Chapter Text
Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin had never been the type of person to act first and think later. He always thought it was idiotic, childish. No adult should do things that way, especially not Remus Lupin himself.
And still, he found himself sitting in his living room, wondering what had gone wrong. What had happened that made him follow the "do first, think later" rule instead of the usual "think first, do"?
He ended up the owner of two theater tickets.
Two.
For himself and for someone he didn’t know would be coming. Of course, he had a fantasy of who it might be, but no—he wouldn’t do that.
He slapped his head against the table.
Oh god.
“Regulus?” he called into the kitchen.
“Yes?” came the response.
“Are you free Friday afternoon?”
“No.” He said simply. “Work.”
That was it. “No.” Remus’ only safe option was off. It was going to be hard. For his poor soul and stupid lovesick heart to take. It was already hard to be in love with a barista who had drawn him, and then they became some kind of friends. But that felt idiotic. He knew how friends acted. Not like this. But he’d lose his money if he didn’t invite anyone. And he’d hate the situation even more if he didn’t. And he’d see Sirius again if he did. And he wanted to. Really much. But if he did, he would make an idiot of himself again.
Fuck.
So if he didn’t want to lose his money, he needed to invite someone. He took out his phone. He dialed Sirius Black.
Sirius Black
His phone was ringing. When he saw the name of the caller, his heart stopped, then started beating twice as fast as it should.
Remus Lupin.
Remus Lupin—the man he had drawn at the café, the man he’d been on walks with, the man he was stupidly in love with—was calling him. He brought the phone up to his ear, slowly moving his finger across the screen, answering the call.
“Remus?”
“Oh! God, I thought you wouldn’t answer!” The voice on the phone sounded stressed.
“What is this?”
“Sirius, do you have plans for Friday afternoon?”
Sirius paused, mentally scanning his schedule. “Yes, I do.”
Remus went silent. “Umm… would you like to go to the theater with me?”
And Sirius’ heart stopped. “Yes…yes, of course…”
Neither of them spoke for a few long moments.
“Remus?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a date.”
“Okay…”
“Bye.”
“Bye…”
“Bye…” And just like that, they hung up.
Sirius didn’t know what he had just done. He didn’t even like the theater.
But he obviously liked Remus Lupin.
He really, really liked Remus Lupin.
Remus Lupin was liked by Sirius Black.
Sirius Black was the one who liked Remus Lupin.
It felt like a ballad, a fairytale—one with a happily ever after. One with princesses, princes, knights, white horses, and balls. When the prince kisses the princess and they ride through a sunny path on a white horse with a long, silver or gold mane.
He had always thought that only happened in the stories he heard. That it was never real, that the characters wore strange masks and never truly felt happy. But then this belief started to slowly fade, his life stopped being a continuous cycle of pain, tears, arguments, more pain, tears, yells, and cries. It started to become more normal. He got a best friend, his parents became his parents. Then he got a home. Everything seemed perfect. He had left that other life behind. No one yelled at him anymore, no one hurt him like they used to.
What more could he want?
His Prince—Remus Lupin.
Remus “the prince” Lupin.
His life started to resemble a fairytale more and more. It was heavenly.
But then he remembered. The theater. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the theater.
How do people even dress for that?
“James?” he called his friend.
“What?”
“I need your help.” James came over.
“With what exactly?”
“What do people wear to the theater?”
“You’re going to the theater?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“You, Sirius Black, are going to the theater?” Sirius looked at him, James looked at him. “He invited you?” “Yes.”
And both of them knew exactly who they were talking about.
***
Time passed quickly. Before he knew it, Friday afternoon had arrived.
Sirius stood outside his block, wearing a crimson shirt, waiting for Remus to come pick him up. He couldn’t say he wasn’t nervous because he was. Very nervous, to be honest.
The night was beautiful, almost too beautiful to spend inside walls at the theater. But could time spent with Remus Lupin—the Beautiful Man—be wasted?
No.
That was the answer. No.
Because every second spent in his company was like the most treasured thing in the world. And Sirius would even kill for more. It was like a drug—once you had it, you were addicted for the rest of your life, and you spent every second reaching for it. That kind of breathing felt like sweets—the best kind. The kind for princesses. Then Remus arrived, driving his green car. Sirius found himself fascinated by the car. He watched as Remus got out, walking toward him with a big bunch of flowers in his hand. They were beautiful—roses, red and small daisies. They looked strong and innocent at the same time.
Romantic, but not overly so.
“Hi…” Remus said, standing next to him.
“Good evening, Remus Lupin.” Sirius smiled, searching for his eyes.
“These are for you…” Remus held out the flowers. Sirius could swear he blushed.
“Thank you…” Sirius carefully took them, almost as though he feared they would die from his touch. They stood in silence, neither of them brave enough to say anything. Remus looked at his shoes, and Sirius stared at the flowers, both of them blushing terribly, the color of their cheeks nearly matching the color of the roses.
“They remind me of you… the roses,” Remus finally broke the silence.
“Really?” Sirius looked at him, searching for his eyes like a lost puppy. “Daisies… You remind me of daisies.”
“We should go to the car, or we’ll be late.”
“Yeah… yeah.”
Regulus Black
Regulus Black was coming out of his work. He actually was pushing the door to go out, and he did, the point was, he didn’t expect James Potter to be waiting there for him. He knew that James ended his work early today so it made no sense for him to be there.
“James Potter?”
Regulus called.
“Oh, finally!” James grinned.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d walk you home.” “
You—what?” Regulus looked at him, incredulous. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Maybe.”
And so they walked. It was nice. Regulus was lost in the warmth of James' voice. He could tell it was hotter than the fire in the chimney at home. It was lovely—the talk—but eventually, they reached the end of the road, standing near the green door of Regulus' flat.
“We’re here,” James said, looking at him.
And Regulus wished he could kiss him right now, but that would be strange. James saw him as a workmate, right?
“Thank you. You made the walk home nice.”
“No problem.” Regulus could see that James was about to leave, but he couldn’t let him slip away again.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Do you want ...to stay for a bit?” Regulus looked into James' eyes, searching for something—something that seemed lost somewhere deep within his chocolate brown eyes.
“I bet your friend is waiting for you—”
“He isn’t.” Regulus didn’t let him finish. “He went out. You can come in.”
“Okay, then. Why not?” And just like that, they ended up in Regulus’ living room.
If someone had told him a few days ago that he’d have James Potter himself in his house, he would’ve laughed in their face. It made no sense. James Potter was his hopeless childhood crush, his older brother’s best friend, and they hadn’t spoken in years. They lost contact and were never close friends to begin with. But here they were, standing in one room, being workmates. It all seemed like a joke. A hopeless romantic comedy. But after everything, it didn’t feel like that at all.
“It’s cozy here,” James said, looking around. “Lots of books.”
“You said you liked to write earlier,” He didn’t, but Regulus remembered the way James always had a notebook and a pen in case of emergency. Sirius once read him one of his yarn, it was really good. And it was years ago to...
“Did I?” James made a confused face. “Maybe. Sorry, rough memory.”
Of course, James had bad memory.
You don't even remember me!
“What's your favorite author?” Regulus asked.
“I don’t have one. I don’t read much,” James said, still looking around. “I don’t like it. It bores me.”
Regulus didn’t know that before.
“Really?” he asked. “But you still write.”
“I don’t have to read to write,” James smirked. “Besides, I wouldn’t call it writing, just short stories—nothing big. Just a hobby.”
“I’d love to read some.”
And Regulus really would. He thought they’d be fascinating. Knowing James was interesting enough on its own, but his stories must be a new world—one that no one had ever stepped on. And Regulus wanted to explore it so badly. He wanted to be the first to step there.
Sirius Black
It wasn’t a surprise that Sirius Black wasn’t interested in cultural things—like theaters, operas, and museums. But it was obvious that he was obsessed with sitting in the theater next to Remus Lupin, their arms brushing each time they shifted.
The only thing Sirius was paying attention to was the Beautiful Man who had dragged him here, blackmailing him with his gentle voice, deep hazel eyes, and flowers.
And Sirius enjoyed every part of it—not the show, but the feeling of being close to Remus. His movements, his breath, the light in his eyes. It was so magical. The poison had reached Sirius, and it was sweet—cloying even.
The show ended, and they were back in the car.
Sirius looked down at the flowers on his lap, and his heart skipped a beat. Then he looked at Remus.
“It’s a pretty night.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“James would say it’s a perfect night for a kiss.”
It all felt so strange.
“Who's James?”
“It doesn’t matter right now…”
And then their faces met. Sirius’ mouth found Remus’ in a kiss. It felt right, it made sense. They were locked in Remus’ car in the middle of the night, and no one could see them. And if anyone ever asked Sirius what murder felt like, he would describe this. Even though he had never murdered anyone and had no plans to. He would say that kissing Remus Lupin felt like a murder in a dark alley. Just like that, with blood everywhere.
“God…”Remus gasped when they loosen from each other.
“God…”