Title:
Futile
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Summary: Remus is in
love. He thought Sirius hadn't noticed.
"I'm in love," Remus found himself saying, one ordinary Friday, laying across the dorm floor with Peter and Sirius at his sides, "I'm in love," he repeated, incase they hadn't heard (or incase they had) and frowned when he got no reply.
It didn't matter anyway, he thought, rolling onto his back. The thick carpet curled into him and he closed his eyes. It wasn't anything new, to him, it hadn't been anything new since second year when he'd woken up on the common room couch with Sirius's head pressed against his shoulder and he'd realised, as succintly as possible, "Oh shit."
It was dealing with it that was the difficult part. Shrugging off every too long hug, every battering of breath against his ear, every arm slung about his shoulders. The hope was worse. The tight knot unfurling in the pit of his stomach everytime Sirius was too near him. Too friendly. Too -- anything, really. His face would light up, his eyes would widen, and he'd smile. He wouldn't stop smiling and sometimes he thought Sirius knew. Most of the time he thought Peter knew, and James knew, so he sat as far away as possible when they were all together. Just incase. The panic would rise like bile, hitting the back of his throat, and he'd want to run.
Because as much as he loved him, he also knew he had no chance of it being returned. Futile. Impossible. His feet nudged against one another, his knees bashed together, and his legs folded idly on the floor. He could feel Sirius's body turned towards his own. Could picture the grin, almost. And his body ached for it.
"I heard you the first time Moony," he felt, rather than heard, Sirius whisper. His voice shivering down his spine; "I was just too busy trying to fall back out of love with you, to reply."