Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.
It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.
But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.
“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”
Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.
The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.
Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.
There’s a knock on his classroom door.
Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”
The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.
Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.
Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.
“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”
Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.
He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.
“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”
Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”
Sirius drives a motorbike to school.
Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.
So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.
“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.
He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”
Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.
“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”
Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.
“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”
There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.
He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.
In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.
He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.
He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.
Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.
Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.
“Will you go out with me?”
Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!
Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.
Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”
Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”
There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”
Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
