Sirius doesn’t think it’s a problem.
He has designated days where he eats and doesn’t eat. It’s not a problem. He feels overwhelming guilt when he overeats, but it’s not a problem.
Sirius knows if any of his friends find out about his internal schedule, they will think it’s an issue, something that needs to be fixed.
He’s sitting at the Gryffindor, surrounded by his closest friends, all of them animatedly talking and eating like it’s not something they think about.
Like it’s not something he needs to control.
“Padfoot, did you see McGonagall’s face when the dung bombs went off? Merlin, I almost laughed aloud.” James says to him from across the table.
Sirius smiles back “Yeah, don’t know what you mean by almost laughing out loud though, seeing as I heard your big mouth from the other side of the room.”
James rolls his eyes has reaches across the table to hit Sirius, just missing due to Sirius flinging himself into his moony for protection.
“Careful Sirius.” Remus smiles as Sirius hides behind him for cover, continuing to shovel as much food as possible into his mouth despite the interruption.
James quickly gets distracted by Peter asking about the upcoming quidditch, Slytherin vs Hufflepuff, and who he thinks is going to come out on top.
Sirius pushes the food around on his plate as he listens in on their conversation, hoping it looks like he’s more interested than he is.
Today is his “no eat day”, meaning he has to be subtle. He makes sure to distract all of them while continuing to push and play with his food.
Looking down at his lunch, Sirius feels an overwhelming sense of dread pool in his stomach.
Just looking at his food makes him feel out of control like he’s not been allowed to eat it due to unruly behaviour like he’s being forced to sit at a table, eat and talk to his reality.
He feels his chest tighten; his hands become sweaty. He knows if he starts fidgeting with his friends, his moony will notice something wrong, that there might be something wrong with him.
Not that it’s a problem, he’s completely in control.
He doesn’t feel the deep brown stare of the boy next to him, looking at his plate, full of uneaten food.
----
Before he knows it, all the classes have finished, Potter has quidditch practice and Peter wants to go watch.
Sirius is left with his Remus in their dorm, on Sirius' bed, listening to the many records Andromeda got for Sirius.
Just thinking about Moony makes Sirius's blood move faster, his heartbeat loader and his hand's sweat. He has no control over the feelings his moony gives him.
It scares him.
“Pads?” Remus nudges Sirius out of his panicked mind “You’ve been weird today, what’s wrong?”
‘Blunt as ever.’ Sirius thinks fondly, even as he’s trying to wipe the sweat from his hands on his school pants.
“Nothing, my moony pie.” Sirius grins and looks up at the boy sitting next to him “Why? "Do I not look as gorgeous as ever” Sirius puts his cheeky smile on and hopes his Remus falls for it.
Remus narrows his eyes. Sirius feels his chest Sutter at the intensity of his moony stare. All-encompassing, no control, just locked into looking at his deep brown eyes.
“Have-” Remus hesitates, finally giving mercy to Sirius and looking away, allowing him to breathe. “Have you eaten today?”
‘Have you eaten today.’
He doesn’t breathe. His mind is reeling. With his unsaid anxieties.
‘Fuck’ he thinks ‘deflect. Deflect.’
“What do you mean?” Sirius scoffs “I’ve been with you for both breakfast and lunch. You were just too distracted with eating half the food on the table to notice me even sitting next to you, mooony.” He laughs, hoping it comes off naturally.
From the look Remus gives him, he knows what’s coming next.
“You ate yesterday. But then the day before that, you ate nothing. Why? Are you sick?” Remus asks, brows creasing in worry, the expression hurting Sirius almost as much as the question.
“Keeping track of my food habits, moony? Sirius-ly just say you’re obsessed with me. I won't judge.” Sirius distracts, hoping it’s enough to stop Remus from asking more questions.
“Sirius.” Remus breaths. “Are you okay?”
His world stops for a moment.
He feels his face becoming hot, from tears threatening the surface of his eyes to embarrassment then finally, to anger.
“Fucking hell Remus. What’s your problem? I’m just not bloody hungry today. Stop nagging me.” Sirius breathes out, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from Remus' confused expression.
“Sirius. I noticed a while ago. You’re safe with me, y’a know? You can talk to me about your problems- “
Before Remus can finish, Sirius is standing up trying to leave the room.
Remus quickly follows, grabbing a hold of Sirius's arm, keeping him trapped in the room.
More anger flares through Sirius. “It’s not a problem. I have it under control.” Sirius snaps “Let go. I don’t want to fucking talk.”
Sirius tried to pull his hand from Remus' surprisingly gentle grip, catching Sirius off guard when he realised how soft Remus was holding his hand.
He looks up at Remus' face, plastered with worry and desperation.
Sirius's heart aches. He hates seeing his friends worry about him, especially his Remus. After a few moments, Sirius answers “It’s not a problem, moons.” He tried again to convince them.
His moonys face crumbles. He looks so defeated. It’s Sirius's least favourite look, the look he always seems to put on Remus's face.
“Alright. It’s not a problem.” Remus concedes, pulling Sirius back to his bed, still gently holding his hand. “But can I ask why?”
Sirius tried to look away for about the hundredth time this conversation started, but those eyes drew him back in. He trusts those eyes.
“I-“ Sirius breathes, trying to regain some composure “I can’t eat some days, I guess. I just. I don’t know. It feels wrong. If I don’t stick to the schedule, then I don’t have any control.” He answers nervously.
“Schedule? What do you mean by a schedule Sirius?” Remus whispers, letting his thump stroke the back of Sirius's hand.
Sirius breathes. His body is telling him to stop talking, to rip his hand away. His brain is telling him to make a joke of it, to get angry and storm off.
But his chest wants to tell Remus.
He wants to say how out of control everything makes him feel.
How his schedule makes him feel secure. No one tells him when to eat or not to eat but himself.
His mother isn’t telling him to starve, his mother isn’t telling him he’s disgusting. His father isn’t telling him he has a responsibility to his family. His brother doesn’t hate him,
Because he’s in control.
There’s no war, no death, no thoughts about his best friend, he didn’t hurt his best friend, he’s not like his family. He is in control. He is in control. He is in control. He is in control. He is in control
“Sirius?” Remus is on the floor in front of him now, hands on either side of his face. His hands are wet.
Sirius's face is wet. His eyes are burning. He can’t breathe.
He’s not in control.
His moonys face is panicked. He looks like he’s in pain. Sirius always makes his moony in pain.
He’s not in control. He never was. He never will be.
He hears himself sobbing, repeating his lack of control like a mantra.
Remus is pulling Sirius into his arms, rocking him back and forth, still on the floor.
Sirius clings to his moony like a lifeline. Like he’s the last thing holding him together.
Remus thinks the panic attack lasted about an hour, an hour of non-stop crying, explaining and apologising.
Sirius was now sound asleep in his bed, barely conscious by the end of the hour.
Remus sits cuddled up next to him, stroking his soft black hair, still gently holding Sirius's hand.
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” Remus whispers into Sirius’ hair, praying to whatever god there is that he can help protect his padfoot.