The Fall

So maybe Remus has been avoiding Sirius, but who can really blame him?

He’s spent this past week being shoved off his own seat by nameless girls every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’s been forced to watch Sirius choose said girls over Remus and their friends repeatedly– and okay, yeah, maybe Remus is a little jealous.

Jealous that he’s no longer on the receiving end of Sirius’ constant attention. Jealous that Sirius’ flirty quips that were once used on him are now being used on them. And he hates it– the jealousy. It’s ugly and twists his stomach and it's ridiculous. Sirius was never his to begin with. He shouldn’t feel jealous.

So, yes. Remus is avoiding Sirius and his long line of dates. There’s only so much pain he’s willing to put himself through, and watching these girls somehow capture the entirety of Sirius’ attention has quickly become too much.

He supposes he can’t even blame them, really. For obsessing over Sirius. He knows more than anyone what it’s like to have Sirius’ attention; how he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world worth talking to. It’s addicting. He understands.

It doesn’t make it any easier, watching the boy he’s been pining over for six years snog and flirt with people Remus has never even heard of before. Sirius is suddenly girl-crazy, and while Remus knew this would happen eventually, it doesn’t hurt any less.

He’s quickly become familiar with that pang in his heart anytime he catches Sirius fawning over a girl, and it’s not something he enjoys being familiar with in the slightest. Seeing Sirius lean over someone with a flashy grin, watching him say something that makes her blush and smile– Remus realized rather painfully that Sirius never looked at him like that. Not that he’d expect him– or anyone, really– to.

He was never good with social cues, it’s why Sirius’ flirting never really got to him. He never allowed himself to twist it into something it’s not– hope for something more– knowing he’d be wrong. Still, seeing what he could have blatantly in front of him, just out of reach, is like a punch to the gut.

Whatever. Point is, Sirius is spending all his time with girls, and Remus is desperately trying to avoid him in order to preserve his own heart and sanity. Especially considering he’s unsure how much more of this he can handle before he cracks and confesses. He’s managed to keep this all bundled up safely in his chest for this long– there’s no way he’ll allow this to bother him to a point of an accidental confession. Something he’s getting closer and closer to the longer he has to endure Sirius looking at these girls with heart-eyes.

He’s accepted long ago that Sirius will never return his feelings. Seeing Sirius snog half the girls in their year should ground that fact in. He’s not sure why it’s suddenly so much harder to accept.

Still, despite his supposed avoidance, Remus finds himself at the library after a long debate with himself after finishing his last book. (Sirius will most likely look there for you, but if he looked already then you should be safe, but you may spend so long here that he’ll find you on his second round– he exhausted himself into just going.)

Naturally, the Fates work against him. As soon as Remus steps through the library doors, he spots Sirius with a girl perched next to him. Familiar jealousy knots his stomach, but it’s washed away by concern when he notices the bruises painting Sirius’ face.

Sirius jumps to his feet the moment they lock eyes. Remus beelines between the bookshelves, trying not to feel too satisfied over Sirius abandoning his date for him. He turns when he hears Sirius’ footsteps behind them. Now that the shelves have granted them more privacy, he steps right up to Sirius and cups his cheek, frowning at the splotches of purple dotting his face.

“What happened?” Remus asks, lightly rolling his thumb over the bruise dusting Sirius’ cheekbone. He’s embarrassed to say his fingers buzz wherever they touch Sirius’ skin– it’s ridiculous. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other at all this week.

Sirius’ cheek warms under Remus’ palm. He shrugs. “Lucius was being a dick.”

Remus’ frown deepens as he runs his thumb over the new scar cutting through Sirius’ bottom lip; familiar protectiveness burns his blood. Sirius’ breath stuttering against his thumb jolts Remus back to reality, prompting him to hastily drop his hand as blood rushes to his cheeks and warms him right to the tips of his ears.

Clearing his throat, he plucks a random novel off the shelf and pretends to read the back. “What did he say that was particularly dick-ish?” He asks.

He doesn’t miss Sirius’ shoulders drawing up; becoming tense. “He just… knows what to say to piss me off.”

Remus looks at him with a cocked brow. “That’s vague.”

Sirius shrugs, still weirdly stiff. “Doesn’t matter. I kicked his teeth in. Er, punched.”

Remus snorts. “Seems like that’s your natural response.” He muses, padding his finger along the book’s spine.

He underestimated how much he missed Sirius’ company. Which, again, is ridiculous, considering it’s not like Remus has been very successful in avoiding him. They still share classes and a dorm, afterall. Still, Remus’ brain goes a bit more staticy now that they’re close again.

Sirius hums, slotting himself between Remus and the bookshelf. He leans against it with folded arms, studying something behind Remus as his tongue idly flicks against the wound on his bottom lip. Remus tries very hard not to stare. (He’s unsuccessful.)

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Sirius asks in a rush, like he’s scared of Remus’ answer.

Remus’ eyes jump up to Sirius’, who refuses to look at him. It’s jarring, seeing a man always so confident be suddenly nervous of Remus, of all people. A trickle of guilt pools in his stomach.

Remus sighs. “Because you’re always with your play things.” He confesses, a little more bitter than he means to.

Sirius darts his eyes back to Remus, immediately tearing the breath right from his lungs.

He hates how Sirius was always able to do that– pin Remus down with just his eyes. Render his mouth useless. They’re like shards of glass under the sun; twinkling and sharp, like he knows every one of Remus’ very few secrets.

Sirius raises his brows in amusement. “Rude.” He says without bite.

Remus quirks a brow. “Am I wrong?”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of Sirius’ lips. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous, Moony.”

“And what if I am?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them; a mantra of why did I say that clouds his mind.

He stares, wide eyed, as Sirius’ face drops. Sirius’ eyes bounce away, brows pinched in thought as he processes Remus’ confession, and Remus’ throat has nearly closed entirely. He stands stock-still, fingertips numb with fear, waiting for Sirius to look at him in disgust or to simply walk away.

He doesn’t expect Sirius to brighten up with a grin that looks far too forced to be genuine. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He asks.

Remus stares at him with his heart in his throat. “What.” He can’t even bother to turn it into a question– he’s shocked his voice works at all.

“You know you could get any girl here, right?” Sirius asks; a tinge to his words Remus can’t quite process.

Remus blinks at him, entirely lost. His eyes pinch, “What?” He repeats.

“Really!” Sirius continues. “You don’t have to be jealous of me, Moony. You could just as easily get any girl in Hogwarts. In fact, I’m sure if they knew you were looking, they’d be all over you by now.”

The relief that floods Remus is staggering; enough to make him go lightheaded. And he thought he was bad at social cues? Sirius is so astronomically far off, he almost laughs.

“I–” Remus stops, unsure what to say– “Um. No?”

Sirius tilts his head; his hair flops to the side at the gesture. “No?”

“I couldn’t.” Remus clarifies, still reeling and only able to speak in choppy sentences, apparently. “Get any girl, I mean.” Or: He doesn’t want any girl.

Sirius rolls his eyes. He pushes himself off the bookshelf, standing straight and significantly closer now that he isn’t leaned back. Remus can’t find it in himself to step back; his senses flood with mint and cigarettes.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Remus. People like scars.” Sirius’ eyes wilt to Remus’ lips for a startling moment, before flicking back up. “Trust me.”

Remus swallows, still dizzy with relief and overwhelmed by everything Sirius. Words stick to his tongue but don’t fall past his lips; too aware of the lack of space between them.

Sirius brows knit together. “Whatever happened to the mystery-person that won your affection?”

Oh, Sirius. How can one man be so oblivious? Remus has to bite back another laugh.

“I told you,” Remus drawls, “they’re dating someone.” He says, knowing Sirius would say ‘we’re not dating!’ if he knew who Remus was referring to.

“Well, that simply won’t do.” Sirius shakes his head. “You could have any girl in the entire school. You shouldn’t settle for someone who won’t give you the attention you deserve.”

Remus shakes his head, smiling at the irony. “Whatever you say, Padfoot.” He takes a step back, no longer able to handle the proximity without doing something stupid. (Like kissing him stupid against the bookshelf.)

“Really!” Sirius insists, suddenly determined. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Remus blinks at him. “What?” He’s beginning to think it’s the only word in his vocabulary.

“Trust me on this,” Sirius grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll find you later.” He leaves without another word.

Remus slumps against the bookshelf as soon as Sirius is out of sight; knees weak from emotional whiplash. He runs his hand through his hairline with a breath, then belatedly wonders what the hell Sirius meant by ‘proving it’ to him. Probably not something he’ll enjoy, Remus thinks. If Sirius dumps a girl on him after all this he thinks he may just explode.

It’s then that he notices the figure down the aisle. He recognizes her as the girl Sirius was seeing before Remus interrupted just now. She watches him with calculating eyes, one shoulder pressed against the bookshelf with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

He stands up, confused. “Hi?” He asks, not knowing what else to say.

Her finger taps on her arm while her eyes narrow on him, as if assessing him. He shifts from foot to foot under her intense gaze; eyes flitting to the bookshelves.

“Do I need to be jealous of you?” She asks, sudden.

Remus snaps his eyes back to her. He frowns. “Of?” He asks, unsure if he wants her to answer.

“Of you stealing my date.” She replies simply.

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’d hardly call that stealing.” He says. Already hating where this conversation is going, he turns his back to her to focus on the bookshelf again, hoping she’ll get the hint. What section is he even in? Non fiction? He hates non fiction. Still, he takes a random book.

She doesn’t take the hint. Or, she ignores it, and moves to the shelf Remus is looking at; close enough he can see her through his peripheral vision.

“I think I do need to be jealous of you.” She observes with a hum.

“Not much to be jealous of.” Remus mutters bitterly, staring intently at a synopsis his eyes refuse to actually read.

“No,” She agrees, prompting yet another eye roll from Remus, “but you do like him, don’t you?”

Remus goes rigid; his grip hardens around the novel. “No.” He has to force the word out over the sudden lump in his throat.

She laughs– not unkindly, more so amused. He hates it. “You do!” She insists. “Nothing to be ashamed of. I swing as well, you know.”

“I don’t swing.” Remus replies tightly.

“Okay, you don’t swing, but you don’t like women.” When Remus doesn’t reply, she continues. “He won’t go for you.”

Remus sighs, slotting the book back in his space in fear of breaking it with his grip. “Okay.” He says. He doesn’t need some random person repeating back to him what he already knows. He knows.

“Really,” She continues, “I’d stop trying, if I were you.”

Remus finally lifts a blank stare in her direction, exhausted with this one-sided conversation. “You’re wasting an awful lot of breath on someone you shouldn’t consider a threat.” He drawls. “If you want Sirius all for yourself, you have a long line of girls to get through first. I should be the least of your worries.”

They stare at each other for a long minute, before she relents with a sigh. “I agree.” She says. “Yet you somehow manage to get his attention without even trying. What’s your secret?”

Remus snorts at the absurdity of this entire conversation, as if he isn’t the one avoiding Sirius because of the lack of attention he’s been receiving.

“Right.” Remus says sarcastically. “As if he hasn’t been girl-crazy for the past week. Have you tried being more entertaining?”

A slow grin lifts her cheeks. She raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough.” She says, shrugging. She turns with a wink.

Remus watches her leave, icy dread drips down the walls of his lungs. A storm of questions swirl his mind– is he really that obvious? For a random stranger to pick up on his feelings? Will she tell Sirius? Will she out him to the school? He never really told her about his feelings, but he didn’t deny them, either.

His head drops back with a groan– he’s so far past caring about this, he reckons. And he misses Sirius. He’ll just have to deal with the girls until one of them sticks with Sirius, and it will hurt, but he’ll live. He’s a werewolf, for Christ sake. He can deal with a little heartbreak, surely.