They were both in their forties now, Remus realized with a pang. Forty-three, forty-four soon. Too old for "crushes". (No matter how dashingly one's object of ABSOLUTELY unrequited - squishiness - grinned at them.)
"Right."
He'd better stop repeating that word; Sirius was already giving him a look. "Sorry, Padfoot."
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They were both in their forties now, Remus realized with a pang. Forty-three, forty-four soon. Too old for "crushes". (No matter how dashingly one's object of ABSOLUTELY unrequited - squishiness - grinned at them.)
"Right."
He'd better stop repeating that word; Sirius was already giving him a look. "Sorry, Padfoot."