sirius black, self proclaimed rebel with messy hair, went to university wanted to make masterpieces. to paint, to make art, to create beautiful things. his parents, however, went against this, sending phone calls and letters that were far from shy o...
"It's just a party, you should chill out," Peter's voice came from his bedroom, where he'd ironically been for the past hour "doing" his hair. Remus looked away from his canvas.
"What's telling you I'm stressed?" he asked to the open doorway. Peter poked his head out, putting his glasses on.
"You've been abstractly painting that canvas for almost an hour and a half. And you hate Jackson Pollock, so this is a freak out."
Remus rolled his eyes, setting his paintbrush in his water cup. "Shut up. It's not like you're Mr. Chill over here. Are you trying to impress someone? Because you never do your hair. Or maybe you do. But it always looks like you rolled out of bed regardless."
"Wow, roast me. And no, I'm not. But what if I see a pretty girl? Then she'll be like 'damn' and it's history."
"You're dumb."
"You haven't even kissed the guy you've been painting and having wet dreams about for the past several weeks," Peter shrugged, fixing his shirt collar and walking towards the kitchen.
Remus threw a wadded up paper towel at his roommate's head. "I have not been having wet dreams about him."
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"You have like, one jacket you wear with everything. Chill and put a shirt on." James was laying upside down on his bed, scrolling on Lily's Instagram feed (she'd posted a picture of her and Remus the day before. James had re-liked it seven times already.) "Jesus, come on!"
Sirius held a hand out of the bathroom door, flipping the other boy off. "We got a dorm with a private bathroom, I'm taking advantage of it! Does my hair make me look homeless?"
James looked away from his phone. "What? No, you're fine. But get dressed so we can get to that party."
"You know you're not getting laid tonight, right?" Sirius ran a hand through his hair, raising an eyebrow. He picked up a shirt from his bed (he'd been choosing between three) and slipped it over his head. James rolled his eyes. "Dude, let it go."
"Oh like you have room to talk," James muttered, sitting up. Sirius' eyes widened as he grabbed his jacket.
"Excuse me?"
"Like you haven't been giving Remus bedroom eyes since the day you two met? And since when do you care what your hair looks like? Someone's trying to get some just as much as I am."
"You're gross - shut up."
"It's true!" James grabbed his shoes, yanking them onto his feet, hopping over to the coat rack to grab his jacket.
