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Four months of sitting in God’s palm is what Sirius would call it. Remus was light everlasting, a being of such good that he still wasn’t sure how he found himself existing in the same room. For those four months, Sirius worshipped him uninhibited in an effort to make up for the five years he hadn’t since he came to meet Remus. Sirius subscribed to the belief that the sun actually shone out of his ass and that all good grew from his touch.
In his arms, Sirius felt as though he was the ancient Yew his family had taken him to see once as a child. His father had tried to make it into some metaphor for the Noble House of Black, but as a young Sirius looked at it’s gnarled trunks and the way it consumed the stone walls nearby he imagined it surviving through the ages. As silly as it seemed, Sirius found himself in the tree that had seen the Bronze Age come and go. The storms that it had weathered over the millennia he would come to face too. While he would come out scarred by experience like that old Yew, he would still remain standing. In time he would recover and grow stronger from the downpours he braved.
Now, curled into the fetal position beneath the sheets of his bed in their shared dorm, Sirius has lost all the assurance of strength he once had. It has been six months since they broke up last school year, and they are back to being friends. The two of them couldn’t imagine not being at least friends, they said as much when Remus broke it off. That, and they didn’t want to cause a ruckus within their circle. He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship after having done some sort of internal inventory Lily had tasked him with, intending to get him out of the funk he had been in. He said he needed to first learn to love himself before he could really love anyone else. How could he argue with that? So they went back to being just friends. Sure, things were awkward at first. Maybe sometimes Sirius had gotten up and left tables without a word, but it wasn’t with a storm of frustration as teenagers were predisposed to do. No, Sirius removed himself with carefully monotone melancholy. He grew out of his blasé fits after about a month, learning to look Remus in the eye without giving in to the gaping ache that struck him each time.
That meant that at the end of the day, Sirius had so much more to empty from himself before he went to sleep. Now, six months after, it isn’t a nightly ordeal of him crying into his pillowcase like a little girl. Instead, every now and then he needs to get it out with a great upheaval that leaves him feeling dehydrated and ready to collapse. He tells himself that this is a very normal and healthy progression, despite still feeling like a raw wound dragged along a paved road like he did when Remus had sat him down.
Feeling that same heavy air entrenching him now, Sirius peeks above his covers and through the bedcurtains to check the time. It is 2:43 in the morning, he decides that everyone could use a little fresh air tonight. Getting up to open the window between his bed and James’, he hopes that when it cracks open the night breeze will blow the pain off of him as if it were a leaf in his hair.
As Sirius reaches to push up the glass pane, he’s met with an unusual resistance. He pulls again. He pushes down and then up. He shimmies the frame. Nothing. The window doesn’t budge. As he keeps yanking at it he feels his frustrations bubbling up, and he just keeps trying. He keeps pulling, pushing, yanking at the stupid fucking window that just won’t open for Merlin’s fucking sake.
The clock now reads 2:58 and Sirius is standing in front of the window between his and James’ bed with silent tears streaming down his face. He can’t wake anyone.
Realizing the mission is futile, he finally allows himself to actually look out the window he has been unleashing his emotions on. He sees the Forbidden Forest, as dark and enticing as ever. He sees the school grounds empty. He sees the mountains they are within. Sirius sees the moon. Bright and almost full, she looks down at him and he feels suddenly exposed. He already knew that the full moon was in two days time, but she reminds him that Remus will soon transform. He will not have that night to himself as he does now. That night belongs to the wolf and Padfoot, who will bound through the forest he sees now and play into the night.
Still sitting in the stifling air, Sirius remembers why he’s even standing in front of this window in the first place. He gives in, damning the ancient piece of shit and turning to the one across the room. He walks over to the window between Remus and Peter’s beds, looking in on Remus who without fail always sleeps with the curtains cracked to remind himself he’s not alone.
He’s asleep, but by no means soundly. Sweaty and fitful, Remus is fitfully clawing at himself. Letting out small, painful whimpers that Sirius couldn’t hear over his own internal monologue of self-pity, he thinks to himself. Remus is tossing and turning and is clearly in distress.
Without a second thought, Sirius does what he’s always done. He slides up this pane with ease, and then he walks up to Remus’ bedside. Here is where he hesitates. And then he hears Remus let out a small sound between a cry and a sigh. Wordlessly, he touches his arm and is met with his eyes in the dark. Remus shifts over and Sirius crawls into sheets that still smell of him from last night. Sirius slots himself between Remus’ arms, slightly tense and nowhere near asleep.
Remus drifts back to sleep easily. He’s tired and his body needs all the rest it can get before the full moon comes. Sirius, however, lies awake and painfully aware of how Remus tends to tangle their legs in his sleep and interlock their hands over his stomach. He’s ever so aware of how Remus’ fingers touch his stomach as he breathes. He feels him everywhere because he is all that is around him. Sirius is reminded that none of this is his and that he is here because Remus needs a friend. He feels guilty for allowing himself to ever think otherwise, but at this moment Sirius reminds himself of that old Yew tree from his childhood. Though he may not feel that he can be that strong for himself, he forces himself to be steadfast for Moony. Though they no longer belong to each other in the way they used to, Sirius thinks to himself that he will always belong to Remus. He promises himself there in the school bed that is too small to fit both of them at 3:54, that he will always be that ancient and unmovable Yew tree for Remus.