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What's worse is no matter how many times you replay the last few weeks in your head, you can't pinpoint where anything went wrong. Nothing stands out. No argument, no misunderstanding, no moment that explains any of it. He was the same as always until, somehow, he wasn't.

There is one thing, maybe, but you’d like to believe that if the little crush you’ve tried very hard not to acknowledge became obvious he’d be kind enough to ignore it. So it can't be that. Right?

“Hey!” The voice pulling you from your thoughts comes from behind followed by a shout of your name. You stop and turn to see the subject of your thoughts materialise in front of you, walking quickly down the street to catch up. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Remus says as he comes to a stop beside you, immediately starting to fidget with his hands as if he can’t be still, “a- as long as that's alright with you?” 

“That’s, um,” you swallow, looking away from him and down at your shoes, “Yeah okay, That’s nice of you, Rem.”

Remus nods once, almost too quickly and easily falls into step with you when you set off again. 

The silence that grows between you both isn't one you're familiar with. It isn't the comfortable sort you’ve shared a hundred times before, where conversation comes and goes without either of you needing to fill the gaps between. 

You shove your hands further into your pockets and focus on the path ahead while Remus kicks a stone and sends it skittering across the road.

You can feel him there, close enough that your shoulders almost brush whenever the pavement narrows. Every now and then you catch him looking your way from the corner of your eye, only for him to immediately glance elsewhere when you turn your head.

It makes your chest ache.

You take a moment to gear up to at least make small talk with him, anything but this painful silence the whole way home.

“It’s-”

“I’m-” 

You both stop at the same time, cutting each other off. For the first time since he caught up with you, a small smile tugs at the corner of Remus’ mouth. It’s brief, but familiar.

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, sorry.”

That earns a quiet huff of laughter from him.

“You first, lovely.”

The endearment slips out so naturally that for a second you forget how strange everything has been lately. Then you remember, and your heart promptly trips over itself.

You shake your head, staring into the distance.

“It’s nothing important, I was just gonna…” you clear your throat, “you should go first.”

Remus shakes his head while opening and closing his mouth, like he's trying to dislodge the words before they fully leave his mouth.

“No, uh,” he says quickly. Then, softer, almost like the words slip out before he can stop them, “I just… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

It stops you right where you are. Not the half hearted slowing of steps you’ve done since you both started speaking, but a full stop in the middle of the pavement that forces him to stop too. You reach out before really thinking about it and catch his sleeve, fingers curling around the worn fabric of his jumper.

“What?” Your voice comes out sharper than you mean. You soften it immediately, brows knitting together. “What do you mean, sorry?”

Remus goes very still beneath your grip. For a second he doesn’t look at you at all, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, like he could magically escape this conversation to the empty street behind you.

Whatever battle is happening within his head seems to end quickly as he turns his head back to you and meets your eyes.

It all seems to send your stomach rolling. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter now. “For being… weird. Lately.”

Remus’ jaw tightens slightly, as if fortifying himself. He exhales through his nose, a short, uneven thing and his gaze flickers away for just a second before returning – more certain this time. 

“I just–” He stops. When he starts again it's slower, as if he’s carefully choosing every syllable that falls from his mouth. 

“I realised something and I… I freaked myself out a bit,” he admits with a humourless exhale following it. “So I’ve been avoiding you. Or trying to. Which was stupid because it's just made everything worse.”

Your grip on his sleeve doesn't loosen and Remus swallows. You see it in his throat more than you hear anything. He drags a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already is, then lets it fall again uselessly at his side.

“I didn’t know how to act,” he continues, voice lower now, sounding almost frustrated with himself. “‘Cause I couldn’t– I can’t stop thinking about you, and then I realised why and it just made everything worse.”

You're shocked into silence, even though everything in you is screaming to put Remus out of his misery you just can't speak. 

When he speaks again, it's quieter still. 

“And I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Or mess things up. So i thought if i just kept a bit of distance it would go away, but it didn't. Obviously.”

His eyes flick down to where your hand is still holding his sleeve. He doesn't move away from it.

“I’m sorry.” Remus says again, but this time it sounds more like he’s asking you to understand than asking to be forgiven.

It’s difficult to string together a response even though you hear every careful and clumsy word that he says. It’s just… it doesn't match anything you were expecting. Something about him standing there, looking like that, saying all that, won't settle properly in your mind.

A small disbelieving sound slips from your lips before you can stop it.

“Oh my god,” you say, it comes out soft, threaded with shock more than humour. You let out a tiny broken laugh as if that might reorder your thoughts into something coherent. “Remus…”

His expression changes so quickly it's almost painful to watch. It's subtle at first. His brows knit slightly, confusion crossing his face as if he's trying to figure out what part of what he’s said is funny. You watch his mouth tighten. The way his shoulders draw in slightly as if he’s bracing himself.

“I–” he starts.

His gaze drops away from you and he turns his head as if to hide away. It's too late though. You can see the faint shine in his eyes. The way he swallows hard once, then again, like he's trying to push something back down.

Your disbelieving laughter dies immediately.

“Oh—no, no, Rem—” you step forward without thinking, panic flaring hot and immediate in your chest. “I’m not— I’m not laughing at you, I swear—”

But he's already pulling away, trying to angle himself away from you like he can't stand to be seen like this.

“Remus.” Your voice sharpens, desperate for his attention. You grab him by the shoulders in an effort to get it and he goes rigid under your touch.

You try to get him to face you, but he won’t. He won’t look at you. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed stubbornly somewhere over your shoulder again. There's tears gathering in his lash line, the sight of them is beginning to prompt your own.

“Hey,” you say, softer now, immediately softer, thumbs pressing into the fabric of his jumper like you can physically anchor him back into the moment. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just— I thought you were maybe being weird because you figured out that I fancy you.”

It takes a second for a word of what you said to register.

“What?”

The word is drenched in confusion, like everything you just said was in a language he doesn’t understand. His brows pull together, mouth parting slightly as if he's trying to find the logic in it but he’s coming up empty. 

“I—what do you mean, what?” he asks, voice thinner than before. “Why would you think—why would you think that’s what this is?”

His hands lift a little, then drops them again uselessly at his sides. Like he can’t decide what to do with them now that his brain has completely derailed.

“I just told you I’ve been—” He stops, shakes his head once, sharp. “No, no, that’s not—no.”

You blink at him.

“Remus,” you say carefully, hands still anchored at his shoulders, “You need to take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine.” he says immediately, which would be more convincing if his voice didn’t crack slightly on the last word.

He finally looks at you again and you watch as a million different emotions flit across his face, confusion and embarrassment seem to be a mainstay though. 

“You thought I was being weird because I realised you fancied me?” he repeats, slower this time, like saying it again might make it make sense. “That’s what you thought?”

“Well,” you start, then falter. “Yes? Kind of? I mean, you were avoiding me and acting strange and—”

“I was panicking,” he blurts out. “Because I realised I—because I realised I like you. A lot. And I didn’t know what to do, so I made everything worse.”

“Oh,” you say.

It’s all your brain offers.

His eyes flick away again immediately, like he can’t bear to watch your reaction form in real time.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, again, too quickly. “I shouldn’t have said it like that, I just— I needed to explain why I’ve been—why I’ve been like this, and I thought maybe you’d—”

“Remus.”

Something in your head has finally caught up to exactly what has happened. Now every awkward silence, every glance away, every stilted conversation seems to add up to the two of you being idiots. 

Your body and mind start to communicate again and you let go of his shoulders. Remus’ face seems to fall in the second it takes for you to step forward like he thinks you’re pulling away. 

His breath catches. 

“Can you stop talking for a second?” you ask quietly.

“I—yes,” he says immediately. “Sorry.”

“Not sorry,” you say, almost gently. “Just… stop.”

He nods once, very small, like he’s afraid to move wrong.

There’s a beat where neither of you does anything at all. Just standing there on the pavement, the world continuing around you.

You decide you’re done with this conversation happening in words.

“Okay,” you say.

Remus frowns slightly. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply.

Then you reach up.

Both hands come up to his face before you can overthink it, palms settling against his cheeks. He freezes instantly like he's been caught in a spell.

“Wha—” he starts.

You don’t let him finish. You can’t let Remus carry on being so unsure like this, it’s just not fair. So, you pull him down and your mouth meets his. For a second, there's nothing at all.

Then Remus exhales sharply against you.

And he kisses you back.

It’s hesitant at first, like he’s still trying to catch up with reality, like his brain is lagging behind him. His hands hover uselessly for a second before finally settling softly at your waist.

When you pull back, it’s only slightly. Just enough to see the awe that's painted across his face.

You tilt your head slightly. “Are you okay?”

He lets out a breath that turns halfway into a laugh and halfway into something that sounds an awful lot like relief.

“I think I might be,” he says carefully, still staring at you like you might disappear if he looks away. “Just… give me a second.”

You huff a quiet laugh at that, forehead almost tipping toward his without you thinking about it. “A second?”