Managing

Remus had never met a person as contradictive as Sirius Black. As the dark haired male stepped backstage before the first show of The Marauders’ pre-tour gigs, all air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Remus could not look away, even if he wanted to. Sirius looked all consuming. His whole demeanour was powerful and dark. He was dressed in ripped black jeans that hung dangerously low on his tattooed hip bones. His chest was exposed, as he wore an unbuttoned black shirt with short sleeves, showing off a hell of a lot more tattooed skin. His slim fingers were covered in ink, black nail polish and chunky silver rings. Remus absentmindedly licked his lips, as his gaze travelled up, examining Sirius’ neck and face. His stormy grey eyes were even darker around the edges as a black line was drawn around them, which gave him a fierce and seductive expression. And the fucking hair. It was jet-black and the wild curls was partly up in a bun, which showcased his sharp and prominent cheekbones. His whole body radiated of mischief and, well…sex. His mere presence demanded the attention of those around him. He just had it, and Remus started to understand the fans desperately screaming out for him, like some kind of sick worship. Only this demi-god looked more like a fallen angel, a bloody devil.

But behind all the smoke inked skin and the revealing clothes, Sirius’ tired expression told another story. God, he looked exhausted – sick even. It made Remus’ stomach tighten into a knot. How could anyone look so perfectly ruined. It was the weirdest thing, probably not even noticeable if one had not spent much time with the man. But after weeks of getting to know the band and being in Sirius’ company, Remus had slowly but surely started to recognize the different traces of distress in the singer’s beautiful face. And it was evidently there now. Just for a split second, before Sirius skilfully rearranged his features and sent Peter, James and Remus a dangerous smirk, promising trouble. The other two Marauders rose from their seats and cheered loudly, beers in hands.

“Marauders! Let’s fucking tear this place down!”, James roared. They were all buzzing from anticipation. Like wild horses about to be freed from captivity. Remus was mesmerized. The whole group had been professional through and through in the weeks leading up to their first show. They’ve met on time and worked their asses off, showing a fierce dedication that Remus could only admire and respect. The three of them very clearly loved what they did and was gifted with undeniable musical talent.

“5 minutes!”, someone yelled at the door leading out from backstage and into the maze of underground hallways. Sirius turned his focus on Remus with a lopsided smile.

“Does this look alright?”, he asked and signalled down himself with his palms slightly spread out. Remus’ brain shut down a brief second.

The fucking god of sex and anything unholy asks how he looks? Was he fucking joking? Sadistically testing Remus like the smug bastard, he could be?

But then he saw it. The slightest raise of one dark eyebrow and the small furrow that gave Sirius away. He was not fishing for a compliment or asking a rhetorical question to boost his ego. He was sincere. It was reassurance that he sought. Remus didn’t understand anything, but Sirius’ look intensified, and he swallowed quickly before answering.

“Yes, absolutely. It looks more than alright. You look great Sirius”. The statement sent a quick wave of relief across Sirius’ face before he sent Remus a small smile.

“Ey, you two! Get over here!”, Peter called, gesturing for them to join their pre-show circle. In a faint distant, the roaring crowd was yelling and chanting for the band to show. The air was electric. Remus smiled and placed himself between Peter and Sirius, and as he did, Sirius turned his head and gave him a long look. His eyes twinkling and a barely hidden smirk formed at the corner of his lips. He looked fucking dangerous. And his fucking smell. Remus was quickly consumed in notes of leather, smoke and a faint flowery scent. It made Remus suck in a breath as he met Sirius’ eyes. Sirius made a deep rumbling sound, sending a short puff of air in Remus’ face as the grey eyes continued to bore into him. Then the black clothed demon flashed a toothy grin at him, fucking winking at him. It sent blood straight from Remus’ brain to a completely different part of his body.

What the fuck was going on?

Sirius looked like a man on a mission. A man out for blood, and Remus couldn’t help speculating whose blood he was after. Most likely he was just excited to be performing again, and that excitement was for some weird reason aimed at Remus. 

He swallowed thickly and forced his gaze away from Sirius as the band was called onto the stage. Remus followed them for as long as he could. The three Marauders jumped at each other, high on the adrenaline traveling from the rumbling of thousand voices waiting just for them. Remus felt a sudden wave of nerves, as if he was the one about to stand in front of so many people. The constant buzzing sound of voices eventually mixed to form one single mass, a monstrous being. They reached their destination, and Remus stayed back as the Marauders disappeared behind the steps leading them on to the stage. The flashing lights suddenly went out and covered the arena in total darkness. It made the crowd grow silent in a split second before erupting into wild screams that transformed into one giant roar. It took Remus’ breath away. He watched wide eyed as spotlights lit up the three shadows emerging from cool blue smoke and his skin broke out in goosebumps. Dark and heavy music accompanied the Marauders as they made their way to their instruments. James behind his drums, Peter on bass and of course, Sirius Black standing in the front of the microphone, guitar in hand, looking like he was about to fucking devour the place. When the light hit his face, the crowd went wild, and the arena seemed to form a black hole in which time and space disappeared into the mercy of Sirius’ dark voice.

Remus was in awe. He had seen footage of the band and heard some of their tracks when they practised in the studio but seeing them perform was a whole other thing. The three of them held thousands of people in their palms. Everything seemed to fall into place, as if being in this band was as easy as breathing.

A couple of songs in, Remus started to get his pulse back to normal and could watch the band with more steady breathing. He observed each of them, admired them and their obvious talent. As his gaze fell on Sirius, the singer tossed his head to get the loose strands of hair out of his face. Then he glanced to his side, eyes landing straight at Remus. His chest was glistening with sweat, and the long hair started to stick to his forehead. But it was the fucking eyes for Remus. Everything and everyone disappeared as those hunting eyes bore into him, unbothered of the crowd trying to eat him alive. It was as if Sirius wanted to tell him something, and Remus half feared that the singer would stop the performance to say something completely unhinged. But it never happened as the grey eyes continued to look at him. It could have been a few seconds, but it felt like a blissful eternity.

What was that look? Determination? Desperation?

Remus’ brows furrowed in confusion as he wondered if Sirius needed something. He had asked the man repeatedly in the last week, as Sirius continued to show up more red-eyed and pale than the day before. But like James and Peter, Remus was cut off as well. Whatever it was that bothered the stubborn furball, Sirius wasn’t interested in sharing it with anyone. Remus had even consulted James a few days ago, as his concern had started to grow.

“I’m keeping an eye on him as well. He’s clearly not doing too good, but Sirius is tricky like that. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for him to get these lows. We’ve been here plenty of times…”, James had muttered tiredly as they sat in Remus’ office. James had scratched his chin as he continued.

“As you may have noticed, Sirius is not very good at…self-regulating”. Remus nodded silently. Yes, he had encountered what he thought to be the tip of the ‘Sirius Black-iceberg’. The mood swings, the outbursts and the painful struggle of self-expression. Sirius was like water close to its boiling point. But as if the emotional instability wasn’t enough, the dark-haired singer now started to look physically unwell. The thought of bringing a ticking bomb on tour was not enticing in the slightest. Not when you were the manager of said bomb.

But seeing Sirius now, on stage and present, he looked invincible. Like he spitefully challenged the world to fucking tear him apart. And with those fierce full eyes on Remus, the maniac traced a hand down his chest suggestively and sang:

What's your thoughts about religion?

Are you close to your mother?

Tell me 'bout your dream vacation

And all of your ex-lovers

Tell me now, what's that look on your face

She puts her hand on my lips

Begging, "Please, end this conversation"

Baby said, "When you're talking, I go dead

Shut your mouth, give me your head"

Uh-uh, uh, uh, I know you really want to

Baby said, "Let me taste your silhouette

You can talk between my legs"

Uh-uh, uh, uh, I know you really want to

Sirius’ eyes finally let go of Remus with a vicious smile and then he dropped to his knees, fucking thrusting the air as he threw his head back, exposing the strained tendons in his neck. Well, that was. Quite something. Remus’ mouth went dry, and he had a weird feeling of watching something he shouldn’t. Like peeking through a slightly open door, but as the blush started to form on his cheeks, he mentally shook himself. Sirius performed in front of thousands of people. There was nothing private or intimate about any of this. Hell, if Remus should follow his own “peeking analogy”, Sirius was the one holding the damn door right open, inviting Remus in. He really didn’t know what to make of the invitation though.

--- --- ---

As the show ended in massive applause and ear deafening screams, the three Marauders stumbled backstage, drenched in sweat and euphoria. They looked like happiness in its purest, most honest form. It made Remus smile, and his chest swelled with hope thinking about the next shows and the bands future in general.

“Fuck me, that was incredible!”, James exclaimed and dried his face in a towel before tossing it at Peter who quickly dodged behind a coach, clearly used to the throw.

“You really were incredible. You should be proud of yourselves”, Remus told the three. His words made James and Peter send flashing smiles his way, their eyes sparkling. Before Remus could turn around to locate Sirius, the smaller man made his presence known. Remus felt the quick rising and falling of his warm chest dangerously close to his own back. Sirius’ panting breath ghosted at Remus’ neck.

Did the idiot suffer a stroke on stage and forget everything about the personal sphere?

As Remus turned to face Sirius, he was met with pale grey eyes and a boyish grin. His black curls were wet with sweat and his shirt nowhere to be seen. Remus absentmindedly followed a drop of sweat rolling from Sirius’ collarbones and down his chest as it disappeared at his waistband. Then Sirius’ abs tightened as he chuckled quietly, the sight making Remus wanting to do things to the beautiful devil that he really shouldn’t do. Things that would make his abs tighten for totally different reasons.

“I live to impress, dear Remus”. Sirius arched a cocky brow as he smirked at Remus, clearly still riding the wave from their performance. And maybe another wave that Remus refused to dwell upon. He swallowed thickly.

“Pads, stop harassing Remus and get a move on. I wanna sleep”, Peter called over his shoulder as he changed into something more comfortable for the ride back to their hotel. Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he brushed past Remus, unzipping his jeans in the process as if he hadn’t just shamelessly flirted. Remus quickly decided not to stick around and said his goodbyes to the band before making his way out of the arena and into one of the waiting black cars.

--- --- ---

SIRIUS POV

As Sirius rested his head against the elevator wall, the light, carefree feeling in his stomach started to dissolve and turn into heavy dread. The shift happened so fast; it almost made him sick. He let out a shaky breath, as the elevator doors opened, and he slowly made his way down the long hallway to his room. He had done this far too many painful times before, but it never got any easier. The deafening screams and the thrumming bass of the music died out and got swallowed into the total silence and nothingness. He was nothing and no one. In a span of mere hours, he went from being surrounded by thousands of people who adored him, wanted him, to total isolation. Sirius hated the silence that consumed him and made the loud ringing for his ears his only company. The loneliness clawed at him and followed him into his room, whispering relentlessly into his ear.

Sirius reached for his keycard in his back pocket and unlocked the door to his room. It was big and luxurious as always. A living room with a very tempting minibar continued into the bedroom with a huge, connected bathroom. Large, heavy curtains hung from the windows and outside, the millions of city lights blinked. Sirius walked to the bedroom, and as he stood at the foot of the giant, empty bed, a quiet sob fell from his lips. The sound startled him so badly it made him jolt. God, he despised the part that came now. The night. It would be so much easier if he could just sleep from it all, like he assumed James and Peter did. But Sirius’ mind never allowed sleep to come before the early morning hours. It least not without any help. He felt it now, the itch. No scratch that. He had felt it for days on end. Now it was a dull, painful sting that pierced through him. The feeling made him gasp for air and he sat down at the foot of the bed; the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes. Sirius could make it go away. He knew that. He could get a full night of quiet, beautifully comatose sleep. He could catch his breath. Fuck he could feel good for once. He was so tired, and they had only just started out. The real tour would end him if he didn’t manage to push through this. Panic slowly started to form, and his legs tried to bounce the restlessness out of him. Sirius shut up from the bed, unable to find peace in his own body. A pained groan escaped him as he tugged at his hair, pacing the bedroom.

I can’t fucking do this.

And then; Anger. It came suddenly and forceful. It was fucking easy for the others to deny him any relief. What did they know? They didn’t need it like he did. How fucking dared they do this to him? Like a trip to rehab would fucking solve anything and leave him sudden capable of doing all the things he couldn’t do before?

It wasn’t hard getting clean; it was hard staying clean. Making the damn choice every fucking day of his life and stand by it. Right now, he didn’t even want to stand by it. He only did it for James and Peter. He could care less if he relapsed. He may not like the person he was when he was using, but he sure as hell didn’t like himself now either. So, if it came down between hating himself and feeling like absolute shit, or hating himself and feeling nothing, then the choice was pretty damn easy. But in the very small sane part of his mind, Sirius knew that it was his addiction talking and that pissed him off like nothing else.

“Stop messing with my head!”.

Sirius yelled and slammed a fist to the wall, wincing as the immediate pain consumed him, but he would always choose this pain before any other. He laughed bitterly, well aware that the physical pain was his pathetic excuse of a security blanket. It was a familiar sensation, reminding him of his mother’s painful hands, from which he knew what to expect. It soothed him as a sick substitute for comfort. God, he hated himself. Sirius glanced spiteful at the bed, before he marched in front of it and tore the duvet off. Then he threw it on the coach, as the thought of lying down in bed almost made him vomit. Sniffling he settled on the coach and buried his face in his pillow. His heart was in his throat, and he clenched the duvet in his fists, wincing through shaking sobs. He was in physical pain. It hurt and burned down his chest, and he broke out in cold sweat as his body continued to shake.

As sleep finally came, Sirius drifted off with the determination of not repeating this again. He couldn’t fucking bare it.

Hands. Roaming, demanding hands. Fingers around his chin and in his hair. They pulled and pulled, forcing out a pained moan. Giggles. He forced himself up on his elbows, trying to pry his eyes open, but the world was blurred, and his body was heavy. He rubbed at his eyes, but someone removed his hands and held tightly around his wrists.

“Hey, rockstar. Open up”. A finger traced his mouth, and he parted his lips. “This will make you feel so good, I promise”. Then lips on his and a tongue forced a pill into his mouth. He couldn’t breathe and only when he swallowed did the lips leave his own. He panted heavily, gasping for air, as he was being pushed down in the mattress. Hands. So many different hands. In his hair and at his chest. He tried to see how many and who they belonged to, but he couldn’t focus his gaze. The voices became distant and distorted. Then the hands travelled down his stomach, and he arched his back needily as they started working on his zipper. Voices, light giggles. Someone grabbed him between his legs and started stroking him, and he threw his head back in the pillow, moaning. His body trembled with pleasure and exhaustion. Another mouth found his neck, sucking and biting at his skin as hands kept pulling relentlessly at his hair. He was straddled, and without warning, someone sunk themselves down on him and a wet warmth enclosed him. His senses got bombarded with stimuli until his brain was a humming meaningless mess. All the pain and struggle dissolved into an all-consuming numbness. A whimper escaped him as grateful tears left his eyes. He felt them run along his temples and wet his hair. “That’s it”, the voice cooed in his ear. “It’ll make everything disappear”.

Sirius startled awake and stumbled towards the bathroom, just barely avoiding tripping over his discarded shoes. He threw himself on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up and heaving. His body shuddered violently as his sweat dried and cooled his skin. Tears were spilling from his eyes, and Sirius panted heavily. As the images from his dream kept emerging, a new wave of nausea hit him, and he gagged as his abs contracted painfully.

As his body finally started to relax, Sirius slumped back against the wall with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and sniffled like a child. The loneliness that lulled him to sleep last night had settled somewhere deep in his chest and it hurt. But now he also felt dirty. He felt utterly disgusted with himself and it filled him with a hopelessness that forced out a strained sob. Sirius crossed his arms over his legs and curled in on himself, forehead resting on his knees.

He didn’t know how long it took, but as the sobs finally started to subside, Sirius slowly released himself. He started to get up from the floor while supporting himself against the bathroom wall. Quietly he turned on the shower. Sirius knew all too well that the warm water wasn’t enough to remove the feeling of revulsion. He had scrubbed his skin raw countless of times before, but it didn’t bring him any relief. He slowly stripped and only then realised that he’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Then he stepped in the shower and pressed his eyes shut.

“At least you look like the fucking slut that you are”.

Scott’s mocking voice came sudden and forceful. It made Sirius’ breath hitch, and he violently shook his head as he tried to escape the words. The voice was relentless.

“Aw, is Sirius Black crying? Seems like I hit a weak spot. You know you could fire me, if you weren’t such a fucking coward. If you weren’t so fucking scared of what I know about you. If you weren’t so bloody ashamed of yourself”.

A small whimper escaped him then. It was true. He was so fucking ashamed it almost tore him apart. Sirius remembered the morning after that blurry night. He had woken up in a strange place in a strange bed, surrounded by strange and naked people. His body had ached for days after, but his mental state had hurt more, as he realized that he, once again, had let himself use and be used. And not only that, but it had also been women. Not just men. Fuck, the things he had done to himself, or let other people do to him, to ease the burning pain of loneliness. Just to escape his screaming mind for a single night. He had pushed his own discomfort far away, just to get some form of intimacy. In that moment, skin was skin. Sirius had been far too gone and far too desperate to acknowledge the fact that he didn’t even like girls. Not that his preferences even mattered, when it all came down to it. He did not have that luxury as that aspect of his life felt out of his control. He had just been so lonely. Even now, he wasn’t sure what else he should or even could have done differently to make the pain go away. Hell, Sirius was close to fucking losing it just a couple of hours ago and he was looking into another shitshow tonight. It would repeat itself, like it always did. And then, the consequences of his actions would hit him full force.

Sirius washed his thick hair, trying to distract himself, and as his fingers reached his neck a new thought smacked itself against his skull.

“It looks more than alright. You look great Sirius”.

Remus.

Sirius shuddered as goosebumps spread across his body. For some weird reason that sentence made his rapid heartbeat slow its pace just a bit. Remus had complimented him, more than once, when he thought about it. When Sirius had walked backstage and Remus’ eyes had lingered on him, he had heard Scott’s condescending voice in the back of his mind. And for another weird reason, Sirius had fucking needed Remus’ assurance like an insecure teenager. But, let alone had Remus reassured him, he had even complimented him, and that small praise had sent Sirius’ head straight to “I will let you manage the shit out of me-town” horrifyingly quick. Quicker than his pride would ever admit, but also quicker than his own frontal lobe could keep up, which resulted in him shamelessly flirting with Remus.

Stop fucking self-sabotaging whenever the hell you get the slightest impulse to. Stop being so socially maladjusted. What is wrong with you?

Sirius frowned as he washed out the shampoo. He knew many labels that could be rightfully stamped onto his forehead, but now he could add masochist to them as well, and if the voice inside his head kept nagging him, he could probably add a few more sooner than later.

He stepped into the bedroom and rummaged through his suitcase. He slightly started to regret that he hadn’t bothered to unpack when they arrived yesterday. Sighing, he threw on a white t-shirt and black jeans and hid his tired eyes behind his sunglasses. He did not care in the slightest, that he wore shades inside like a bloody pretentious cliché. Fucking sue him. He knew eating breakfast would be a challenge, since his appetite was non-existent, and he needed the shield for James Potters’ analyzing gaze.

As Sirius walked down the hallway towards the elevators, the feelings from last night ghosted his mind. It did something to him that he did not stop to register as he knew he wouldn’t like the outcome. But he also knew that when the key in his mind started to turn, there was no stopping it. He let the idea be set in motion, refusing to regard its consequences and it reached its end point with a loud ‘click’. Sirius smiled grimly as the elevator doors closed around him and he quickly sent a text to a number that he really should have deleted, but was relieved he didn’t have. As he walked out the elevator, his phone buzzed promisingly in his pocket and the tightness in his chest started to ease.