Mr. R. J. L., Esq. (
2016-04-19 09:58 am (UTC)
Remus had been kneeling before him as he watched that calm sink into him, hands on Sirius' knees. There was so much he wanted to say: so much locked away inside that he
have said. The time was not right: and the words did not spring to his lips. Rather he unbent his knees and raised himself to a semi-standing position, to envelop Sirius in a simple, hard, wordless hug. "...I'm very glad to know you're well," he murmured, into that hair, his few tears hidden from view.
Oh, if only they could stay like this. If only he could just put Sirius to bed and cuddle him and pet him and let him rest. If only he could close all the curtains and shut all the locks, and leave the world outside to stay outside.
But that simply wasn't fair.
"Push over, chubby," he muttered, like it was the old days - just them, in a tiny flat, not this opulent modern thing - and perched on the arm of the armchair, fingers still carding through Sirius' hair. "Sirius, look out the window," he decided, finally, chewing on the inside of his cheek at the strategy. "Does London look any different to you?" They were twenty stories up, and even though it was still twilight, that just highlighted the blaze of lights, the steel-and-glass, the London Eye - everything that Remus himself was still getting used to.
For all that he didn't want to shock Sirius again in the slightest, a short, sharp realisation was probably the best way of avoiding an involved discussion.
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