burn
Love, that is day and night - love, that is sun and moon and stars, Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume, no other words but words of love, no other thought but love.
8 MONTHS BEFORE THE CRASH
The morning of Remus’ birthday is one that begins similarly to most. It’s honestly rather ordinary. Remus likes ordinary, so he doesn’t mind it.
He’s actually forgotten that it is his birthday at all – which is a little worrying, if you think about it too hard. But he’s fine.
The way the day begins is, honestly, rather typical. Sirius is the second to wake up, only caused by Remus kissing his neck and mumbling nonsense in his ear, relishing in how Sirius looks when he’s sleeping. Dear god, what he wouldn’t give to always be around Sirius…
Really, when you think about it, they are always around each other, and they’ve put everything they’ve got into loving each other. Usually, when Remus wakes Sirius up? he smiles and sprawls out on their bed, in absolutely impossible positions as he “does what’s necessary,” since he can’t go half an hour without cracking his neck or back. Remus waits for this, yet it doesn’t happen. Sirius’ eyes are shut one moment, and in the next, they’re wide open, looking mildly panic-stricken.
”Oh, fuck,” is the first thing Sirius mutters, then: “Oh, I fucking forgot!” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Remus is almost speechless. Well. Good morning to him as well.
“Sirius, love,” Remus starts, raising one eyebrow in extreme confusion. “What’s wrong?”
”What’s wrong? I told myself that I wouldn’t have a lie-in, that I was going to get up earlier than you, for — oh… Right, well. I’m still getting up,” he huffs, jumping from their bed, apparently uncaring of the fact that he’s stark naked as he rummages through the room, in one of his dresser drawers, looking for something, supposedly. Remus is anything but in the loop.
”Is everything alright?”
”Everything’s alright, relatively. Don’t think I’m about to drop dead.” Remus doesn’t know why that comforts him. It shouldn’t, but what can he say? He’s always worried about Sirius, in whatever way possible. Sirius eventually straightens up, muttering to himself that he’ll ‘find the bloody thing later,’ shaking his head. Remus makes a small, confused noise, raising one eyebrow at Sirius again. “You really don’t know why I’d be rushing around like this, today? Or want to get up earlier than you? To, oh, I don’t know…finish planning something?”
”No,” Remus replies, laughing.
“It’s—Remus, my love, don’t take any of this personally. Are you aware of the fact that it’s your birthday? The literal anniversary of when you were born?”
”Oh. I forgot.”
”I suppose we both did. That’s a problem for another time,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s your birthday, sweetheart. Of course I’m up early, I have to finalize things for our plans today.”
”We have plans?” is all Remus can think to say, sitting up in their bed.
“I’m—no, I’m not answering that question. Call Lily; she’ll keep you occupied. I’m going to James’ flat. I’ll be back, love. Happy Birthday. I love you.”
“You’re not wearing anything,” Remus mutters, vaguely gesturing at Sirius’ bare frame.
“Oh. But it’s James.”
”I’m sure James would like to go another day without seeing your bare arse.”
”That’s debatable. But fine. Now you really know I love you,” he laughs, finally picking out joggers and his Elliott Smith t-shirt.
He eventually leaves the flat, bidding Remus goodbye again.
Christ, Remus loves him. Strangely enough, he hasn’t given a second thought to the fact that today is supposedly his birthday. He picks up his phone off the nightstand, and sure enough— 10 March stares right back at him. He’s not surprised that he’s forgotten, really.
His brain has been rather occupied with the impulse to ask Sirius a question that may or may not be accompanied by a ring. He knows he couldn’t do it now, that he’d want to wait a little bit — but he’s looked at rings with James quite a few times. James, of course, is very in support of the idea, as he’s been telling the two of them to get married ever since they first kissed, which, really, was around a year ago.
With Sirius, Remus never really knows what to expect, if it involves him. He knows Sirius loves him, and Remus? Oh, Remus is so far gone it almost isn’t funny. When the two of them first got together, they were still living separately, even though more often than not, they stayed at Sirius’ flat, too lost in one another to care. But on the very rare occasions in which they slept separately for a night, it was common that they’d call each other until one of them fell asleep, and then they’d see each together in a few hours, that morning. In both of their eyes, the other can do no wrong. Especially in Remus’. He promised himself, a year ago, that if Sirius ever got tired of him, he’d never pressure Sirius into staying with him, since to Remus, Sirius’ happiness is more important than his own. So, he’ll do what Sirius wants him to, and call Lily, who, of course, knows about Remus’ possible proposal hopes. She is extremely in favor, and made that very clear by shedding tears of joy when Remus had told her. He’d panicked, thinking he’d done something wrong, to which Lily had laughed through her tears.
“You—” she started, scoffing. “Remus Lupin, for a man who’s so smart, you can be so bloody clueless sometimes.” Remus had asked her why. “I’m happy for you.” Remus could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, I’m so, so, happy that I am crying, Remus, love. I only want you to be happy, and I can tell that Sirius makes you happy.”
“You don’t think he’ll say no, will he?” Remus had panicked a little, sighing slightly.
“Oh,” Lily snorted, cackling. “He’s going to say yes. Like, immediately.”
“D’you think so?”
”It’s literally a fact. As your best friend, I have to tell you the truth. This is the truth.”
So, Remus feels like maybe his undying love for Sirius isn't a complete lost cause at the moment. Especially if the man was freaking out over not getting up early enough to finish planning something, which in Remus' mind, is totally unnecessary, since Sirius' energy should not be wasted on Remus. (Sirius would argue the opposite, in fact. Sirius feels that he should put all his energy into Remus. They're disgusting and feral when it comes to each other.)
Remus sighs happily, covering his face with his hands as he goes back to sleep, stupidly in love and dreaming of Sirius. He knows it’s cliche. They’re so corny.
Sirius has only sat down in the driver's seat of his car when James calls him. He'd say it was unexpected, but really, they're oddly codependent on each other, and can't bear to go more than 12 hours without speaking to each other. He picks up, reversing out of the car park as James' voice blares through his phone speaker.
"Sirius! Alright?"
"James! I'm.. yeah, I'm alright. Yourself?"
"I am awake," he huffs, and Sirius can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, he loves James. "Regulus woke me up. I had told him that he could have a lie-in if he wanted to, but supposedly, he was just too--" James is cut off, then laughs on the other end of the line as supposedly, Regulus must clasp a hand over his mouth.
"James," Sirius can hear him hiss, "Please, dear god, do not finish that sentence."
"You may remember we're brothers," Sirius hums, laughing to himself. James takes a moment to consider this.
"True. Anyway, you're driving over, aren't you? Hm, love? Oh. Sirius, Regulus says Happy Birthday to Remus."
"Er, yeah, I'm driving over," Sirius smiles. "Also, Reggie, since when did you know it was Remus' birthday?" Sirius doesn't know whether to be confused or be oddly endeared with his brother knowing Remus at all. Probably the latter, really, since he can't miss that chance. Proof of Regulus' humanity.
"Since literally forever ago," Regulus scoffs.
"Yeah, I'm not sure that's a unit of time, love," James tsks, and Sirius cackles. In his few seconds of delight, his guard is down, and he doesn't notice the car swerving to the right unexpectedly as the traffic light changes from red to green, almost hitting Sirius' car. In a moment of terror, Sirius turns sharply to the left, speeding out of the way before the car can slam into him, his car's tires almost squealing on the pavement. That's the last thing he needs to do today. Crash their fucking car, on Remus' birthday?? While it technically is his car, they drive it more than they do Remus', simply because they like it more. But anyway, it's the last thing he'd want to do. Besides, he likes this car.
The other car honks its goddamn horn very loudly, making Sirius gasp as he moves out of the way, causing the whole event to seem much more dramatic than it really is.
"Jesus fucking--oh. Oh my god," Sirius pants, laughing a little in disbelief. "Well, that was terrifying."
"Pads, you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm--" he inhales sharply, shaking his head slightly as he continues down the road to James' flat. "I'm alright, sorry, sorry. Some car, it came out of nowhere -- almost hit me — but it's okay, really. I overreacted."
"Okay," James exhales, seemingly okay now that he knows Sirius is fine. If there's one thing neither of them could handle, it'd be the permanent absence of the other. Remus and Regulus have noticed this, during their presence in the world, and while it may not terrify Remus, it terrifies Regulus. "Good."
"Yeah. Sorry. Christ, that'd be terrible if I crashed our car. On Remus' birthday, nonetheless. Anyway, James, when I get to your flat, I want to --" Sirius stops himself, exhaling heavily. For some reason, he can't get the words out. God knows he could barely repeat the thought to himself. "Can I talk to you about something?"
"Of course, mate," James answers. Sirius can hear the easy smile in his voice, and it's comforting. "You can talk to me about anything."
"Thank you, James," Sirius smiles. They don't say much after that, sitting in comfortable silence with each other over the phone. They've always been that way, really. Sirius remembers meeting James, and it just -- well, it clicked. No one else was like him; no one had cared that much about Sirius; no one had instantly connected with him and said,
"My name's James, and I'd like to be your friend," at whatever age they were -- six, maybe? Sirius could instantly tell that James had more love in his heart than most of the adults in his family combined, and hasn't left his side since.
Eventually, they hang up over the phone since Sirius is pulling into the car park, telling James he'll be right there and he's very excited to see him. Of course he is. Regulus leaves the flat as Sirius waits for the lift to arrive, and when they see each other, they aren't stunned into silence the way they would have been, years ago. Sirius smiles, reaching out to hug Regulus, who accepts (shockingly), until he eventually pulls away, laughing slightly.
"Alright, alright, let go, Sirius... You saw me very recently, and here you are gripping onto me like it's been months," Regulus rolls his eyes.
Sirius gasps in mock offence, releasing his brother. "Is it not enough that I'd like to see my baby brother more often?" You wound me, Regulus."
"When have I not?" he laughs, his lips turning up in a wicked grin. "Alright, I'm going to be late, so, I'll see you tonight."
"Bye, Reggie!"
"Yeah, bye, Sirius!"
Sirius feels strangely giddy the whole lift ride up to James' flat, and all throughout walking to the door, which he attempts to open once, assuming it's unlocked, and is met with the door not opening. So, of course, he knocks on the door, since he thinks himself to be civilised. He can hear James running to the door, who's absolutely beaming as he opens the door. He immediately pulls Sirius into his arms, laughing giddily.
"Padfoot!"
"Prongs! Oh, it's good to see you!" Sirius grins like he hasn't seen James in years, yet he knows for a fact the last time he saw James was three days ago. They had a sort of gathering at his flat -- him, Sirius, Remus, and Regulus. Peter was originally supposed to be there, but he'd been incredibly busy with his new job -- apparently, his boss has been making him work extra hours. Sirius thinks his name might be Tom. Something like that. Whoever Tom thinks he is, Sirius hates him. He's stealing Peter.
James doesn't tell him to come in, since they're past that level of communication. Sirius shoves his way through the door, still clinging to James as he pulls them in to the living room, and watches James kick the door shut behind them. "What did you want to talk to me about?" James eventually asks, after they're sitting on the sofa together, quiet in each other's company. Sirius almost forgot why he was here in the first place.
"Oh!" Sirius jumps up, leaving James alone on the sofa. He doesn't think he can talk about this without nervously pacing around. He tried it in therapy already, and it didn't go well. "So," he starts, beginning to walk back and forth. He flings his hands out, turning to James. "You know I love Remus."
James nods. "That is, in fact, true."
"Right. You know that I'd do anything for him."
"Yeah!"
Sirius' words get stuck in his mouth as he tries to say the next part of his not so large speech. It sounded a lot larger in his head, and, honestly, it sounded a lot more romantic.
"He's the -- his heart, I -- I think I could -- I really want to -- you know, the ring," Sirius gets out, stuttering a little bit as he tries to make the message clear to James. Sirius doesn't think that he even understands himself. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, tripping him up on his words. He realizes how horribly it came out. Christ. Somehow, James understands. He always has. The man must be made of magic.
"Wait. Sirius."
"Yes?" Sirius hesitantly answers, wincing a little. He waits for James to tell him that it's a bad idea. Waits for James to tell him that he's moving too fast, and Remus will say no. Waits for James to tell him he's not the one.
"Ring," James repeats. "The ring?"
"Marriage," Sirius squeaks, losing his entire cool exterior he shows to others, now that it's just him and James. The rawest and yet most complicated forms of both of them.
It’s not like James couldn’t have guessed that Sirius wanted to propose, but it’s a whole other thing for Sirius to actually bring it up, validating his theory. (He’d made a bet with Regulus on it not a month ago, even though it was mostly one-sided – Regulus had been adamant to bet money on anything.)
Sirius hides his face in his hands, collapsing on the floor rather dramatically.
“I don’t want to fuck it up, James. I can’t fuck it up. He’s – oh, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know, when I was driving over here, I called you, yeah?”
“That you did.”
“Right, and I almost crashed the car, since that maniac came charging at me,” he laughs, like it was a mildly amusing event. When he looks back on it, it could be a little amusing. If he really tries. “You know, that’s my car,” he muses. “I don’t really care if I crash it.”
“Oh,” James murmurs. “That’s not the car that you’ve had since you left your parent’s house, is it?”
“Oh, no, god no. I sold it. This one I actually bought, but for some reason, I don’t think it would matter,” Sirius groans in anguish suddenly. “I hate that. I hate it, but I love it so much.”
“I can tell,” James nods, his lips curling up.
“It’s because of Remus, James! Remus and his – his hair, and his clothes – oh, god, his jumpers, and his personality, and the way that he laughs – I’ve been in love with him for a while, you know that, ever since we all played Jeopardy together, and I kissed him, and he fainted! Oh, he fainted – you know, I still feel a little guilty about that–”
“--Sirius,” James smiles, bringing Sirius back to a more conscious state. He stops rambling, looking into James’ eyes.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No, it’s totally fine. Don’t apologize. Anyway, what I was going to ask is simple.” James is still smiling as he goes on. “Are you aware of the fact that Remus is also in love with you, Pads?”
Sirius frowns, cocking his head.
“Huh? I mean–no, no, I know that. Of course I know that, but you seriously think that –” Sirius stops just as James smiles, opening his mouth. “--No, Prongs, don’t make the joke – you honestly think that Remus would want to –” he pauses, his voice becoming a little softer, more hesitant. “He’d want to marry me?”
James rolls his eyes, probably for the millionth time in the last five minutes and smiles at Sirius.
“Sirius, of course he’d want to marry you. First of all, have you seen yourself?”
“Uh,” Sirius coughs, fighting the smile that currently creeps up his face. “So, I–”
“Actually,” James cuts in. “Don’t answer that question. I’ve seen you basically snog yourself through a mirror. You’ve seen yourself. You’ve gotten very familiar with him, yeah?”
“Like you haven’t done the same,” Sirius scoffs, laughing.
“That’s–that’s irrelevant. Anyway, listen to me, Pads. Remus has two choices, if you propose to him. Right?”
“Yes?” Sirius responds hesitantly. He raises one eyebrow at James, crossing his arms.
“First choice is yes! A very radical, resounding yes. He agrees to marry you, and you marry each other, and you live a beautiful married life in your house.”
“Do you have to say ‘marry’ all that often–”
“Yes, I do. His second option is to marry you. No hesitation. No questions asked. He says yes.”
“You’ve just said that.”
“Your point?”
“That’s one option, James, and I don’t want to pressure him into saying yes!”
“Pads, if you overthink it anymore, you’ll pressure him into saying no.”
“Oh,” Sirius gasps. “Oh, James, why are you right?! Stop that.”
James only smiles, rolling his eyes.
“I know,” he sighs. “It must be hard to be the best friend of a genius, yeah?”
“You’ve no idea,” Sirius groans. “Ugh, fine. I’ll – I don’t want to do it on his birthday. I’ll do it on mine.”
“Huh. Original.”
FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH -- MARCH
“Remus, baby,” Logan calls down the hallway. “Where are you? I’m home!” He kicks his shoes off, leaving them by the door of their flat. Remus moved into Logan’s old flat, on Christmas, but they’ve now bought a new flat, for the two of them. Remus pays the rent, usually, since Logan can only be bothered to spend his money on things that are important to him.
Two – nearly three – months ago, Remus broke up with Sirius. Two months can apparently change a person, a lot.
“I’m in the bedroom,” Remus calls back, too tired to get up and walk out to the hallway to go see Logan. He’s felt too tired to do anything for a while now. Lying on their bed, he glances around at the soft white comforter, and thinks about how it’s different than the blanket in his bed that he shared with Sirius. It’s sad, really. They shared it until after the car crash. The first night that neither of them said ‘I love you,’ Remus slept on the sofa. He did it for Sirius. Thought he needed some time alone. If it was up to him, he never would have slept on the sofa; would have tried to sort their problems out, doing whatever he had to do to make their relationship okay again, and love Sirius as much as he could. At that point, he was convinced that Sirius didn’t love him anymore. How could he?
Sirius, the best creature in the world, the most beautiful, kind, wonderful man Remus had ever laid eyes on – and then Remus, a primary school teacher with mousy brown hair and calloused hands. Remus loved Sirius, but he understood why someone as magical as Sirius would eventually get tired of him, and although it didn’t make him happy – it made him rather sad, actually, he mused, as he sobbed quietly on the sofa – it was better for Sirius, and that’s all he’s ever wanted. He knows he’ll never get over Sirius. That’s just a fact.
Sirius, of course, will live on. He always manages to.
Oh, Remus loves him so much.
He can hear Logan clattering around in the living room, most likely turning the telly on to some bullshit exercise program that he’s become so obsessed with – no doubt pissing Remus off.
Remus sits up on their bed, running his hand over their blanket slowly, over and over until it becomes hotter under him, and he realizes how pathetic he must look.
When Remus looks up, he can see his reflection staring back at him in the full-length mirror that stands sideways of their bed. He’s disgusted, really. He hasn’t shaved in a little over two weeks, so he looks as if he’s just crawled out of a hole, his shirt and joggers clinging to his skin. He looks miserable.
He is miserable.
Remus scrubs a hand over his face, looking at himself in the mirror again, only to frown when a woman’s voice blasts through the flat. She happily announces that whoever follows her weight-lifting routine will undergo a transformation like no other.
Well. He didn’t even need to follow her weight-lifting routine, he muses, still studying his face in the mirror – now unfamiliar to him.
Sirius wouldn’t look at him with love in his eyes, not when he’s like this. Sirius would be disgusted, and for good reason. Remus is disgusted with himself.
Logan may look at him with something else in his eyes – a sort of pity – that he eventually expresses by micromanaging every little thing that Remus does.
It starts with what they eat – the man is always going on some sort of diet – which Remus wouldn’t really mind, since he can do what he wants – but he starts to suggest that Remus does the same, and seeing no other way out of it, Remus uncomfortably agrees, knowing he won’t be happier that way. Maybe he deserves it.
It then goes to how Remus looks. His jumpers and denims begin to disappear, traded out for tightly fitting shirts and joggers – or usually, basketball shorts.
Remus fucking hates basketball shorts. Denim or nothing.
Logan convinces Remus to grow his hair out, which Remus can’t decide if he hates or not – since he’s pretty out of touch with himself during that phase of his life – and he does what Logan wants, really. The way to escape the constant dread eating at him is to become a different person entirely. He’s no longer Remus John Lupin, he becomes John in public, saying it’s what his mum called him when he was a kid, so it’s just easier that way – when she sure as hell did not call him John. Hope Lupin was the one to insist that Remus was the name she’d give to her child, and she fought tooth and nail for that. Lyall was reluctant, telling Hope he wouldn’t like his own name. Lyall is a name nothing like Remus, but he supposes, now that he’s older, he wouldn’t name a kid Remus either.
Remus never really did like his name that much. It sounded like too much in people’s mouths, and made him generally uncomfortable. Who the fuck names their kid ‘wolf john wolf?’
Of course, then Sirius came along.
Remus hated his name, and then Sirius said it to him one day, and his name was the best-sounding word in the whole universe. He had that ability, to take a boring word, or a terrible word, something like moist, or whatever – and he made it sound like music.
Okay, maybe not moist. Even Sirius hated that word. But whatever. He looks down at the ground, and walks towards the mirror, refusing to look up at himself until he arrives right in front of it.
He hates this mirror.
It’s telling him the truth, and that’s not something he can handle hearing right now. Fuck the mirror. The mirror needs to go.
As Logan gleefully does push-ups or crunches, or whatever the hell he loves doing so much, Remus begins to talk to himself in the mirror, babbling on about how his internal monologue from the last few minutes is, in fact, a lie, and he won’t accept it.
And then – something strange happens. Something strange, something terrifying, something that Remus will never forget – happens.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s most likely hungover. He hasn’t had any food in a day or so. No water either. He hasn’t gotten up in a while. Whatever the cause is, Remus suddenly sees Sirius in the mirror, standing right behind him, smiling softly at him, in that way he always used to. His smile is sad, he looks hurt as he walks up behind Remus and places his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Oh. His leather jacket.
Remus loves that jacket. He reaches out to grab it, supposedly not knowing how a hallucination works, and just like that, Sirius is gone.
A tear slides down his cheek suddenly, and it opens the gateway to tens or hundreds more – Remus doesn’t know how long he cries, curled up in a little ball, right in front of the mirror, but it feels like forever.
That’s the first day he admits to himself – truly knows it, too – that he made the wrong decision, and he was always going to love Sirius. He’s never not going to love Sirius.
Unfortunately, that day is also March 10. His birthday.
Supposedly, he must have forgotten to tell Logan that it was his birthday – since at dinner that night, Logan goes on and on about the new fitness program he’s been trying out – which Remus has no problem with, usually – but tonight, it annoys him a little, considering he doesn’t really want a six pack – at least, it wouldn’t really be his dying wish.
Sirius had cried when Remus first took his shirt off in front of him – really crying, and Remus had been terrified he’d done something wrong, hurriedly running over, not really knowing what was going on. All Sirius could mutter was, ‘You’re so fucking fit,’ over and over, until his tears eventually subsided for lust, and. Well. It’s a little hazy after that.
Remus had asked him, much later, once they’d both cleaned themselves up and were smoking on his bed – if he was alright, and why he’d been so upset earlier. Sirius laughed until he sounded like a mine worker, like he could cough up a lung at any moment. He shook himself off, smiling.
“I don’t really know what came over me,” he’d snorted, then took another draw from his cigarette. Remus watched him blow the smoke out of his mouth. It was unreasonably memorizing. “I’m still reeling from when I first kissed you,” he smirked, looking over at Remus. He had a glint of something in his eye as he raised one brow, lips curling up.
“That was four hours ago!” Remus laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, you’re ridiculous. I love you.”
Sirius choked again, and Remus went red, realizing what he’d said.
“Oh, fuck,” Sirius coughed, shaking his head. “Oh, that – that went down wrong.”
“What went…down…wrong?” Remus asked hesitantly, unsure if Sirius had even processed what he said. What he admitted, technically.
“The air,” Sirius had supplied easily, like that was just. Normal. He laughed slightly, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, I interrupted you, as I almost died. Very important. Couldn’t have anything happen to me. You know how it is. What’d you say?”
“Nothing,” Remus shook his head, attempting to pretend like everything was completely fine. “It wasn’t important.”
“I love you, too,” Sirius smiled, winking at Remus. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
Now, it’s supposedly Remus’ turn to choke. He’d pounded on his chest, staring Sirius in the face.
“You what?!”
“Love you,” Sirius grinned as he rolled his eyes. “You’re unreasonably smart, and it’s sexy as hell, but my dear, how did you not know?”
“Oh, you–you heard me?”
“Oh, you’re just catching onto that now? Darling…” he scoffed. “I’ve always loved you. I won’t stop loving you.”
“Oh, thank god you said it first; I did not have the confidence for that, sweetheart,” Remus gasped, surging toward Sirius and kissing him.
Maybe it causes Remus pain to remember that, but it’s not like there’s anything else he can do with himself. He’s happy enough with Logan. Probably.
He’s made mistakes in the past, some really fucking big ones, and all he can do now is deal with it.
His closet is next to the mirror; just a small, modest one. At the top, there is a box that Remus has not opened since New Year’s Day. It has things that remind him of Sirius. The box would be larger, but he left mostly everything at Sirius’ flat.
The only things in the box are the card Sirius wrote him on Christmas, and the spare flat key. Also a necklace Sirius gave him.
He wishes he could use the key. He would use the key, but he also knows Sirius would slam the door in his face.
Remus doesn’t blame him. He’d slam the door in his face too.
He smashes the mirror in with his fist a week later.
The one night that Sirius allows himself to think about Remus, in full, in detail – he feels like he’s ripping his soul open, scratching at it with barbed wire as the memories flood through him, drowning absolutely everything out.
The night Remus left – Christmas – Sirius went outside and stole a large cardboard box from the alley behind their flat. His flat. It’s his now, isn’t it?
He took said cardboard box, and shoved anything and everything inside of it – that reminded him of Remus. Unfortunately, his tattoo wouldn’t come off. He didn’t have the means to pay for the removal service, so. What fucking luck. He gets a tattoo in honor of Remus, the man he loves, only for Remus to not choose him in the end.
Of course, it took him stealing many boxes until this act was finished, since it was their flat and their home, and Sirius loves Remus, but he wants him to be happy – he’s so angry…
But enough about his misfortunes and feelings. He took these boxes, and basically stuffed the entire flat in them, before sprawling out on the floor and sobbing as his phone blasted a breakup playlist – which mostly consisted of Phoebe Bridgers. Well. He wasn’t going to fucking Make It Through December now.
Since the world hates him, Hozier then turns on next – and it takes Sirius a minute to notice which song it is, since he’s breathing very loudly by this point, not really understanding that the heavy breathing part of I Know The End is now over. Whatever.
In a few seconds, it hit him. Hozier’s godforsaken, obnoxiously good, oddly seductive voice plays through the tinny speaker of his phone, and he sings the opening lyrics of It Will Come Back. This is not breakup music.
Sirius is cursed. Evidently, Remus was not coming back to the flat that night, since Sirius had basically told him to never fucking come back, which he might have been regretting, but he was also enraged.
Since that night, when It Will Come Back played, and Sirius cried some more on the floor as he regretted every decision he’s ever made, he put those boxes in storage, and vowed to not let himself think about Remus, and the complex thing they once were.
But, of course, when March 10 arrives, he loses it a little.
It’s Remus’ birthday, which means that one year ago today, Remus told Sirius that he’d never get tired of him.
Which was, evidently a lie. Sirius told Remus that.
He doesn’t know whether he’s proud of it or not.
Really, the night that Remus left was the most scared he’s been in a while. Scared of himself. Growing up in an abusive household, he did the work, after he left – going to therapy, talking about what happened, having a relationship with Regulus, cutting ties with his parents – whatever he needed to do to be the best version of himself that he could be. For Remus, really. He knew it was for Remus.
So, yeah, he worked on himself – and then, on Christmas, it all fell to pieces.
Never, not in Sirius’ twenty years of life, has he ever wanted to be cruel to Remus like he was on Christmas. Really, he doesn’t want to be cruel to the people he loves. Sure, Regulus annoys the living fuck out of him, but he’s really tried to suppress the urge to slam him into a wall, and it’s working.
Christmas is the first day Sirius has ever wanted to harm Remus, and really, really meant it. And that? Oh, that terrifies him. Before that, sure, they’d fought, but it usually had a sort of underlying tension, like Sirius’ parents, or Remus’ father, or their combined internalized homophobia – it’d never been that the both of them wanted to bite, sink their teeth into each other and Not. Let. Go.
When they’d fought, before, it usually ended in the two of them shagging and forgetting the whole affair happened – since, really, it wasn’t a life or death situation. They’d survived years of mutual pining. Sirius’ mother getting back in touch with him wasn’t a reason to break up with Remus.
Sirius has always had issues, okay? But he’d managed to put them aside for Remus. In the end, it’s all for Remus. It always has been.
Before that night – before the crash, technically, they’d kept each other afloat, and Sirius thought of Remus as the love of his life.
He still thinks of Remus as the love of his life.
Remus is the love of his life.
He just doesn’t know if he’s the love of Remus’ life.
Especially not after Christmas.
Most likely, they’ll never see each other again, and Sirius will die in pain, knowing that he made the most catastrophic mistake he could. Remus will probably die happy, since that’s what he deserves. Sirius would be lying if he said he doesn’t stay up late, waiting for Remus to return. He’s up late almost every night, staring at Remus’ contact on his phone, almost sending him an apology text.
He’s almost sent him rage texts a few times, but those always end up making him feel so much worse. He knows that he could never hurt Remus and really mean it. Not anymore.
After all, there’s a reason Sirius stays up every night.
Remus still has the key to Sirius’ flat. He left with it in his pocket.
Sirius didn’t have the heart to take it from him, since – well, at the time, he didn’t know. A week after Remus had gone, he’d looked for the spare key for the flat (originally Remus’ key), since he’d lost his key in the garbage disposal. A very long story that involved sobbing while doing the washing up, as The Smiths played. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
He searched everywhere for the key, what with most of the furniture now being in storage, since he’d cleared the entire flat out, but, of course, that fucking key was nowhere to be found.
Sirius had then remembered that only a few hours before their unfortunate demise (see: breakup), Remus had left the flat, telling Sirius he was buying a pack of cigarettes, and that he’d be back soon.
“Where’s the key?” he’d asked, stretching as he’d gotten up from the sofa for the first time in maybe twelve hours. Sirius’ eyes latched on to the spot where Remus’ jumper rid up on his stomach, showing an inch of his hip that Sirius apparently thought was very important. (It was.) He didn’t respond to Remus for a second.
“Sirius,” Remus raised his eyebrows, now louder. “The key? To the flat?”
“Oh, I don’t – I don’t know,” he’d finally looked into Remus’ eyes, shaking his head. “You can take the spare,” he offered, attempting to smile slightly. It unfortunately looked more like a grimace.
“Oh. Alright,” he nodded. “D’you need anything while I’m out?”
“No,” Sirius sighed. Remus huffed out a sharp exhale, turning on his heel to leave the flat, when Sirius jumped up suddenly.
“Oh, wait! Marlboro Reds, can you –”
“Marlboro Reds? Yeah. I’ll be back.”
“Thanks,” Sirius muttered, turning around to walk into their bedroom. Remus muttered something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Sirius assumed it was a snide remark.
He heard the jangle of Remus picking up the spare key, and then he was gone.
When Remus came back, Sirius had returned to the sofa by this point, and never saw him return the spare key. He’d tossed the cigarettes towards Sirius and began to smoke his own after opening one of the windows, and then sat down.
It’d make sense if he still had the key, when he left, later that night.
Thinking about it all makes Sirius want to throw himself through a window. Reasonably so.
JUNE, SEVEN MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH
“You know, I was going to propose to you, the night of the crash.”
I was going to propose to you.
Oh. Oh, fuck.
It hits Sirius like a brick, the weight of what he’s just confessed. Oh, he never wanted tonight to go like this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why does he ever open his fucking mouth?
He never wanted today to go like this. He never wanted things with Remus to end, that’s why he was planning to propose, for the love of god–
“Oh, shit,” Sirius gasps. “Oh, I should not have said that. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Remus doesn’t respond, just gapes at him, looking like Sirius has just punched him in the face. Emotionally, he probably has.
“Sirius,” Remus gasps, “Sirius, what the fuck? That’s just – that’s just cruel, you can’t –” Remus can’t finish his sentence. His chest tightens up, and he can feel his eyes narrow as he now glares at Sirius.
Sirius, the man who doesn’t love him anymore. That’s the way it is.
But, oh, Remus loves him so much. Sirius must know that, and he’s now using it against him, making fun of him? That’s low, even for him. Remus has seen Sirius deliver some truly harsh blows, in public, nonetheless, but this?
Seriously. Siriusly. What the fuck?
"Cruel? Cruel? Remus, I -- wh--"
"No, you don't get to defend yourself," Remus huffs, shaking his head. "You -- I can't -- how could I -- and now you've --"
"What?!" Sirius gasps, really not knowing what's going on. He just admitted his secret to Remus, the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's fucked any chance he had up.
"You've found someone new!" Remus splutters, throwing his hands out towards Sirius.
"I'm sorry, I what?!" Sirius repeats, choking. He's supposedly completely forgotten the imaginary boyfriend he made up earlier, wanting to make Remus jealous. It doesn't matter. Whoever he was probably wouldn't hold a candle to Remus.
"Okay, that actually doesn't matter. How the -- how'd you know I'd come here tonight?" Remus scoffs, unable to keep talking about Sirius' boyfriend. Remus should be Sirius' boyfriend, and he knows that. The goddamn ring in the car says it all. Sirius doesn't love him. Remus will always love Sirius.
"I did not," Sirius laughs, outraged. "Now you think I'm stalking you? I don't -- I'm not -- I --" Sirius has to stop himself from saying I love you, since it would be the truth, and apparently, he's not telling Remus the truth, today. "I'm not stalking you," he finishes pathetically, mostly defeated. "I came here, on my own terms, and you just so happened to come here as well." They sit in silence for a minute after that. "Remus," Sirius starts, exhausted. "Why are you even here, anyway? You don't want anything to do with me."
Christ. If only Remus knew how untrue that was.
"You know that’s not true,” Sirius whispers.
Remus opens his mouth, eyebrows stitched to his hairline. He shuts it. Opens it again.
”No, actually, I didn’t, so— Sirius, what are we even doing here? Seeing each other again? You said we wouldn’t!”
”Dare I remind you that was because you left me for Logan? Logan, a godawful prick that I just know you can’t stand?”
Remus grits his teeth, rubbing at his eyes with his wrists.
“I know,” he mutters. “I know.”
Sirius opens his mouth, not processing the last three seconds. He stares at Remus, noticing the look in his eyes. No longer a soft brown, his eyes have gone darker, more distant. “I’m sorry,” Remus looks into Sirius’ eyes. “I can’t say it enough – even though I know it must mean nothing. I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Thank you,” Sirius mumbles, struggling to maintain eye contact with Remus. “I have to – you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Sirius sighs, running a hand through his hair. Remus looks over with a slow turn of his head. He only laughs silently in response for a moment, then nods, very slowly. Yeah, he’s – Sirius rarely saw him like this, even when they were together.
“D’you think I would’ve come here if I was sober? To see our car? You?” Remus mutters, rolling his eyes. He looks over to Sirius, seeing the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Strangely enough, something softens in him. “Sorry. I don’t mean that, I shouldnt’ve–”
“Please,” Sirius hisses, his tone cold. “You said it, and if that’s how you feel – then I can’t stop you, now can I? I never could.”
“You know I don’t mean that,” Remus shakes his head.
“Do I? As you said,” he sucks his teeth, “you’re not sober, right now.”
“I know. I know I’m not. I don’t know what that says about me if even I know that I’m pissed, but I need you to just – can you listen?”
“Yeah,” Sirius murmurs, a little sadly. “I can do that.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Remus sighs, cradling his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come out here in the first place – I don’t know what I was thinking, driving drunk, again,” he sighs for a second time, and it’s very exaggerated. Heavy. Melancholic. “You of all people know how that turned out,” Remus snorts, looking over at their car. Sirius’ car. But they shared it, didn’t they?
“Yeah,” Sirius laughs with Remus, something of a smile forming on his face. Oh, they’re well and truly broken, aren’t they? “C’mon, I’ll take you back to your flat. You can’t drive.”
Remus looks shocked for a moment.
“You want to take me home,” he repeats, one eyebrow raised.
“Well, I can’t exactly leave you out here, now, can I? We might not be a couple anymore, but Remus, if you think that means that I hate you, and that I never want to see you again, you’re – well, you’re very incorrect.” Sirius very pointedly does not express that he’s still in love with him. “We were friends before we dated, you know that,” Sirius murmurs, and it’s a little sad for him to admit, but if just friends is all they’re going to be, it’s better than being completely without Remus.
Oh, Jesus, he’s gone through some transformation in the past twelve hours, hasn’t he? Ladies and gentlemen (and others, as David Bowie might say), the wonders of RJ Lupin.
“Oh. Well, actually, that’s nice to hear. So. Thank you. That’s not what I was confused about, though, you know. I don’t – I don’t know where I’m going to stay. I left Logan – and it’s his flat, originally.”
“Oh,” is all Sirius can think to say. He shouldn’t. He knows he can’t. It won’t work out well for either of them, yet there he is, opening his mouth again – “You can stay with me.”
Remus gapes at him.
“I can – in the –”
“In the flat, yes,” Sirius mutters, shuffling around a little bit.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Like I said, I care about you. I can’t leave you out here, all defenseless.” Sirius tries to think about doing that for a second, and while it might bring 2% of his soul some sort of sadistic joy, it would probably kill the other part of him. So. Remus is coming back with him. Whether he likes it or not.
“Thank you,” Remus sighs, holding his face in his hands. He sounds defeated, exhausted. “Thank you, Sirius. Oh, god.”
“It’s nothing. Really. D’you mind if I hook the bike up to the back of your car?”
Remus wouldn’t care if Sirius kissed him.
“No,” he shakes his head, trying to will that last thought away before it’s visible on his face. “No, of course not. That’s fine.”
Sirius warily looks back over at Remus, one eyebrow raised before he turns around, walking towards his motorbike, pulling a chain out of the little compartment on the side. He looks over at Remus for a split second, and there’s something soft and loving in his eyes. Sure, they might be flicking back and forth between Sirius’ ass and his face, but it fills him with a strange sense of hope. Maybe not hope. Hopeful misery?
He doesn’t really know.
Once the car is ready, he walks back over to Remus.
“You’re fine with sleeping on the couch, yeah?”
“Of course. I can get a hotel room tomorrow, I just–”
“No,” Sirius cuts him off. “No, Remus, you don’t have to do that. I don’t mind. I wouldn’t –I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”
“Thanks.”
“Get in the car, Lupin.”
They pile into the car, Sirius plugging his phone in, and scrolling through whatever music options he has when Remus stops him, making a noise in the back of his throat.
“Is that –” he stops himself. “Is that our playlist?”
Sirius’ mouth goes dry. “Are you looking over my shoulder?” Remus doesn’t answer. “Er–I mean, yes. Yeah, it is. I’m not so spiteful to delete it – it’s not like I listen to it all the time, but I don’t hate you, and I – sorry, I should – I should stop talking.”
“No,” Remus shakes his head. “I like it when you talk.”
“Don’t,” Sirius whispers. “Can you be genuine, please? We’re not a thing anymore, which is fine, just, please, don’t mock me. Losing feelings isn’t something I can hold against you. I understand.”
“Mock you,” Remus mutters, like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Sirius, no, I don’t want to mock you. My point about the playlist is – I really like it. I’ve missed it.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he sighs. “C’mon, Black. For old time’s sake.”
“Fine,” Sirius hisses, queuing up the playlist. The opening notes of Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley play, and the energy in the car changes immediately as Sirius begins to drive. “Still in your Jeff Buckley phase?” he asks Remus, almost joking. It surprises both of them.
“Always,” Remus mumbles, and he sounds more sober than he has the entire night. “You remembered.”
“Remembered your love for that man? Of course I did, I–” Sirius stops himself from saying, I’m in love with you. “We talked about him a lot. We both liked him. I mean, you introduced him to me, though. So, I owe you for that,” he says before he can stop himself.
Remus laughs softly, and for a minute, it’s like they never got in a car crash – never went out on Sirius’ birthday, never broke up, never fought, and they understand each other –
Sirius stops at a red light, and the two of them make eye contact.
“Remus,” he mutters, almost a question in itself. If he and Remus aren’t in love, then why does he still feel like this? He swears Remus keeps flicking his glance up and down between his lips and eyes.
“Cariad,” Remus answers, and then gasps slightly. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He turns away, his eyes on the road. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Sirius murmurs, since the last thing he needs right now is to get into another car crash with Remus. “It’s okay, I understand.” He looks back at the road, continuing to drive for a moment, before looking over to Remus again. “You okay? Whatcha thinking?”
“Halleujah,” Remus says softly, and he stops there. It’s mysterious and so very Remus that it makes Sirius’ heart hurt.
“Halleujah,” Sirius parrots, not sure what Remus means, but he’s scared to say anything else.
Twenty minutes pass before they arrive at Sirius’ flat.
“Did you bring anything with you?” Sirius asks, gesturing towards the trunk.
“Oh. No, I don’t think so. Some of my clothes, but nothing, like – important,” Remus replies, getting out of the car. He looks at his watch quickly, and fuck, it’s late. Almost midnight.
“Okay. Great. Get your little bag, and then – yeah, we’ll go inside,” Sirius weakly smiles. Remus does as he’s told – grabbing his little bag before following Sirius towards the lobby of the flat complex. They make their way to the elevator, awkward silence enveloping them. The walk to the door of Sirius’ flat is even worse. When Sirius unlocks the door, he stands to the side, holding it open.
“Come in,” he mutters, and Remus’ jaw almost drops. Things have changed. The falt looks nothing like what it once did – full of life, evidence of the two of them living together – Sirius’ records, Remus’ books, and the energy and love they gave to it – it’s now all white, mostly empty. It terrifies Remus.
“You’ve redecorated,” he blurts out, and Sirius glares at him. “It’s nice.”
“Mm. Yeah. I had to. We both moved on.” Remus looks over to Sirius.
“He’s not real, is he?” he asks. “Your new boyfriend.”
Sirius wants to be appalled. He wants to clutch at his imaginary pearls, and kick Remus out. Unfortunately, Remus is right.
“No,” Sirius whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “How’d you–”
“Your tattoo,” Remus answers easily, gesturing to Sirius’ midriff, where Remus’ initials sit, right above his waistband. Oh. Well. That’s entirely fair, actually. Curse Remus for being so observant all the damn time. Instinctively, Sirius covers up his stomach. He feels naked under Remus’ gaze.
“Uh– right. Um. I couldn’t – I can’t get it removed.”
“It’s expensive,” Remus mutters. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Sirius nods. “Um, anyway, the couch is the same, and from what I remember, you don’t hate it. So. You can sleep there.”
The two of them look over to the couch, and sure enough, Sirius is right – it’s the same couch – the only thing left of their relationship here.
“Great. Yeah. That’s brilliant. Thank you, Sirius.”
“It’s fine. Er, if you give me your clothes, I’ll wash them – I have to do laundry anyway.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”
Sirius leaves while Remus gets changed, shutting himself in his room, staring at his bed. The bed he shared with Remus. He still doesn’t sleep on Remus’ side. He can’t bring himsef to. It sounds pathetic, most likely because it is a little pathetic.
A few minutes later, Remus knocks on the door, mumbling something about how he’s ready, and he’s leaving his clothes outside the door. Then, a very quiet, goodnight.
Sirius can’t bring himself to reply. He opens the door a while later, picking up Remus’ denims and jumper, then carries his basket of clothes to the washer and dryer in the closet down the hall.
He’s looking through the pockets of his clothes – making sure he hasn’t forgotten to take anything out, when he sees Remus’ denims, and decides, that out of the kindness of his heart, he’ll do the same for his clothes. So what? He’s an adult. He can get over breakups.
He shoves his hand in the front right pocket, and then the left – when he feels something sharp and metallic. He pulls it out, and it’s a key engraved with 311 – their – his – flat number. Remus does have the key. And it’s been in his pocket the entire night. Which he didn’t think to bring up to Sirius, like, ever.
What the fuck?
He walks out to the living room, leaning on the doorframe as he makes eye contact with Remus.
“Remus.”
“Yeah? Hey, Sirius. Alright?”
“Oh, I’m brilliant.” A second passes, and he reveals the key in his hand. “How long were you planning on keeping this?”