hair. Regulus would like a nice long shower. Especially after being here with James.
“You’re fidgeting.” James points out, not bothering to look up from his sketch of Regulus.
“I’m not.”
“Whatever you wanna believe in, Reggie.”
Regulus rolls his head, letting his eyes drift from the window before landing on the real life James, fully relaxed on his chair. His hair folds over his forehead, some curving upwards to the sky, some hiding on his glasses. His tongue sticks slightly out, just by the corner. The foot on the floor taps in a pattern almost as if it’s tapping to a beat rather than what Regulus does with his finger tapping.
His fingers sprawl out on the page, holding it up right and his other hand glides over the paper with the pencil that somehow doesn’t even seem dull from James' sketching. The scratching seems to have gotten louder and at one point, James uses his free fingers to smudge over something, carefully and precisely.
“Where’d you learn to draw?”
“My mum taught me,” James notes, going back in with his pencil. “My dad taught me guitar.”
“You play guitar?” Regulus blinks.
“I do actually have talents, Regulus.” James jokes, sarcasm written all over his voice.
“Hard to believe that.”
“Literally drawing a masterpiece right in front of your face and you still don’t believe me.”
“Do you draw all your friends?” Regulus asks, choosing to ignore James’ choice in using the word masterpiece.
“I try,” James says, going back to bite on the end of his pencil. “I’ve drawn Sirius loads of times and Peter. As well as Marlene.”
“Why draw me then?”
“Because I haven’t drawn you.” James looks up, the pencil dropping from his mouth.
“But I’m not your friend.”
“Never said I exclusively draw my friends,” James grins. He looks back down, smearing his finger along something. “And, I consider you a friend.”
“I don’t.”
“We’ll get there one day.”
“No, we won’t.”
James snorts. “You enjoy hanging out with me.”
“I don’t.” Regulus wrinkles his nose. “I dislike you and your presence.”
“You used to say hate.” James points out. “And we all know hate is a very strong word. Not as strong as dislike.”
Regulus bites his tongue.
-
Sirius has been stuck in bed all week.
As painful as it is to say it, Sirius’ fever has come back. It happened like whiplash. One day, he was perfectly fine, ready to pack his bags, catch the next train and see his friends. And then a few hours later, knocking on death's door, throat extremely dry, sweat pooling down his back, reaching the base of his spine whilst he shivers into the night.
Minnie had him stuck in his room until it breaks, and for a full week, it has been off and on. Sirius can’t stand it, being cooped up in this shithole. He wants to go out in the halls, roam around and skateboard (if Minnie ever gives him his board back), chat with James and see Mary. He wants to see Remus and pester him. Maybe even peek through his door when Regulus passes by.
But, he can’t do any of that. Because of this stupid fucking fever.
Poppy visits him regularly, looking just as excited as he is to see her. She checks his vitals, then scolds him for wanting to get out of his room and for not eating his food. Then she leaves. And Sirius is all alone again.
He has his phone and has tried calling James, but he’s always off with his brother now. Doing treatments together or whatever. Sirius wouldn’t say this outloud but he’s almost jealous. Sure, he’s upset because James is hanging out with his own fucking brother, the brother who refused to acknowledge Sirius for years. But, he’s jealous. Envious, even; James is with Regulus, talking to him, seeing how he’s doing, looking at him, being in the same room as him. Sirius can’t do any of that.
If he could, Sirius would follow them around. Just to see what they’re doing. Just to make sure Regulus is okay.
Though, he can’t do that. And Sirius is fucking pissed off about it.
All he does is laze around. He stays in bed, rotting away, his hair becoming greasy and tangled from his joints aching way too harshly. His head pounds in his head, his brain seeming as though it’s knocking into every inch in his skull, rattling it around. His body produces gallons worth of sweat, just collecting in his sheets, soaking up in his hair and pjs, making him feel sticky and dirty. But, Sirius would do anything other than get up and take a shower. Just moving hurts and causes him intense discomfort in shivering until his teeth clatter.
He sticks in one place, cheek glued to his pillow, body stuck to one position with the blanket tucked around him. Poppy has told him that he’s allowed to move from his bed around his room, that he’s just not allowed outside his room. She’s repeated herself many times, almost every time she walks in. But, Sirius would rather die than get up, letting his legs wobble underneath him and stumbling down onto the floor, freezing his balls off.
So, he stays, allowing Poppy to lecture him and try to drag him out of bed but all she gets is angry grunts and complaints. Then she leaves, muttering something under her breath as the door clicks close.
Scrolling through his phone, his eyes feel itchy and dry. He’s got nothing else to do but go on his phone, with a now fixed charger. He already canceled plans with Mary, telling her he’s too ill to do anything. James is somewhere with Regulus, no doubt since he isn’t answering his phone and when he asked Poppy where Regulus was, she shrugged in response.
He could call someone, make them talk with him and promise them to get him gifts. But he doesn’t have the energy to put his phone to his ear and talk. His throat is dry and scratchy. No amount of water has been able to soothe it.
The door opens and Sirius sighs loudly, wanting Poppy to know he’s still alive.
“Go away.” He mumbles, cringing when the lights flicker on. “Fucking hell, Poppy.”
“Not Poppy.”
Sirius’ eyebrows furrow and with struggle and instant regret, he turns his head, seeing Remus close the door behind him.
Sirius breaks out in a smile, his stomach flipping around and the nagging thought of how disgusting he looks fills his head. “Hey Remus.”
“Hi,” He softly says, dimming the lights. “Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”
“I was planning to later.” Sirius rolls on his other side, facing Remus. His shivering starts.
“You sick?” Remus asks, slumping down in the chair a few feet away from the bed.
“Do I look sick?”
“You look very…” Remus bites his bottom lip. “How do I say this nicely?”
Sirius laughs, bringing his legs up to his chest and hugging them close, wanting very badly for some warmth.
“You visiting your mum?”
“Yeah, I just came from her room,” Remus nods, his eyes roaming over Sirius. “I was looking for you and this was the last place I checked.”
“Aww, you missed me.” Sirius teases, trying to bring the blanket impossibly closer to his body.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fucking cold.” Sirius admits, grinding his teeth.
“I could go see if I could get another blanket?” Remus suggests, about to stand up.
“No, don’t,” Sirius flops onto his back, giving up. “Poppy or Minnie will just get pissed someone’s in here with me.”
“I didn’t see a sign outside your door to keep out.” Remus leans back into the chair. “Was I not supposed to come in?”
“I’m not kicking you out.”
“Cheers.”
Sirius snorts, wrapping his arms around himself. “Are you heading back to Hogwarts soon?”
“Not until later.”
He nods, trying to even his breathing. This is awful. And it’s even worse with Remus here, seeing how miserable and sickening he looks. Sirius should have just pulled himself out of bed and sat in the shower with piping hot water, burning his skin with a single touch but finally relaxing the fucking shivering.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?” Remus asks, his leg bouncing. “You look awful, Sirius.”
“I mean, unless you can turn my room into a fucking sauna,” Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Scoot over.”
Sirius cocks an eyebrow up. “Sorry?”
“Move over.” Remus states again, standing up. “The hospital bed is big enough.”
“Is it though?” Sirius says, his body trembling. And not from the chills.
Remus’ knee pops, walking over to Sirius’ side. “Yes. Just scoot.”
Sirius listens to him, allowing the movement to provide him discomfort and he lifts the blanket for Remus, his arms instantly getting tired. He watches as Remus takes off his shoes, kicking them lazily at the door before crawling under the covers, on his side. He’s so close, if Sirius moves just an inch- barely an inch, their noses would touch.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna warm you up.” Remus simply says, a smile forming.
“Okay.”
Some shuffling happens, filling Sirius’ ears. He feels foggy, still trembling with anticipation and chills mixed together. A finger taps onto his thumb.
His gaze snaps onto Remus’ eyes, not knowing whether his eyes are dilated or if it’s just from the room being dark. He stomach rolls, kicking and tumbling. His heart beats against his chest, blood loudly being pumped in his ears. A hand lightly touches his own, a ghost of a touch. Sirius can feel his hand tingle from the brush of Remus’ hand.
Remus doesn’t move, looking straight at Sirius. Sirius doesn’t move either but he blinks once, which Remus then fully places his hand over Sirius’.
“This ‘kay?” Remus whispers, his voice soft and gentle as if he’s speaking to a small child rather than a seventeen year old who’s shaking from the touch Remus is providing. It’s not even a big deal. It’s just his hand on top of his, which Sirius is honestly thankful for as Remus’ hand is warm.
“Mhm.” Sirius doesn’t trust his voice.
Remus’ free hand searches for Sirius’ and holds onto it, providing bursts of warmth into his hands. His fingers tingle, the icey feeling melting off and being replaced by a nice warm touch, as if the sun was pooling into his hands or if he was holding hot chocolate.
He then pushes Sirius’ hands together, Remus’ own hands holding them close, spreading the warmth. Sirius still shakes, but not so much from the cold. Rather from the way Remus is just a few inches away. With one little move, Sirius’ nose could bump into Remus’ causing another wave of anticipation and hunger. His hands, soft but also rough, gently rub his hands together, causing friction. Sirius just sits there, wanting for the warmth to travel up his arms and calm himself down.
“Do you feel a bit warmer?” Remus asks, his eyes zoned right onto Sirius’.
Sirius swallows. “A bit.”
“You’re still shaking.”
“Oh.”
Remus grins at that, letting his cheek relax further into Sirius’ pillow. His hands continue providing heat, right into Sirius’ palm. He feels warmer than he did a few moments ago, but the touch is electrifying, sparking Sirius’ skin. Goosebumps cover his exposed skin, letting the hairs stick up too.
“When do visiting hours end?” Remus asks, knowing Sirius can view the clock.
“I-” Sirius stammers, trying to coat his throat in saliva. He squints, trying to make out the clock in the dark. “In about an hour.”
“Alright.”
“Are you gonna leave?” Sirius asks, worry filling his stomach.
“If you want me to.”
Sirius instantly shakes his head, his hair getting even more tangled. “No. Stay, please.”
“Okay,” Remus says, nodding. “I’ll stay.”
Sirius blinks. “What about your train?”
“Screw the train,” Remus shrugs, bringing their hands closer to his chest. “I can take the train tomorrow.”
“You don’t have clothes.” Sirius mumbles, the warmth finally making its way up his arm.
“I can borrow yours,” Remus gently puts, his voice quiet. “Or Regulus’. Or even use clothes from the lost and found.”
“I wouldn’t,” Sirius says, the shaking slowly easing. “You don’t know how many germs sit in that box and on those clothes.”
“Then I’ll use yours. Or just wear the same clothes I’m wearing right now.”
“Aren’t you hot?” Sirius asks.
“Eh.”
“You’re wearing a thick jumper.” Sirius mutters. “You’ll heat up with it on.”
“You wanna wear it?”
“Is it warm?”
Remus nods, stopping the movement in his hands. Sirius focuses on nothing but that, noticing how his hands fit perfectly in between Remus’. He can feel every callus and bump. Every scar and every crease.
“I’ll wear it.” Sirius mumbles, throat tight and his hands slightly twitch from the thought. “You do have a shirt under, correct?”
Remus snorts. “Yes. Don’t worry.”
He slowly removes his hands from Sirius’. Sirius almost protests, but then remembers, Remus sort of needs his hands to remove his sweater. Though, he misses the warmth of them and the shape around his hands, soft but rough, gentle but firm. He sits up, the blanket falling off of Sirius’ shoulders and he hisses at the bite of the air conditioning.
“Sorry!” Remus exclaims, tucking the blanket back over his shoulders, nice and snug. “This okay?”
“‘S perfect.”
He chuckles, his hands going to the helm of his jumper and pulling up. Sirius watches, zoning into his arms stretching over his head, bringing the jumper up and over. He sees a sliver of his skin poke out, his shirt slightly pulling upwards. He sees tan skin and the end of a pale scar.
The jumper ends up in Remus’ hands and he tosses it over to Sirius, nodding for him to put it on. “Just warning you, it is a little cold without the blanket.”
“A little?!” Sirius scoffs, hyping himself up to embrace the cold air outside the comfort of the blanket. “Lightly put.”
He pushes himself up on his elbows, skin already exposed to the harsh chilling air. He grunts, finally getting into a sitting position and lets his hands touch the jumper. It’s soft, the fabric sliding underneath his fingers. It looks old, almost as if Remus has had this for years, like he’s grown up with it. Sirius wonders how many memories are engraved in this sweater.
“You're shaking again.”
“Shut up.”
Sirius lifts it around his head, his arms trembling, joints screaming at him. His head pokes through the neck hole and he struggles with the sleeves, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.
“Let me.” Remus says, tucking one hand under the sweater, bumping into the fabric of Sirius’ shirt, grazing his ribcage. Sirius gasps softly, hoping Remus didn’t catch it. He softly holds onto Sirius’ arm and guides it through the sleeve, using his other free hand to hold the sleeve out, making it easy for Sirius. He does the same with Sirius’ other arm.
Warmth sinks into Sirius’ upper body once he has the jumper fully on. It’s soft against his exposed skin, not rough or spikey. It smells of chocolate and books; old parchment mixed with a crackling fireplace twisted with cinnamon. There’s a hint of grass, as if Remus had tumbled around down a grassy hill on it but cleaned it off. Sirius feels drunk off the smell, comfort filling his insides and relaxing his body. His shaking completely stops.
“Better?” Remus asks, giving Sirius a small smile.
“Ten times better.”
Sirius settles back down on the bed, Remus helping him with the blanket before Remus lays down beside him, looking hesitant. Sirius rolls onto his side, facing Remus.
“Thank you.” Sirius says, hands reaching out for Remus’. He stops them, letting them fall limp. Remus gets the message and places his hands over Sirius, bringing back that absent warmth.
“It’s no problem.” Remus mumbles, eyes halfway closed. “Will Poppy or, as you call her, Minnie, show up?”
“Most likely.” Sirius explains, sinking into the mattress. Sleep hangs over him. As soon as he closes his eyes, Sirius bets he’ll be out like a dead bug. “Might have to hide.”
“Always loved sneaking around.”
“I saw you once,” Sirius whispers, flickering between Remus’ eyes, “You were going into Regulus’ room, I believe.”
“I probably was, yeah.”
“You guys…” Sirius sucks on his bottom lip, not knowing whether he should ask this or not. Remus furrows his brows.
“What?”
“Like…”
Remus’ eyes go wide before he cracks up, laughing into Sirius’ pillow.
“God, no.” He crinkles his nose, burying his face. “Just friends, Sirius.”
“Okay.” Sirius exhales, embarrassment settling in. “Sorry. I was just checking.”
Remus clears his throat, still chuckling every now and then. He peeks his head back up, looking directly at Sirius. “You’re saying sorry again.”
“It was reasonable.”
He shrugs, trying to stifle another laugh. “I found it fucking hilarious.”
“I had to make sure! I didn’t want some guy in my bed who’s been messing around with my brother!”
“You understand how weird that sounds?”
Sirius’ eyes flicker to their hands. “Yeah, I should probably just shut up now.”
He gnaws on his lip, his teeth picking at the cracked skin, lifting it upwards. No doubt it’ll be throbbing in the morning, but that’s for future Sirius to deal with. He just needs something to busy himself instead of focusing on Remus. Remus. A guy Sirius hardly knows, in bed with him, allowing him to wear his sweater and warm him up.
“Go to sleep,” Remus says, one of his fingers caressing Sirius’ hands. “I’ll stay awake in case Minnie or Poppy show up.”
“What will you do?” Sirius asks, eyelids fluttering close at the gentle touch.
“Fight them off, of course.”
“Don’t wake me up though.”
“I know better than that.” Remus replies, letting out a sigh. “I’ll just go bunk down in your bathroom until they leave.”
“Okay.” Sirius whispers, head falling forward. His forehead leads on something firm.
“Sirius?”
“Hm?”
“G’night.”
“Night, Remus.”