Denial.
As the ground is splattered with blood and war rages on, we stand face to face. Screams of pain and terror are blocked by my heart pounding in my ears, by the fear coursing through my veins. No. Not him. Please not him. The blade of my sword glistens in the early morning sun, a blade that is partially buried in the person I love most. It can't be him, please not him. Slowly we lock eyes. Eyes I know all too well and we crumple, perfectly in sync as we have always been. A pair. A duo. Soulmates. Please not him. As our knees hit the mud I clutch his shirt, praying that this is fake, that it isn't real, that I've gone insane. Anything but the harsh reality. His eyes are clouded with pain and bitter acceptance but I can’t accept it.
Anger.
My screams are drowned out by those around me. This isn't right, it can't be. We should have more time. We need more time. I need more time with him. But of course the universe is never kind and as she rips away what I hold dearest a festering ball of rage forms under my ribs. We could've been something after this stupid war and we would have lived a life together. We could have gotten a house of our own in the city we met and gotten good, stable jobs. Lived a long and fulfilling life. But all our dreams and hopes of a future have now been washed away on a crowded battlefield in the mid summer heat. But is the universe really to blame, or am I? I stabbed him. I rammed my sword straight into his chest while I was caught up in the battle. Why am I so stupid?! Why are we fighting in a stupid war for a stupid country for stupid reasons!? I hate it. Every bit of this situation. I hate the war and the battle and myself but not him. Never him.
Bargaining.
As Sirius’ eyes begin to close, an unnatural glow forms under his eyelids and I know deep down what's happening. It’s a vision. The vision that shows you the future of everything you love. He would see the universe as it would be with all of its joy and anger and sadness and all things would be one. He would see their endless potential and infinite uniqueness and yet the only problem is that he should only be seeing the vision just before he dies. But maybe that's not what's happening. Maybe he’s simply tired and resting his eyes for a second. He’s not dying, he can't be. I can save him. He has so much to do, he can’t just let himself die without properly having lived. Right? The wound isn't too bad, right? He can be saved and sewn back together and we can live the future we always dreamed of. Right?
Depression.
Wrong. The wound is bad, really bad. Terrible even. My best friend has been stabbed and is bleeding out. Tears flow freely as I stare at his face. He looks so serene, so at peace. As he opens his eyes once more a flicker of hope ignites in my chest. A flicker of hope that I know is artificial because I know he is dying. Those deep blue eyes stare into my soul and as he begins to speak I know these are his final words. No matter how much I want to delude myself into thinking everything is okay I simply cannot. “I know what you’re thinking, I’m not angry at you Moony. I knew this was coming and so did you. I'm just glad I get to die by your side just as I always imagined. Just, keep living for me. Alright?” Before I can even respond his eyes close for one last time never to open again. A faint slime forms on his face along with a stray tear falling from his now gently shut eyes as he finally slips away. Sobs tear themselves from my chest as large and ugly tears roll down my face. I scream and yell and beg but he doesn't move or respond. I feel his body grow cold in my arms as his heart stops beating, and I crumple once more. This time I crumple alone, broken and empty. I hold him so tightly I feel as if his bones will snap. Finally, I let myself mourn.
Acceptance.