Been Good, Busier Than Ever
The three broomsticks had always been his favorite pub. There was an energy to it—something different, something alive—that no other place could quite match, which is saying something for someone like Sirius Black, who partied like no other.
He pushes the door open, and the beat of the music hits him like a wave. The place is alive, lights flickering in time with the rhythm, laughter spilling out over the pounding bass, and bodies pressed together on the makeshift dance floor. It’s chaos, loud and intoxicating, the kind of energy Sirius thrives on, or at least, he used to.
He strides in, shaking off the chill of the night as a few familiar faces glance his way. Someone slaps him on the back, shouting his name, and he grins automatically, sliding into the moment like slipping on a well-worn coat. It’s easy, second nature. He doesn’t even have to think about it.
At the bar, Rosmerta’s busy pouring shots, her blonde hair catching the light as she moves. She spots him and waves, raising an eyebrow as if to say, 'about time'. He makes his way over, weaving through the crowd, and leans casually against the counter.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” she teases, handing off a tray of drinks before turning to him.
“Wouldn’t want to disappoint my adoring fans,” he shoots back, flashing her a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
She laughs, sliding a glass toward him, a dark amber liquid that’s as familiar as the room itself. He takes it, lifting it briefly in her direction before taking a sip. The burn is sharp, grounding, but it does little to drown out the restless buzz under his skin.
At the far end of the room, James and Peter are already waiting for him at one of the pub’s tall standing tables. James’s grin is unmistakable even in the dim lighting, wide and full of mischief as he raises his glass in greeting. Peter, half-hidden behind him, waves a little too enthusiastically, nearly knocking over the beer in his hand.
“About bloody time!” James calls out as Sirius approaches. “We were starting to think you’d ditched us for one of your fancy photography gigs.”
“Please,” Sirius replies, rolling his eyes as he claps James on the shoulder. “Like I’d ever pick work over you lot. Even if I’ve got better options.”
Peter snorts into his drink, and James smirks. “You wish, mate.”
Sirius leans against the table, taking in the sight of his two oldest friends. James looks exactly the same as always: crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to seem effortless, hair as messy as if he’s just walked through a windstorm and his round glasses that he must have since they were in school. Has he ever changed the frames? Sirius doubts it. Still, the heir to the Potter family business somehow manages to look both charming and entirely unbothered.
And then there’s Peter, his tie loosened, shirt wrinkled like he’s just stumbled out of a never-ending meeting. Accountant to the core, he looks like he belongs anywhere but there, with the wide grin on his face that calls for mischief. Since school ended, he has opened up a lot more, being one of the funniest mates Sirius has. He still is the approachable guy that they’ve known since forever.
“What took you so long?” Peter asks, gesturing at Sirius with his glass. “You’re usually the first one here.”
“Had to finish up a shoot,” Sirius lies easily, though neither of them presses him on it. Both James and Peter have cut him some well, a lot, of slack recently. They don’t say it out loud, but Sirius has noticed that they are way more lenient with him than they used to. He prefers to not think about the why of that change.
James clinks his glass against Peter’s. “Well, you’re here now. And for once, none of us have work tomorrow, thank you so much Christmas Holidays,” He almost screams with a big smile. “I’d say that calls for a proper celebration.”
“Here, here,” Peter agrees, raising his drink in mock solemnity.
Sirius grabs a pint from a passing tray, lifts it with a grin, and joins in their impromptu toast. The warmth of their company is familiar, comforting even. But as James launches into a story about a disaster at his parents’ office and Peter chimes in with a complaint about year-end budgets, Sirius finds his attention drifting.
His gaze flickers to the crowd—faces he doesn’t recognize, all lost in the music and the movement. For a moment, he focuses on a couple pressed close together in a corner, their laughter spilling out like they don’t have a care in the world. The girl tilts her head back, her hair catching the light in a way that reminds him of someone he’d rather not think about.
He looks away, letting his eyes drift upward to the string lights crisscrossing the ceiling, their soft glow doing little to dim the sharp neon that floods the room. It’s a photographer’s instinct, noticing the interplay of light and shadow, the way it paints everyone in fleeting snapshots of life. Normally, he’d be cataloging it all, mentally framing shots, thinking about how to freeze this chaos into something permanent. But tonight, the thought feels hollow.
The music shifts to something slower, more deliberate, and he catches himself watching a guy at the edge of the dance floor. He’s tall, dark-haired, laughing as he spins his partner around. It’s not him—not even close—but the sight still twists something in Sirius’s chest. He turns back to James and Peter, forcing his attention back to the conversation, but the words feel distant, like they’re coming from another room.
“...right, Sirius?” James is saying, and Sirius blinks, realizing he’s been asked a question.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asks, plastering on a grin to cover the lapse.
Peter snickers. “He’s been here five minutes, and he’s already zoning out. Typical.”
“Probably thinking about his next big date,” James teases.
Sirius forces a laugh, the sound barely scraping the surface of the noise around him. “Something like that,” he mutters, taking another sip of his drink.
James takes pity on his friend’s poor attention span and repeats his last words. “I was just telling our dear friend Wormtail here, how amazing it is that he’s bringing his new boyfriend to the Christmas dinner at Lily’s,” he speaks pointedly, daring Sirius to experience James’ wrath if he doesn’t agree with that statement.
And look. Sirius really did want to try to get along with Lockhart, but at school he was an arrogant prat that wouldn’t even give Peter the time of day, let alone tell him what perfume he used despite Wormtail’s attempts to figure it out. So now, Sirius is having a hard time reconciling that that same guy is his best friend’s boyfriend. Still, he smiles at Peter not wanting to be unsupportive. “Of course! It’ll be great!” Maybe he had oversold it, but what can you do.
“Don’t say it like I’m making you go back to Grimmauld place for Christmas, Jesus,” Peter says ironically. “I think you’ll like him though, you’re both so similar, full of yourselves and all,” he teases behind his beer.
“I hate you Wormy, I really do,” Sirius sends back as he laughs with his mates and keeps drinking.
The night stretches on, blurring into a haze of music and lights as Sirius drinks his way through the hours. One pint turns into two, then three, and soon the edges of the room start to soften, the faces around him shifting into something indistinct. He laughs louder, leans heavier against the table, and throws his arm around James’s shoulders in exaggerated camaraderie.
The world feels lighter now, easier to bear, but there’s a hollowness beneath the buzz, a weight that even alcohol can’t quite erase. Every drink dulls the edges of his thoughts, but the ache at the center of them only seems to press deeper. He ignores that feeling though, like he has for some time now.
The music thumps, shaking the floor beneath his boots. Around him, people are dancing, shouting, laughing, caught up in the kind of joy that feels endless. He watches it all, letting the noise wash over him, but there’s a disconnect, like he’s standing just slightly out of sync with the world around him.
This used to be his favorite kind of night, his favorite kind of place. The Three Broomsticks has always had a way of pulling him in, of making him feel alive. But now, as he downs the rest of his drink and sets the empty glass on the bar, all he can think is how far away it all feels.
And isn’t that just typical?
The next day, the three of them wake up with one of the biggest hangovers they’ve had in ages. The Marauders seem to have forgotten they are not eighteen anymore. And hey, Sirius loves being almost thirty, but this aftermath of yesterday’s excess isn’t sitting well with his body. He groans in Peter’s sofa as he stretches and opens one eye. They always come to Peter’s house after a night in the Three Broomsticks, being the one closest to the pub.
He gets up and heads to the kitchen, needing a glass of water to rehydrate. Sirius rubs his temples, already feeling the weight of the hangover creeping in. The lights are too bright, the air too thick with the lingering scent of last night. He pauses for a moment, squinting at the countertop, and then spots James, leaning casually against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand.
“Look who finally dragged himself out of bed,” James says, grinning like he hasn’t just spent the night drinking with him. He looks completely fine, energized, practically glowing. Not a single sign of the chaos they’ve just left behind.
Sirius grunts in response, fumbling for a glass. "How are you so… fine?" Sirius mutters, his voice hoarse as he fills his glass. He takes a long gulp, hoping it’ll help settle the spinning in his head.
James shrugs, unfazed. "You know that I’ve always been like a goddamn magician, mate. I’ve mastered the art of surviving a night of drinking."
Sirius rolls his eyes, but there's a tired smirk on his face. "You’re also twenty-seven. Give it another year. So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Sirius asks, curious about how they’re starting their holidays. Other than with a headache, that is.
James shrugs again, nonchalant. "I dunno. Probably spend the day making fun of you for being so bad at handling alcohol."
Sirius smirks despite himself. “Yeah, well, I’m older than you, cut me some slack.”
James just laughs rolling his eyes, and the noise makes his head hurt again. “You’re just five months older, you twat.” He opens a cabinet and takes out a little box. “Here, old man, have some ibuprofen before your grumpiness reaches Peter when he wakes up. I don’t want to relive a war between you two thanks to your hangovers.” Sirius shudders at the reminder of the last time Wormtail and him had a fight due to their post-drinking blues.
Just as if he had been summoned, Peter enters the kitchen grunting in greeting without even glancing at them. James and Sirius send each other a look, trying not to laugh in Peter’s face.
Peter shuffles over to the counter, still half asleep, his hair sticking out in every direction like a bird’s nest. He grabs a mug from the cabinet, pouring what seems to be the last of the coffee in the pot, though he doesn’t seem to notice or care. The mug is held with both hands, like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling over.
Sirius raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with his usual lazy confidence. “Good morning, Wormtail. How’s the battle against the sleep demons going?”
Peter grunts again, blowing into the mug like he’s trying to summon some life into the liquid. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this old,” he mutters, finally looking at them. His eyes are bleary, his face pale, but there’s something about his tired expression that Sirius can’t help but find endearing.
James, still smiling, leans back against the kitchen island. “See? You’re already complaining about getting old. You’re catching up to Sirius’s level of misery.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, please. You two are the ones who look like you just crawled out of a grave.” He leans over, grabbing the ibuprofen James had handed him earlier and shaking a couple into his hand. “I’m the one who’s just almost thirty, remember?”
Peter, now more awake, shoots him a half-hearted glare. “You sound like one of those old men complaining about their joints, mate. ‘Almost thirty’ isn’t that bad.”
Sirius chuckles, popping the ibuprofen into his mouth. “You say that now. Wait until you hit my age and start feeling it in your bones.”
Peter scoffs and decides he’s not even going to bother with an answer to that statement, now nursing his coffee like it’s his lifeline. He looks between the two of them. “I’m just glad we made it out of last night alive. I don’t think I can handle any more tequila for a while.”
James laughs at that. “You’re telling me. I was ready to send both of you to bed after the second round of shots. But no, you insisted on ‘living a little more.’”
Sirius grins, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s called enjoying life, James. Something you’d know if you ever stopped worrying about your father’s company for five minutes.”
James rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of warmth in the exchange. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue with you, or I’d remind you who saved your ass last time.”
They banter easily, the warmth of friendship settling between them, but Sirius can’t shake the lingering fog of last night’s chaos. It’s like a weight on his chest, just enough to keep him from fully enjoying the moment, even as the familiar rhythm of their friendship washes over him.
He can’t also shake the feeling that someone’s missing in these exchanges, someone with a sharp tongue and a sarcastic sense of humor. He wonders if Peter and James miss him. They never talk about him in Sirius’ presence, which is probably for the best. But they must feel it too, the empty space that only their lost friend could fill. And it was Sirius’ fault.
The thought hits him harder than he expected, a cold rush in the pit of his stomach. He forces himself to focus on Peter, who’s now scowling at his empty coffee mug, and James, who’s rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. It's easier to latch onto their mundane bickering than face the gnawing feeling that’s been with him ever since last year.
Sirius swallows, trying to push the thought aside, but it lingers, like a dark cloud hanging just out of reach, threatening to rain down at any moment. He can still hear the echoes of their laughter; the way their voices filled the room when the four of them were together, when he was still his, before everything changed. Before he screwed everything up.
Peter is telling some story about a work meeting, his voice light and carefree, but Sirius isn’t really listening anymore. His thoughts are elsewhere, caught in a place he can't quite escape. It’s been months, and yet, the guilt hasn't faded.
Peter finally speaks up. “So… any plans for today?” He sounds a little more awake now, his energy slowly returning.
“Lily told me she’s coming over. Forgot to tell you, sorry.” James says as he sits down in a chair by the table.
Sirius feels a knot tighten in his stomach at the mention of Lily. He knows she’s coming over, of course, she’s always been part of their group, part of their lives. Her presence doesn’t bother him the way it used to when he found out about their breakup, when he was still trying to navigate his own tangle of feelings he hadn’t known how to deal with. Not anymore. She and James had called it quits months ago, and even though things were different, there was no tension between them now. But something still lingers at the back of his mind, a reminder of what’s missing.
He takes a long sip of his coffee, trying to push those thoughts aside.
"Cool, it’s always nice to see Evans," Sirius says, keeping his voice light, though there's a subtle tension in his shoulders. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you two. You’re always so delightful when she’s around." His words are teasing, but his tone feels off even to him, like a mask he’s too tired to wear.
James raises an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Right. You’re always so thrilled to have her around, aren’t you?” He shoots Sirius a knowing look. A look that tells him that James still remembers how angry Sirius got at Lily when he thought she had broken his heart.
Peter, who pretends to seem oblivious to the undercurrent of unspoken words, nods eagerly. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t seen her in a while! I’m sure she’s bringing over some of her famous pie, huh?” He grins, excited about the prospect of some of Lily’s homemade treats.
Sirius smiles faintly, his mind still half elsewhere. He can feel the familiar tightness in his chest at the thought of Lily, but it’s different now—more nostalgic than anything. For some reason, the news of her coming over feels heavier than it should. He shakes his head, mentally scolding himself. This isn't about Lily. He’s here with his friends, people who he’s known for years. This should be easy. But everything is clouded by one name, one person who hasn't been part of their lives for over a year.
Remus.
Sirius tries to push the thought down as soon as it comes up, but the truth is that it’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface. He hasn't heard from Remus in so long, and every time he thinks about him, a fresh wave of guilt washes over him. How did it get to this? He can’t help but wonder. How did the man he once thought he would always be with slip away without a word?
Why didn’t Remus fight for them either? He knows he’s the one at fault, but Remus gave up so quickly, it’s unnerving. It makes him clench his jaw and look and stare out the window. James, sensing the sudden shift in Sirius’s demeanor, watches him quietly for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. They’ve all learned to read between the lines when it comes to Sirius, and today, he's not in the mood for a chat.
Instead, James stands up, stretching as he heads toward the kitchen. “Well, I’m sure Lily will be here soon. I think I’ll start some lunch. You guys want anything?”
Peter’s immediately on board, his voice bright as he talks about sandwiches. Sirius nods vaguely, not really registering the words. His thoughts are still on Remus, on the one person he hasn't been able to reach, the one person who is still a gaping hole in their friendship. It hurts more than he lets on. It always has.
“Yeah, I’m good with just anything,” Sirius says, managing a smile. He doesn’t want to talk about this—not now, not in front of Peter and James, who don’t know the whole story. Hell, even Lily doesn’t know the full truth. He just needs to survive the day, pretend everything is fine… again.
Lily arrives a bit after noon, and the moment she steps through the door, there's a warmth in the air that immediately fills the space. Her presence is comforting, like slipping into your favorite shoes, familiar and easy. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, a few strands framing her face, and her coat is discarded on the back of a chair with ease.
“Hey, guys!” she calls, her voice bright, and for a second, he feels like he’s been catapulted into the past. Sirius feels a flicker of relief, the knots in his chest loosening just a fraction.
“Lily!” Peter says, practically jumping out of his seat. “I missed you! Merry Christmas by the way, can we already say it?”
She grins, holding up a large tupperware container, and Peter immediately gets up to grab it from her hands. “I guess you can,” she says as she hugs Peter. “And I brought pie, I couldn’t come empty-handed. I know how you all get when you don’t get a slice.”
Sirius watches them exchange their usual pleasantries, but his attention is drawn to the way Lily looks around the room, scanning the familiar faces. He knows her too well, knows how she can read people like open books. She gives him a small smile, like she always does when he thinks she’s about to say something, but doesn’t.
“Not going to ask how you two are feeling?” she teases, looking at James and Sirius, both of whom are still nursing some leftover signs of their hangovers. James rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “I’m good, thanks. I survived.” He gestures to Sirius. “He’s the one who’s still struggling.”
Sirius flashes a grin and mocks James again for not being old enough, and he retorts saying he’s ancient. Lily’s gaze quickly moves from Sirius to James and then Peter, her old friends. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
Sirius feels the familiar weight of her gaze, like she’s waiting for him to crack, to let something slip, but he doesn’t. He just shrugs, trying to keep it casual. “No big plans, really. Just hanging out. You know, the usual.”
She offers him a soft smile before turning her attention back to the others, already diving into stories and jokes like she and James hadn’t ever broken up. Sirius, however, can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else lurking under the surface. It’s been too long since the group has all been together like this, and while it’s comfortable, it’s also painfully evident that something’s missing. Someone’s missing. And Remus, once again, is nowhere to be found.
It really shouldn’t have caught him by such surprise when Lily decides to break the news that almost give him a panic attack. "Oh, I ran into Remus the other day. He apologized for not talking to me for over a year. We caught up for a bit, and he’s doing alright, you know.” Sirius, who has been casually sipping his coffee, freezes mid-drink. His heart suddenly skips a beat, and his hand tightens around the mug, causing the hot liquid to slosh over the rim.
Lily, unaware of the way Sirius' stomach has dropped, continues casually. “He’s keeping to himself, but I told him about our Christmas dinner, and he said he might come." She says it so nonchalantly, as though Remus's absence wasn’t something that has weighed on all of them for the past year. She must be doing it on purpose, trying to not make a big deal out of this. If he knows Remus right, and he thinks he did, it probably has taken some convincing on Lily’s part to make him agree to come to a dinner with people he’s avoided for months.
Sirius can barely process the words. His breath has caught in his throat, and the room seems to shrink around him. Remus. Remus had vanished, leaving behind nothing but a void that no one could fill. And now, out of nowhere, Lily mentions he might be coming back?
His mind is reeling, a thousand different thoughts colliding at once. Is this real?Did Remus actually agree to come? His body stiffens, a flood of emotions threatening to break through all at once. It’s been so long since he last saw him, talked to him. The guilt, the unresolved feelings, everything from that final conversation comes rushing back to him, and Sirius feels himself suffocating under it.
“Really?” He manages to croak, his voice hoarse, as if the simple mention of Remus isn’t enough to break something deep inside of him. “He… he’s coming?”
Lily looks at him with a small, knowing smile, the one she wears when she’s aware of what is off but doesn’t want to push too much. “Yeah, he seemed uncertain at first, but I think the idea of seeing everyone again made him reconsider. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but for Sirius, it’s everything.
James raises both eyebrows. “Wow… I can’t believe you convinced him Lils… I thought we wouldn’t hear from him this Christmas…” He glances between Sirius and Lily, clearly picking up on the shift in atmosphere.
Sirius opens his mouth, but no words come out. His thoughts are too tangled. He feels like he’s drowning in them, trapped by his own guilt and confusion. Remus is coming back. After all this time, after everything that happened, Remus is coming back, and Sirius has no idea how to deal with that.
Lily, sensing his discomfort, softens her tone. “It’ll be good, Sirius. You’ll see. I think it’s time for everyone to move forward.” But Sirius isn’t sure. He doesn’t know how to face Remus. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for whatever will happen when their paths finally cross again. The past year has changed so much, and he’s not sure he can fix the things that have broken between them.
Still, he’s not about to say all that. He clears his throat, putting the mug down carefully as if everything is perfectly normal. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he says with a casual smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Peter, who had been quietly listening, now looks up from his cup with a smirk, his tone lighter but perceptive. “So, Remus is finally going to show up, huh? After all this time of lost in Wonderland, guess he finally decided it was time to face the music.”
Sirius feels a chill at Peter's words, and although the comment is casual, there’s something more in it—an unspoken acknowledgment of how much time has passed, how much has changed. Peter is right, of course. Remus avoiding them all hasn’t been a secret, and yet, hearing it spoken out loud makes reality hit harder.
Sirius forces a chuckle, trying to cover up the knot forming in his chest. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replies, his voice tight. “Should be… good to see him again, right?”
--------------
It was one of those quiet nights that felt almost too long. The cold winter air slipped through the cracks of the window, and the yellow light from the lamp above the table was the only thing breaking the darkness that had settled in the small living room. Remus was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed with a book resting in his lap, but his eyes weren’t following the words. Not in that moment. Sirius stood by the window, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, and the sound of his breath was the only thing filling the space between them.
The silence stretched. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with something neither of them dared to name. They both knew something had changed, but neither of them knew how to put it into words. Remus closed the book with a soft sigh and lifted his gaze. “You’re not listening, are you?”
Sirius let out a small, forced laugh and turned to face him. “Sorry,” he said, though his tone wasn’t truly apologetic. He couldn’t even remember what he had been thinking. “I’m having a hard time focusing, that’s all.”
Remus watched him for a moment, his eyes searching for something beneath the surface, reading Sirius more easily than he realized. Sometimes, Sirius forgot how easy it was for Remus to read him, even in the moments when he wasn’t saying anything at all.
“What’s going on, Sirius?” Remus asked quietly, his voice calm, as if he already knew the answer but still needed to hear it out loud. Sirius shifted, suddenly feeling exposed, as though Remus could see straight through him. He hesitated for a moment, the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing felt right.
Instead, he shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m fine,” he said, a little too quickly. “Just tired, I guess.” Remus didn’t buy it. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. He simply looked at Sirius, his expression soft, but there was something in his gaze that made it clear he wasn’t convinced. The silence hung between them again, thicker now, like the weight of something unsaid was pressing down on the room.
Sirius could feel it, Remus’ patience, his quiet understanding. He could feel it in the way Remus didn’t push, didn’t demand an answer. But it was suffocating all the same. Finally, Remus spoke again, his voice lower this time, more hesitant. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s bothering you…”
Sirius let out a long breath, his eyes falling to the floor for a moment. The words felt too heavy to say out loud, and yet, they were all he could think about. He had wanted to say them for weeks now, but the closer they got to speaking them, the more afraid he became.
Sirius swallowed hard, looking away from Remus as if he could hide the weight of his decision. He had to do this. He told himself that over and over again. He couldn’t keep living like this. Not like this. His thoughts were a mess, swirling around his head, but one thing remained clear: he had to let Remus go before it got any harder. Before the feeling of closeness turned into something suffocating.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore, Remus," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His eyes flicked to Remus’ face, but quickly darted away, afraid to see the inevitable disappointment.
He’d wanted to say it for weeks now, wanted to let go of the weight. But every time he looked at Remus, every time he saw that quiet kindness, that patient gaze that seemed to say everything’s okay, a knot tightened in his chest. He couldn’t breathe in this space, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to step away either.
Remus’ gaze softened, but there was no anger, no shock. It was as though he had always known, as though he’d been waiting for it. But that wasn’t the part that burned in Sirius’ chest. It was the quiet understanding, the way Remus didn’t even flinch at the finality of it. Sirius couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes again.
There was a long pause between them, stretched thin and tense. Sirius’ fingers curled into fists at his sides. He had expected to feel relief, a sense of freedom, but all he felt was emptiness.
“Why now?” Remus finally spoke, his voice soft, but steady. “After all this time, why now?”
Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Why now? He didn’t know. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. “I just... I can’t keep doing this,” Sirius said, his voice cracking slightly. It wasn’t just about the relationship. It was about everything—about how everything had felt too good, too perfect. Remus was too kind, too steady. And Sirius? He had never been steady. He’d never known how to be.
The walls he’d built around himself had always kept him from getting too close to anyone, even Remus. But this, this was different. Remus was different. And that was terrifying.
There was a sharp pang in his chest as the thought settled in his mind. I don't deserve him. It was an old, familiar thought, one that had been following him for years, ever since he was a child. But now, in the quiet of this room, it felt more true than ever.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t just sorry for the breakup. He was sorry for all the things he had never been able to give Remus, all the ways he had kept pulling away.
But Remus didn’t say anything more. He just nodded, his gaze steady but distant, as if he had been prepared for this moment long before Sirius had been. The silence that followed wasn’t filled with relief or anger. It was filled with something much quieter, much heavier.
Sirius wanted to reach out, wanted to say something else, anything to fix this, to make it feel like it hadn’t happened. But he didn’t. Because somewhere, deep down, he knew that this was the way it had to be, for both of them. Quietly, Sirius left the flat where he and Remus had created a life, not looking back for a last goodbye.