a beautiful world | wolfstar

puzzle pieces

"Sirius."

Nothing.

"Sirius?"

Still nothing.

"Sirius Orion Black."

Sirius shushed him. "Moony, I'm at a critical stage."

Sighing, Remus put his head down on the table. "We've been here for three hours now."

But Sirius didn't care. He placed his brush into the water jar, redoing his messy bun and studying the canvas.

The painting of Remus was very nearly complete. It was warm toned and richly-coloured, a bit messy, but Remus was a bit messy, in the most perfect of ways, and Sirius was quite sure he had captured that carelessness.

If there was anything Sirius was sure of about himself, it was that he was a good artist.

Remus had not been allowed to see the painting yet. He had complained about it, saying he 'had a right' and that 'it wasn't fair'. Sirius, however, didn't want to show it to him until it was finished. He wanted to make it perfect.

That's a bit gay. His brain didn't lie.

"Sirius," Remus whined, voice muffled by his jumper sleeves.

"Yeah...?" Sirius replied absently.

"How much longer are you gonna be?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, like, ten more minutes?"

"Thank fuck," the other boy grumbled. Sirius poked his head around the canvas, smiling sheepishly at him.

"Sorry, you can go, it's okay."

Rolling his eyes, Remus shook his head, opening the book that rested before him. "It's fine, keep going."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." A small smile appeared on his freckled face. Sirius looked away, ears a little hot.

The art room was empty - it was just after eleven in the morning. Light filtered through the open windows: a soft, grey light that reflected off the wooden easels and stained tables. The faint smell of acrylic paints and paper dawdled through the air, not unpleasant, but familiar and cosy.

And between all the paintings, eyes focused on his book, was the most beautiful artwork of them all. Sirius didn't want disturb him, even though he had finished painting.

However, they had been there since eight. Sirius had woken up early, which was weird for a Saturday, and had decided to go and finish his work. Remus had woken just as Sirius had been about to leave, and had elected to accompany him.

Sirius was so happy that they could do that again. It was clear, over the last couple of weeks, that both of them were a lot happier than they had been when fighting.

Existing without Remus had made him quieter, more detached from everyone. He'd felt like a jigsaw puzzle missing half its pieces - like a clock without any cogs.

Of course, Sirius still loved him. He wanted to curl up next to him in an armchair and tuck his toes beneath the other's leg. He wanted to sketch him while he read and whisper stupid pick-up lines in his ear. There were memories he wanted to create, places he wanted to explore, with a familiar hand in his.

Sirius wanted to be with Remus, every day, every second, but the fact was that he had fucked up. Big time.

But he was trying to move on now, because otherwise he'd just keep losing puzzle pieces and cogs until his existence became irrelevant.

"You've been staring at the floor for ages, Pads."

"The floor fascinates me." His tone was easy.

"What?"

"What?" Sirius mimicked, looking up and smiling mischievously.

Remus made a face at him, then stretched [A/N: and yes, Sirius watched him quite closely], getting up and walking over.

"Are you finished?" Remus asked, standing behind the canvas.

"I... w-well, yes, but - "

"Can I see?"

Sirius chewed his lip, staring at the the other boy. Remus stared back, smiling hopefully.

"Oh, fine," he muttered, stepping back and motioning for Remus to have a look.

Remus came to stand beside Sirius, their arms brushing. Not that he was going to think about that.

There was silence. Nervous on one side, awed on the other.

"Do... do you like it?" Sirius asked, suddenly picking out flaws, mistakes, places where he could have worked more, parts where -

"That's me." Remus spoke softly, eyes fixed on the brushstrokes, the shadows, the expression, the... dare he say it?... the love.

And suddenly, for just a moment, Remus understood that Sirius honestly did love him. He understood how close they were, how much they mattered to each other, how much Sirius valued him.

And although it might not be the same as being in love, he really, really couldn't ask for a better friend.

Sirius, of course, had no clue what was going through the other's head, except for the fact that he seemed to like it.

"I-it isn't very good, sorry, and I don't think I was careful enough with it, so the paint's kinda fucked up, it's a mess..."

Okay, I am aware I said that Sirius was sure that he was good artist, but his certainty of that was... temperamental, to say the least. Especially in front of the boy he was in love with.

"...and I always screw up dimensions, so things look wonky and stupid - "

"Please stop."

Sirius stopped, cringing. "Sorry."

"It's beautiful." Remus looked at him, a look of wonder in his smile. His eyes were a little glossy.

Sirius blushed. "No it i-isn't, you look nicer than that - "

"Liar."

"I'm not - " But he was cut off by Remus, who suddenly wrapped himself around him, and Sirius found his face buried into Remus' chest.

"You are a liar, Sirius Black."

"I'm not lying," Sirius said, voice obstructed.

"Sure."

Remus held him for a few moments. Sirius let himself sink into the hug, the taller boy warm and soft, jumper baggy, arms close around him. He smelt faintly of soap and cinnamon. The fabric tickled his nose.

Sirius pulled him a little closer, eyes shut, suddenly wanting to cry.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus said quietly. His voice rippled through his chest.

"I'm sorry too," Sirius replied, trying to swallow back his tears.

"Why are you sorry?" Remus laughed weakly.

Because I'm a coward.

Sirius shrugged. His breathing slowed slightly as he calmed down.

Resting his head on top of Sirius' for a second, Remus sighed and pulled back. Sirius missed the warmth.

"Thank you for posing for me."

Remus smiled, turning back to the canvas. "Thank you for painting me."

"Anytime."