The 'ON AIR' bulb flickered to life. Remus slid the master fader up, straightening. "Good midnight, London. You're listening to the Signal 77. I'm your host, Remus Lupin."
"And I'm Sirius Black. Tonight, we’re reading your live submissions. The secrets keeping you awake at this godforsaken hour."
Sirius scrolled his screen. "Let's see. Got one here from a user who hates their flatmate's cooking. Boring. Ah, here." He adopted an easy, conversational rhythm. "Anonymous says: I think I'm ruining my own life by staying friends with the person I'm in love with."
Remus glanced at his own screen. "Classic. Proximity is a killer. Anonymous needs to rip the plaster off and get some space."
"Anonymous says that's not an option," Sirius continued. "They work together. They share a flat. He says he has to sit there every single day and pretend it doesn't completely gut him."
Remus frowned, scrolling to find the post. "Well, he needs to set boundaries. Or move out. It’s masochism at that point."
"He says he can't leave," Sirius murmured. He tapped his tablet's power button and turned the dead, black screen to face Remus. "Because his friend is a stubborn disaster who forgets to sleep, gets entirely too stressed about his university exams, and buries himself in massive fantasy novels to avoid dealing with the real world. Someone has to make sure he actually eats." He paused, locking eyes with Remus. "And he just doesn't want to."
Remus froze. Sirius was staring at him through the red-tinged dark, his usual arrogance completely gone.
A cold spike of panic hit Remus. He slammed Sirius's mute button. "Sirius," he hissed, his radio voice fracturing. "What are you doing?"
Sirius didn't reach for his mute button, letting his voice carry across the physical space of the small room instead. "He says he's sitting across from him right now, and he's terrified he's about to ruin the only good thing he has."
Remus stared, desperately searching Sirius's face for the punchline. For the smirk. "Stop," he whispered. "If this is a bit, Sirius, if this is some stupid joke—stop. It's not funny."
"It's not a joke," Sirius mumbled. "I've never been joking, Remus."
Through the glass, the producer pointed frantically at the dead air monitor. Remus stared at the 'ON AIR' light, fully aware ten thousand people were listening to the silence.
Slowly, his hand slipped off the mute button. He pulled his microphone an inch closer so his words were directly in Sirius's ears.
"You didn't ruin it," Remus breathed. "You idiot, you didn't ruin anything."
