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Summary
The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them as Sirius dropped to the crouch, icy eyes softening the moment they met Remus’. His expression shifted from exuberant to quiet concern in an instant, his smile turning tender.
“You look awful,” he murmured, brushing a hand through Remus’ hair with careful fingers. The motion was gentle, reverent, like he was afraid of hurting him, or maybe like he knew exactly how much he already hurt.
Remus let his eyes close for a second, lashes fluttering at the touch. Everything was too warm, the fire, the blankets, Sirius’ skin; but he leaned into it anyway, chasing the comfort.
