When it's 4 AM
And your heart is breaking
I will hold your hands
To stop them from shaking
If it takes all night
I will be on your side
- The Last Dinner Party
His room was… clinical. That's the only word for it: there had been additions to his room, for example his duvet, once a thin blue sheet given to every person in the home, had been replaced with a white duvet, covered in celestial symbols like the sun, moon and stars. On the bedside table there was a picture of him and… someone.
Someone.
Someone he couldn’t exactly remember the name of. But Remus knew; he knew that whoever the person was, he loved them. They visited every day - and though Remus could’t remember who exactly they were, what their name was and why they visited, the visits were the best part of the day.
For at least an hour Remus had company. Actual company and not just the nurses who were being paid by the hour to look after him and clean him and talk to him; well logically Remus knew that he couldn’t be sure the man wasn’t being paid to sit with him but he doubted it.
The man always spoke so kindly - Remus knew that his words had meaning to them, a heaviness behind them that he always felt pulled towards, something begging to be let out and embraced by him. But Remus didn’t know what this feeling actually was.
Although he loved the visits, he knew something was always expected. The man’s eyes always had a gleam of hope for something but, as per usual, he didn’t know what.
Hope.
Hope.
Remus knew a Hope. Yes, Hope was… someone to him. He remembered someone important to him being called Hope. But someone he had known longer than the man it felt like, but he didn’t remember what they looked like - Hope had never come to see him he didn’t think. He would remember, he thought.
“Who’s Hope?” Remus asked suddenly.
The man had been reading a book out loud to him - a fantasy book about a wizard boy who was destined to save his world - but he paused at Remus’ question and looked up.
His face, usually so calm and gentle, had grown worried - a crease in-between his eyebrows formed and he tilted his head to the side.
“What do you mean Rem?”
Rem, that's what he called him. Said with so much love and gentleness - Remus adored the nickname. He always got a funny feeling in his stomach whenever the man spoke it - he felt cared for when he did.
“Who’s Hope? Do I know someone called Hope?”
The man looked down and took a visibly deep breath.
In. Held it. Out.
He met Remus’ eyes and reached forward cupping a hand over his.
“Hope was your mum’s name,” he answered, ever so patiently.
“My mum,” Remus repeated. At this the man nodded and rubbed a thumb on Remus’ hand. A caring gesture - he knew this; He did this a lot - it was calming. Remus liked it when he held his hand like this: he felt loved - he didn't feel loved a lot in the home, only when the man came to visit. “Does she come visit me?” he carried on, though he knew the answer, he didn’t really understand it.
The man frowned and his eyes grew sad and he continued to rub his thumb back and forth, “She would, oh she absolutely would if she could, but, my love, she passed away a couple years ago. But oh how she loved you, she loved you so, so much and if she was still here she would be in this room all hours of every day because you were her son and she loved you, I promise.”
“Oh,” Remus whispered. He didn’t even remember knowing her but realising he never would be able to meet her made him feel empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
“Who are you?” Remus asked, looking up at him.
“I’m Sirius.”
“I’m Remus,” Remus told him.
“I know you are, silly!”
“Well, I didn’t know who you were,” Remus replied petulantly.
“Now you do, don’t you?”
“I know your name,” he paused trying to think, trying to remember what he was just told, “Sirius,” he said slowly.
The man - Sirius, Remus corrected in his brain - beamed at him. He looked beautiful when he smiled, Remus noted. His eyes crinkled slightly and his smile lines became more pronounced.
Remus reached out and slowly dragged his finger over the lines. The skin wasn’t rough but wasn’t smooth either - it was just slightly textured.
Sirius’ breath hitched slightly and Remus smiled at Sirius before removing his hand and leaning back in his bed.
When he looked up he saw that Sirius was still, frozen with his hand touching the place Remus’ had just left. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again, “One sec Rem - I just, I gotta just go do something,” he stuttered out.
Before Remus could protest his leaving - he didn’t want to be alone again - Sirius had already fled the room and turned left out the door, towards the nurses station.
Remus was alone again. He sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling and tuned in to the ticking of the small clock that sat in front of the photograph on his bedside table. There was only one word in his head as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep: Sirius.
Sirius.
Sirius.
Sirius.
Sirius.