When he died, Sirius didn’t immediately realise that anything had happened at all. He was still in the same room, in the same bed, with the same sun shining on the black tresses framing his soft face. He saw himself lying in the bed; his body looked peaceful, but there was no laugh behind the subtle curve of his lips, no light behind his silver eyes.
He was still there though, in the room, just not in any physical sense. Many people have speculated on the existence of spirits and the afterlife, but it’s impossible for any of these theories to have any semblance of truth. Death prevents anything of that realm to be understood by physical creatures. Nothing about the supposed ‘afterlife’ is physical, so the idea is incomprehensible to anyone until they are no longer physical themselves. Perhaps this was why it took so long for Sirius to realise that he was no longer inhabiting the body on the bed.
He waited a long time for Remus to find him. With nothing much else to focus on, he kept his attention on the figure laying before him. He noticed that over time, the body drained itself of all the characteristics that he kept in life. As the hours passed, the once full and rosy lips grew deflated and pale. The underside of his exposed arms grew mottled with uncirculated blood, his once bright eyes remained still in their glassy stare.
As his attention persisted, he wondered (if such an activity could be deemed possible in his current state) where his life was going? He considered the possibility that it could be the origin of his new situation, his old life fuelling his new one. Or, perhaps, his life was going to someone completely different, maybe a newborn baby in Delhi, whose parents cried at her first breath, or in a speeding ambulance in Oslo, to a man who had just been resuscitated after being pronounced dead for six, chaotic minutes. His own personal, selfish hope, however, was that his life would make its way, somehow, to his garden outside. There, it would help new daffodil bulbs form in the winter-chilled soil, to provide Remus with a pleasant surprise come springtime.
It seemed to Sirius that as soon as he came through the front door, Remus knew that he had died. He didn’t need to find the body to know that it was there; his husband recognised the impenetrable quiet that only Death could command.
But Remus wasn’t quiet. Sirius watched as he dropped his bag and tore up the stairs, calling his name as he ran. He could imagine how he felt, he assumed it must be similar to the silent kind of chaos that had, mere hours before, crowded the last moments in his living mind.
Remus, however, exhibited that chaos physically. He screamed and cried and clutched his lifeless body. He felt so sorry for him in that moment. Almost sorry enough for regret.
The longer he watched, the more he wished it had all been an elaborate prank. He hoped that at any moment, the body in his arms would open its eyes and laugh at him for being so gullible.
“Just kidding, sweetheart. I’d never leave you.”
But it didn’t.
The body just continued its noiseless, benign smile.
After a few minutes, or it could have been a couple of hours, or potentially even several lost and lonely nights, Remus’s silence merged with that of the house.
When the police arrived, Sirius watched as the body was prised from Remus’s trembling hands. He didn’t put up a fight, but it seemed to Sirius that he could not force himself to release the hold that he had on his body.
The officers were kind and Sirius was glad that they didn’t push him to speak too much. He didn’t think that he could have handled another question about his husband’s ‘psychological state’.
Before they left, Remus was asked if he had anyone that he could call for support. He did and he told them so, but Sirius knew that he wasn’t going to call anyone. He knew his husband well enough to know that he would want to do this alone.
How he wished he could have held him.
He wanted to tell the officers that he didn’t think they should go; he didn’t want Remus to be by himself again. It wasn’t possible though, so he just watched as they filed out of the door. The last one to leave did so, but not before placing a comforting hand on Remus’s shoulder, and passing him a small piece of paper.
“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me. That’s my personal number.”
“I won’t hesitate, officer. Thank you.”
Another lie. He supposed they were coming easily to him now.
For a long time after the last officer had closed the door, Remus kept his eyes fixed on the frame through which they had left.
Eventually the day grew dark. Many hours had passed and Remus still hadn’t left the couch, the small scrap of paper still held loosely in his palm.
Sirius had begun to believe that he would sit there all night, but some time, in the small hours of the morning, Remus rose. Sirius was surprised at how steadily he moved across the room to the small bench that rested below the television, the front panel of which he opened before he began to rummage through the selection of paper sleeves, all in varying states of disrepair.
Sirius knew which one he was going to take out before he had even placed his hand upon it. When the familiar crackle began to sound, Remus came down to the floor, his head resting against the plush fibres of a rug that lay there.
As Sirius watched, the tears retraced their familiar paths across Remus’s cheeks and he realised that he knew exactly what he was remembering.
***
The day that they had first moved into their home, it was the end of the week. The couple couldn’t afford to take any time off work after making such an enormous purchase, so they were both forced to return to work when the next day came.
Though the house was objectively devoid of all the personality that would fill it in the years to come, Remus and Sirius couldn’t help but see that fact as a most exciting prospect. They felt like teenagers again, playing house after their parents had left them home alone for the weekend: suddenly able to make all sorts of choices and with no one to tell them ‘no’.
There were boxes everywhere, so they had a big day ahead of them if they expected to unpack them all before the next morning.
They stood together, in the centre of the room, and looked upon the cardboard towers that loomed ahead of them.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Sirius sighed, turning his head to look up at his husband.
“We’ll just start with the essentials,” he replied, squeezing Sirius’ hand briefly before stepping forward to a box with a messy ‘misc appliances’ written on it in black Sharpie.
Kneeling in front of the box, Remus pulled out his car key to slice through the long strip of tape that held the flaps shut. Reaching into the newspaper-filled depths, he retrieved a plastic kettle, a green electric fan and a small clothes iron before placing them all on the floor.
“These are the essentials?” Sirius asked, picking up the clothes iron and turning it over in his fingers.
“No,” Remus replied “I thought I put it in this box…”
“How about I make some tea to keep us going?” Sirius offered, leaning down to be level with his husband’s face
“That’d be lovely, thanks.” Remus said, kissing his cheek.
Sirius took the kettle from the floor and swerved between the boxes and through the doorway to the small kitchen. His feet slipped slightly on the freshly polished black and white tiles, so he steadied himself against the timber bench-tops before fitting the plug of the kettle into the socket in the wall. He filled the inner canister with water and flicked the plastic switch that began the boiling process.
For a while, he watched the bubbles of hot air rise from the bottom of the kettle to the rippling surface of the water. The early morning sun was poking through the leaves that surrounded the solitary kitchen window. The beams that made it through illuminated Sirius’s dark hair, such that it brought out the otherwise hidden midnight undertones; the blueish glow it created could have been mistaken for the stars themselves. He tapped his slender fingers against the bench in anticipation until the plastic switch clicked again and the bubbling ceased.
He bent down to open one of the white cabinets, hoping to find some tea and mugs, at which point, he remembered all of the cabinets were empty. Upon this realisation, he promptly wove through the maze of boxes once again, only to find a beaming Remus, obviously very pleased with himself for what he had completed in the time he had been gone.
Sirius saw that he had laid out a plush, white rug across the hardwood floor, next to which, in a corner that he had cleared, his husband had placed their yucca plant as well as their own record player, which, due to the soft crackling sound he could hear, Sirius soon realised was already spinning.
I found a reason to keep livin’, oh and the reason, dear, is you.
“Wow,” was all Sirius could think to say.
“See?” Remus gestured proudly to the room, “Essentials.”
“You’re such a dork,” Sirius said through the widest grin, allowing Remus to take his hands and lead him to the centre of the room.
“A dork you married,” Remus smirked, pulling his husband close to himself as they gently swayed to the music, their feet shuffling in tandem beneath them.
“That can’t be right,” Sirius said in a cool, sceptical tone, lifting his arm so that Remus could awkwardly spin underneath it.
“Really?” Remus raised his eyebrows as he turned back to face the man he loved, “what do you call this then?”
Remus brought their joined hands up to Sirius’s eyes, which rested upon the matching silver bands on their fingers.
“Well,” Sirius smiled, resting his head against his husband’s chest, “lucky me.”
Oh, I do believe, you are what you perceive, what comes is better than what came before.
***
Eventually, the music stopped and Sirius was left to watch Remus lie on the carpet, alone in the darkness that they had both played their part in creating. He was grateful that he was at least allowing himself to sleep
It wasn’t until noon the following day that Remus moved again, by which time, the heavy clouds that had been brewing in the morning sky were only just beginning to break.
The doorbell had been ringing for some time before he seemed to register the sound.
When he finally did, Remus raised himself from the ground and shuffled toward the front entrance. It seemed to Sirius that his movement lacked the steadiness that it had possessed yesterday; he thought that perhaps the initial shock had forced him into an adrenaline-like state which had now dissipated.
Through the frosted glass panes of the door, two figures could be seen standing on the front step. No sooner had Remus swung the door open to reveal Sirius’s own parents than his mother had surged forward to embrace him in a rather damp hug. The woman buried her head into Remus’s shoulder, before Sirius’s father stepped forward and took them both in his arms.
They stood there for a while, just holding each other.
Sirius noticed that between the three people before him, not one tear was shed. He didn’t blame them, of course. He knew how they felt; that such a gesture would not do justice to their own mourning.
In his position, Sirius wasn’t able to give them any comfort or relief from their melancholy, a fact which he deeply resented. Consequently, he was resigned to watch on as the trio broke apart.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” Remus began, shaking his head, “I’m sorry… I should have- You shouldn’t have had to find out from anyone else…”
“It’s alright son, we don’t blame you,” Sirius’s father placed his hand gently upon the younger man’s shoulder as he consoled him, “It’s been a great shock to all of us.”
Remus gave a meek smile then led the older couple into the living room before leaving them for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Remus returned with three steaming mugs of tea and joined the other two on the sofa. Sirius noticed that he had resumed his exact position from the evening prior.
The room was silent for a few minutes. Sirius really didn’t know what they were planning to talk about. Remus had always got on well with Sirius’s family, a fact of which he himself had always been proud. It was incredible to him that these people who knew each other so well and whose company would usually have brought cheerfulness and laughter, could now sit across the small coffee table from one another, each noiselessly avoiding the others’ eyes.
“I don’t suppose he would have left anything for us, would he?” Monty asked, all in a rush. He thought it was as if the pressure of the question had been building up inside of his father for some time, “I know the police said there was nothing but… I wondered if, maybe, you found something?”
Remus shook his head solemnly.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, “I think he made a point of saying everything he needed to before…” Remus trailed off as if he could not force the last words to leave his lips.
His statement was no less true. Since making his decision, Sirius was determined to have no unfinished business by the time that his death came. His family shouldn’t be cleaning up his messes during their time of mourning, nor did they need any extra mementos to cry over.
The conversation continued for a couple of hours on such topics as the police report and funeral preparations until the older couple left Remus to be on his own once again.
“You should come over to ours tomorrow, darling, if you feel up to it,” Effie suggested as she gave Remus one last hug, “James and Lily have moved back in with us for the moment and I’m sure you would all be great comforts to each other.”.
“Yeah, I will,” Remus smiled, “thank you.”
They said their goodbyes and the couple turned to leave. Just as they stepped through the front door, Remus blurted out:
“I’m sorry!”
Sirius’s parents turned back around to face him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him,” Remus sighed, fresh tears running down his cheeks once again. He turned his face to the floor to avoid their eyes.
The older woman stepped toward him, and nudged his chin up again with her own soft hand.
“You mustn’t let yourself carry this burden, dear,” she said kindly, “I suppose he never was one to just… let things happen to him.”
With that, the couple walked through the door once more. It wasn’t until Remus heard their car pulling out of the driveway that he walked back to the sofa to lie down. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream.
***
The evenings of the previous summer were warm and quiet. Every night, the couple’s open bedroom window gave entry to a cool breeze that gently lapped the exposed skin of freckled shoulders and hairy arms after sheets had been kicked off the bed. Nights like these had always put Sirius in a contemplative mood, but all he could think of now was one all-consuming thought.
“They said less than six months,” Sirius whispered into the quiet, finally voicing the very sentence that had been circling his head since it had been spoken to him that morning, “I don’t want your last memory of me to be like… that. I want you to remember me as I am now.”
“Of course I’ll remember you like this,” Remus whispered back, “Just because I’ll experience a new version of you doesn’t mean I’ll forget your old ones.”
“Oh yeah,” Sirius grinned, gently nudging his husband, “just like I will always remember when you only had one eyebrow for four months after you accidentally shaved it off in Thailand.”
Remus didn’t laugh. Instead, he gazed steadily up at the ceiling as if it were giving him an incredibly valuable piece of advice.
“I’m sorry Moons, but it's like-” Sirius sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow to properly view the face of the man next to him, “Ok, if a plane is going down, you’d rather jump out than just wait to fall into the ocean or whatever.”
“I wouldn’t,” Remus said flatly, “What about the rest of the passengers?”
“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, confused, “They can jump out too, if they want.”
“No, I mean- like, yeah, obviously you have a better chance of survival- or at least of a swifter death- if you jump, but you’ll be by yourself,” Remus moved his arms up to rest them beneath his head, “At least if you stay on the plane, you get to be with everyone else while it goes down.”
“Yeah, with all the other passengers who are panicking and screaming.”
“With all the other passengers who are calling their family to tell them they love them.”
There was silence for a moment, then he asked:
“If I jumped out of the plane, would you jump with me?”
“No.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“How come?”
“Because I wouldn’t let you jump.”