We tend to think of love as a big, bright thing. A remedy to heal all wounds, a public declaration, a burning star in the skin, illuminating every crevice of the soul. A deep, unsatiable hunger that fuels the act, the thought, the mind.
Sometimes, love isn’t big, and bright and beautiful. It’s ugly, it’s petty, it doesn’t account to anything. It exists without care for those around, it consumes its victims. And it hates, and it hurts, but it’s there. With every breath they take, it’s there.
At the end of the day, love doesn’t change a thing. Oh, but it means everything.
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A two-tonne weight around my chest feels like
It just dropped a twenty-storey height
Some people say Remus fell first, but Sirius fell harder. Whether they’re right or wrong, I couldn’t tell you, for they both fell. The deepness of it, the very soul-crushing realization that your soul has been tied to another, that your heart screams for their presence, their touches, their attention, they both felt it. Together and apart, at the right time and at all the wrong times, they felt it.
They felt it as they fought over silly things, and as they fought over big things. They felt it as they made up, and as they didn’t, as they crushed each other’s heart time and time again, in a million tiny, razor-sharp pieces. As their fingers bled, picking up the shards and swallowing them whole, like saying: “I’m still here. You can crush me, and tear me apart, and I will too. But I will still be here. I will take in every bump and pain you have and wear it in my chest, in the place it hurts the most, because there it reminds me of you.”
They felt it at all the right times too, don’t get me wrong. They felt it when they were slow dancing in the kitchen of their newly bought apartment, boxes still laying around, a graveyard of memories. The very tangible proof of their love, a memorial to it, a gospel. They felt it in the late nights and the early mornings, in the coffees shared although they both hate the way the other makes it, but love makes you do ugly things. Love made Sirius swallow black coffee as it made Remus drink the sugary, milked down version of it, and they were both unhappy with it, but they got to do it. They got to say: “I’m here, and I will take every ugly part of you and cherish it. I will give you back the love you send, and we will share it in it’s most ugly, and desperately human form.”
But shared coffees are stupid. So is love. But it’s there, and that matters.
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If there was anyone to ever get through this life
With their heart still intact, they didn't do it right
They broke each other’s heart a million times. They squeezed the life out of it and spat it out, a little dry and ugly thing, all shrivelled up against itself. They nourished it, and watered it, and saw it flourish again. A stubborn love, with thorns that bury themselves under your skin. A love that makes you bleed, when there is no better taste than another’s blood on your tongue. Biting, pulling, stretching the cord between them until it almost snapped. Never letting it go, because in all its hurt it was still there, and it was still beautiful, and at the end it was worth it.
They ruined each other, and they did it gladly. One night, Remus whispered: “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll break your heart.” What he didn’t know, was that Sirius would have gladly had his heart broken by him, because that meant Remus had his heart to begin with. It meant his heart was worth breaking, that he was human. He could’ve told him that. He could have said a million things. He didn’t. Instead, he kissed him, and there was nothing left to be said.
Sirius wasn’t a poet, but love doesn’t need words to be felt.
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The last time I felt your weight on my chest, you said
"We didn't get it right but, love, we did our best"
And we will again
Moving on in time and taking more from
Everything that ends
They loved each other as the proverbial axe fell on their heads. Blood gushing from the wounds, they swallowed it down so they could kiss one more time. There were no I love you’s. Just a longing, a shared look that meant everything they couldn’t say.
They were given six months.
They could have gone on different paths. They could have fell even harder, promising never to fight again. They could have been soft, and gentle. They didn’t. They fought harder and made up again, they tore each other’s throat and kissed it better. They found a place to nest in each other’s chest, curling up in a bed of glass shards and rose thorns and made it their home. Because it was their love, and by no means was it perfect, or pretty, but it was theirs.
They loved even more fiercely than before. Through smiles and tears and screams, they loved each other. They say for better or for worse, right? In sickness and in health? They didn’t need a wedding band to fulfill that promise.
They made up for the time they wouldn’t have, trying to take all the love they had within themselves and fit it in so little time. Love like that doesn’t fit in time, or in place. They could have had forever, and the love would still seep through their pores, trying to reach across an ocean of tears just the cling to the skin of the other. They could have had forever, and it still would not have been enough.
They weren’t perfect. They were human, with human flaws and wounds, and human love so deeply imperfect the sight of it would make you weep. I think they did their best. And when that wasn’t enough, they did it again, praying to whatever deity was listening to give them more time: they could be better, could love harder, could kiss more gently.
They didn’t have the time, but still they made every kiss last a second longer, every fight a minute more, and their love grew.
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And all things end
All that we intend is scrawled in sand
And slips right through our hands
And just knowing
That everything will end
Should not change our plans
When we begin again
We begin again
One night, the weight of the illness had been too much for Remus to bear. It had taken its toll on his body, yes, but mostly on his mind. He had told Sirius to leave him before, but he hadn’t fallen for the bait, knowing he was just giving into the little voices in his head. The ones that cried he wasn’t good enough, that Sirius deserved better. He wouldn’t hear of it, but deep down he knew.
That night, through tears and sobs and shaky breaths, Remus apologized. He apologized for everything and for nothing. He apologized for breaking Sirius’ heart, like he knew he would. For giving him so little, only his shriveled up, rotten soul, only the contents of his heart when Sirius had deserved the world. He would have given it to him, was the worst part. But there were too many mistakes to fix, too many things left unsaid.
The guilt was the worst part, the unshakable fear of leaving and having the one you love not following. The fear of the unknown, but mostly of the loneliness. He could’ve faced the unknown with Sirius. And in an egoist, terrible, human way, he almost wished he would come with him. Wished he could hold his hand as he arrived on the shore of the unknowns, where he would get mad at the sand in his hair and the water in his shoes, and where he could fight again for the sake of it. For the sake of knowing they still could, and they were still there.
He knew Sirius would have burned down the world to follow him, but there was no fire where he was going. And so he wept, and through his tears he begged for forgiveness. The silence stretched as his heart raced, but he should have known better. Because Sirius wasn’t a poet, but he was a man in love, and when he spoke again the weight on Remus’ chest seemed to lift even just a little.
“I would not change a thing.”
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I have never known a silence like the one fallen here
Never watched my future darken in a single tear
I know we want this to go easy by being somebody's fault
But we've gone long enough to know this isn't what we want
And that isn't always bad
They were both hurting as time passed and robbed them, uncaring as always. The claws of death had been brushing tentatively at Remus’s ribs, and you could see the dark circles beneath their eyes. The light of the moon outside taunted them, as it rose full and round in the sky, signaling the ever-coming end. They had fought earlier, the last remnants of what they had. Words didn’t fly as loud as they used to, but they had earlier and Remus was glad. He was glad to still have the fight somewhere deep in him. Sirius was glad he still had him to fight with.
Because at the end of the day it didn’t matter, because they were both coming home, the heat of their bodies protecting them from the outside world. The waves within them were calm, the shore peaceful, and maybe that’s what led to the conversation, I couldn’t tell you.
“I don’t want to wait.”
The silence stretched, but there was no tension in the air. The night was peaceful and the air fresh, as the nature outside came back again following the ruthlessness of the winter. Sirius didn’t speak for a minute, and then two, and it seemed the world had stopped. If only it had.
He felt a tear roll down his cheek, the only sign of life between the two of them. How ironic. The ugly love in his chest growled, trying to claw its way out, like saying: “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” A question. An offer?
A promise.
Remus smiled before exhaling, and shaking his head. He did want Sirius to follow, but he couldn’t. The loneliness still terrified him, but somewhere in his chest he felt settled. There was no wrong or right answer, although some might disagree, but Remus felt at peace. Because even in his last hours, they were there, and they existed together in the small bubble of love they had created. A stupid, meaningless love in the grand scheme of things. But a love that made his chest warm, and that made him smile as he rested.
He fell in love with Sirius as he took his last breath.
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When people say that something is forever
Either way, it ends
There was no way to describe it. The loss. It seemed silly, such a small word for such a deep feeling, but even that didn’t encompass it.
Sirius still had him, somewhere deep in his chest. The Remus he loved was still nestled somewhere, smiling though the pain of swallowing down the shards of Sirius’ words. Still crying at the beauty of poems, and still keeping him warm. A presence, a love.
Sometimes he could feel it. The warmth he had left behind, the very liveliness of him. He still felt it in the books scattered around the apartment, and in the old cardigans he refused to throw out. Sometimes he could manage a smile, feeling so full of love he feared his heart would burst out.
The cold was the worst. The very chill that ran through his bones, the weight of silence in his throat. He didn’t laugh anymore. Most days his throat was raw, whether from the cigarettes or the screams he wouldn’t tell. But mostly he felt a part of him missing, like he had lost a limb, an organ, the very heart he had given to Remus without a second thought.
He never regretted it, although when the pain got too much and the bottle seemed his only friend he sometimes wished he did. Wished he could hate him again, because it would have been so much easier. Wished he could scream at him again, wished he could spit the sharpest things in his face, because that had meant they were there.
Forever wouldn’t have been enough, but still Sirius found himself wishing for more.
The seasons passed and as the cold came back, and Sirius got worse. He found the smiles weren’t there anymore, and he often found himself wishing Remus had taken his offer. He would have gotten mad, but there was no one to get mad at, and that hurt even more.
But the earth doesn’t stop, and time is unforgiving, so even as his worse days passed, the clock was still ticking and the sun rose again. The leaves of the trees started to grow anew, and Sirius wasn’t so cold anymore.
He found that good things don’t last.
He awoke one night to a chill running down his spine. The window had been left open, and the crispness of the air raised the hair on his arms. He knew.
And he had known it was coming, but the earth comes around whether you want it to or not. He went to sleep that night thinking he wouldn’t wake up. When he did, he wept.
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And all things end
All that we intend is scrawled in sand
Or slips right through our hands
And just knowing
That everything will end
We should not change our plans
When we begin again
We begin again
We begin again, darling
Poets will tell you about soulmates. Sirius doesn’t know whether they’re right or wrong, but to be honest, I think he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need a soul to fall in love with Remus, although sometimes it had felt like it. Like his very essence had been tied to him, and he couldn’t have escaped his fate had he tried. Not that he would have.
He hadn’t believed in soulmates before Remus, that was for sure. The idea of somebody waiting out there for you, of another’s soul fitting like a puzzle piece in your chest. It had all seemed like one big fantasy, something only heroes and princesses dream about.
He found that maybe soulmates weren’t this big, meaningful things people made them out to be. Being in love with Remus had felt like home. He remembered looking in his eyes and thinking: “Yes, I’ve made it. Now, I can rest.”
Maybe he still didn’t believe in soulmates, but he wanted to. Longed to. Maybe that counted as belief, because it felt like he knew. Against all odds and scientific explanations, a piece of him still thought of Remus and bathed in his warmth while the rest of him screamed at the iciness in his bones.
If there were soulmates, he thought, he would find Remus again. Because they hadn’t deserved this, this all too short love story of sorts. Maybe somewhere else, they got to live a big, long life full of laughs and tears and coming homes. There had to be a place like that. Sirius thought that if they were such a thing as soulmates, he would find Remus in every universe, and he would come home again.
When he had woken up, Sirius had remembered what Remus had said all those months ago: “I’ll wait for you. It’s not your time, yet.”
So, Sirius would wait, and when the time came, he would find Remus again.
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And all things end
All that we intend is built of sand
Slips right through our hands
And just knowing that everything will end
Won’t change our plans
When we begin again
And things end
All that we intend is scrawled in sand
Or slips right through our hands
And just knowing that everything will end
Should not change our plans
When we begin again
I like to think that somewhere in the unknown, Remus is sitting on a beach, and waiting for Sirius to come home.