Chapter Text
Remus felt frozen in his chair. A silence stretched between them as Sirius made no move to wipe the tears from his face.
“Sirius, I--” Remus started, then finally looked around him, instead of just focusing on the dull glint of the table top or Sirius in front of him, and noticed all of the other people going about their lives. “Are you free for the next few hours?”
If Sirius was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “Yes.”
“Come to my apartment with me?” Remus asked. “It’s less public,” he offered, then winced at the possible implications. Communication felt hard right now, the way it was when he was operating on only a portion of the shared memories of his friends after his accident. “To talk.”
Sirius nodded stiffly, and repeated himself quietly. “Yes.”
Remus knew he wouldn’t remember the walk back to his apartment, and he wasn’t surprised to suddenly find himself in front of the door to his studio apartment, standing next to Sirius. Being suddenly reminded of his amnesia, he couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Shaking his head, he unlocked the door.
Looking around the kitchen, Remus tried to think of something neutral to say. “Water?” he eventually asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Remus poured a glass and handed it over.
Sirius gave a huff of amusement as he lifted the glass to his lips. Remus decided to look away from the bob of Sirius’s throat as he drank. “What?” he asked, once he heard Sirius set the glass down.
“You still have the same water filter.”
“Well. Not the filter, but the pitcher, yeah.”
“It’s good,” Sirius announced. “Some things don’t change.”
Remus felt his cheeks warm, remembering why they were here in the first place. “Well, some things don’t biodegrade either, so.”
“Now who's sounding like the bio major?”
“Marine bio,” Remus couldn’t stop himself from muttering. In response, Sirius smiled brightly.
Suddenly remembering that he was the host, Remus moved over to the living space section of the apartment and took a chair, offering the loveseat to Sirius.
“Sirius, I--” Remus started, then stopped. “You’re moving here to do your PhD.”
Sirius nodded.
“You signed a lease.”
Another nod.
“And--” Remus stuttered. “You’ve figured out what you want?”
“I want you.”
Remus’s heart clenched.
“Am I too late?” Sirius had pulled off all of his rings, and began putting them on again-- a habit that Remus knew only occurred when Sirius was at peak nervousness. “Please just tell me; I’ve been dying ever since I read that to you.”
The apartment, usually filled with ambient noise from an appliance or a neighbor, suddenly felt oddly quiet.
“I don’t know, Sirius,” Remus answered truthfully.
“Is there someone else?”
“There’s never been anyone else.”
Sirius nodded slowly.
“I love you too,” Remus whispered. “I always have. But I don’t know how.”
Sirius’s smile was soft but bright, as if he had just heard the best news in the world. “Well? I don’t think I know either,” he offered.
Remus picked at the edge of his armchair. The end was beginning to fray and he was only making it worse. “We can figure it out?”
“Take it slow?”
Remus huffed a laugh. “We’ve known each other for eight years. I’d say that’s already pretty slow.”
“So kiss me.”
Remus felt his breath hitch. A few feet away from him, Sirius looked him in the eye. His eyebrows weren’t raised in a challenge, and his smile wasn’t crooked in jest. Remus drew his eyes away from him and towards the dust that clung to the base of the coffee table. He laughed again, inexplicably, and felt tears form in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sirius nodded.
Remus knew he wouldn’t remember the walk over to the couch, and he wasn’t surprised to suddenly be seated next to Sirius. He was surprised, however, to see the wet shine in the other man’s eyes. Remus swallowed.
Sirius just smiled at him, looking tragically beautiful, tear-laden eyes and all. It was the encouragement he needed. It was the same encouragement that he had been lucky enough to have after his accident. It was the love that had gotten him through amnesia, and a broken wrist, and nightmares. It was the love that he always wanted, despite somehow already having.
Remus leaned in, and let their lips brush gently. He pulled back with a quiet sigh.
Before he could create much more than a few inches of space between them, Sirius surged forwards again. His kiss was bruising, and desperate, which was perfectly fine with Remus. Their hands went to each other’s hair, and then to run along each other’s torso-- the strength of Sirius’s shoulders and the small of Remus’s back.
Remus hooked a finger into the collar of Sirius’s shirt, and Sirius broke the kiss. Gently touching foreheads, Sirius caught his breath, still beaming, and Remus moved his hand from Sirius’s collar to instead wrap around him in a hug.
“Thank you,” Sirius whispered.
Remus just hugged him tighter.
“Can we make this work?” Sirius asked.
“Yes,” Remus immediately replied.
“What do I need to do?”
“Just be you,” Remus said. “Be here.”
“I’m here.” One of Sirius’s hands left Remus’s back, presumably wiping away his tears. “Can you trust me again?”
“I already do. Which is scary.”
Sirius breathed. “I’m not going to run away again. Let’s just-- go slow?”
“Kissing?” Remus asked.
“Is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
“Okay.” Sirius exhaled, and Remus felt it. Time felt frozen in place as they sat on the loveseat in Remus’s studio apartment, in a new city, seven hundred and thirty-four days after Sirius left for the second time.
Sirius turned his head to kiss Remus on the cheek. Remus melted.
***
Sirius left an hour later. He had a meeting with his new lab group, the existence of which thankfully reminded Remus that he needed to prepare notes for the meeting with his graduate program supervisor in the morning. It also allowed Remus to try to process.
Remus set a timer for thirty minutes as he opened the top drawer on his nightstand. He withdrew the old composition book, tucked away in the back, and one of the several pens, rolling around in the front. Writing down his emotions and processing them had become so familiar ever since his amnesia, but now, he didn’t know where to start.
The last two years had been hard. But they had also been good for growth. It hurt to remember how much he had lost in terms of his friendship with Sirius, but he didn’t want to forget it anymore.
He went on first dates, and seconds, but not thirds. He had one night stands, and awkward mornings after. He had become okay with himself. Maybe not the happiest, or the proudest, but he was okay. His dates and one night stands and mornings after never looked like Sirius; by design, not mistake. Although, Remus reasoned, there weren’t many people who looked like Sirius.
Sirius, who had kissed him. In his apartment. Who had told him that he loved him, and wanted him. Whose lips Remus couldn’t yet assign adjectives to, but could learn to, and whose life Remus would still be able to learn more about. And to learn from. To grow.
Many of his journal pages were filled with simple lists, simply titled you. Remus started a new one now.
You aren’t an asshole.
You are a pescetarian.
You are a graduate student studying history at Beauxbatons University.
You got hit by a car. But your wrist healed, and your memory came back.
You didn’t move on, but you did move. And you’re a good person. And you’re honest.
You’re bilingual, Catholic, and gay. And that’s okay. And your mom loves you all the more for it.
Sirius came back.
He loves you. You kissed. And he kissed you on the cheek.
It isn’t simple, and it probably won’t be. But you’re both going to make it work.
Remus breathed, looking around his small apartment. He only had a few minutes left on his timer to spend processing before he would have to open his laptop for work. He thought back to one of the first things he had written, and looked down to his current list now.
Sirius is your best friend.
Maybe he’s more than that, but maybe he always has been.
And he’s taking you out for a “proper dinner date” tonight at five thirty.
And you’re happy.