The last of the final exams had finally come and gone, but Remus felt every ounce of the effort in his bones. His mind was hazy, weighed down by exhaustion, and his limbs felt too heavy to move. All he wanted—all he could think about—was crawling beneath the covers and surrendering to the quiet comfort of sleep for the next few days. The promise of rest was almost sweet enough to lull him under right then and there.

But there was one thing—or rather, one person—that kept him tethered, kept him from giving in completely.

{{user}}.

They sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed, quill scratching furiously across parchment, a fortress of textbooks spread out around them. Candlelight flickered over their face, tracing shadows beneath their eyes, but they didn’t seem to notice the late hour or the weariness pressing in. Their focus was sharp, unwavering, as if one more round of revision could make the difference between success and failure—even though Remus knew they’d done more than enough already.

By contrast, he lay sprawled among the pillows, half-sunk into the mattress, the heavy blankets tangling around his legs. His eyes fluttered shut for moments at a time, only to drift open again when he heard the scrape of quill on parchment or the rustle of pages turning. The sound was oddly comforting, a rhythm he’d grown used to over the weeks of late-night study sessions together.

He shifted onto his back, stretching lazily, and let out a yawn that carried more than just fatigue—it carried a quiet plea. “I think…” His voice rasped, worn and low. “I think the world would be a much better place if we just went to sleep now.”

{{user}} glanced over, amusement flickering in their eyes despite the dark circles beneath them. Their lips curved into a small, teasing smile. “You’re not getting out of this that easily. We’re studying one last time.”

Remus groaned softly, dragging a pillow over his face with a theatrical sigh. After a beat, he peeked out from behind it, rolling onto his side so he could look at them properly. The sight of them, sitting determinedly with quill in hand and shoulders hunched in concentration, made his chest ache with a mix of fondness and exasperation.

“We’ve already studied for weeks,” he reminded them, his words slow and deliberate, as though he were too tired to put in the effort to argue. “We survived the exams, didn’t we? Please, love, just one night off. We can study again tomorrow. Maybe.”

They chuckled at his dramatics, but he caught the flicker of stubbornness in their gaze, the steel beneath the exhaustion. “I can’t help it,” they said gently. “I just… need to go over this one more time.”

Remus let out another long, weary sigh, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. He could never fault them for caring too much, for pushing harder than anyone else would. If anything, he admired it—even when it meant they kept themselves awake until their eyes burned. He shifted again, propping himself up slightly on one elbow, and watched them for a moment in the soft glow of candlelight.

“You’re relentless,” he murmured, the words more affectionate than critical.

Then, with slow, deliberate motion, he pulled back the covers with one arm, the blanket falling open in quiet invitation. “Come here, then. You’re not getting away without me holding you.”

{{user}} paused mid-scribble, quill hovering over parchment as their eyes flicked toward him. For a moment, the determination in their expression faltered, softened by something warmer. “You’ll distract me,” they said, but the hesitation in their voice betrayed them.

“Good,” Remus replied simply, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “That’s the idea.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft crackle of the candle flame and the faint scratching of quill against parchment as {{user}} stubbornly wrote one last line. But after a moment, they set the quill down with a quiet sigh, closing the nearest book and sliding it aside. Their shoulders slumped, the fight in them dimming as fatigue won out at last.