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Summary
“You were together, weren’t you?” Sirius repeated gently when James didn’t say anything. “Like me and Moony? Whatever you want to call it - boyfriends, partners, lovers.”
James took a deep, shaky breath. Looking out at the drab London skyline, he thought of butterbeer foam and the astronomy tower and quidditch matches and spilled ink and stormy grey eyes.
“Worse,” James whispered finally, letting the tears softly roll down his face. “Much worse.”
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Written for the Siriusly Noah Fest.
Prompt - “If I was empty space, and you were a formless shape, we'd fit / but love leaves little runway, and every time we run straight over it”