When James leaves, Sirius is still in the shower. 

Remus waits for him in the living room. Five minutes into sitting on the couch, he figures it would be awkward for Sirius to come downstairs with Remus staring at him, since the staircase starts right opposite to where he's sat. So he stands up and moves into the kitchen, sitting down at the table there. And then he starts wondering if this will seem like he's avoiding Sirius, so he stands up again and leaves for the living room.

Except he never gets there.

A rather painful collision draws a soft oof from him, and his arms shoot out to grab Sirius before he can fall. Under Remus' hands, Sirius feels warm. Too warm. Feverish, almost. And clearly, Remus has it bad for him, because he nearly faints from touching Sirius' shoulders.

Good God.

Remus lets him go quickly, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. Or even worse, trapped.

"I'm sorry," they both blurt out at the same time, neither of them quite looking at the other. Remus goes red, and Sirius goes pink. Remus takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," Sirius repeats, and his eyes fly up to meet Remus', but fly back down just as soon. 

"Me too," Remus takes another step back, making space for Sirius to go... wherever he was going.

Neither of them clarifies what they're sorry for, but they both know that it's not for bumping into each other. They continue to stand there, frozen, and Remus finds himself wishing James hadn't left. He would make it so much easier. And say something incredibly subtle like, Now start making out. Regulus would say the same, probably with an added please at the end. 

"I'm" Sirius looks at the kitchen, "—dinner?" 

Remus tries not to think of that as one phrase. It would be a lot more difficult if he isn't sick with nerves. "Do you mind if I help?" He asks, wishing they could just be friends again. Anything but strangers. But whatever it is that they are now.

Sirius shakes his head no.

They end up making instant noodles anyway. And Sirius ends up eating all of his share. Which is when Remus realises that it's the first time he's seen Sirius finish anything except his mug of tea. And it makes him so happy that, when Sirius eventually looks up at him from across the little table in the kitchen, Remus can't help smiling like he's just seen the first snow of the winter. 

And to his surprise, Sirius actually smiles back. A small, doubtful smile. Not like Remus is used to, nowhere even close, but it's good enough. For now.

They don't talk much while they clean up, which is probably good because Remus doesn't know what to say. What could he say? Hey, I know you told me to leave you the hell alone but I'm still into you and  want to know if you're okay?

"James told me about your hearing," Sirius eventually says, drying his hands on a towel. He's not looking at Remus, "And I..."

"I know you'll be there," Remus says, his eyes scanning the side of Sirius' face. Sirius glances up at him for a second, then looks away, nodding. He closes his eyes, leaning on the edge of the sink for a moment, and then pulls himself straight again.

Remus watches him. "Sirius?" he asks, "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

Sirius turns to him, a hand gripping the counter, still. "Yes," he says quietly, "Merlin, yes. So many things and I—" this is the longest he's spoken to Remus in a while. Except for that day when he told Remus to stay away. "—don't know where to start."

Remus is tempted to take his hand, to comfort him. It's how they always did it. A touch on the shoulder, a squeeze on the arm, a gentle brushing of fingers. But that "leave me the hell alone" is just too difficult to forget.

"It's okay," he says instead, "We have time. And if that's not enough, then... Then you don't have to say anything."

"No," Sirius looks like he's in pain. Remus wants to bring him over to a chair and make him sit. "I want to."

Remus turns those words over in his head, trying to figure out how much they weigh and what they carry. 

"Why don't we go sit down?" He smiles at Sirius. Sirius looks at him for a while, his eyes moving around Remus' face as if it's a book written in a language he can't understand.

"Okay," he says finally, and Remus waits for him to go first.

Sirius sits down on the couch, and Remus sits next to him. Far away enough to not look desperate, but close enough to not look like he's afraid of catching the plague from Sirius.

Sirius clasps his hands together. His knuckles are white.

Remus waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

Eventually, Sirius raises his head to look at Remus. He opens his mouth, frowns, then closes it. And it's not easy for Remus to watch, the way Sirius is struggling, but this needs to happen. They need to get through this. They'll have to, some day, so they might as well do it now.

"Remus," he manages to choke out, "I don't think I can..."

Remus thinks something along the lines of fuck it, and reaches forward to take Sirius' hands in his. And Sirius lets him, but he can't hold Remus' gaze.

"It's alright," Remus tells him, "I'm here, aren't I?"

Sirius nods, his curls bouncing a little as he does so.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Remus says, his voice soft.

"I don't know," Sirius replies, "I don't know anything. Maybe I'm not thinking anything."

Remus opens his mouth to reply, but Sirius isn't done, "Or everything, I don't fucking know. I'm thinking that you're really warm. And that your hands are nice. And that I'm sorry, because I'm always fucking sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, sorry I yelled at you, and I'm sorry I kissed you. Sometimes I'm sorry I met you, too."

Remus tries not to dwell on that. On how much that hurt.

"And I'm thinking I hate everything. All of it."

"What's everything?" Remus asks.

"Me," Sirius whispers, and Remus doesn't shy away when Sirius' head falls on his shoulder. Sirius' hair is still a little damp from his shower. Remus closes his eyes when that familiar smell of flowers fills his nostrils.

"You are everything," he says.

"If I'm everything, then you're hopeless," Sirius whispers in his ear, and Remus wonders how fucked up he must be, because he finds himself smiling.

"I think I can talk better when I can't see you," Sirius mumbles into his shoulder, moving a little closer.

"Talk, then," Remus squeezes Sirius' hands.

"I wish you were angry at me," Sirius says. "It would be so much easier. Why aren't you angry?"

"I was," Remus replies, "I raised my voice at you. I'm sorry, Sirius. I really didn't mean to."

Sirius pulls his head back to look at him. His eyes are full of grey and hurt.

"This is why I can't... with you..." he looks down again.

"Can't what with me?"

"Can't... Can't do this," Sirius pulls away, and Remus lets him. As he releases him, he thinks he'll let Sirius do whatever he wants. "Because you..."

The Sirius Remus thought he knew—the one who used to show up at his house unannounced, the one who talked him into building a shop, the one who was there for him when he needed someone the most—has disappeared again into this boy sitting in front of him. As if he's been swallowed whole and now he can't find his way out. Lost in the middle of sentences half-spoken, of words left unsaid.

"You're so good to me, Remus. I can't... I can't take it."

"I don't understand," Remus says weakly, wishing he could make sense of this mess.

Sirius gives him the saddest smile Remus has ever seen. He reaches up to touch Remus' face. His fingers are warm, and they brush across Remus' cheek like a soft breeze.

"Do me a favour," he whispers.

"What is it?" Remus asks, not liking where this is going at all.

"After your hearing is over," Sirius' eyes are shining with tears, "Whether Regulus is back or not, I want you to leave."

It feels like Remus' heart stops dead in his chest.

"There's time. You'll find a place, and... and you'll do well." Sirius doesn't have to say You'll do well without me. Remus can hear it anyway.

"Sirius..." He says, grabbing the hand that's on his cheek and tangling their fingers together.

"You're so good to me, you've always been so good," Sirius says, and Remus' heart twists in his chest because it's so wrong. "And I want to be good for you, too, but I can't."

In what universe is everything that Sirius has done for him not good enough?

"That's not true," Remus brings their joined hands to his chest, "You can't believe that, Sirius. You've done so much for me, more than anyone ever has."

"This isn't about doing," Sirius smiles at him, but his lips wobble. "This is about being. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." And Remus means it, but he regrets saying those words as soon as they're out.

"Then trust me on this. Trust me when I say that... that I can't do this for you. And please," a tear slips from his eye, "Please don't make me talk about it anymore."

***

Author's Note

I was very determined to not sleep until I updated and now it's half past five in the morning. The things I do for you...

Also, here's a floor plan of the ground floor of Sirius' house that no one asked for. But I drew it cause I get confused and depression fucks with my memory when it comes to little things like this.

Actually, scratch that, I drew it because I'm extra as fuck ✨

Aren't I a real Picasso

P. S. It's not to scale because I'm fucking incompetent