Chapter Text
Dear Sirius,
I know you’ll never see this, but... I think I’m in love with you.
It’s not something I can control. It’s not even really something I was looking for. One day I was just minding my own business and then suddenly you were the only thing I could think about. Your laugh, your smile... they appear in my head unbidden and I go weak at the knees.
I think that’s why they call it falling in love, because... it really was unintentional. I must have stumbled somewhere, and then I was falling too fast to stop myself, and I hit the ground hard and now I’m too dazed to think about much of anything other than you.
I blamed you for it for a long time, you know. Or, well, you don’t know—that’s kind of why I’m writing this—not that you’ll read it anyway so I don’t even know why I’m writing this—but I digress. I was so mad at you. I went from functional human being to hopeless lovesick idiot, all because you were just... there. You spread light everywhere you go and you made me stop wanting to live in the dark, and I was so, so mad at you for it. For making me want more than what I have—what I allow myself.
I don’t blame you anymore, you’ll be happy to know. I mostly just blame myself for what I’ve become. Our friendship is lovely, and then I have to go and be the douche who wants to change it. Great job, Remus. Great fucking job.
I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say, I suppose. You never asked to deal with this. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. If I could stop loving you, I would. God, if I could stop loving you...
It doesn’t really matter. I can’t. I’ve tried. Every time I stop thinking about you my mind just drifts back. Every time I think I’m over you, you smile at me, and my heart does that stupid fluttery thing and I’m head over heels again.
It’s just so impossible not to love you. You bring warmth wherever you go. If I’m sad or scared you’re there, and you can make things okay again even when they shouldn’t be. Your voice is a rock I can rest on, a sound that keeps me here, keeps me alive. Your laugh is a melody that I wish I could replicate. Your embrace is more like home than anywhere I’ve ever been, and—fuck it—you smell fucking amazing. (Please don’t take that in a creepy way. I have a heightened sense of smell, it’s really hard not to notice. I mean, you literally sleep in my bed sometimes. Oh dear God that made it more creepy, didn’t it. Oh God. Okay. Okay, I’m just... I’m just going to pretend I didn’t say any of that.)
I just... I love you. I love you too much to ignore. Look at this. It’s the middle of the night and I should be studying, but no, I’m writing love letters in my fucking Charms notebook. You make me write love letters, Pads. Love letters. What have you turned me into?
You smile at me and my heart skips a beat. You wink at me and I just stop having thoughts entirely. Even just the slightest brush of your hand and it feels like I’m on fire, like you’ve enchanted me.
I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you. You make me want to scream it from the rooftops or something else embarrassing and excessive, and I wouldn’t even fucking care because I love you too damn much.
But as much as part of me wants that... I won’t. I love you too much to ruin what we have now. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I’m not ready to face that part of myself yet. Not outside of this notebook.
That doesn’t change the fact that I love you. There are so many horrible things in this world, but you... you’re one of the good things. One of the few absolutely wonderful things.
I sometimes think life isn’t worth living, but then I think of you, and I can’t imagine not living. You give me breath. You give me a reason to want to live. Not just survive and slog through the days, but really, truly live.
I love you. I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t know what to do beyond it. I’m just in love with you.
Love,
Remus
P.S. Please love me
Don’t read that. I never wrote that. That never happened.
P.S. You are literally everything to me
P.S.
No. No post scripts. Note to self: Post scripts = bad.
Remus tossed his quill aside, rubbing his temples. It was late, and he hadn’t studied at all. They had a test in two days and he wrote a love letter instead. A fucking love letter. Bloody idiot.
A love letter. He wrote a love letter. And he had no intentions of sending it either! He just wrote it and wasted time for absolutely nothing.
Remus gathered his things from his bed and quietly stepped onto the floor, setting his quill and ink on his bedside table and tossing his notebook into the Charms pile. The Marauders collectively kept all their notebooks together, organized by class, that way they all remembered which notebook was which and nobody (James) would lose their notebook in their own individual chaos. It was a bit of an odd system, but given everything they had done together Remus had never even considered it strange in comparison.
He clambered back in bed and pulled the blankets over him, berating himself. A love letter. That was how he used his time when he should have been studying. He had written a fucking love letter.
He was hopeless. Utterly fucking hopeless.
~
Somehow every single one of the Marauders overslept, sending them scrambling to put clothes on and rush to class the next morning. They grabbed their notebooks and sprinted, taking every shortcut they knew, and it was just enough to get them there mere seconds before Professor Flitwick started his lecture.
Remus flopped into the seat next to Peter and rested his head on his notebook. Charms was usually somewhat of a drag, but without food? He had been there half a minute and he already wanted to leave.
Peter tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. You hungry?”
“Starving,” he whispered.
“Here.” Peter held out a chocolate bar.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, take it. I literally keep it for you.”
Remus smiled his thanks and tried to eat the chocolate bar as discreetly as possible while also eating it as quickly as possible. Given the looks he got from some of the other students, it was safe to say he failed. Not that he cared. He just appreciated how thoughtful it was that Peter kept chocolate around for him.
Upon finishing the chocolate, he flipped open his notebook, dipping his quill in ink. Professor Flitwick had just said something about the test... What was it...
Remus looked down at the page before him. The right side was blank, but the side on the left... that wasn’t his handwriting.
His stomach plummeted to his feet. That wasn’t his notebook. Someone else had his notebook. In his rush he must have switched with one of the others and now they could read his love letters.
His hands started shaking as he glanced down again. He would recognize that handwriting anywhere. Which could only mean...
Sirius had his notebook.
He looked over towards Sirius. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t taking notes, and it looked an awful lot like he was reading whatever Remus had written.
Fuck. Shit. No, no, no. It was all crashing down. It was all fucking ruined. His heart was hammering in his chest, palms sweating. Sirius knew. Sirius knew, and Sirius would hate him, and Remus was fucking doomed.
Remus squeezed his eyes shut. There was nothing he could do about it now. He just had to get through class and face the consequences afterwards, as horrible and terrifying as they were certain to be.
He took a deep breath—which did nothing to help—and looked back at Sirius’ scrunched, jagged writing.
His eyes widened, reading the words over and over again, checking if he was hallucinating or if it was all just a dream. But it was real. What Sirius had written was real. It was real. It was actually real.
His heart stopped, the words failing to process.
Dear Remus,
I know you’ll never see this, but... I think I’m in love with you.