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It was all far too loud, was the problem. Seventh graders sprinting down hallways and teachers screaming at them and the bell ringing, ringing, ringing. Remus was in his spot on the far side of the oval, math class forgotten, his head between his knees and his earphones in, still not blocking the noise that was consuming him. His eyes felt stretched and taut with salty tears and his binder was too tight and he didn’t have a sports bra on him because of course not, you’re a fuck up Remus, you never get anything right, you can’t cope with anything.
Sirius sunk down quietly next to him, threaded his long fingers through Remus’ curls, and Remus exhaled shakily.
‘James sent me to check on you.’
‘I’m clearly doing fantastic.’
Sirius snorted. ‘Obviously, if you still have the bandwidth to be a prat.’
‘It’s innate.’ Remus smiled a little and pulled out his earphones, still keeping his eyes focussed on the ground. ‘Fuck, I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Why?’ Sirius sounded genuinely confused. With great effort, Remus lifted his eyes up to his best mate’s face. Sirius’ brow was furrowed and his grey eyes were wide with concern.
‘Why do you think, Pads?’
‘You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.’
‘You’re not the one having panic attacks between classes.’
‘That’s not emba---’
‘Yes it is, Sirius.’ Remus hated himself for snapping. He took a deep breath. ‘You don’t think I know everyone talks about me behind my back? I feel like I never understand anything and you will never understand what that’s like. I don’t know how I’m meant to cope with life, and my life isn’t even that bad, and…’ Remus was shocked out of his thoughts by Sirius placing two soft hands on either side of his face and bringing their foreheads to touch. They stayed there for two, three, four breaths, and then Sirius brought his eyes up to meet Remus’.
‘I have something to show you.’
Sirius pulled Remus up and started back towards the school, Remus’ fingers threaded through his. Sirius’ hands were so soft and gentle, his black nail polish chipped. Remus smiled at that.
It was quiet now that lunch was over. Sirius took them past the bike shed, the gym, the office. They arrived at the rows of demountable classrooms that the music department used for lessons, and Sirius led Remus into the one right down the end. It was bare but for a keyboard and three chairs.
Sirius was the most talented person Remus knew. He played the violin and guitar as well, but the piano, the piano was his real passion. He sat down and shot Remus one very slightly hesitant look before he started playing.
It was a piece Remus had never heard before. Soft and sad, slower than the pieces Sirius usually played. His long fingers moved up and down the instrument with a competent ease that never failed to make Remus blush. His beautiful face was focussed, his eyes closed slightly, his mouth a little parted. His lips were chapped from the dry winter winds and his hair was pulled back in a messy bun. The sight of him sent an ache through Remus that he felt in his bones.
The song was one that sank through you. It was the only way to describe it. It hit Remus deep in his gut and settled there, made him forget where he was, made the world blur and spin and coalesce into just him and Sirius, in this precise moment.
And then, he saw it all.
Images, fast and relentless. Lying in fields that smelled of hay and summer, spending his entire nights on the phone when Sirius couldn’t sleep, watching Sirius and James play one-on-one football that devolved into wrestling matches, Peter’s laughs sounding through the air. Lily braiding a flower crown for Remus, fit for a king, she had said, and Sirius beaming at them. Marlene and James on the karaoke machine, Super Bass blaring, and Sirius’ eyes locking with Remus’ when Lily finally kissed James afterwards, a wry smile that said finally. Sirius coming straight up to Remus after they finished their exams, asking him if the adjustments they had made for him helped. Sirius going with Remus to doctor’s appointments at the gender clinic. Sirius punching Snape when he spat a slur at Remus between second and third period. Sirius giving Remus a leatherbound notebook and saying write. Sirius pushing between their friends to sit next to him at lunch.
Oh.
Sirius finding Remus in every room, in every situation, in every possible scenario.
It had always been Sirius who could find him. Who could deftly untangle the web of emotions that often threatened to choke him, soothe and sweeten and soften all of Remus’ difficult edges and messy lines. And Remus knew, with a certainty that took his breath away, what Sirius was trying to tell him.
The piece ended, and Remus felt tears prick at his eyes, felt Sirius walking over to him and sinking onto the floor in front of him.
‘That was…’ Remus felt his hands trembling. ‘Me?’
‘You.’ Sirius covered his hands with own, and leant in closer.
‘Why?’ Remus had to know. Of all the options, he was the most difficult.
Sirius let the question hang in the air for a moment, just a moment, and then he smiled. That sweet, adoring smile that he saved for Remus.
‘Because,’ Sirius said. ‘Most things are awful. But you, Remus, you are good.’
When they kissed, it was like music, it was like quiet, it was like sunshine. But it was also none of those things. It was its own perfect moment, incomparable and dizzying.
And between every kiss, Sirius whispered.
You are good.
You are good.
You are good.