And Remus is covered in words, if you look right. In the right light, his fingers say grace. The soft underside of his jaw, rough with stubble at odd hours of the morning, where Sirius likes best to put his mouth, says hope. Remus' toes, curled against Sirius' shin, say comfort. The curve of his belly reads care, in soft, careful, curving letters. The places where Sirius can put his fingers and not be bitten by the sharpness of Remus' ribs through his skin, those say, yes. They say trust and happy, in the places where there's less hollow.
Oh you break my heart for both of them. It's so lyrical and sad. All the things they don't say that keeps adding up and it's a horrible train that isn't going to be stopped in time. *sigh* Beautifully done.
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Oh you break my heart for both of them. It's so lyrical and sad. All the things they don't say that keeps adding up and it's a horrible train that isn't going to be stopped in time. *sigh* Beautifully done.
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