He doesn’t answer at first, and Remus patiently waits, quickly having realised he’d asked something personal. Sirius slows to a stop outside what appears to be an Inn, but it isn’t noticed by either of them until later in their conversation. Sirius snorts, surprising the taller of the two. “Why? Don’t you have family to go back to?” Remus is now frowning, but they still walk. Sirius nodded out of the corner of his eyes, and their conversation is quiet until he speaks up again. He took a breath as they walked around the deserted streets. He expected to walk home and lie on his couch, reading too much to comprehend the words on the pages. He never expected to make a friend tonight, if this is what he could call them already. The stranger pulls back from the water fountain and when Remus goes to walk away, the stranger follows. The stranger looks at him with a weird look when Remus smiles at him softly, caringly. “Feel like shit, too,” he said, quieter and under his breath, but Remus hears it. The stranger smiled, seemingly please by the dry humour Remus had for himself.
“Because it’s Christmas and you look like shit.” He said bluntly. Remus had a look of concentration laced over his facial features as he dabs his handkerchief carefully, only speaking when he pulled away. “Why are you helping me?” the stranger asked when Remus let him to a community water fountain, cleaning his nose and lip wounds. They walk in silence, Remus having fiddled with his patches as he thought about the other man, too socially awkward to bring up anything.
“Humour me,” Remus said, the man seemed to hesitate before allow himself to be tugged along. He still has a grip on the shorter man’s forearm, so he tightens it, causing them to meet eyes again. The stranger looks up in surprise, as if not expecting the question, before looking away and responding in a cold tone, “I’m fine.” But his voice cracks slightly at the end and his shoulders slump, and Remus can’t leave him alone. Remus can’t keep himself quiet, “Are you okay?” He had a cut lip and dry blood caked around his nose, most likely from a nose bleed. Remus could feel both their breaths mingle as he looked down at the shorter man, long black hair covered in small snowflakes. Remus is able to catch the man by his forearms, both bounding up and standing straight again, suddenly close. He’s looking at his feet, the ground covered in snow, when he suddenly walks into someone, who gasps and topples back. But he didn’t complain, he never did, walking the streets from his job to his home, transport off that night due to it being Christmas night. He didn’t have any spare money to buy himself a hot drink, or even a cheap scarf, face red with the chill. Remus was cold, his clothes worn thin, well stitched-patches sown all over the coat he was wearing and shoes with the bottoms worn thin enough he could feel the ground.
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