The cake was a lie. Not the cake itself, that was delicious, but the whole 'one year clean' thing. The way Lilly had surprised me with a goddamn cake. It was all a lie. A big, fluffy, buttercream lie.
I stood in the bathroom, the tile cold beneath my bare feet, the smell of stale cigarettes and disinfectant clinging to the air. The little baggie of white powder sat on the counter, its contents shimmering under the dim light like tiny, silent promises. I knew what I was doing. I knew it was wrong. I knew Remus would kill me if he found out.
But the party was loud, the laughter too much. The faces all blurry, the voices all echoing. The cake sat, untouched, on the table, a reminder of the lie I was living. It was a small bump, just a little something to take the edge off, to make the music a bit louder and the smiles a little wider. It wouldn't be a relapse, it wouldn’t be a 'fall from grace,' it'd just be a... a tiny, fleeting moment of oblivion.
The next morning, the ache in my jaw was a constant reminder of the lie I'd told myself. The world was blurry and the taste of bile was heavy in my mouth. Remus, bless his heart, seemed oblivious. He just wanted to run to the store for bread, his usual morning routine.
The stale air greeted me as I walked in looking around for witnesses. There, across the road, was Alex, his face etched with concern. He had been my sponsor the last time I was in rehab. I was supposed to be clean, I was supposed to be 'helping others.'
'Sirius,' he said, his voice a breathy whisper. 'What are you doing here?'
'Just, uh, picking up bread,' I mumbled, feeling the heat creep up my neck. It felt like a betrayal, seeing him here, in the same place I usually ran to when I was breaking down.
'Sirius, you're not...,' he began, but I cut him off.
'Just a little something for the headache,' I said, pulling out the little plastic baggie from my pocket.
His eyes, once filled with hope, now held a flicker of disillusionment. He shook his head, a silent reprimand, and I knew he was right. I was lost.
The weeks that followed were a blur of denial and self-destruction. It was fine, I told myself. I was still doing everything else. I still made dinner for Remus, sat beside him in bed, listened to his worries. I still went out with Reg and James, went to movie nights with Lilly. I was just a little... 'off,' that's all.
It’s funny how things work out, I suppose. You think you’re being so subtle, being so clever with your secret, but the truth has a funny way of leaking out.
'How long has this been going on?' Remus’s voice was a low tremor, the words barely audible.
His disappointment was like a physical blow. The way his hands shook as he called Reg, the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the unspoken accusation hanging heavy in the air.
And then, I was back in rehab. My jewelry, my piercings, all stripped away, a symbol of the life I'd tried to build and failed. I sat in the waiting room, surrounded by people who, unlike me, were not fine. Who were not going to be able to lie their way out of this.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them all I was fine, that this was a mistake, that I was just... taking a break. But the truth was, I was not fine. I was just another lost soul in a room full of lost souls, and I had no answers.