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Remus could tell Sirius wasn’t telling him things anymore.
He knew by the way Sirius would avoid his eyes after Order meetings. How Sirius would just say things like Oh, nothing much after Remus would come home from his missions. How Sirius would go straight to the bedroom after small battles against Death Eaters.
Remus wanted to go back to when Sirius would dance around in his ripped Levi’s, drunk and swinging around the lamp post. Sirius would wear makeup when they went out, so Remus’ face would be covered in black lipstick, and Sirius would never wear a jacket, even during the winter. He wanted to show off his band t-shirts to all the muggle people, so they’d think he was one of them. Remus always laughed as Sirius would get close and stick his cold hands up Remus’ sweater.
But they were young then. They knew nothing.
But now, Sirius would just… disregard Remus. Ignore him in the morning, blaming it on lack of sleep.
It was like Remus was an old cardigan, just thrown under the bed and forgotten.
Back at school, everyone loved Sirius. Along with James, he was the Golden Boy of Gryffindor house. Hogwarts, really. He was a friend to everyone, which usually meant he was a friend to none. Just the Marauders. But they were more than friends. They were family.
They spend every weekend together, at Hogsmeade, in their dorm, by the lake or the Quidditch pitch. And at the end of the day, Remus would cuddle up with Sirius, head resting over his heart, listening to the relaxing beat.
But now, Remus felt like an old cardigan, just thrown under the bed and forgotten.
Remus missed when they would make out in cars, outside of the muggle clubs and bars they would go to for fun. They’d be drunkenly laughing as kisses were shared, or as Sirius called them, stars.
Let me give you my stars, Moony! Let me show you constellations! Then kisses would be placed all over Remus’ face. It was sweet. He loved Sirius’ stars. Especially over his scars. Over the ones on his back, chest, arms, face, everywhere.
But now, Remus woke up alone and bloodied, out in the middle of the woods. He never received any stars anymore. He missed them.
But now, Sirius barely spoke to Remus anymore. No acknowledgement when they woke up in the same bed. Remus still made Sirius tea, but he would never drink it, claiming he was too busy.
Remus, in the end, wanted to change everything.
Change Sirius being the spy. Change James and Lily dying, changing himself to have been better for Sirius.
But he was young… so he knew nothing.
He could still smell the cigarette smoke in the flat.
He could still hear the laughter from the grocery line.
He could still see Sirius standing under the light of the porch, down in his knee, a ring in his hand.
He wanted Sirius to come back to him.
But he was just an old cardigan, thrown under the bed and forgotten.
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite