a beautiful world | wolfstar

unravelling

dedicated to x_A_Bookish_Brit_x , although it's pretty awful. i hope you like it anyway!

***

"How the fuck does one draw?" Sirius muttered to himself, squinting at the bare canvas .

Lily leaned over his shoulder. "Well, you usually pick up a pencil and move it around. But what do I know, huh?"

"You're so horrible to me."

"You pay Remus to be mean to me, so..."

Sirius scoffed. "He would do anything for chocolate, don't feel too bad."

"I thought you gave him a very different kind of payment." Lily winked slyly, turning back to her own canvas. Sirius started spluttering.

"H-how dare you? I'm not - we're not - I'm just his friend! We're friends!"

"The lady doth protest too much."

Sirius glared at her, whacking her over the head with a stack of paper.

"Ouch."

"Suck it up, bitch."

"No you."

They both huffed. Honestly, thought Sirius. What a prick.

He accidentally caught her eye, and they started to snigger.

"No one says 'no you' out loud."

"I guess I'm just special."

Grinning, Sirius bumped their shoulders together. "Very special."

Lily smiled softly, ruffling his hair. "You'll figure out what to draw - don't worry about it."

"Let's hope so."

Their main assignment this year was to do a portrait of someone. Sirius had chosen Brendon Urie, but he couldn't get the initial sketch quite right. It was driving him insane.

"This - stupid - fucking - eye," he swore, rubbing it out again, glaring at the photo. Brendon looked straight back at him, smirking attractively.

"You have five minutes, class!" called Professor Trelawney, blinking her owlish eyes and swaying dozily around the room. "Remember, you have until the end of April to finish these - it's only January!"

"Knowing me, I won't be finished until next year." Sirius piled his things into his bag, glad that the day was over.

"Knowing you, that's very optimistic."

"Shut up."

***

Sirius entered the common room, his eyes searching for Remus (even though he hadn't given them permission to do so).

He spotted him almost immediately, curled up cosily in an armchair, turning the pages of a book and furrowing his eyebrows. Remus was so beautiful; it physically hurt to look at him.

"Hey, Remus."

The other boy glanced up, amber eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled. "Hello Pads."

Sirius sat down beside him, and slightly on top of him, too - the chair only had only been made for one person, after all. Their sides were pressed tightly together, and the proximity reminded Sirius of that night.

He had thought about Remus even more than usual since then, and at the most unhelpful of times. Sirius had turned over what had happened in his head, but hadn't talked about it with Remus - he was sure it had just been the beer. There was no point bringing it up and making things awkward.

That didn't stop his dreams from pulling the memory out of his subconscious, though. But he couldn't control that.

"Moony, I need your help."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Go on...?"

"Can I take photos of you? For my art assignment?"

Blinking rapidly, Remus closed his book and put it carefully in his lap. Sirius watched his hands, the long, slim fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of the cover. There were a few scars scattered on the back of his hand, threading through the freckles.

"I don't know, actually." Sirius glanced back up at him. Remus was looking thoughtfully at the floor. "Why me?"

"Because I think you're the most beautiful person in the world."

Is what Sirius would have said, had he believed that Remus liked him back. But he didn't, so -

"Because I can pose you however I want, and get the lighting perfect, and yeah..." He trailed off, looking hopefully at Remus. The other boy shrugged, smiling.

"Okay, sure. How do you want me?"

Sometimes Sirius really, really hated his brain.

Blushing, he stood up, nudging Remus gently into the perfect position.

It ended up with Remus slouching in the armchair, head resting in his palm and eyes gazing at his book. The flames from the fireplace beside him dyed his crumpled hair a vague, soft gold, unravelling dark shadows beneath his cheekbones and jaw, his eyes flickering like hesitant candles. His baggy brown jumper was pulled away from his collarbone, so that the light could capture the shapes there, too.

Sirius would have happily looked at him for the rest of the evening (and possibly the rest of his life), but he pulled out his camera and carefully took some photos.

But later, when he had printed out the pictures and was studying them, spread out on his bed, he found he couldn't look away.

Remus' face was a clumsy, perfect collage of freckles and scars, cheeks and nose faintly pink from the warmth. His lips were chapped and a little sore.

Sirius wondered how it would feel to have those lips against his own. He imagined the roughness, not just from the threadbare fabric of Remus' mouth, but also in the way his hands would hold him: possessively, devotedly, grabbing hair and scratching skin, gentle at the oddest times.

Of course, this was purely imagination. Sirius knew it would never happen.

Still, he let his thoughts run free, one hand pressed against his mouth to stifle any noise, the other... occupied. You know what I mean.

And when he had finished, he laid there, panting, feeling full with the bliss of his release, and empty with the obvious impossibility of what he wanted.