#i loooveeee completely infatuated baby sirius what a loser! (remus is just as bad tho if we're real :-/)

[dykefever]

hiya hiya hiyaaaa oh goshhh richard siken AND your writing literally what else is there to ask for ill say 16 or 9 in case someone happened to beat me to either<33

hi hi hi my love, 9 is making me go crazy and you know what. i'm going to make it nice we get a nice one!!!!

9. you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.

Sirius is thirteen years old and still made of the soft warm flesh of childhood. He has a scar on his chin from his mother and his knuckles raised waiting, waiting for the fist. He doesn't feel very much like a child anymore.

Second year, a winter day made of aching white snowflakes and sharp wind. They - the four boys wearing oxblood red and cliff-drop smiles - rush through halls built from stone, laughing, laughing, late for their afternoon lessons.

"We should just skip the rest of our lessons!" he gasps out, running after the golden brown frizz of curls ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eye James's cheeks are flushed dark. He wears a grin so wide it knocks the wind out of Sirius's chest. He's so giddy and loose, fizzing with feeling.

Remus slows his steps and tilts his head towards Sirius. Sirius shuffles to Remus's side and brushes their arms together so he can prolong the fizzing feeling. It sparks sweet and toothy in his gut when Remus is near.

Remus says, "We can't skip our lessons. We'll get detention."

"What's a detention to us?" James boasts, throwing his arms out and spinning around.

"Remus did miss lessons last week," Peter points out, scarf trailing behind him, barely hanging on to his neck.

Sirius swings to face Remus, walking backwards. "What do you want to do?" he asks.

Remus scrunches his mouth to the side like he does when he's thinking. Sirius gets breathless and shuffles even closer to Remus, tilting his chin up, smiling with his hair falling into his eyes. Remus - taller than him by several inches after the summer - ducks his chin and narrows his eyes.

"I think we should go to class," he offers, rolling his eyes at James's loud groan, "and then sneak out tonight."

They cheer and Remus laughs and Sirius is still walking backwards. He clutches the front of Remus's jumper for balance and syncs their steps. So close he catches Remus's sweet cinnamon and biscuit scent and he wishes it was okay for friends to sniff friends, to bury noses in necks right at the hairline and smell. Because Remus smells good and Sirius really likes it and he always wants to be closer to him.

They reach the door for their lesson and Peter and James tumble inside. Sirius still holds Remus's jumper. They end up very close, toe to toe with Sirius's hand between them. Remus exhales and it knocks warm against Sirius's cheek.

He licks his lips and looks up at Remus, fizzing.

Remus grins, crooked, scar running through his top lip. Sirius keeps looking at the faded indent it makes over his pink lips.

Then, then, Remus tilts forward, knocks his temple against Sirius's own, and pulls away to walk into the classroom and - and - Sirius feels -

This wide, gaping thing opens up from his neck to his gut and his heart beats too fast. He presses a hand to his stomach and stares at the slump of Remus's shoulders through the open door, the flattened patch of hair from sleeping on folded arms at lunch.

His temple is still warm from Remus's own.

siken prompts