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“your skin smells like light.
i think you are
the moon.”
—nayyirah waheed.
It had been tossing and turning, bereft of sleep, countless imagery of leaving Regulus alone, crying, looming into his mind no matter how much he tried to repel them until Sirius resigned himself to never catching a wink of sleep tonight. It was far too cold for an early Autumn’s evening yet he was sweaty and his pillow wouldn’t cool and he forgot the cooling charm and his hair was stuck to his forehead but he was still cold.
He tugged open the threadbare crimson curtain to darkness and looked over. There was a small bulb of milky light cracked through the diaphanous warm red of the curtains surrounding Remus’s bed; the sign of the fairytale Sirius went to venture almost every night; the x marks the spot on the treasure map. Sirius grinned. Perhaps, if he really tried, this night wasn’t going to be so terrible, after all. He hoped.
He padded across the cold oak floor, which had suddenly decided to creak during this time of night, and grimaced, hoping James wouldn’t be awoken, but was reassured by the faint snores emitting from his bed. The waning crescent shon luminously, casting a veil of white light around Sirius like a halo as he tiptoed to the pale light which looked like a lone star, venturing the same steps he’d done countless of times.
First time had been in second year, when Remus had had a nightmare. A few years later, Sirius would look back and think, that maybe, just maybe, this was when he’d first fallen for Remus. And how things had shifted for them that night when Remus laid himself languidly onto Sirius’s bed with bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, looking so small and worried Sirius thought he’d do anything to make it go away. When Sirius asked him what was wrong, he’d begun to cry. That maybe the downpour and heavy burden of Remus’s dreadful secret was weighing him down like a tonne of bricks down his back, until it compressed so hard on the little boy it made him weep. He was informed later that night that it had been a nightmare, and although he hadn’t given any hints as to what it might have been, Sirius figured he knew. The night Remus had been bitten. He sobbed, and Sirius couldn’t remember anything but the longing want of being able to do anything to help this beautiful, sad little boy who didn’t deserve a touch of melancholy in his life. That was when he first fell for him.
“I’m sorry, Sirius, it usually doesn’t- it usually doesn’t get this bad I don’t know why… it was so real and you just seemed the safest to come to-“ Remus had stumblingly gasped in between choked sobs.
Sirius hugged him so warmly it felt like secret little messages were being sent throughout the contact. And when he wrapped his arms around Remus he never wanted to let go. Remus had always been the tallest out of the four, even ever since first year, but here, he seemed like he smallest one on the bed; Sirius never wanted to let go. “You just seemed the saftest to come to.” He remembered Remus saying.
“It’s alright, Remus, you’re here. You’re with me, and all of that was just a nightmare. It’s over now, you’re with me and you’re safe, I promise, yeah?” he whispered softly in his hair.
Things had always been different between the two of them. Sirius’s friendship with James was brotherly and consisted of tossing and harmless headlocks, with loads of talk about quidditch; his friendship with Peter was lobbing banter back and forth, snorting with laughter, and like James, quidditch talk exchanged; Remus’s… well, it definitely is something. It is something indeed. Something unspoken between the two, that they both just mindlessly knew of, but never spoke of. Or knew what exactly it was. How they were both so gentle with one another, as they truly understood — albeit having tragically different stories — how it felt to hurt. And be hurt, and feel hurt. Something different in the way they touched each other; a fizzing spark, like the sprinklers you light up on New Year’s. Gentler from the way Sirius would punch James on the shoulder, or how he’d messily rub Peter’s hair, igniting static and making the boy’s hair look even more like straw than usual. They never had tousled, or thought of each other as brothers, or talked about quidditch, but spoke of everything yet nothing at all at the same time, and they had laughed, secretly, and had reserved secret little smiles and looks of adoration shared only for each other and each other only. Plummeted into oblivion, unknowing of it being so obviously something else. That very something they never spoke of.
When Remus lay himself on Sirius’s bed that night in second year, something had shifted. That little spark that emitted when they touched had sparked real bright that night, like a star, or a moon. And perhaps they were both. Perhaps they are both. They always met, every night, when the moon rose, and if Remus was the moon, and Sirius the star, and their beds the night sky, they would always meet at night. They made the night. When the moon rose, and the stars were unveiled from the sun’s bright light, they would meet, in every way, always, in every lifetime. Always together or never at all - the moon and stars. But oh how oblivious they are.
It was as if there was a pull, a concealed, comforting tug to Remus’s bed. As if he were a child again, and it was him and Reggie sneaking out of bed at night to espy the full moon at age seven. Unknowingly, how different it was for both of them at that exact same time. The full moon, at the ripe age of seven; Remus was tearing open his wounds and trying to rip off his own flesh, unable to witness the beauty that was the full moon, although he’d never see it again, or remember it. And simultaneously, Sirius was gazing at the enchanting full moon with his little brother, showing him their stars in the sky; a memory he’d reminisce for the rest of his years to come, and shattered once he was slammed back into reality of his brother a death eater.
It was oddly comforting, and nostalgic in a way, him crossing over to Remus’s bed. A silent wave tugging him in, hushed, clandestine.
Somehow, Remus’s bed was much more snug and toasty. Soporific, even. Remus looked ethereal every time. Each time Sirius had visited, he ended up staring at Remus instead of trying to sleep, and would chastise himself. But how could he not? His wand light illuminated his beautiful face, and he would gaze lovingly at his freckles; the ones that started from the corner of his eye and trailed down to the tip of his nose and upper lip, allowing Sirius to imagine that he were an adventurer, and Remus’s freckles were the guide to the buried treasure, trekking down a long, ominous path ‘til he reached his desired destination. He never did, though. Never reached Remus’s lips.
But if Sirius looked hard enough, he could find Canis Major’s constellation in them. He always did.
Remus was about to start wondering where Sirius was, conjuring up a thousand different excuses to reason why he should stay awake longer, but he began contemplating wether he should go to sleep. Maybe Sirius wasn’t coming this-
“Moony?” Sirius whispered, hushed.
Remus smiled, “Yeah? You can pull the curtain open,” he whispered back.
Sirius pulled the curtain open, and was flashed by Remus’s wand light. It looked like he was holding a star stolen from the night sky; the thief of the night.
He was, technically, a thief. Of the night, to be specific. He’d stolen a star’s heart and refused to give it back. He squinted.
“Hi, Moons.”
“Hi, Pads.” Remus smiled fondly at him, and he moved over to the edge of his bed, a vacant spot waiting for its inhabitant.
“Can’t sleep.” Sirius shrugged.
Remus patted the sheets, and went back to his book. He was still smiling, and two dimples popped out of his cheeks. Just as beautiful as every time, huh then, Sirius thought. The small sunset-esque hue of the light painted Remus’s face in gold, and his eyes looked like they were swirled with honey, a few specks of gold ignited. Sirius saw the honey which he and Regulus sneakily ate for breakfast, trickling down their chins and making them laugh. He didalways have a soft spot for honey.
The older boy plopped down onto the bed, sagging it slightly, and draped his arm carefully on Remus’s waist; he was met with cozy, familiar, balmy warmth.
“Sorry.” Sirius mumbled.
“Stop saying sorry, Sirius. It’s alright, honest,” Remus smiled down at him tenderly, and stroked his hair until he returned to the book. Remus never did stroke anyone’s hair but his, now that he realized.
“Okay.” He whispered.
A few comfortable moments of quietness elapsed, and was broken by Sirius’s voice.
“What’s the book about? Explain to me like I’m one of your study minions,” he asked, genuinely curious, with the mischievous little smile peeping from his pretty lips that Remus so badly wanted to kiss. Remus noticed that Sirius never had a liking or interest towards books, but when one was in Remus’s hands, he’d get inquisitive. He peered up at him with steely eyes; Remus saw the grey skies in Wales. Home. He didn’t know if he meant Sirius or Wales, though.
“They’re not minions,” Remus drawled, giving Sirius a stern look, tainted by the upturn lift of the corners of his mouth, repeating the same mantra he’d said a thousand times before.
“Yes they are. I saw one conjure up a cup of tea for you the other day.” He pushed on, enjoying himself immensely as Remus rolled his eyes.
“It was a favour! You always take care of me after the fulls but I don’t call you a minion.”
Sirius giggled, “That’s different!” They both knew it was. Another spark ignited from the sheer knowledge that it is so very different from conjuring up a cup of tea for your tutor.
They continued bickering fondly. Remus grabbed his wand from his bedside table stuffed with books and a herbarium and cast a silencing charm, dampening the sounds of their bickering completely. Remus huffed like a small dragon, evidently deciding that he was over this.
“So kind of you, Moons, to care about the sleep of our roomies when James clearly doesn’t with his stupid snoring.”
“Told him a million times to cast a silencing charm before he sleeps…” Remus replied, now at normal-volume.
“Maybe we should tell him we heard him and Evans shagging! That’ll fix him up.” Remus started laughing, and Sirius took pride in being the source of his mirth. He nodded, “Alright, do you want to hear the story?” Sirius nodded eagerly, like a puppy offered a delectable treat. Remus loved the irony.
Remus explained the story like a fairytale with a dreamy, ardent look on his countenance. It was incredibly nice to have the story be told to you rather than telling the story, as he’d always done so with Regulus, and Remus had been told them by his mother Hope. Maybe that’s where they meet, where they can meet and be what the other never had as a child; a fairytale, a friend. He looked incredibly metaphysical, and Sirius got hooked rather quickly, until,
“That’s it.” Remus concluded.
“Huh? What do you mean that’s it?” Sirius asked, visibly irked.
“I mean I’m letting you read the rest. If you want to know what happens, read it yourself,” Remus let on cooly, smirking slightly.
“But Moons!” Sirius exclaimed, pouting.
“No.” Stubborn.
Sirius squinted his eyes, and finally, “Fine. I will.”
Remus looked over, visibly floundered. “Wait, really? I only said that as a joke to piss you off,” an incredulous look on his face.
“Why not?” he shrugged, “I want something to talk with you about.”
Remus furrowed his brows, and Sirius fought the urge to smooth them with his thumb. “You don’t need to read a book to talk to me. I’ll always be here. You can talk to me about whatever, whenever.” He smiled.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
Remus slid his book back onto his bedside table, snugging in to the bed properly and threw the blanket up to his ear, looking so snug and adorable Sirius could weep. He propped his head on his hands, and looked at Sirius gently.
There was so much love, floating between the two, gazing into each other’s eyes. Every particle between them sung, imploring for the contact to be made, and Sirius’s eyes lingered on Remus’s lips.
Suddenly, their lips were grazing one another softly, and Remus’s tongue prodded at Sirius’s lips. He let him in, just like he did when he wandered into his bed in second year, and he tasted, purely, beautifully, like chocolate. It was chaste, and sweetly resonant, having their throats poured into one another like sweet nectar, and Remus nipped at Sirius’s lip, the other boy humming in appreciation. They both smiled into the kiss, and as they cupped each other’s faces, Remus’s hand on Sirius’s waist, a sort of relief finally snuffed out like a candle dripping with tallow — the harbored mutual pining they had mistakenly left ulterior. They couldn’t wait for what was to be next of this new, lovely, fragile thing they were getting themselves into.
A disowned heir, chased away by his own family and betrayed by his brother by becoming a death eater, and a boy who happened to be a werewolf, having experienced things one fears most in life. They’ll heal each other’s scars and get better, together.
They pulled back, and gazed at the simultaneous tint of pink that bloomed on their cheeks, and Sirius kissed Remus’s nose, finally having reached his final destination from the path that was his freckles.
“Do they become lovers, at the end of the book?” Sirius asked, quietly.
“Yeah. They do.” Remus answered, smiling that reserved little smile he only grinned for Sirius; Sirius’s favorite one.
“I’m glad, then.” He whispered, contentedly.
“Goodnight, Pads.”
“Night, Moons.”
Sirius clung onto Remus, slipping into his chest easily, and Remus wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Sirius’s. They both smiled a real, genuine smile. He thought he’d never been happier.
The night sky was pushed away by the golden light, the stark difference between the two creating a twilit sky, beautiful in a way that could only be captured in person. They looked like statues, if chunks of carved stone were able to capture the amount of love that was between them. Every crevice in their body fitting into each other’s; an artist’s muse. Sirius cherished how their hands were weaved, and slotted nicely, as if designed for this, and only this. As his palm was tucked into Remus’s hand, his lilting breath soothing him immensely with his dainty eyelashes resting on his cheeks, Sirius’s last thought was Yeah. Not a bad night at all, until he dozed into a restful sleep.
Their friendship was always different from the others they had. And maybe the moon and stars glowed a little brighter when they kissed, maybe a spark twinkled from their lips meeting as they slept in one another’s arms, always knowing of how they’d make up the night sky.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───