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Sirius heard Remus’ signature knock before the jangling of the keys. It was so soft that Sirius had struggled to hear it in the beginning, but after a good six months of dating, his ears were attuned to it.
“Hey,” came the greeting, shortly followed by Remus sticking his head around the corner. His soft, brown curls bounced slightly, and his smile was accompanied by a nose scrunch so adorable there was only one thing Sirius could do.
He had packed his sketch pad away the moment he heard the knock, so made quick work of greeting Remus’ beautiful and soft lips with a kiss.
The key thing was still very new for them. It had started when Remus was out of town a couple of weeks ago and had asked Sirius to water his plants for him. After that, they agreed it was very convenient to have keys to each other’s flats.
Remus’ jumper still smelled of ground coffee beans and overpriced lattes, and Sirius buried himself deeply into the softness of his boyfriend.
They moved to the sofa where Remus sank into the pillows with a deep, contented sigh.
“How’s your day been?” he asked.
Sirius’ day had been the worst kind of roller coaster, as he had struggled to keep his excitement and nerves at bay. All day he had been pacing about his flat, jumping from hating his art pieces to believing he was the greatest undiscovered artist in history. It was a lot of drama even for him, but who could blame him?
An art show wanted to display his art.
Granted, it was an amateur art show, but still! It was farther than his biological family had ever believed he could go. Sirius was just one step closer to proving them wrong in all they thought about him.
“I’m all ready for tomorrow.”
Remus hummed lightly. It was very likely he would fall asleep within minutes — one of the reasons Sirius had invited him over instead of letting him brave the journey to his own flat, but Remus fought against it for a few more minutes. “Do I still not get any sneak peeks?”
Sirius shook his head. He wasn’t usually one to be insecure, but his art was something he had never willingly shared with anyone. The art itself wasn’t particularly personal, but he had always had to hide that side of himself, and some habits were harder to break than others. At least he wasn’t hiding his sexuality anymore, and Sirius thought he deserved more credit for that.
He leaned closer, hoping that perhaps they could fall asleep together, and Remus’ strong arms would settle him enough to forget his nerves.
“That’s not in your boyfriend privilege package, I’m afraid.”
Remus huffed a laugh, then did a very poor attempt at hiding a yawn. “Any way I can upgrade?”
Sirius sneakily shifted across the sofa, resting his legs on top of Remus’ so they could be closer. “Sure, but the process takes a while.”
“Let me guess, it takes a day?”
Sirius snickered. “So clever,” he whispered and used the pause in the conversation to lean forward and press a kiss to Remus’ lips. He also snaked his arms around Remus and lay down on top of him.
It didn’t take long for Remus to fall asleep, although Sirius was too nauseous to consider it. He chalked it up to nerves because he couldn’t afford to be ill.
For hours he stared at the ceiling that was darkening with the sky.
No, but his art was good.
It wouldn’t be displayed in an art show if it wasn’t good.
They wouldn’t want him if it wasn’t good.
He was good.
He was talented.
He would prove them all wrong.
He would.
If Sirius thought the day leading up to his first art show was bad, it had nothing on the day itself.
He had lost track of the number of cigarettes he had smoked, and he didn’t dare try to guess. It was better to be oblivious.
Sirius had just stubbed a cigarette, and before he could reach for another one, his phone rang. Oh, it was Remus. Finally. His nerves were messing with his usual carefully crafted cool demeanour, so as soon as he accepted the call, he was rambling.
“Hey! Where are you at? I’ve put up my drawings and I’ve looked at the others’ and they’re really good and I’ve smoked too much, and I could really do with a hug, so what’s your ETA?”
Silence.
“…Remus?”
His voice was low and tired. “I’m sorry.”
Sirius pulled the phone away from his face so Remus wouldn’t hear his shaky breath. He quickly rounded the corner of the building where no one would see him. The parking lot was already filling with friends and family coming to support the other artists who had pieces displayed at the show. The sharp surface of the cold brick dug into the palm of his hand, where he held it up to steady himself.
Remus was still talking when Sirius finally put the phone back to his ear. “…went home early and I just really hoped I’d be well, but my body won’t agree with me, so I’m sorry, but I can’t make it.”
“It’s okay!” Sirius said quickly, too quickly. “Mum and Pops will be here soon. I’m okay. I get it. You just focus on resting, alright?”
There was a short silence in which Sirius had time to swallow his disappointment. It wasn’t Remus’ fault, so Sirius didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did. His flare-ups were out of his control, and Sirius knew he was extra careful with his health before important events, so it was truly just unfortunate.
“I…” For a moment there was only static. “Good luck with your show. I know it’ll be great.”
Sirius breathed deeply. He imagined Remus was smiling in that adorable, encouraging way of his, and used it to calm himself. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, get well.”
After hanging up Sirius pressed his eyes shut.
James and Lily were out of town with Harry so they couldn’t come. He hadn’t told any of his other friends, so they weren’t going to either. Effie would show up later, and she was bringing Fleamont, so Sirius was going to be alone until then.
It was fine. He had been alone with his art for this long; what was a couple more hours?
With one last calming breath, Sirius headed back inside.
He walked quietly around the showroom, doing the worst thing he possibly could, which was comparing himself to other people. Sirius’ neighbour to the left had a better grip on colours, and his neighbour to the right had steadier lines, so he spent a while looking at their pieces and silently drawing inspiration.
His phone buzzed with a message from Effie, informing him that there was an emergency at work and she would try to make it, but it wasn’t likely. Sirius shut his phone back off without answering. He was officially on his own.
“It’s rather… trite, don’t you think?” A woman to his left asked.
Sirius realised a moment later that the stranger wasn’t talking to him, but the man she was with. They were looking at Sirius’ drawings.
“As far as queer exploration goes it has certainly been seen before.” The man adjusted his glasses, but that apparently didn’t make him appreciate the hard work Sirius had put into his craft. “I expected more.”
Though unsteady on his feet, Sirius turned on his heel and stalked in the other direction. It didn’t matter where he was going, just that he was leaving. His hands were shaking, and his features slipped into a sharp neutral.
Remus had seen it once. He thought it was scary how Sirius could completely cut himself off from what was going on around him, as if he didn’t have any emotions at all. Credit where credit was due, Sirius’ parents had prepared him for disappointment and how to hide it.
Sirius was tapping his finger against the side of his leg.
You’re an idiot for thinking this could ever amount to anything.
It was starting to irritate his skin, but he didn’t stop because it did a good job of distracting him from horrible thoughts forcing themselves into his brain. This way, he was able to stay at the art show the rest of the evening, staring at the clock every two seconds as time slowly passed.
You should leave your ‘art’ for cleanup. It belongs in the trash.
With heaps of experience ignoring the negative voices outside his head, Sirius took the stubborn approach and forced himself to stay and bring the drawings back home. Convincing himself that art could still be a viable career for him was heaps more difficult, however, as the voices snuck through the cracks.
You’ve only ever been a disappointment.
The clock on his phone finally granted him his wish of indicating the end of the art show. Sirius could leave, and hopefully bury himself in his boyfriend’s arms. Sirius had texted Remus about half an hour ago, asking if he could come over and still didn’t have an answer. But Remus wasn’t on his phone when he was unwell. He would get back to him eventually.
Sirius moved to carefully bring the drawings down, resisting the urge to rip them apart and pretend this whole thing had never happened, but he didn’t get to before someone approached.
“I’m not too late, am I?”
His eyes widened in shock. “Pops?”
Fleamont Potter was a perfect representation of what Sirius’ best friend would look like when he got older. His dark skin was vibrant against the grey hairs and scruffy beard, and his warm hazel eyes were hidden behind thick glasses. He was very… dad-shaped. They hadn’t ever been particularly close. Effie was more the affectionate type, and Sirius had honestly assumed that Fleamont wouldn’t show up without her.
Fleamont didn’t react to Sirius’ surprise. He gestured to the drawings and walked closer before Sirius had the opportunity to lead him in another direction. “These are yours?”
In the silence, he looked at Sirius until he nodded in confirmation.
The hall was steadily emptying, so the quiet atmosphere that was usually required was abandoned now. Still, Sirius didn’t hear any of it.
Fleamont cleared his throat. “I like the colours. Your pencil strokes. They have a good overlap. A good blend.”
“I, uhm… thank you.”
With his hands clasped behind his back, like some sort of art critic, his eyes moved to the next drawing. “I like this one. Reminds me of a bit of Monet with the elements of his impressionist style. I think your execution is quite impressive.”
Sirius was too stunned to call out the dad joke. He had never heard Fleamont talk about art like that before — he was the sort of person who shrugged at any installation and couldn’t see paintings beyond the surface level. Not emotion or intentional brush strokes or messages. Effie was, perhaps rather stereotypically, the one who had decorated the Potter residence. If Fleamont had to do the same, he would only own the necessities and wouldn’t care if things went together.
“How much?”
Sirius blinked, briefly wondering if he had missed something. “What?”
“How much for the drawing?”
“You want to buy it?”
“I think it looks good, so I’d like to hang it in my home.” Fleamont pulled his old-fashioned wallet from his back pocket and shuffled through the bills. He held out his offer of crisp bills in his outstretched hand.
Fleamont’s words slipped through the cracks of Sirius’ carefully curated façade. He stood, staring as if in a trance, shifting the weight between his feet before pushing the offer aside in favour of walking into his embrace. It only took a moment for Fleamont to return the hug.
Sirius buried his head in Fleamont’s jacket, distantly hoping that water stains wouldn’t show. He pressed his eyes shut and breathed deeply, but even then, his voice was shaky. “Thank you.”
Fleamont didn’t answer, but held a little tighter.
When his nerves had settled and he felt able to stand on his own two feet, Sirius swiftly stepped back. Fleamont still had his hand held up with the offer, but Sirius shook his head. “You don’t have to pay. You can just have it.”
“Nonsense. I’m happy to. That’s what you do with professional artists.” He pressed the bills into Sirius’ hands.
You’re not a professional artist, the voice in his head said.
I am now! Sirius shot back. He was no longer an amateur, at least.
The event planners began ushering them from the premises, so Sirius packed his things and handed the drawing off to Fleamont. They stood awkwardly in the parking lot when Sirius’ phone buzzed with a message from Remus.
“Do you need a ride?” Fleamont asked.
“It’s alright. I got my bike and I’m heading to Remus’ flat, but thank you, and… thank you for showing up.”
Fleamont nodded silently, and that really was all Sirius was used to from him. He made to leave with a warm feeling in his heart, but before he could, Fleamont took a step forward.
They stood silently for a second until Fleamont cleared his throat. The cold wind bit at his ears and fingers, but Sirius didn’t want to leave or move for anything in the world. Not when Fleamont was about to say the following: “I’m proud of you, for taking this chance on yourself and making it happen. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there.”
Sirius sniffled. “Pops…”
“Don’t go all mushy on me now,” he said, but continued being mushy himself. “Your art is good. You have a lot of talent and a lot of determination. I believe you can do whatever you want with it.” Fleamont put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “You go get some rest now, and say hello to Remus for me.”
Sirius let himself into Remus’ studio as quietly as he could, in case he was asleep, but was met with a very weak hi. The room was dark, except for the lights from the streetlights sneaking through the sides of the blackout curtains. He was so used to navigating the space by now that it wasn’t a problem locating the bed and the dark lump possessing it.
Sirius kneeled. “I brought Chinese food,” he whispered.
“Heavens,” Remus sighed, and blindly reached for it.
Sirius handed the container over, and he immediately dug in. Before joining the feast, Sirius took the wet cloth from Remus’ forehead, switched it out with a fresh one and eased the transition with a forehead kiss.
They shifted around to both fit on Remus’ single bed and ate quietly. Remus mostly nibbled on a piece of chicken though.
Sirius was on his back, staring at the dark ceiling and listening to the street noise outside. He could feel Remus’ gaze boring into him and silently awaited the inevitable: “How did it go?”
“It was alright…” He glanced sideways at Remus, who could barely keep his eyes open. “I should let you rest.”
“I’m fine. Not tired, just bored.”
Sirius stayed quiet for just a moment more. He didn’t want to admit to how poorly it had gone when everyone around him believed in him so fully. They just… they didn’t know. They couldn’t form a proper opinion when they hadn’t seen his drawings.
“Mum had a work emergency, so she didn’t come, but Pops did.”
“He did?”
“Yeah… he bought one of my drawings, said that’s what you do with professional artists.” The bills were in the pocket of Sirius’ leather jacket, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He genuinely didn’t need the money, and he would feel odd spending it anyway.
“That’s lovely,” Remus said, but got quieter when he saw Sirius’ expression. “Right?”
“Yeah, I mean—” Sirius considered his words carefully. He loved Fleamont, obviously, but… “I don’t always know with him. He’s very masculine, traditional. A family man. I’ve always wondered if he’s disappointed that I’m not like that, and that I’m… you know.”
Remus shook his head instantly. “I’m sure he’s not. Men of that generation are just… I don’t want to say emotionally stunted—”
Sirius snorted. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I want to be kinder than that.” His eyebrows slowly inched closer.
“Can’t find it?”
“Shut up.” Remus moved closer, though there hadn’t been much distance between them in the first place, and kissed Sirius’ cheek, which earned him a few extra thinking minutes. “Men of that generation are not as in touch with their feelings, but that doesn’t mean they’re not feeling. To me, this is a clear attempt to connect with you. I bet he’s going to hang that drawing in their dining room so that every time they have guests over — which we both know is often — he can point to it and say: My son made that.”
Sirius liked that thought.
It made him feel warmer on the inside than anything ever had before. Even more than Sirius’ first kiss with Remus, and that was quite an experience.
Fleamont had seen his drawings, and he liked them.
“I’ll show you the rest of them when you’re feeling better,” Sirius said finally. He felt ready.
Remus grinned, looking incredibly beautiful in the process. “Now that’s an incentive. Maybe I should buy one too, before they’re selling for thousands.”
Sometimes Remus was so cute that it was hard to breathe, and there was an ocean of things he wanted to do to show his gratitude, but those would have to wait. For now, he settled on placing a light kiss on Remus’ cute, freckle-speckled nose.
They finished their food and went to sleep, happily struggling to fit on the bed without practically being on top of each other.
Remus ended up being right about Fleamont and the drawing. Through the years the collection expanded, and it ended up being Fleamont’s main contribution to the decoration in their home, and his favourite part too.