A/N: This is the first of three one-shots depicting the three "loves" of Remus' life. All are done for xXSarcasmAndCakeXx's Prompt Me challenge. This chapter's prompts were: "C U Next Tuesday" by Ke$ha, and the words "friend" and "owl."

So I'll be gone when the morning comes

Let's not pretend it's love

So I'll see you next Tuesday

I don't want anything from this

I got your number, don't call me

I won't sit around waiting

And I'm not just being cold

Ke$ha – C U Next Tuesday

The common room was roaring loud. Gryffindor had won their first Quidditch game of the season, which was, of course, a cause for great celebration. It had been hours since James and Sirius had returned to their House with "refreshments" to commemorate the perfect start to their final year on the team. Remus himself had downed a few shots of firewhiskey, though he was nowhere near as drunk as the other Marauders—nor several others of his peers—and was contentedly watching them make fools of themselves.

The furniture had been shoved to the periphery and Gerard Thomas was dancing about in boxers, singing loudly (and horribly) into his glass. Sirius and James had turned up the music and were grinding suggestively against each other to a raucous audience's laughter. Lily was effectively removed from the scene, smiling in vague amusement, and nursing her own (mild) drink. Remus was hiding in the same corner, sitting beside her in one of the plush seats, and hoping not to get sucked into anything embarrassing, nor into any drinking games which might result in an overly uninhibited state and thus result in said embarrassment.

Just as he was beginning to believe he might have success in this endeavour, Sirius hauled him to his feet and dragged him into the middle of the room, sandwiching Remus behind him and in front of James. The stunned werewolf swallowed hard, reflexively conjuring an image of McGonagall in a bathing suit, and played along. He was drowning in Sirius' dark scent, and couldn't help but imagine that the breath across his neck was his, rather than James', that—. He forced his mind away from the reprehensible thoughts; they were best saved for the middle of the night, in the deepest of darknesses.

Several girls were whistling and catcalling, and Remus was soon blissfully yet disappointedly free as Sirius, in surprise, allowed one of said girls to assuage him with a sloppy but enduring kiss.

The pang in Remus' heart was getting harder and harder to ignore, and he was just about to make a quick escape when Sirius yelled, "Drunken kisses all around!" and pulled Remus into him, their lips meeting roughly. Remus' heart skipped a beat, or possibly several, he couldn't be certain, and the world seemed to freeze as Sirius' tongue slid into his surprised mouth to briefly caress his own. There was a falling sensation in his stomach… and then he was standing alone as Sirius playfully chased after a fleeing James, attempting to deliver the same (precious) prize unto him.

His heart was breaking, he knew, and not for the first time. His eyes met Lily's across the room, beautiful emerald eyes filled with a pained sympathy. She knew. The thought hit him hard. If Lily knew, did James know? Would she tell? Could other people see it? His heart was beating hard and the room began to close in on him; he fled, not caring that it was after curfew or that it would make people wonder. He just needed to get out, to get away.

It was cold and dark, not just outside, but everywhere. The weather, the war-ridden mood of the Wizarding World, his inner-most state of mind. He laughed humourlessly at the ironic twist of fate that should befall him, because, really, if anyone needed more hardship, surely it was him. Remus knew he was indulging himself in a pathetic amount of pity, and he didn't usually let himself feel sorry for himself, but tonight he just couldn't bring himself to care. Everyone was entitled every once in a while, right? And surely his situation merited it.

He loved Sirius, was in love with Sirius. He couldn't quite decide when it had started. Months ago, years ago, the day they met… But it was consuming, and terrible, and wonderful, and almost consistently painful. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank into the sensation of having Sirius' lips, Sirius' tongue, on his own; sank into the sensation of having Sirius so close, grinding against him for all the world like he wanted—

"Moony, mate, something wrong?" A dark form dropped onto the cool grass beside him, cutting across his thoughts and prompting an internal groan. Of all the people that might've bothered with concern… Bother to follow him. But, of course, that was one of the reasons he loved him. He felt his pulse quicken as Sirius' nearness filtered through his worry, and he tried to subtly shift away. His friend was straight, he knew. He'd "gotten the owl," "received the memo," "read the announcement." Nothing could ever happen, no matter how many fantasies he allowed himself, no matter how many drunken kisses were bestowed upon him.

His silence seemed to be a cause for concern, for Sirius moved his hand comfortingly to Remus' shoulder. "Look, Moony—" Remus shoved his hand off and stood, an unreasonable anger flaring suddenly inside him.

"Look, Sirius," he snapped, "I'd just like to be alone, if you don't mind."

The hurt in his friend's eyes was crushing, and he felt immediately repentant. But he couldn't bring himself to retract the sentiment. If only he could kiss it away…

"Oh," Sirius replied softly, "I—Yeah, of course. If you ever want to talk about it, well, you uh," he cleared his throat, "You know where to find me."

Remus wouldn't ever talk to him about it, he knew—couldn't ever talk to him about it. He watched the dark-haired boy walk reluctantly away and a solitary tear slid down his face. He swiped it away; it would be better this way, he assured himself. With a little time, a little distance, surely he'd fall out of love with his best friend. Then he could just patch things up and everything would go back to the way it used to be, right?

If only…