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It seems like they have all forgotten.
Almost impossible, Sirius thinks, they all love it.
Sirius knows, because he loves it the most and that’s something they all know.
A child is laughing somewhere in the building as the streetlight outside their living room window casts its warm light all across the navy sofa, the beige walls lined with photo after photo, the wrapped presents, the small handmade paper houses with fluffy faux-snow adorned roofs on the dining table — the Christmas tree .
It could be such a wonderful Christmas, what with the snow falling from the black sky and the scent of cinnamon and oranges ascending from various candles around the open kitchen and living space.
The stereo is playing Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney, one of Remus’ favourite Christmas songs, which is only a handful of songs, but he’s not here to listen to any of the melodic lyrics.
In fact, even the music can’t drown out the heavy silence all around him.
Sirius reaches out and begrudgingly pushes the ornament of a reindeer that’s somehow lost one of its eyes over the years. Sirius’ favourite. It swings back and forth and for a moment, the light of the candle on the window sill reflects in its eye.
Sirius’ forehead aches from all the frowning he’s been doing ever since Marlene and Dorcas had informed him they wouldn’t be coming. And then Peter had texted him something along the lines of “family emergency”.
Mary wouldn’t be there anyway. She always skipped their Christmas party to hang out with her siblings — which evokes not only an embarrassing sense of jealousy inside Sirius, but it’s also so apparent that his therapist hasn’t stopped pestering him about it the past few weeks.
The grandfather clock goes off the minute the day turns nineteen hours old and Sirius glares at it, feeling offended that the clock has the audacity to add to his misery, mocking him almost.
Not letting reality wash over him too quickly, Sirius drops down onto the sofa, pulls out his phone, and feels his heart sink at the idea of everyone else actually forgetting about his favourite holiday.
There’s nothing. No text, no call - no sign of anyone caring about what is currently transpiring, and this time he’s not being dramatic, no, it’s already an hour past their usual celebration time. An hour .
Repeatedly bumping his foot against the coffee table in a nervous fit, Sirius opens his chat with James, rereads at the last messages he had sent him and the blue checks that indicate that, indeed, he has seen them and not bothered to send some sort of quick reply. A punch in the face.
His fingers are faster than his brain as he throws patience out the window.
Answer me!!! What’s wrong?
Sirius lets out a distressed breath, stares James’ name down in an attempt to summon his status to turn to ‘online’, but as two minutes pass, Sirius’ foot stills.
He sends a quick, Call me when you read this please, lets the screen go dark and his phone drops next to him on the sofa with a dull thud.
Above him, the child is laughing again and Sirius, usually adoring the sounds of having children around, starts contemplating becoming a grumpy old man early and complaining about it.
How unfair and rude of them, to show off their happy little Christmas party while others are suffering around them.
Sirius’ gaze flicks to the photos on the opposite wall. Photos of Lily and James dancing at their wedding, Marlene, Peter and Dorcas in Halloween costumes, Mary and Sirius laughing at Sirius’ birthday party last year, Harry taking his first steps, Remus with his grandparents in their lovely cabin in Wales.
Their friends. The ones that should be here, celebrating Christmas with Sirius right this moment.
Christmas has always been Sirius’ way of showing how much he adored his friends, his family. Would do anything for them if they have an ion of love and understanding left for him, which they all have left for him, Sirius can finally recognise after years of Remus purposefully pushing him out of their flat and into his car to drive him to therapy, waiting there until Sirius, stiff back and red-rimmed eyes, returns to the passenger seat.
Last week had been filled with Remus stubbing his toe on the Christmas decoration boxes in the kitchen, Sirius shutting the door in Remus’ face whenever he so much as tried to enter the kitchen while Sirius was baking and cooking and making anything that indicated “Christmas Time”, simply because Sirius couldn’t possibly concentrate with Remus’ beautiful features near him, and of course decorating the tree smelling of frosty winter nights, completing the picture of something wonderful happening any time soon. Remus was allowed to be in the room for this — had to be. The Christmas tree was his flatmates duty as much as it was his. And Remus was the only one of them able to reach high enough to put the star where it belonged, entirely unrelated.
“Are you making me wear another ugly swea— ah, why am I even asking?” Remus had asked anyway, resigned, over hot berry and cinnamon tea (acquired from their recent Christmas market trip) and Sirius’ last biscuit mishap (who knew that too much sugar turned out to be not as good as it sounds?).
What a ridiculous question, really.
“What a ridiculous question, Remus. I ordered them last week. Should be here soon,” Sirius had said, grinning, and snaked his socked foot between Remus’ under the table, a gesture that was equally comforting and painful.
A strictly platonic gesture, too.
Sirius has been trying over the four years of them sharing a flat. Touching and sneaking glances, snuggling into bed with him when the nights turn colder, taking Remus everywhere with him and going everywhere Remus goes. Waking up with him in the mornings Remus has to work early, making him his coffee (black) while Remus gets ready in the bathroom, even though Remus rolls his eyes every time he sees Sirius trying to keep his head from thumping down onto the kitchen table.
Rushing to put on his boots whenever he hears the keys jingling in the hallway, a signal of Remus going to the shops and being met with the amusement in Remus’ eyes. “Like a fucking dog, Black.”
Sirius has had enough lonely moments in his life and he doesn’t want Remus to ever feel the same.
Sirius’ feelings for his flatmate are too enormous for that.
Alas, Remus has never initiated anything of the sort. On the contrary, he will stay late with his colleagues until the sun rises, lock his bedroom door more times than not, go on dates even every once in a while.
The dates .
Sirius can’t help feeling sick to his stomach when Remus puts on his date jumper. The maroon one, the one that made him look put together and handsome, the one that makes Sirius look at him with a certain longing for a quiet life and think, “Stay with me . Why won’t you just stay with me instead?”
Sirius tastes blood and quickly releases his thumb from in between his teeth before his brain can spiral any further. It is Christmas after all and so what if they have forgotten about him?
His gaze lands on the jumper hanging over the back of the leather armchair, the same one he’s wearing but untouched since the day it arrived.
With a jolt, Sirius gets up from the sofa and strides over to the soft green fabric with the ice skating penguin on it and, as he’s staring down at it, letting his fingers trace the stiching, wonders if they finally have had enough of his “antics”, as they love to describe it.
Maybe this is the one ugly jumper that’s just finally — enough.
Dread seeps through his chest and engulfs his heart with the sudden realisation that maybe none of his friends cared for Christmas. That they had all endured Sirius’ Christmas music, his unlucky baking skills, the films — all of it, just because Sirius wanted them to.
But what about the presents—
The phone lights up and James’ name is written across the screen.
Sirius all but scrambles over there and onto the sofa again, answering the call with an equally elated and accusatory, “James!”
“Sirius,” the other man says, and Sirius can hear what sounds like Harry being tickled by Lily. “Listen—“
“I’m so glad you called. Do you ever check your phone? Nobody’s here yet and I’m— I don’t know why.” Oh, he does sound a bit pathetic, doesn’t he?
There’s a short pause on the other end and Sirius’ heart starts pounding terribly. “James? When are you coming?”
A sigh and a quiet tell him from Lily.
“Sirius, we can’t make it this year. Something’s wrong with our plane tickets and everything else is completely booked. Can you imagine that?” James starts rambling, like he does when he’s nervous. Or lying. Sirius' face falls. “I’ve tried everything, but we don’t want Harry to spend Christmas at the airport, so…”
Sirius swallows around the hot lump in his throat and nods quickly, then starts rambling like he does when he’s sad about something he doesn’t deem worthy of being sad about. Sirius and James have always been unable to shut up.
“Of course not, James, that would be fucking horrible. Stay in Ireland and take care and… and we can meet soon? Or I’ll just send over the things I got you for Christmas and some of the gingerbread I made? Or maybe Remus and I can come visit you—“
“Yes! Totally, uh… I have to go now. Happy Christmas and have some of that German mulled wine for me.”
“Happy Christmas to all of you,” Sirius says, concealing the cracking voice with a calculated cough. “Love y—“
James hangs up before Sirius can finish.
He stares, helplessly, at nothing in particular for a while. Letting himself feel the things as his therapist always says, because Sirius apparently isn’t able to let himself feel the things he feels.
Sirius feels like calling Remus, the one person who is sure to come here sooner or later. Sirius prefers sooner.
Waiting for Remus to pick up, Sirius wonders why he thought he’d be able to handle this a lot better than he is. That his eyes wouldn’t well up or that his fists didn’t clench so tightly, leaving red indents on his palms.
His therapist has always been spot on with her troubled thoughts surrounding Sirius’ behaviour. Like that he is quick to agree to things his loved ones wanted of him, without thinking about possible consequences or other plans, resulting in multiple upset messages and phone calls and a wave of unrecognised guilt washing over him. Or Sirius’ issue with being unable to accept that he sometimes feels like having to adjust to someone’s emotional state, even when he doesn’t have the energy for it, therefore resulting in him appearing unauthentic — masking.
What follows are long nights of wet pillows and trying to wake up Remus, wiggling his way underneath the warm blanket of his flatmate.
“Tough night?” Remus asks, every single time, with the instant effect of more tears streaming down Sirius’ pale cheeks and a plaintive sigh.
“Maybe if I stay in your bed every night, the tough nights will go away?” Sirius had asked one morning after a tough night and watched as the tea spoon stirring Remus’ English breakfast tea stilled for a nanosecond, continued, and finally rested on Remus’ brunch plate.
His eyes had flicked up to meet Sirius’, a slow smile spreading on his lips, something gentle. Contrary to his words. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Sirius.”
A weird kind of tension had been in the air after that. Sirius had nodded along, shrugged, and dipped a piece of carrot into the cream cheese. “No? Yeah, no, yes, of course. I was only joking.”
“You also have the coldest feet of all England. Really, I’d go see a doctor if I were you.” Remus had snorted and reached for the butter.
“Okay.” Sirius had chuckled, felt something sharp in his chest. He pushed the butter closer to Remus. “I should , maybe. I won’t bother you with my icy toes again, I promise, darling.”
Remus had always grimaced at the pet name. “God, stop that.”
That was a year ago and Sirius all but fears stepping anywhere near Remus’ bed now, thinking about his cold feet.
Remus picks up when Sirius is about to give up.
“Yeah, just a second…” Seemingly speaking with someone else. A door closes, the sounds of other people muffled now. “Sorry, hey, everything alright?”
“Hey, uhm…” Sirius swallows. “Just wondering how you are and where you are and, not that I’m stalking you or anything, but I just—“
“Wait a second,” Remus interrupts. Sirius can hear another man talking, Remus is laughing at something he says. “Okay, I’m back. Come again?”
“Where are you? Sounds like you’re at a pub or something,” Sirius huffs, crosses one arm over his chest, both of them if he wasn’t holding that damned phone.
“Well, probably because I am. I’m out with some colleagues,” Remus says, sounding distracted and Sirius hates it. All of it. Remus never goes out with those idiots, he’s forever complaining about their shitty personalities. “I never go out with them, but since it’s Christmas… ah, you know.”
Sirius stiffens, doesn’t even want to know what his face is doing at the moment, but his eye feels like it’s twitching and his fingers start clawing into the poor penguin's beak.
“But—,” Sirius falters, quickly relaxing his fingers in fear of stretching the material that had been way too expensive to be ruined by such silly emotions.
Remus can do whatever he wants. He’s not obligated to be here if he doesn’t want to be. It breaks Sirius’ heart nonetheless and the thought of spending even one Christmas without Remus is positively upsetting.
It was four years ago that Remus had confessed how much Christmas reminded him of his late mother. They had just bought the new sofa and welcomed it with beer and pizza.
“She always made me the happiest. I can’t really do anything she loved without feeling… sad? Or just… I just can’t , Sirius,” he had said when Sirius started talking about the upcoming festivities.
“I love Christmas, too,” Sirius had said around a mouthful of pizza. “And if you don’t want to, you really don’t have to. Celebrate, I mean. I’d love for you to be here if you change your mind.”
A complicated expression had flashed across Remus’ features as he took another swig of his beer.
“I’ll think about it.”
They’d agreed on one day. One day of Christmas — 25th of December and that’s it.
A glass breaks on the other end of the line and Sirius’ attention snaps back to his flatmate. “Alright then. Do you want me to keep some of the German mulled wine warm for you or… er, do you know when you’ll be home yet?”
“Mh, not really. You can have all the wine you want, don’t worry about it,” Remus chuckles. So lightly and unbothered that Sirius momentarily wants to fall through a deathly veil and perish.
“‘Kay.”
“Yeah.”
“Mhm,” Sirius hums, chewing on his bottom lip. He releases it when there’s nothing left to say. “Have fun, then. And don’t drink too much and take care and blah blah—“
“You too.” A pause. “Happy Christmas, Sirius.”
The candle on the window sill dies and Sirius watches, then smells the smoke. “Likewise.”
Sirius takes a deep breath when the line goes dead; his lungs feel stuck.
One Christmas without Remus, alright, that’s not the end of the world. How manageable that sounds. So manageable that Sirius just wants to rip off his constricting jumper and blow out every single candle and stomp on the stereo. Maybe give the child from upstairs all of the horrid gingerbread and down the mulled wine in one go.
It’s when the music stops that Sirius gets up and a flare of anger bursts through his entire being, and it’s when he turns of the Christmas tree lights with a determined plug-pull that he begins to sweat, and it’s when he fills his favourite mug (red ceramic with a golden roaring lion) to the brim with mulled wine, when it sloshes and soaks his green jumper sleeve, stains it a rich dark red, and burns his wrist and fingers — it’s then, that the Christmas spirit inside of Sirius abandons him, substituted by a exhausting kind of emptiness.
Sirius leaves the hot mulled wine untouched as he stares at his red-stained fingers and palm, wrist and sleeve. God , is he tired.
He watches, with burning eyelids, as a single drop travels down his thumb and Sirius catches it, with a deep sigh, with his tongue.
Bed , Sirius thinks glumly, bed sounds splendid .
And so Sirius does just that, as he pulls off the sticky jumper and throws it carelessly in the direction of the laundry basket, stops for a second to stare at it as if it had offended him when it lands next to it, then proceeds to drag his feet through the door of—
Sirius stops in front of Remus’ empty bed. It smells like him, which does not sound creepy, thank you very much.
The weirdness of being in Remus’ room doesn’t occur to Sirius all too quickly, not until he finds the key on Remus’ bedside table.
“What…?” Sirius frowns, reaches for it, turns around slowly to confirm that the door is indeed open and not locked (rather unnecessarily), and carefully puts the key down again. Remus rarely leaves his door unlocked when he goes to work, hates when people, especially Sirius, have access to it when he’s not there.
For a fleeting moment, Sirius turns to leave again, something about a moral high ground. A second later, he stops abruptly and makes for Remus’ closet, nearly trips over a stack of notebooks on the floor while doing so.
When he can’t find the objects of his desire in the, to Sirius’ surprise, very tidy closet, he catches something on Remus’ bed and decides curtly: it’ll do.
He wrestles Remus’ sleeping shirt over his head, and flops down onto the bed to kick the ripped jeans off — revelling in the comfortable new attire when he hears a sound and freezes.
No , nobody should be coming to visit. They all said they wouldn’t , must’ve been upsta—
Another knock.
Sirius’ heart leaps as he gets to his feet and speeds down the hall to the front door.
So, Remus must be home early and there’s still enough time to have some hot mulled wine and watch a Christmas film and maybe, if Sirius pushes the right buttons, they’d even do something related to cuddling or at least touching and the bloke from the pub can go fuck himself in every possible position and all the way to—
Sirius opens the door, must wear an enthusiastic expression, because it slips off almost immediately. Not only, when it dawns on him that Remus wouldn’t knock , since he lives here and owns several keys , but also because on the other side is the person who frowns upon Christmas more than Remus does, holding a small present in his gloved hands.
“Reggie,” Sirius says, and his voice sounds small to his own ears. “You—“
There’s a crooked strained smile on his brother’s lips.
“Happy Christmas, Sirius.”
Sirius doesn’t know what his face is portraying for Regulus’ eyebrows to draw together in concern, but this whole day must be a terrible joke.
Regulus tilts his head a little, looks a lot like the child he used to be and lets his eyes roam over Sirius' whole being. He nods towards Sirius’ torso. “What’s this, then? No Christmas jumper, and… did I wake you up or is this what you call proper Christmas fashion nowadays?”
“You’re here,” Sirius points out incredulously. “Why? You— why?”
“Can I come in? It’s freezing ,” Regulus says and sniffs as if to make a point. His nose is a little red. Sirius’ nose also turns red the second he steps outside during cold weather. He continues when Sirius doesn’t budge, “Oh no , did I break you?”
Sirius runs a hand across his face and sighs, then turns to walk into the kitchen where it still smells of cinnamon and the sticky full mug is cooling down rapidly. He hears the door shut and footsteps following him.
“You want some German mulled wine ?” Sirius asks, mocks himself, and takes a swig of the red lion mug.
“That’d be courteous, thanks,” Regulus says and is sitting down at the table when Sirius turns to lean against the kitchen counter.
Sirius snorts. “ Courteous. With utmost respect, Mylord.”
“Shut up, git,” Regulus says with enough snide and equally as much lightheartedness that Sirius can’t help but smile fondly at him.
“But honestly.” Sirius takes another sip, then remembers Regulus wanting some mulled wine for himself and fixes him one, too. “Honestly, what are you doing here? Because— no, let me speak, because you never visit. On holidays.”
Regulus accepts the mug with both hands and a murmured ‘thanks’ . Sirius sits down opposite him and manages to spill some more of his beverage down his arm. He reacts immediately this time and licks a long stripe from his elbow to his palm. When he looks back at Regulus, he’s met with a disgusted sneer.
Sirius kicks him under the table. “Speak, you fool!”
“Yes, I—” Regulus eyes the very obviously too large shirt on Sirius, seems to collect himself then. “I’m here because—“ Regulus struggles for words, very unlike him except for when he’s— “Open this.” lying.
He pushes the small emerald coloured present with the silver bow in front of Sirius and hides his flushed nose in the warm liquid in front of him. Gulps down several large sips.
Sirius eyes the present in front of him first, then his younger brother and narrows his eyes.
“Do you smell that?”
Regulus blinks twice. “What?”
“The smell of something fishy .”
Regulus groans and rolls his eyes. They might get stuck if he continues, Sirius thinks. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you think you’re so clever and all, but I’ve known you for twenty-four years—“
“Twenty-five.”
“ Twenty-five years—“
“Sirius, stop it already. You’re so exhausting —“
“—and I know everything about you—“
“Just open the present, Sirius.”
“—so to assume that I’d fall victim to your silly little pranks—“
“ What ? You’re actually being ridiculous right now.”
“—when I know for a fact that you don’t give a fuck about me on my favourite holiday—“
“Bloody—“
“What is the real intent of your visit, brother?”
Regulus looks about ready to kill someone by the time he’s finished and there’s nothing that could brighten Sirius’ day like being the reason for it.
“Not sorry,” Sirius grins and downs the rest of his mulled wine, then gets up to refill his mug. To the brim, sloshing and palm licking — the full experience.
All the mockery and mulled wine can’t make Sirius ignore the painful tug at his heart. It’s too much, now. The day has been too much.
Sirius doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until Regulus’ voice cuts through the static buzzing between Sirius’ ears.
“Are you upset? About me being here?”
Sirius closes his eyes for a second, collecting his thoughts.
He’s not upset about Regulus being here. Quite the opposite. Regulus never answers Sirius’ Christmas and birthday invites and for reasons Sirius can only speculate about. Maybe it’s the lack of fucks Sirius has left for their parents, or the fact that he didn’t show up to the funeral, or that one time Sirius accidentally burned Regulus’ favourite candle, which looked anything but special to Sirius but apparently had loads of value for Regulus. He doesn’t know.
He just knows that it itches somewhere in his chest and his therapist calls it “Maybe You Do Miss Him”.
“My therapist says—“ No , terrible idea. Sirius follows it up with an even worse idea — turning around to look Regulus in the eyes. His face does something awful and Sirius’ head hurts. “I’m very glad you’re here, Reggie. Really. I missed…you.”
Regulus opens and closes his mouth. Sirius takes advantage of his speechlessness and flops bag down onto his chair.
“Nobody’s come over today. Not a single person. Remus left the house early today and hasn’t been home since — he’s out with his colleagues ,” Sirius huffs. “On Christmas, and, yeah, I know that he doesn’t appreciate Christmas the way I do, but… but I’m— oh, Reggie, I’m so pathetic. Am I being pathetic? Be honest.” Sirius fixes Regulus with a serious stare so abruptly that Regulus’ eye twitches.
“Do you want me to actually tell the truth, or…?”
“No,” Sirius snaps. “I’m perfectly aware , thanks.”
“Right.”
“Mh, right.” Sirius’ body feels heavy again and he slumps against the chair. His toes are icy on the kitchen tiles. Oh . He wriggles them self-consciously.
Regulus hasn’t moved in a while, tense and stiff in Sirius’ peripheral vision. He hears him swallow, his mouth opens again and his voice sounds firm and confident. “Open the present, Sirius.” Then, pleadingly, “ Please .”
Sirius takes a deep breath and reaches out slowly until his fingers engulf the palm-sized object. “Only because you asked so nicely. And because I’m present-starved.”
Regulus visibly relaxes the moment Sirius pulls at the silver bow, but it doesn’t last. The next moment, Regulus’ phone rings and they both flinch.
Sirius watches the colour drain from Regulus’ face, fingers hovering over the lid of the small box.
Something’s off . It twists Sirius's stomach.
“Don’t you…” Sirius begins when all Regulus has done in the last few seconds is staring wide-eyed at Sirius’ unmoving fingers. There’s an unsettling blankness on his face, as if his brain can’t keep up with the current events. “ Regulus , don’t you want to get that?”
A flinch and Regulus starts moving, reaching for his phone, doing his best to not let Sirius see who’s calling him. Then, he’s gone. The bathroom door shuts harshly.
“Wow,” Sirius mutters under his breath as he fights the curiosity to go after him and eavesdrop.
Moral high ground , he thinks and tries to move as little as possible, hoping to catch anything Regulus is saying. Moral high ground . Regulus is probably the worst liar Sirius knows. Contrary to popular belief. Well, contrary to his parents belief. Sirius puts down the little something and leans his cheek onto his palm, blowing out a sweet breath. Moral high ground . What if Regulus is in trouble? Sirius should fulfill his duty of being an older brother and— Moral high ground .
He squeezes his eyes shut, foot bumping repeatedly against the chair leg. A mantra on his mind.
Moral high ground. Moral high ground. Moral-
Sirius’ ear is pressed against the bathroom door.
Regulus is pacing. Sirius can hear his boots on the tiles.
“I’ll be on my way soon, don’t worry.”
Sirius frowns. He’s got other plans as well? Well, Sirius has no idea what Regulus usually does around Christmas time.
“Mhm. Yes, it’s— I’m trying my best, you know? Oh, and send me the exact address again, would you… okay, good.”
There’s a pause. Sirius feels like he’s breathing too loudly. Can one breathe without making any sound?
“Okay. See you soon, Remus.”
Sirius stumbles away from the door in surprise.
Remus?
Regulus is on his way to—
The door opens and Regulus’ hand flies up to his chest. “What are you— Sirius?”
The static buzzing is back, twice as persistent and fading in and out like an alarm. He can’t move, not yet. He hasn’t decided on whether he wants to feel these feelings or not.
Remus and Regulus.
Remus and Regulus.
“Breathe, Sirius. Snap out of it.” Regulus is close now. Too close. Sirius doesn’t want him to be this close, doesn’t want Regulus anywhere near him, at all.
In fact, he feels the urge to yell at him. Maybe throw some things. His lungs are empty.
“Sirius,” Regulus is shouting. How unfair. Sirius can’t shout. “ Sirius, breathe already, you idiot.”
All of the sudden, air fills his lungs, and yet, all he can do is hiss, “Leave.”
Regulus looks both relieved and confused, eyes searching Sirius’ face. Suddenly, realisation makes his features go slack. “Did you eavesdrop?”
“Off you go, brother. Go have fun with my dear flatmate,” Sirius says, trying for nonchalance, ignoring the crack in his voice.
“Oh, Sirius, no . Don’t even go there, you git. I’m just meeting him at the… the pub. Evan works there and I—“ Regulus breaks off, takes a step back and has the audacity to scowl at Sirius. “Fine. Go sulk on your own.”
Sirius watches as Regulus stomps off into the kitchen, very elegantly, the wanker , which sets Sirius off. He’s going to deal with these feelings.
Happy Christmas to his therapist.
He follows Regulus, feeling hot and cold at the same time. “You come here and listen to me whine and then you go and do exactly what makes me so— so sad, or whatever, and then you act all snobby and— and you dare come here— and how dare you, Reggie?”
Regulus whirls around. “Oh, fucking come off it, you dramatic git. I was just trying to help. You’re making this all way worse for yourself by sulking in your self-pity as if you're not a grown man.”
“Take your fucking green box with you, while you’re leaving. Maybe Remus appreciates the gesture—“
“You’re so—“ Regulus shakes his head, swallows the following words, grabs the box off the table, then rushes past Sirius to put on his coat and gloves.
“So what? ” Sirius challenges him despite the lack of energy in his body. His words sound tired. They don’t sound like the challenge he wants them to be. He just sounds endlessly tired.
Regulus’ eyes turn sad as he opens the front door, lets in all the chilly air from the hallway. Sirius shivers in his boxer shorts and short-sleeved sleeping shirt.
Regulus considers him for a moment. Sirius wishes he didn’t. It’s worse with Regulus. Regulus sees through him like nobody else.
“Nothing. Sirius. Go back to bed.”
The door closes and Sirius releases the breath he’s been holding.
How long he stands there, staring at the door, he doesn’t know. The buzzing is gone, the fury as well, he’s again just—
The next thing he knows is the back of his knees hitting Remus’ bed. It’s just as comfortable as he remembers when he lets himself fall backwards, crawls under the blanket.
Soft, warm, smelling of Remus.
Remus.
Sirius squeezes his eyes shut, rubs at them, and hopes he’ll be asleep before Remus comes home. Or not. He’s confused and hopelessly in love, how mortifying.
Remus is probably off having the night of his life, not even thinking about Sirius.
Sirius, on the other hand, thinks about how Remus will react to his presents. He’s been talking nonstop about this band. A David Bowie tribute band, and Sirius had to get up at six in the morning to get front row tickets. Remus had commented on how dark the shadows underneath Sirius’ eyes had been that day, to which Sirius snapped back when it had been the fourth time of him doing so, “Just you wait. You’ll thank me for these delightful shadows soon enough.”
He got him a The Smiths record as well. And a new book, one that takes place in Ireland and something serious that Sirius probably wouldn’t touch, just how Remus likes his books — he’d also asked Lily for help, of course. He also got him a pair of self-knitted gloves and socks, or, well , Molly from the other side of the hall had knitted them and Sirius had hidden them until now.
Still counts as a present from him if you ask Sirius.
As familiar sounds fill the flat, Sirius wriggles himself into a comfortable position. Somebody’s playing the piano upstairs — as every year — and Sirius tries his best to worry some more, but the warm bed and the sounds lull him to sleep almost immediately.
*
When Sirius wakes up, he notices a few things, very slowly. One after the other.
For one, it’s still dark. He rubs his eyes, not even fighting the yawn, and squints at Remus’ alarm — 2:04 AM it says. There’s a sliver of light, from underneath the door, and for a short moment Sirius simply acknowledges it with a groan and turns to face away from the blinding annoyance. It clicks when he hears the bathroom door shut.
Sirius freezes. The sleep seeps into the sheets as a wave of awareness washes over him.
Remus is home and he’ll find Sirius in his bed, the one he’s been kicked out of, and there’s only one thing Sirius should do — leave this positively warm, wonderfully soft bed and go over to the cold, hard bed of his own. Oh, and Sirius is doing his best, but it’s Christmas and Remus deserves some sweet revenge in the form of unrequited affection.
The sound of a light switch. Socked feet making their way down the hall. The door opens and Sirius squeezes his eyes shut, feels a bit stupid and like he’s trying to play dead in front of a wild animal.
The footsteps walk around the bed. The bed dips when Remus sits down on the other side and Sirius cracks open an eye and is met with a tanned naked back. It’s a tough fight not to let any humiliating sounds escape his throat.
Remus, even in the dark and blurry around the edges, is the most beautiful thing Sirius has ever seen and his fingers itch to reach out and touch the scar where his kidney used to be. His hair is a mess and Sirius aches at the thought of other people having been able to see him all day and night. Remus takes his pills and starts making himself comfortable.
Sirius’ further plan is to stare at Remus’ back and grin like an idiot because he hasn’t been kicked out. This can only count as progress. Remus, on the other hand, throws a spanner in the works as he turns to face Sirius with a sense of purpose that makes Sirius gasp.
When their eyes meet, Sirius is about ready to throw up.
“I had an inkling I’d find you here,” Remus says and his breath smells like peppermint toothpaste, probably tastes like it, too. He’ll will never find out.
Sirius opens his mouth to protest that he wouldn’t be here if Remus hadn’t forgotten how much Sirius loves Christmas, but he can’t argue with Remus right now. Not when he’s right in front of him and shirtless.
“Mh,” Sirius hums. Remus’ eyes search his face but even the dark can’t obscure the deep frown on his. Sirius falters, swallows around the lump in his throat. “Sorry. I’ll go.”
“No,” Remus says, and Sirius’ heart skips a beat when he feels a warm dry palm wrap around his wrist just as Sirius was about to remove himself. Dangerous territory, Sirius thinks, keeping still, and glances at Remus. “I have a question.” Oh.
Involuntarily, Sirius' mind fills with every possible question Remus could ask him right now.
Why can’t you just sleep in your own fucking bed? But Remus doesn’t seem upset.
Would you mind if I moved in with your brother instead? That’s… actually not something Remus would ask honestly.
Are you secretly in love with me? Oh god.
Don’t you think you’re being a tad too dramatic? How dare he—
“What are you feeling right now?”
Sirius’ head whips around to stare at him.
What are you feeling right now?
Something awful and twisted unwinds in Sirius, which must show on his face before he can deny it being there because Remus’ hand disappears and leaves his wrist cold and stiff.
Remus' face is so open it hurts, what with him being so closed off lately, and Sirius wants to scream at him to stop asking him such a stupid question when Remus should know very well how Sirius must feel. He left Sirius alone on his favourite holiday to hang out with his colleagues and his brother .
He’s about to tell Remus. He’ll gladly sleep in his own bed and he’s going to say every single thing on his mind, but the tears are faster this time.
Sirius clears his throat. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Remus asks sceptically, reaches out to wipe a tear off Sirius’ cheek. Sirius bats his hand away before he can and, with all the strength in him, turns away from Remus.
“ Nothing. I’m tired and so are you, probably.”
Remus is moving behind him. “Sirius, I’m so sorry.”
“What for?” Sirius pulls the blanket higher. “For having a nice evening while I—“ He stops himself before he can say something embarrassing like, while I needed you here . “Well, it’s fine, you’re forgiven. Sleep well.”
Remus, apparently, doesn’t feel like sleeping well and continues to bother Sirius. “Can you, well, turn around again? I have to… ah, come clean .”
Sirius makes a big deal about facing Remus. The way he deserves , Sirius thinks, and regrets it immediately when he finds Remus’ distressed grimace. He wants to kiss those furrowed eyebrows.
“What is it?”
Remus sighs and looks like he’s about to melt into the mattress and dissolve. Sirius' stomach flips nervously.
“I’ve been working on something,” Remus says after minutes of staring at each other. “With your brother. And James and Lily. And… everyone else, you know?”
Sirius takes this in. “Uhm, I—“
“Wait here,” Remus says, like Sirius has any intention of leaving, and gets up. He hurries down the hall and comes back seconds later, holding something behind his back, and crawls onto the bed. Sirius sits up to meet him halfway.
“I know you must feel like shit, and I am very sorry you had to spend Christmas all alone, Sirius,” Remus starts, arms moving like he’s fiddling with the thing in his hands behind his back.
“Well,” Sirius says with a faux smile. “My lovely brother came over until you called him.”
Something complicated happens on Remus’ face.
“Yeah, about that…”
“Just—“ Sirius holds out a hand to stop Remus. “Just tell me. It’s alright.”
Remus nods. “Alright, so… I wanted to surprise you.”
Sirius quirks an eyebrow. “By leaving me alone on my favourite holiday? Well, you managed to.”
“No, you idiot, listen.” Remus hands come to rest on his lap and Sirius stares at the small green box with a silver bow in his hands. Sirius swallows. What…
Remus reaches over to turn on the reading lamp on his nightstand.
“Regulus was supposed to give you this,” he says and looks like a kicked puppy. “It’s a— no, here, have a look for yourself.” He throws the box carefully in Sirius’ general direction.
It’s the exact same box, even the indent of one of Sirius’ fingernails is visible just below the bow.
He glances at Remus as he takes the lid off and finds… nothing, at first. Just dark fabric and something that looks and feels like a white piece of paper.
Remus is fiddling with the bedsheets, driving Sirius mad, and he lays his hand on top to Remus’.
“Sorry,” Remus says around a chuckle. Sirius has never seen Remus this nervous. Not since the time Lily had shoved a weeks old Harry into his arms to go to the bathroom and Remus’ fingers had been shaking so hard, Sirius had to go over and swoop the bundle out of his arms before Harry could meet the floor with a force of gravity unsuitable for a newborn.
“You know whatever this is, I won’t hate you?” Sirius asks because he has no idea why else Remus would behave like this.
Remus stares at Sirius for a second, then nods like Sirius is the one acting oddly. “It’s not that I think you’d hate me…”
“Good,” Sirius decides and retrieves the paper carefully.
It takes Sirius a moment to realise what he’s staring at.
It’s a train ticket to Aberystwyth, Wales. Remus’ hometown.
Birmingham to Aberystwyth .
“I’m confused,” Sirius admits, turning the ticket over in his hands.
Remus moves closer and points at the word Aberystwyth . “Do you remember me talking about the cabin my grandparents owned. Where we used to celebrate Christmas.”
Sirius nods, barely. “And I said… that I’d have loved to be there for it?”
“Because it sounds like the perfect Christmas you never had,” Remus adds, avoiding Sirius’ eyes. “And so I called my uncle, asked him if I could invite a bunch of friends over and have the keys, to surprise someone who deserves only the best Christmas and I—”
Remus sounds more and more distressed and Sirius’ heart is about to explode into a million pieces, because Remus did this for him. For him . He did the opposite of forgetting about Sirius, and Sirius—
“—ruined it all,” Remus finishes. “I should’ve just taken you there myself.”
Sirius, for the first time in his life, is speechless.
It’s not that he doesn’t feel appreciated or loved by his friends. On the contrary, he wouldn’t be Harry’s godfather if he wasn’t. There’s something else behind this present, something deeper and meaningful and Sirius realises that for the first time he feels completely and absolutely seen .
And isn’t it the best kind of gift to receive something you didn’t know you wanted?
Sirius realises he hasn’t done anything but stare at the ticket in his hands, and he meets Remus’ nervous amber eyes. There’s a glint in them that Sirius can’t place and it unsettles him as much as it warms him from inside.
“What’s on your mind?” Remus asks, playing with his earlobe, a nervous tick Sirius can’t help but find endearing.
“I—,” Sirius says, quietly. “Remus, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“But I haven’t even managed to—“
“I don’t care . I’m just so…” Sirius pushes the box and the ticket off his lap, takes a deep breath and just trusts in his therapist’s words. “I could kiss you right now.”
The words hang heavy in the space that’s left between them. It’s uncomfortable and nauseating and Sirius loses himself in the feeling of it. Embraces the boldness of his statement. Feels the things.
There’s a breaking point somewhere, when Remus has done nothing but stare at Sirius like he’s gone mental, and Sirius is ready to leave the bed and pack his things if Remus rejects him. It would break him, but at this point — Sirius thinks — kissing Remus would destroy him way worse.
There’s nothing Sirius longs more for than just being able to kiss him . It’s been going on for far too long now and this present is simply the cherry on top. He can only pray to whatever god is willing to listen to his whining, that this is where the path changes for good.
Here goes nothing.
“What would you do if I did?” Sirius asks, and shuffles a little closer, knows Remus’ full attention is on him. In the dark, his bare chest seems almost flushed and Sirius’ heart speeds up, encouraged by this.
Remus wets his lips and Sirius has to hold back with everything in him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Remus pushes him away. It’d break Sirius' heart in two and the humiliation would do the rest.
For a split painful second, Remus looks like he’s about to throw up. Then, he leans closer and Sirius holds his breath.
“You can,” Remus whispers with his peppermint breath, and Sirius breathes out heavily as his hands find Remus cheeks.
“Really?” Sirius asks and sounds like he’s begging.
Remus' eyes snap from Sirius’ lips to his eyes and he nods, simply nods and smiles, and Sirius closes the gap so forcefully, Remus has to claw to Sirius’ shirt to stop himself from falling backwards off the bed.
Remus chuckles into the kiss. He does taste like peppermint.
It’s sweet and full of longing and hurts Sirius’ neck, and the hands on Sirius’ shirt wander to his waist, warm and steady like the security Sirius didn’t know he missed in his life.
Just when Sirius is about to climb into Remus’ lap to deepen the kiss, Remus pulls away with a yawn.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, abashed.
Sirius doesn’t care. He just got to kiss the love of his life and the peppermint lingers on his lips like a souvenir, reminding him that this is real.
Oh god, he’s so fucked. Sirius’ cheeks ache from how big his grin is and if someone were to take a picture of him right now, you’d probably find love hearts dancing in his eyes.
“Don’t be,” he says and pecks Remus on the nose, can’t help it. “So, this means that I can stay here?”
“I’d feel horrible if you left now,” Remus says and moves back onto his side of the bed, right under the covers. “Come here.” His lips are swollen and his cheeks are a lovely shade of crimson and Sirius can’t do anything but accept the invitation of Remus’ open arms.
“You’re so hot,” Sirius says as his cheek meets the feverish skin of Remus’ chest. “I mean— your skin .” Sirius backtracks, but he can say stuff like that now, can’t he? “Or you as well. I’m— what are we ?”
Remus’ fingers are drawing calming patterns on Sirius’ back. “Whatever you want us to be.”
“Boyfriends.”
“ Boyfriends, ” Remus repeats slowly and Sirius closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he says and has to stifle a yawn himself.
“Good,” Remus says and Sirius can feel him nod above him.
“So good,” Sirius agrees and presses a kiss to Remus’ chest. “Took you long enough.”
Remus winces. “I know, I’m a coward.”
“I just happen to have a soft spot for those.”
*
The following day starts slowly and ends in a flat full of their friends.
When Sirius wakes up in the middle of the day, Remus is nowhere to be found, only the faint smell of a fry-up fills the air and Paul McCartney is singing Christmas songs in the living room.
Sirius finds Remus in the kitchen and his stomach swoops at the sight of his sleepy eyes. It’s easy to kiss him now and touch him without a sharp pain piercing his heart.
The coffee tastes exceptional today and Sirius smiles at the excited sounds of three, probably red-haired, children running down the corridor outside to go play in the snow.
Sirius wedges his cold feet between Remus’ and asks, “What about the presents?”
It’s then that Remus reveals having invited all their friends over for a proper Christmas at theirs and Sirius nearly drops the mug with piping hot sugary coffee in his hands.
Four hours later, Remus and Sirius are wearing their Christmas jumpers and tend to their friends. The evening is their usual program: food, presents, film, playing with Harry until he falls asleep on the sofa — mulled wine for the adults.
Sirius leans against the kitchen and watches as James and Marlene try to get Harry to throw a red ball through some loops that he got from Sirius. James is standing next to Harry, pointing at the goal and whispering into Harry’s little ear like a football coach, while Marlene acts like a goal keeper — doing a very poor job “on purpose”.
Everyone else is sitting on the sofa, cheering him on. The crowd goes wild when Harry’s ball flies straight through one of the loops and James gets up to lift Harry in the air like a trophy.
“Everyone behold the rising champion of the Ball-Loop Championship!” James announces, while Harry is laughing and holding out his arms like he’s flying.
Sirius’ heart swells.
When his eyes land on Remus, Remus is already looking at him, pointing at the game, then gives Sirius a thumbs up. Sirius grins and lifts the cup of tea in his hands.
His grin dies when he catches Lily watching them suspiciously. She gets up when Marlene, James and Dorcas start their own game of throwing a red plastic ball through the three child-height loops with Peter playing commentator.
Sirius lowers his eyes to the cup in his hands and hopes Lily won’t ask him anything that’d make him open-up and cry again. She’s good at that.
“Don’t you want to come join us in the living room?”
Her voice is soft and undemanding. Sirius sees it for what it is: a threat.
“Oh,” Sirius says, acting surprised. “I’m just… fine here, watching you. I’m glad Harry enjoys the game.”
Lily snorts. “I think the others enjoy it a lot more.” Just in time, James and Dorcas are whooping and high-fiving behind her.
“Yeah, well, that obviously wasn’t my intention,” Sirius says around a grin and a wink.
“But of course not, I wouldn’t ever think of you doing something so preposterous, no, no.”
A light conversation. Sirius is safe for the night. He takes a sip of his lukewarm tea when Lily’s eyes narrow. No, please— “So, you and Remus.”
Sirius swallows the tea before he can choke on it or spit it out. “What?”
“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you? Because something is very off. I haven’t seen you sulking at all tonight. There are little red hearts levitating all around you, Sirius.”
Before Sirius can search his brain for an excuse, before he can think about why it’s so hard to admit, Remus joins them with a warm smile.
His hand finds Sirius and he lifts it up to his mouth to drop a soft kiss onto his knuckles. Sirius' knees are working overtime to keep him from collapsing.
“Are you gossiping again? Who’s the poor sod this time?”
Lily’s lips quirk into a self-satisfied smile as she eyes the two of them. She shrugs and meets Sirius’ gaze.
“Oh, you know. The same old idiots,” Lily says and leaves to cheer for her husband from the sofa.
Remus’ eyes follow her, then come to land on Sirius again. “I told her.”
“You did ?” Sirius says, taking a step backwards.
“Why not?” Remus chuckles and closes the gap again. “ She was the one who told me that you’re…”
“I’m?” Sirius asks when Remus doesn’t seem to finish his sentence anytime soon.
There’s a soft smile playing around Remus’ lips when he says, “In love with me.”
Sirius blinks at him. “That’s… I’m… how does she— I mean that’s insane !”
Sirius makes a mental note to either pinch or thank Lily later.
“It’s fine, though,” Remus says calmly, shaking his head. “It all worked out, didn’t it? You should know I love you too… which is also insane, because your toes touched my shin this morning and that’s how I woke up—“
Sirius doesn’t need to hear the rest. His ears are blessed and his heart is soaring and his lips collide with Remus’ in a soft but desperate kiss.
Remus’ hands find Sirius' waist again, holding him close.
“You all owe me 5 quid, you fools ,” Peter is shouting from the living room, and Sirius and Remus break apart to find six pairs of eyes watching them.
*
Harry is fast asleep on the sofa when there’s a knock on the door.
Sirius and Remus exchange confused looks that say, “Who the hell is knocking this late?”
Remus, doing the dishes, jerks his head towards his wet hands and Sirius gets the memo, stumbles over Marlene and Dorcas sprawled on the floor.
The moment Sirius reaches the door, his head feels heavy and tired. Lily and James are probably going to head over to their hotel in the next hour and Marlene and Dorcas are minutes away from falling asleep on the living room floor.
Another knock tests Sirius’ patience. “ Yes , my goodness.”
Sirius opens the door to find Regulus on the other side of it. Something like a déjà-vu hits Sirius.
“Oh, you,” Sirius says by way of greeting.
“Hey, can I come in? Just for a moment,” Regulus asks and sounds so young that Sirius’ heart can’t take it and steps aside.
“Please.”
“Thank you.” Regulus sounds relieved, as if Sirius could ever send him away. Well…fair. “I won’t bother you for long, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for messing things up and, well, ruining the surprise? I’m not good at this and I’m devastated you didn’t get to see the cabin, but maybe—“
Sirius can’t take this version of his brother. Vulnerable and scared and doubting himself. He reaches out and pulls his younger brother against his chest.
Regulus melts into him immediately.
“Oh, stop it, Reggie,” Sirius says and smiles when Regulus’ curls tickle his nose. “You’re alright.”
“I secretly hate it when we fight.”
“That’s not a secret. You’re an open book to me,” Sirius chuckles and waits for Regulus to pull away first.
When he does, he scans Sirius' face before his eyes widen almost comically. “You and Remus—“
Sirius groans. “Do not tell me there are little red hearts levitating all around me .”
Regulus physically recoils. “What? No . How absurd. You just look like a love-sick fool, that’s all.”
Sirius reaches for Regulus’ wrist and drags him into the kitchen. “Come have a proper German mulled wine, Reggie. I’ll tell you all about it.”
*
When the last guest has left, Remus turns off the lights on the Christmas tree. It’s then that Sirius notices it, right next to his favourite one-eyed reindeer ornament.
“What’s… shut up. Where did you come from?”
Sirius takes a closer look, reaches out to make a two-eyed reindeer swing to and fro. The exact same ornament, just— new and shiny and staring at Sirius with its two eyes.
“Oh, I found him on my way home from Aberystwyth. Thought he looked familiar and then it’s exactly the same,” Remus says like it’s not a big deal. “A real Christmas miracle, or whatever people say.”
Sirius watches as the two-eyed reindeer comes to a halt, facing the one-eyed one and Sirius can’t help but smile at the fact that his favourite ornament now has a friend.
“How lovely.”
Sirius tears his eyes away from the reindeer Remus calls a miracle to kiss his very own Christmas miracle.
He finds the two amber eyes that see him and choose to love him anyway.