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It’s the muted time of summer, right in between the sickly sweet warmth of August and September. And the lights reflect onto the grass, tiredly swaying from orange to yellow to a bright white. Shadows, formed from the bodies inside the house, move about the grass intersecting the light. Leaving the embrace of friends a while ago to lean up against a termite-infested railing he stands alone. Remus stares out at the grass, it reminds him of his father and how he would lean up against the metal railing of the apartment they lived in staring down at the cement with a cigarette in hand. He shakes the memory out of his head. As if on cue, someone walks out and settles next to him. He makes it effortless, the way he leans against the railing, not caring that it creaks underneath him. Pulling a pack of marbolo reds out of his pocket, because that’s the kind of guy he is, Remus thinks. He’s methodical about it, carefully deciding which one to put to his lips as if the choice holds the fate of the universe in it. He flicks the lighter and it lights, a patch of grass in the yard is painted a lighter shade of orange.
Remus doesn’t risk looking at him even though he can feel him pulling him in with his gaze. He can see Sirius testing him out of the corner of his vision, the way he stares unabashedly. It’s the way his eyes squint as he exhales smoke that makes Remus look at him full-on. And there he is, looking right back. Neither of them says anything and yet there’s a whole monologue in between the two of them.
“How are you?” Sirius asks. Remus doesn’t answer, he just drops his gaze down towards the cigarette in Sirius’ hand. He catches the act and hands the cigarette over. Remus takes it and against all of the warnings in his head: inhales, because, despite the persona that he puts on every time he comes to events such as this, he is, truly, a very cautious person. Remus realizes very suddenly, that he has had a lot of startling realizations when it comes to the person standing next to him. One of them is, that Sirius does not care for his cautiousness. It’s only a theory at the moment, to be proven with evidence at a later date.
“If I didn’t know you better I’d say you hate parties,” Remus looks up at Sirius when he says this. The cigarette dangles out of the side of his mouth, ash dribbling onto the shoulder of his t-shirt. That can’t be comfortable, Remus thinks. But nonetheless, he continues to speak with it barely sticking to the seam of his lips.
“Are you an atheist?” Sirius asks, with sincerity.
“What?”
“Thought that’d get your attention,” Remus looks over at him. The cigarette is no longer hanging from his lips but it’s now dangling from his fingers.
“I think if you were an atheist you’d be bold, but…” Sirius trails off. In all fairness, Remus knows he doesn’t have a real argument or even a way to connect the lack of belief and the personality trait. But still, for some reason, everything in Remus wants to prove him wrong. To prove to him that no he is not bold, but there’s nothing wrong with being safe either. Sirius is arrogant and rarely thinks before he speaks and Remus knows that if he was eleven he’d ask Sirius to be his best friend without questioning why. He’d walk him home even though his house is on the other side of town. The truth is the two have known each other for a while, but sometimes you meet someone and only finally recognize them years later. They’ve laughed at the same jokes, knocked knees under tables, and never said more than two words to each other when no one else is around. Remus wants to prove him wrong because Sirius doesn’t know him. But he wishes he would. Sirius raises the cigarette to his lips again. In a desperate act of idiocy, Remus plucks it from his hands and kisses him in place of the cigarette. It lasts less than a minute and the entire time there is one thought going through Remus’ head. I’m an utter, complete, fool of a person.
Opening his eyes and looking at Sirius, Remus realizes his theory was right. Sirius doesn’t give a fuck about his cautiousness. He despises it actually. On Sirius’ face is the most confident, most self-righteous, most determined, and most infuriating smirk. Remus thinks he’d like to act a fool again. Sirius pulls the cigarette from Remus’ hand and puts it back to his lips, the way boys do in school when they’re trying it for the first time, unsure but desperate to see what it feels like.
“So, you are an atheist?”
“I was raised Catholic actually.”
“Do you believe, though?” Sirius asks it so softly the trees lining the property would have to uproot themselves to hear it. There’s a lot behind those words and Remus knows what he’s asking. Remus is a fool. Remus knows nothing.
“I don’t believe in much of anything,” Remus says so softly.
The way Sirius’ eyebrows raise and a small scoff comes out of his mouth makes Remus’ stomach hurt in a way that feels a lot like the first bite of breakfast after half a day of pews and prayers. He hasn’t thought of church in years and yet here is this man in front of him, and religion doesn’t seem so unappealing after all. Remus stares at him and it’s clear to him now. The camera is going to be out of focus during this scene because of how in love they are, or aren’t. The audience will have to decide for themselves. This part of their story, it’ll blur and fade.
Sirius clears his throat. Remus looks over to see that he’s stubbed his cigarette out. He taps the butt of it to the ashtray one last time before he looks up. He opens his mouth to say something only to close it before anything comes out. Remus wants to look away, he needs to look away. Sirius doesn’t do anything, he doesn’t move, and he stares right back. Remus should really look away.
“I’m going inside,” Sirius finally says. He still moves slowly like he’s trying to walk through the sand. Before reaching the threshold, Sirius turns.
“If it makes you feel any better-” he starts but stutters as if he’s afraid to say the rest. Which is very unlike him, Sirius is a very brave man.
“I don’t mind it that you’re not bold. It’s confusing to me but… I don’t mind being confused,” he finishes. There’s an unsaid, confused about you .
The door opens and the muted music leaks its way outside filling the air and every thought Remus had of Sirius has been thrown out the window of a moving car, smashed to bits, and unfortunately, is beyond repair. Every theory he had has been wrong. Remus exhales every last particle of air out of his lungs into the night air. If it was a little colder, he might be able to see his breath in a light wispy cloud of cold. Remus comes to another conclusion, he is a stupid, stupid man. He smiles to himself because he can still taste ash on his lips when he runs his tongue across them. He can feel the invisible thick tar of smoke in the back of his throat, and he continues to smile like a fool because Sirius put it there.
Remus pushes himself off of the railing and rips the door open. Music pounds through the air and warmth coats his body. He spots Sirius in the middle of the group, smushed in between their mutual friends. Remus walks up to him, swiftly, because he can’t lose momentum now. Once he is standing in front of Sirius and they make eye contact, Remus can feel the same swelling in his stomach again. He’s either going to vomit on his shoes or do something bold and reckless before he has the choice to. He leans forward until he’s nose to nose with Sirius and that infuriating grin again.
“I’m not religious,” Remus says. He can see James who is sitting next to Sirius, looking at him with a quirked eyebrow out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t expand on the thought. He kisses Sirius once more. Sirius pulls away first.
“I’m glad,” Sirius responds before he ducks back in again. The group surrounding them watches out of curiosity and confusion. James is the first to speak on what’s unfolding in front of them.
“Glad that’s sorted then,” he says. A hand darts out to smack the back of his head. He mutters a soft ‘ow’ before glancing over to see Regulus glaring at him. James responds with a shrug of his shoulders and a pointed look at the couple next to him.