SIRIUS WOKE UP with a serious headache. Honestly, why had he gone and drunk so much at the corner pub? He knew why; that wasn't a rhetorical question. And that reason's name was Remus Lupin.

Remus Lupin, who was so irritatingly beautiful and considerate and concerned with everything Sirius did: Sirius, a complete stranger whom he'd only met four days prior. Remus, who tried harder than anyone else ever had to get inside his head and figure out just how he worked. Perhaps, maybe perhaps, Sirius could trust him, but as he never trusted anyone before (besides Regulus), he was skeptical. He could barely recall the events of the previous night. He knew he and Remus had gotten into a fight over breakfast, and in a fit, Sirius had left their cottage and stormed off on his motorbike — which he had rented until his scheduled departure at the end of his holiday.

He remembered calling Regulus, and how his brother had claimed he couldn't talk at that given time – he was visiting with their parents, or as Sirius referred to them, the 'banes' of his existence – and Walburga Black had just prepared a nice dinner for the lot of them. Sirius hung up with his brother, bitter by the fact that his parents hated him so much, though he refused to let it show.

He continued driving, swerving along cliff sides until eventually he stopped the vehicle along the side of one which overlooked the crashing waves below. There were other people stopped, watching the water as it hammered continuously against the blackened rocks. Their thunderous roars provided the perfect background noise to his swamped mind. He allowed his mind to torture itself over Remus' queries, and in turn over Remus himself.

Sirius had found himself ever-so-smitten by the man as soon as he'd met him. Of course, initially he'd given him a hard time because he was an untrusting person, but each night he couldn't deny this stranger felt more like an old friend. Even now, his missed his company.

He didn't want to let his mind think like that anymore: to depend on this man who'd leave him in three days time and they'd never see nor hear from one another again. He couldn't let his mind think like that. He wouldn't. He rushed back towards his motorbike, already feeling dizzy at the thought of their holiday together terminated and rushed to a pub he'd found a few miles back.

The people were friendly enough, and soon Sirius was drinking almost as much as he had during his university days. Then he was passing that limit: exceeding it, and soon his mind had digressed into a babylike state, he'd become a babbling mess. At this point, the barkeep cut him off and told him to go home.

Sirius made it there on foot, snagging a bottle from another paying customer on his way out and at some point breaking the glass. He didn't even feel the blood as it seeped down his hand, onto his dark trousers. At the cottage, Remus took extra care in taking care of Sirius' drunken state, and he fell into an easy sleep with dreams he would fail to remember come the morning.

Now, Sirius lied in his bed, eyeing the white ceiling above him and nursing the worst headache of his life. French alcohol was so much sweeter – as were most French things – but it contained a more concentrated amount of the intoxicating substance in each drink. His coverlet was tucked tightly around himself, coated in a brownish substance near the top that had him flinging it away as quickly as he noticed it. He sat up, immediately regretting the action, but advanced towards the bedroom door nonetheless, nearly tripping over the duffel bag containing his clothing.

He walked out into the hallway, noticing that Remus' door remained closed. He went to the bathroom and showered thoroughly, afraid of where else he'd vomited. He found himself confused over the bandages wrapped tightly around his fingers on his right hand, and unpeeled them to find marks already scabbing over, jaggedly cut as if made by glass. Christ, he'd been drunk.

He left the shower and on his way back to his bedroom, he encountered Remus. The man looked like he hadn't slept at all during the night: his brown hair was tousled messily, his green eyes had bags under them, and his skin held a shallow color, though there was a slight sunburn on his nose. He wore a white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, and his feet were bare, toes wiggling on the hardwood flooring.

"Uh, morning," Sirius claimed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His black hair fell in wet ringlets around his angular face, though Remus apparently refused to meet his eyes. What happened? He felt panicky.

"Morning." Remus squeaked, still with his eyes staring at the ground. Not wanting to stand there in a towel, shrouded in awkwardness any longer, Sirius moved aside so the man could pass. He did, and Sirius looked after him curiously before remembering he was in a towel and rushed to his room. He got dressed and headed to the kitchen, deciding just to have a couple of slices of toast, and turned the coffee pot on. His headache had returned; he needed coffee.

Remus appeared maybe fifteen minutes later, dressed for the day in a pair of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. His feet were accessorized by a pair of slides, giving him the look of almost every teenage boy in this day and age. Still, he refused to meet Sirius' eyes as he poured coffee into a mug. The black-haired man sighed.

"Remus," he pleaded. "What happened last night? Please tell me."

The brown-haired man eyed him down finally, green eyes still looking tired. He ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of coffee, and Sirius found himself staring at his lips. God, make it stop, he pleaded, this is a serious moment.

"Perhaps it's better if you don't remember." Remus claimed, hiding half of his face with the mug. Sirius gave him a hard look, desperate grey eyes never leaving his.

"Remus, please." He begged.

With a sigh, Remus recounted the events of the night previous and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, startled by his own actions. "I made advances on you?"

"You didn't advance on me, Sirius. You just made it known that you were gay and thought I was cute. But you were drunk, and I didn't want you to embarrass yourself or do something you'd regret. Not that I'd ever take advantage of a drunk person anyways, but still, I left you a sick bucket and locked myself in my room." Remus explained.

Sirius felt completely humiliated. Though the night's events were foggy, the presence of his crush on Remus was crystal clear. Still, his mind played the part where Remus said 'person' over and over again.

"Are you- you know, too?" He asked curiously, gripping the breakfast bar tightly. His knuckles were beginning to turn white, though his cheeks were scarlet.

"I'm bisexual, Sirius. If that's what you're implying." Sirius nodded; that was what he was implying. Wow, Remus understood him so well. It was meant to be... stop it, Sirius!

"Okay." And they finished their breakfast in silence.

—————

Remus Lupin was a mess. After finishing his coffee later that morning, he returned to his bedroom in silence: Sirius didn't protest. Perhaps the two of them needed some time apart, this time without alcohol influencing their thoughts and causing hidden feelings to make themselves known. He settled back into his sheets, deciding later that day he should really consider doing the laundry – he could feel grains of sand against his bare arms – and picked up the discarded book he'd left on his nightstand.

It was titled The Kite Runner, and was written with the style of a memoir though it was strictly fictitious. It was the tale of a wealthier boy in Afghanistan, and his friendship with the servant's son, and above all else, cowardice — childish fear, and an everlasting regret in his later years of life. Remus found the story to be fascinating: it was one of his favorite reads thus far. He wanted desperately to focus on the novel in his hands, but thoughts of Sirius plagued his mind, and then he found himself rereading a repetitive phrase over and over again: 'I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn't.'

He got chills then. His mind raced to the previous night, to his conversation with the drunken, babbling Sirius Black. The man had said Remus was cute, and that he liked him 'the best,' but that didn't necessarily translate straight to "I like you," did it? But then his mind went back to the book again, and he reread the phrase for what had to be the tenth time, and a sudden flame of courage ignited in Remus' body. Or perhaps it was excitement: the mere possibility of something existing where nothing had for so long.

Remus threw his book onto his bed and rushed from the sheets, pulling the door open at the same instance that Sirius was apparently going to knock. And upon seeing him, the giddiness subdued, and a rosy hue coated his cheeks as he thought, just what exactly were you going to do, Remus? He was a desperate man in desperate need of affection, of something more.

"What're you doing here?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom as nonchalantly as he could. Sirius sighed, looking at him with troubled grey eyes.

"Can I come in?" He asked, and Remus wordlessly moved aside, allowing Sirius to walk in and take a seat at the brown-haired man's bay window. The sunlight from outside crowned Sirius' dark features in a magnificent aura of colors that Remus so desperately wanted to photograph and hang onto for days when London was dreary and depressive, and life as he knew it was so entirely ordinary. He didn't photograph this moment, however. Instead, he hovered by the door like a child at the birthday party of a classmate he didn't really know. In this instance, he was the outlier, and Sirius was trying desperately to formulate what exactly needed to be said in his entirely too clouded mind.

"Listen," he began slowly, wringing his hands together with nervousness. "This week, or rather what we've made of it so far, has honestly been one of the biggest highlights of my life. You're a wonderful roommate, and I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries for saying I find you to be a fantastic friend. And if I am, then what I'm going to say next is entirely too intrusive, and just please tell me now before I go and ruin everything further..."

"I'd consider you a great friend too, Sirius." Remus claimed, now invested in this conversation as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing his roommate with attentive green eyes. Sirius smiled thankfully and blew a breath of relief.

"Good, that's great. It really is. Remus, yesterday, before I went and ruined everything by getting drunk, I stormed off because I was mad that you were right. I hate to be wrong, but god, you were so right. I don't trust many people, and so I refuse to open up to them. Regulus is the only one I trust, and we grew up in the same household. He knows these things about me already... My parents are rough people. They're cold and merciless, and my mother holds this shrill tone of voice no matter what she's talking about that always leaves you on edge. And my father, he's much too focused on his business, and ensuring our family remains as wealthy as it is. All he cares for is money and the principles in which he was raised.

My mother was raised in a similar fashion, and this makes them the perfect insufferable pair. My childhood wasn't the hardest: I got everything I wanted until about eleven, and then it appeared this paradise I'd known was really a front. Regulus, of course, he was the baby and life was always exceptionally perfect in every way. The rules of the house: I was meant to follow them, but they didn't apply to him. I resented him in my younger years but as I grew older and was shown these difference ideologies and was able to experience more through university and sixth form, Regulus and I grew closer as I began to love myself. And then I realized my sexuality, and my parents shunned me, and Regulus was all I had, though I was just entering Uni and he was only in Year Eleven. There wasn't much he could do for me, though he told me time and time again he wished he could.

I lived in a dorm at Uni, and as my parents had cut me off, I worked in a gay bar, further exploring my sexuality. Remus, I've slept with a lot of guys and I'm not proud of this, but I had to do what I had to to survive. My brother slipped me money every now and then, but it just wasn't enough. And then Uni ended, and I continued to work at the bar. I live in a shoddy studio apartment with temperate faucets and a screechy neighbor, and my life just reached an all time low at that point. I saw the ad for this holiday, and as a last resort, a last chance to try and find something to be excited for, I entered the raffle. I wanted to kill myself the day before I came across this trip.

And then I won, and you just persisted in being nice to me even though I was a moody, arrogant little shit. And that's why I think I like you so much. You're the first person to show genuine care for me, and I'm sorry to have abused this blessing. I'm sorry for any hurting I've caused you."

When he finished talking, Remus was speechless for a good few minutes, processing everything Sirius had told him. The man was at a low in his life, and this holiday had saved him. He had saved him. Remus didn't know what to do with this information, and his silence wasn't proving to be any help. He needed to say something! Why couldn't he think of anything to say?

"Do you remember my offer from yesterday, Sirius?" He asked then, words spewing from his mouth like a geyser: aimless, longing to fill an ever-growing void.

"I- I think so?" The grey-eyed man was shocked. He was gripping the knees of his trousers, knuckles once again a pale white color. Remus reached forward and took his hands comfortingly; Sirius exhaled. Their eyes met: silver and green, compassion and devastation.

They were two ships sailing in the night, their only comfort being each other along the rocky swells that were their lives. And at this point, it appeared they shared only one goal...

"Let's go to the beach."