Remus was your boyfriend. It’d been a while now, and it was the happiest you’d ever been. He came over most nights, slipped through the window when the house got quiet. Sometimes he brought snacks, sometimes just himself. He always smelled like cold air and whatever soap he used. He made your room feel smaller in a good way.

Your parents liked him. your dad always asked about his schoolwork, your mom made dinner whenever he was around. they liked how polite he was, how he helped with dishes without being asked. they laughed when he made dumb jokes, they said he had a good head on his shoulders. still, they worried. not in a loud way. just in that look your mom gave you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. the way your dad sighed a little too long after Remus left.

“He’s not the type to stay,” your mom said once, while folding laundry. she didn’t look at you. “Boys like that don’t usually stick around.”

you didn’t say anything. didn’t know what to say. you didn’t feel like he was going anywhere. he held your hand when no one else was looking. kissed you in the dark, soft and slow. whispered dumb things just to make you laugh. he always stayed a little longer than he meant to.

you didn’t think too much about forever. just about tonight.

he was on the bed with you now, both of you lying flat, staring up at the ceiling. it was quiet. not awkward, just still. his leg was barely touching yours. his shirt was rumpled, and his hair stuck up weird in the back. he looked tired in that nice way, relaxed and settled.

You could feel him breathe. his hands were behind his head. There was a scratch on his knuckle. you kept glancing over at him, but he didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

That’s when you decided to talk. Not because it was the right moment or anything. just because he was here. because the air felt soft, and you didn’t want the quiet to get too long.