Lying there in the darkness Remus' mind is free to wander. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling whilst tiny colored dots sway in his vision. Remus wonders for a moment if the colored dots that only come while it's dark come because his eyes are used to the light and without it they must make their own replacement. He sighs and rolls onto his side, knowing full well that in a while he'll be turning on his other side due to the same uneasiness, but for now is thankful for the temporary comfort.
In the dark his thoughts run free, free from the speculation and questions that the light brings. Remus knows that he thinks too much while he lies in bed, awaiting sleep, but he can't help it; nighttime is the only time he can think clearly. The pillow beneath his head is growing uncomfortable so Remus switches sides again, knowing somehow that he won't find sleep easily tonight. Not that it's easy any night, but tonight will surely be one of those nights when he's awake into the very early hours of the morning.
Remus decides after some deliberation with himself that maybe he ought to get up and clear his thoughts. So, leaving his sinfully warm bed, Remus puts on his slippers and tugs his curtains open. The room is dimly lit by a small nightlight that is shaped like a clown–though Remus doesn't know how it is powered–because James insisted that it stay there so that he wouldn't trip over Peter's shoes in the middle of the night, not because he's afraid of the dark or anything. James isn't fooling them–they all know how much of a chicken he is in the dark.
Remus pads over to the window and stares out at the stars vainly watching for a shooting star, as he rests his head against the wall. He looks out without seeing out, but instead seeing flimsy visions formed in his mind that somehow are given to his eyes. He sighs softly and wonders if he is meant to be alone. All he wants is someone who will come up behind him and kiss his neck fondly, telling him that he really ought to be in bed right now. Someone who will run their fingers through his hair and tell him that his scars don't look that bad, even though they both know that his scars really do look that bad. Remus isn't picky, mind you, someone is the word he thinks, not a woman or a man. He knows that he can't afford the luxury of one distinct sexuality and frankly he only wants someone, anyone, just one person, who will love him for him; werewolf, scarred, book-loving boy and all. He wants somebody to hold and rely on, someone who will hold him and rely on him.
Okay, so yes, he is jealous of James, who has finally won Lily over; and yes, he is jealous of Peter, who has a new girlfriend every other month; and Sirius, who doesn't date often, but when he does it is serious. Remus, a boy who has never dated, never crushed, never pined, never kissed (except for that one Truth-or-Dare game which didn't count because James was as surprised as Remus when he agreed) wants even the meaningless teenage dates–awkward silences, bad clothes, too much perfume and all. He wants something other than his books and delusional, romantic fantasies which aren't all that common for teenage boys his age, as far as he knows.
His eyes are closed, though he can't remember closing them. Someone is stirring in their bed. Remus stands perfectly still, pretending he doesn't notice so that whoever it is won't ruin his moment. Whoever it is, however, is now standing next to Remus, rather concerned when he asks Remus twice if he's okay and there's no answers. Remus opens his eyes and blinks. It's Sirius. He looks back out of the window.
"Yes, I'm fine Padfoot," Remus whispers, his voice resembling a frog.
"What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?" Sirius asks softly, staring at Remus with fond concern through a veil of black hair.
"I ought to ask the same of you," Remus says, knowing that his comment sounds rather defensive, but he's really too tired to be questioned by Sirius. Sirius shrugs and looks out on the grounds below them.
"I couldn't sleep either," he admits. Remus hears something else in his voice, some sort of pain or regret, but he doesn't question it.
He wonders offhandedly why he and Sirius protect their nighttime secrets so; why they can't tell each other anything in the dark, yet in the light they share everything. He supposes that they're backwards, aren't they? The protection of the dark is supposed to make things like this easier, not more difficult. Though when have they done anything the correct way? It seems to Remus that they've spent their whole lives doing things the wrong way, detached from everyone else who is doing things the proper way. And for some reason this makes him feel even more secluded, odd, and different than everyone else. But how can he be different from everyone else if Sirius, too, is backwards?
Remus shakes the thought away and studies Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Not much is to be said for Sirius, who is now staring down at his hands, still hidden behind his disheveled hair. Sirius is blunt, honest, and loyal. He stands up for his beliefs and his friends, and everyone else can go to hell. He pretends not to care what people think of him, pretends to have this devil-may-care attitude, but Remus isn't so sure that Sirius truly doesn't care. Remus, having seen Sirius like this–quiet and pensive, reflecting on his life with a keen sense of the world that Remus can't quite grasp– is positive that Sirius isn't only pretending not to care what others think, but that he's just plain pretending around everyone. Remus, having seen Sirius at his worst–abused and crying, hateful toward the world–is positive that the Sirius standing next to him now is the real Sirius.
Remus sighs and leans his head against Sirius shoulder hesitantly, relieved to feel an arm slip around his waist, pull him close in return.
Why must humans be so confusing? They pretend and lie, backstab and plan, hate and hurt. Humans, being creatures of habit as that old cliche says, cannot seem to find a solid block of emotions to stick with. They're bundles of contradictions neatly wrapped in skin and held together with bones, as dangerous as a ticking bomb, and just as fickle and frightening.
"I'll make you a deal," Sirius says quietly. His hand is secure on Remus' waist. It's slightly clammy through the cotton shirt Remus wore to bed, but also a great comfort, so not unwelcome. "You tell me what is wrong with you, and I'll tell you what's wrong with me."
Remus ponders this for a moment. What could come of telling Sirius, the most unpredictable of humans, the worries and thoughts that keep him awake at night? He could get teased, though that was unlikely with Sirius in this mood. He could scare Sirius off, making his friend think that Remus was hitting on him, though these small touches between the two were not uncommon, even if well-hid from James and Peter. Or Sirius could start a campaign to find Remus a soul-mate, which would most likely fail miserably, depress Remus more and snuff out the tiny flame of hope that he had managed to keep going. So, his choices didn't look too good.
"You're first," Remus replied, his voice still froggy and exhausted. How charming. Sirius was quiet, staring outside like Remus, holding Remus just a little too tightly to himself.
"I'm worried about what will happen after Hogwarts," Sirius whispers as Remus is ready to ask Sirius if he's sure he wants to talk about it. "What I'm going to do, since I still haven't the slightest clue. Where I'll live, where you guys will live, if we'll still be friends–"
"Of course we'll still be friends, Padfoot. 'Nothing as trivial as graduating could tear up The Grand Legacy of the Marauders', remember? Those were your own words, and I must say that I agree with them. 'We'll still be friends, we'll get houses next to each other–' "
" 'And our kids will grow up together.' Yeah, I remember," Sirius says as a sigh. He swallows loudly. Remus can hear it next to his ear. He wraps his other arm around Remus' waist, buries his noise in Remus' hair, pulling Remus so that Remus is almost directly in front of him, clinging to Remus as if the world depended on it. "I don't doubt any of that, really. I'm scared to death of the future, Moony, but I'm even more scared that I'll spend it by myself, trapped forever as Sirius the Bachelor. I want someone to know me, Moony!" he says with a bit of hysteria tinging his words.
Remus almost laughs at the perfect coincidence, but manages to refrain as laughing at Sirius during one of his few heartfelt confessions wouldn't be very intelligent. Sirius is an atomic bomb among humans.
"I know you," Remus mumbles, more to himself than Sirius, though the room is so silent that Sirius hears him anyway.
"That's not what I meant..."Sirius says weakly. To Remus, Sirius doesn't sound too sure of what he means. He sounds like most seventeen-year-olds do on some level: dead-set on what they think that they want, but lacking the definition of what that is exactly and the means to reach it.
"I know what you meant Sirius," Remus says kindly. He leans his head back against Sirius shoulder, slouching slightly to be comfortably flush against Sirius' chest. "What you said was more or less the same thing I was going to tell you... Only I'm not concerned about losing you guys after school, I know we'll all stick together," he sighs and resists the urge to fidget, to move away from Sirius and hide back behind the thick curtains on that hang on his bed. "No, the only think I am concerned about is spending the rest of my life alone, without someone who truly knows me–secrets and all."
They're quiet once more after Remus' confession. Remus feels some sense of relief, of the weight of his silly worries being lifted way. Somehow the thought of Sirius being concerned about spending his life alone is a comfort. At least now Remus knows that he isn't alone in his foolishness, isn't the only boy anxious about his future happiness.
"There's an easy solution to our problems, y'know," Sirius says, softer than before, his breath moving Remus' head full of curls like a gentle breeze.
"And what is that?" Remus asks, almost fearing the answer. Sirius with an idea is not safe. Sirius in a serious, mellow mood is also not safe. Sirius in a serious, mellow mood with an idea? Remus feels that he has a right to be wary in this situation. Sirius could suggest anything.
"We... we could try dating..." Is the suggestion. Point proven. Hole in one. Remus Lupin is a winner! Instead of doing some odd victory dance that would have been difficult to explain to Sirius, Remus falls eerily still and attempts to focus on the issue at hand.
"What?"
Sirius pulls away from Remus suddenly, almost causing Remus to fall, sending a chill of cold night air into the space that had been their's. He turns Remus around, looking directly into Remus' eyes for the first time that evening.
"I don't want to be alone, and neither do you. We both want someone who knows us for what we are–who accepts us. We know each other better than anyone else ever could, besides James and Peter, and they already have found their perfect girls. We accept each other, Moony," he ends, now looking down, away from Remus's thoughtful gaze.
Remus hates to admit this, even within the privacy of his own mind, but he sees Sirius' logic. And he likes the idea of it. He doesn't know how he hadn't thought of it before. He and Sirius are almost complete opposites–they get along impossibly well and frustrate each other beyond belief, but couldn't bear to part from one another for any length of time. It was almost too perfect.
"Okay," Remus says, attempting to catch Sirius' gaze. It's not difficult, as Sirius looks up quickly a moment later.
"Okay?" he repeats with his brow furrowed in confusion and slight disbelief.
"Yeah, I think you have a wonderful point there. I almost wish that I had thought of it," Remus says with a smile. Sirius is still for a moment, but is gracious and treats Remus with a soft, gentle laugh.
"What do you say we head for bed, Moony? We just might be able to sleep better now," Sirius is smiling at Remus now, gazing at him with the utmost affection. Remus simply smiles and nods, feeling a new sense of nervousness concerning Sirius that he hasn't felt before seep into him and settle in an uncomfortable lump in the pit of his stomach. He tries to remind himself that this is still the same Sirius standing next to him, but it only slightly works. The prospect of dating his friend is exciting and nerve-wracking and Remus wonders of nausea should accompany this experience.
Before they part for their respective beds to try and gain a couple hours' sleep, without saying anything else to one another, prepared to part in an awkward silence, Remus stops. Before he can ponder his action, he throws his arms around Sirius, unwilling to turn their carefree friendship into some difficult, uneasy relationship. Sirius wraps his arms tightly around Remus' waist again, the pressure building in Remus a sweet drowsiness. He feels safe and secure, as he normally does around Sirius, and ready to fall asleep right there in Sirius' arms.
They stand together in the small space between their beds, holding each other as close and possible, their chests flush, moving together as they breathe. The ends of Sirius' hair tickle Remus' nose, but he does nothing, as he is quite sure that his own curly hair is bothering Sirius. He simply pulls himself closer, tighter, one with this feeling of home before he pulls back a little and places on Sirius' cheek a loving, lingering kiss. They reluctantly untangle themselves, letting hands roam for just a few seconds longer.
"Good night," Remus whispers, not trusting his voice, unsure if Sirius had heard him.
"Night Moony," Sirius says just as quietly.
Remus turns away and crawls into his bed, knowing that Sirius has done the same. He can't help but wonder, as he lies there in the fresh comfort, if when Sirius held him before, as if the world would end if he let go, if perhaps Remus wasn't so wrong about that. Perhaps if Sirius did let go, his world would end. Remus is convinced that his would. Perhaps they really can give each other happiness. He knows that he's willing to give it a chance.
Lying there in the darkness, Remus' mind is free to wander. He lies on his side, facing Sirius' bed that he can't see through the thick scarlet curtains. His mind is free to wander–but it doesn't. Remus drifts into sleep almost instantly, his face graced with a small, almost guilty smile.