"You're getting cold love," Remus' kind words had stood still in the midnight cool air as Sirius' shivering figure made no effort to move out of the freshly set snow. "You need to come inside, I've got hot cocoa and cookies?"
" 'm not hungry." The quiet murmer had left Sirius' lips almost out of earshot, but Remus' werewolf hearing never missed a thing and he sat beside the shivering boy.
"You haven't been hungry for days, is it getting bad again? What's happened?" Remus was always too kind. Sirius knew he didn't deserve the softly spoken words from Remus, he never had, his Mother made sure to remind him of that. The werewolf spent too much time on him, too much care for the Black sheep of the Black House, how ironic.
"Alone. Please. The full moon is tomorrow, go rest, I'm fine." Yet he didn't budge, no, instead Remus had lay on his back beside him and began carding his fingers through Sirius' snow-embedded hair.
Why was he being so kind? Was he hit with a memory hex? Did he forget the outburst of emotion Sirius had unrightfully unleashed on him before? It didn't matter. Sirius knew he didn't deserve this so no point asking questions. He just wanted to be alone, alone to think and to question and to cry and to scream and-
"I DON'T DESERVE THIS! I'M UNGRATEFUL AND RUDE AND AN OUTRIGHT DICK TO YOU... and you're just Moony. Moony. The things you do drive me insane Rem, I'm so bad to you and you still sit here with me through everything. Why?" Sirius could've continued rambling but he had wanted answers then, and that he got.
"Padfoot, no matter how many times I have to tell you, and now much you don't believe me, I will and have really liked you. Really, really like you. I always have, to be honest, you've always been right there in front of me and I never thought it would end with this but you must know. I would do anything for you, I would trade the moon's light for your love, the fresh morning dew on grass, the crisp air of spring days, the-" Sirius had heard enough of Remus' words, and had cut him off with the soft touch of two pairs of lips meeting.
Love was the most simple yet complicating thing there could be, but Sirius had found he couldn't care less, all he could ever need was right here beside him, so they had stayed there until Remus too, began shivering.
"C'mon, up we get, prefects bathroom?" Sirius had sleepily nodded his response.
Sirius wanted to talk, he did, but he didn't know how to word anything, he had never been good at it. His brain was constantly filled with thoughts, oh so many thoughts that made thinking feel hard to do without other thoughts being thought and interrupting his current thought. It was too confusing, but Moony understood, he had held him up and listened when Sirius had come back from a St Mungo's healer, finally informed of a diagnosis.
Borderline personality disorder. It was a strange disorder, it constantly left him irritated and confused. He wanted answers, he would scream and cry and beg for answers, but he couldn't get them. There were none. He wanted to know so many things, why me, why this disorder, why do I feel this, how do I stop, how do I finally gain control of everything I feel without it exploding out of me like 1,000 bulbs exploding from a ceiling light at once. It was a lot.
There were days he was beyond ecstatic after another prank on the slytherins, then just as fast as their dungbombs had gone off hours before, Sirius felt like the world was on his shoulders. What even is Arithmancy? Why can't he just understand these numbers put with numbers and other things and then that and then, Remus is wiping tears off his cheeks, since when was he crying? Why is he crying over a dumb elective that he chose? Why can't these numbers just work and make sense and not make him feel like he's the dumbest person alive.
That's just one day though. Sometimes Peter will push his buttons just that extra much that Sirius with explode with yelling and tears that Peter scurrys off and doesn't return all night, leaving him in guilt.
He doesn't want to be like this, but it's what he's got, and Remus helped. Remus understood, wiping the warm tears off his sun-kissed skin with those scarred hands and those rings made of anything but silver that Sirius to now still adores but had always denied the price of the gift.
It's love, he had realised after all this time, as he does now as he stares blankly. He has no emotions, no words, so he stares. His Moony is the same as he had been when Sirius locked eyes on him almost 50 years ago and knew he'd found his perfect match. Except now he's gone, his body rests in a pool of blood, soulness.
Remus had warned him, but they'd both known this day would eventually come upon them. Werewolves always died sooner. Their bodies couldn't handle the constant breakage and transformation from human to dark creature, so they simply died quicker than others, a full moon too harsh and, they were dead.
Remus knew tonight had been it, he had told Sirius, warned him to not come down to the basement they had for this very reason. They were in their 60's now, long past the estimated life expectancy of a werewolf, and as the soff, warm orange of the sun rose through the curtains of Sirius and Remus' unslept in bed, Sirius knew he was gone.
Remus had lay crumpled in the corner, never looking dull, just tired, and Sirius had carried his limp body out into the waiting ambulance, away. There were many guests at the funeral, but no one knew his love like he did, he wanted to scream at them, claim him as his, and only his, but he wasn't a kid anymore, he had controls. What he would do to have one more day with him, his Moony.
Sirius didn't last long after that, the endless fortnight of sobbing and depression could never do anyone good, as Sirius said his own goodbyes only 16 days after his husband had.
Now the star that outshone all the rest lays up in the sky for everyone to see, and the moon does its job, lighting up those especially snowy late nights.