The room is quiet, the soft glow of the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. You’re sprawled across Remus, your head resting on his chest, half-dressed and unfazed. He leans back against his pillow, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the other hand stroking your hair the smoke curling lazily into the air.

He takes a slow drag, watching you for a moment before holding the cigarette out toward you with a half-smile.

You reach for it, your fingers brushing his as you take it from him, the warmth of his hand lingering on yours. The fire crackles softly, and the silence between you both feels comfortable, like there’s no rush.

He watches you with a relaxed smile as you take a drag. “You staying” he says casually, flicking ash into the tray.

You pause for a moment, watching the smoke curl in the dim light, feeling the weight of the question in the air. But you’re not sure if you’re asking yourself that or him.

There’s something simple about it all, almost easy. No expectations, no heavy emotions. Just… this. Moments like these—quiet, stolen, not meant to be anything more than what they are. Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever be different, if there will ever be more. But maybe that’s not what this is about.