#i am in my writer's block era pls let me get out of here

[spillthebea]

may prompt: secret relationship

@wolfstarmicrofic – words: 951

warning: suicidal thoughts/sacrifice yourself

... this is sad, guys

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“She was looking at you,” Sirius says first thing when Remus enters the room.

He is giving his back, folding and unfolding a shirt that has something against being unwrinkled. His hand stretches the material, fingers swiping the wrinkles away and yet, like the fucking itch of unwanted jealousy Sirius is feeling curled in his stomach, it does not cooperate. Why is he doing his laundry when Kreacher is there to lick his boots?

The door is softly closed and shoes are taken off.

“Was she?”

Sirius throws away the shirt exasperated, angry and turns, “Do not fucking play dumb, Remus!” in a burst of all the ugly thoughts haunting him throughout the day since the scene of the meeting. It won't stop replaying in his head.

Remus’ smile and Nymphadora's blush and how old Sirius felt with his sunk eyes and lost beauty.

After that, he went to his mother's room, rummaging in her vanity set for anything that would have helped give him what was once his. Sirius had been the light of the party. He had been flirted with, flattered and had charmed anyone with a look, or a grin and never cared for any of it because he had Remus in his heart.

But now? What does he have for himself?

He can't join the fight. Back in prison, now with just more rooms to roam around and run from his mistakes during sleepless nights of nightmares. He can't even maintain Remus’ eyes on himself because broken.

“… Sirius–”

“Do not use that fucking voice with me”

He sounds like his mother screaming at Orion. Between them, silence or Walburga demanding more of Father as she had done with all of them, her included. And in this house, his new cage, it's difficult to stop sinking in old memories and old fears.

He wants to apologise, reassuring he does not want to sound like Mother. Sirius has never wanted in his life to be like her.

He has always lost that fight.

“I want you to tell her. I want you to tell everyone, I'm tired of hiding.”

Remus quirks an eyebrow, the question loud between them; is Sirius still talking about their secret relationship?

“They won't kick you out of the Order if you tell them what we are,” Sirius continues, ignoring Remus’ little sigh, the drop of his shoulders because they both know it was coming. The signs were all there and no one else except Remus knew how to handle him. Not anymore, at least. All gone, leaving him behind. “They are your friends”

“They are your friends too.” Remus makes his way towards him, jacket wet from the rain outside and Sirius studies it as, just with his mind, he will feel the cold spring rain on his own skin.

Sirius cannot remember the last time he was outside. Even as Padfoot it could be dangerous because Peter… Peter could…

“No. I didn't rot for twelve years thought to have killed James and Lily to call those people my friends. All my friends are fucking dead!”

And so should I! is not said, but it is there between Sirius’ ribs and the need to point his finger at Remus for thinking him capable of wanting to hurt Lily and Harry, betraying James.

It's unfair. It was war, no one trusted no one; except Sirius did trust someone, didn't he? And everything had ended because of that.

Sirius, deep down, is aware that blaming Remus is not the way, but he spent the last twelve years replaying his errors, going through what he could have done to change them… spent those years blaming himself and now it's someone else's turn because he is so tired.

The pressure of his guilt has been clawing his heart for too long. What will Effie say when Sirius is going to meet her in his death?

It is a question that does not let him breathe. Night after night, her cries… He promised his ma he would take care of their James. How could she forgive Sirius after Godric's Hollow?

“Tonks looks at you,” Sirius mutters, hands brushing his hair away from his face and it does not help calm himself down.

She is younger. Full of life and less haunted than him. She can go wherever she wants and is so similar to a younger Sirius.

‘You must have noticed,’ he wants to accuse Remus. ‘You must or you would have not given her the time of day. Am I not enough?'

“And not making clear you are not interested does not help”

Tonks, she likes to be called. A change of name, a rewriting of fate just like Sirius who had hated his to the core– Effie would call them ‘Potters!’ for a meal or a family meeting and he had been included. A Potter. Not officially, neither of blood but in spirit, it had been enough.

Sirius wants to be enough; to have died saving his family like he had planned, bringing as many Death Eaters as he could six feet under with him. To be back in their old London apartment he got from Uncle Al, just the two of them. Remus and Sirius, on their sofa and Sirius stealing sips from Remus’ tea cup.

He wants Remus to touch and love him as they did when younger and less drained by life but when Remus tries to do that same thing, Sirius snarls and dodges to flee.

“Where are you going? Are you not coming to bed?”

The thought of lying down makes him itchy.

“We both know I won't sleep. Tonight, I don't have it in me to fake it for you”

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np tag: @vlaflipvla (bc you were excited about it) @myriadparacosm

bc last time you said i didn't include you so now i did :))