#ive got no clue what tags im meant to use sorry babs

[steelycunt]

and only felt good while moving.

The summer before university, Sirius falls in love and throws a punch and then he makes a friend.

hiii! is my (late) entry for @goodboylupin 's 2022 RSCandyHearts fest! my prompt was, my pal. thank you so much to goodboylupin for hosting this fest!

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chapters: 1/1. word count: 17.2k. rating: mature.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Sirius asks him. Before that, it’s, what’s your favourite song?, or, do you like orange juice?, or, kiss me, kiss me. What’s your middle name? I’m not telling you mine. He’s trying to take the seconds and pull them apart, see—sweet and golden-brown like stretched toffee. They’re going to live there. He’s trying to build a history backwards; steal a place for the two of them in the time it takes to sigh.

It's the second week of August.

“I’m not sure,” Remus replies, squinting up at the evening sky. In an empty carpark behind a supermarket, he tries to teach Sirius how to ride his bike (is it all that different from riding a horse, posh boy?). By the time they give up, sprawled out on the ground, Sirius’s knees are scraped raw and bloody from falling and hitting the tarmac again and again. Remus laughs louder than Sirius has ever seen him do anything, doubled-over and gasping. It almost makes him want to check that he’s got his inhaler on him.

“Blue. Or…green? Orange? Fuck,” Remus snorts. “I don’t know. It changes. I’m not often asked.” His head is resting sideways atop Sirius’ chest; when he speaks, it shudders through Sirius’ stomach like an oncoming train. The tarmac is warm and uncomfortable. Tiny stones dig into Sirius’ bare arms.

“Too cheesy for me to say black, isn’t it?” Remus turns his head to look at Sirius as best he can. “What’s yours?”

Sirius closes his eyes. “I think green is nice. Grass green, though—not dark green. You…your laugh is sort of green, in my head. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Remus replies. “I think you’re full of shit. But I like you anyway.”

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