Sometimes looking at James is like looking in a mirror; he sees Sirius the way he wants to see himself, the way he knows he is, the way he would see himself if he hadn’t grown up the way he had.
“Don’t know what I’d do without you, mate,” is what he tells James instead.
James, do you hear me?.
There are feelings Sirius cannot completely understand, mainly because he does not want to. His life is already complicated enough– his relationship to himself is already far too complicated. He can’t imagine another burden inside of himself to have to constantly wish away.
So he allows himself confusion.
Confusion as to why it makes him ache when Lily finally accepts James’ offer to date, as to why a part of him clenches up whenever she enters the room, confusion as to why he feels teary eyed when he sees the two of them kiss.
He remembers the night he arrived at the Potter’s, after running away from his so-called home. Everything hurt– physically– emotionally he felt numb. He was free now, in a way, but he certainly didn’t feel it.
James dabs at a re-opened cut on his forehead with a wet towel, his face more somber than Sirius had ever seen it. It should make him upset; seeing James upset always hurts him.
It doesn’t, and he can’t bring himself to be upset about that either.
James is the first one to speak, as he so often is.
“I didn’t know it was this fucking bad, Sirius. You should have– are you okay– Christ, stupid question. I’m sorry. I’m just– I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to you but I need you to say something please, because you’ve been silent for almost half an hour, just staring at the wall and I-I… please, tell me to fuck off or be quiet, just something so I know your concussion isn’t actually worse than we thought.”
He still stares at the wall, absentmindedly moving his arm haphazardly until it makes contact with James. That’s a sufficient answer, isn’t it? He responded to the inquiry, now James has to know his brain isn’t bleeding.
“Okay, hell, if that’s all I’m going to get, just tap once on my arm for yes, twice for no. Do you feel dizzy?”
Yes, but two taps are what he gives.
“Have you been sick earlier in the night before you got here?”
That one’s an honest two taps.
“Are you going to say no to any symptom I ask about so I’ll leave you alone?”
One tap, openly admitting that he will, because James is too smart to not already know the answer.
“Please just say something. Two words, that’s all I’m asking for.”
James doesn’t need two fucking words, he decides, he’s just being selfish.
It’s quiet until it isn’t, and then he can hear shallow breathing and sniffles. Sirius is too busy staring at the wall to put the pieces together until James’ head is on his (uninjured) shoulder, and tears are soaking through his shirt.
Suddenly, the numbness recedes, but not for himself. He’s not ready to process any of the night’s events, he’s not ready to let himself feel the devastation that led him to running away, but he can feel for James. Not for himself, but for James.
“Don’t cry,” he forces at slowly, it comes out garbled but James laughs.
Two words, exactly.
“I love you mate,” James sniffles, nudging his nose into Sirius’ neck, “you don’t have to talk about it, but I’m right here if you need to. It’s okay Sirius, you’re safe now.”
Sirius tries to say “I love you” back, but it dies in his throat. He loves James, but it would be a lie to say it back in the same way that James had said it first.
“Don’t go,” is what he tells James instead.
James, do you hear me?.
They’re sitting, the four of them, in the Shrieking Shack, for the last time as Hogwarts students, waiting for Remus to change. Remus had always told them not to look when he transformed in the beginning of their full moons together; he had long stopped giving advice that would always be ignored.
“How are you doing, Moony?” James asks sympathetically. It’s gotten easier with time, but there will always be an uneasiness at watching a loved one suffer every month, even if you’re now resigned to it.
“Hurts. Tired. Feel like I could pass out and I’m lying down. But alas, we all know that’s nothing new.”
“If I could take it for you, even for just one month, I would,” Sirius tells Remus, and he means it. He knows James and Peter also would since they have discussed it in Remus’ absence, so he’s not some special kind of martyr friend, but he still needs his werewolf friend to hear it.
“I wouldn’t let you,” Remus sighs, a hint of a smile on his lips, “but I appreciate the gesture.”
“Can we make you any more comfortable?” James asks, even though the answer will never be yes.
“Stop worrying so much,” Remus replies smartly, “listening to it gets old after a bit, no offense.”
“They’ll never shut it,” Peter says bluntly, and Sirius muses that Peter’s ability– or some might call it a curse– to never mince words probably is one of Remus’ greatest sources of relief.
“Well, my entire existence is proof that I can’t shut up,” he shrugs, “part of being a part of the noble house of Black, even if you’ve been disowned from it.”
“Sirius, don’t–” Remus is cut off by a wave of discomfort so bad that he twitches on the floor as if he’s a caterpillar trying to escape from its cocoon.
Peter quickly changes into rat form, knowing what likely is about to come next, and Sirius is about to change into dog form but a thought occurs to him and he rushes outside of the shack.
“Moon’s not up yet,” he says as he returns, “but won’t be long. Moony? Remus? You’re okay, it’ll be over soon. We’ll have so much fun running amok that all of this pain will be forgotten shortly.”
James is kneeling down on the floor next to Remus, a hand in his hair. It makes Sirius’ heart melt, but also makes him nervous. As kind and brave as it is, it’s also reckless. He knows this act of irresponsibility isn’t out of pompousness, not this time, but the intention still doesn’t make it safe.
“James, look at him. We’ve got fifteen seconds at most. You need to become your damn stag if you’re going to insist on being that close, but that’s still dangerous and we both know it.”
Remus moans, and then he screams so loudly that Sirius’ ears hurt but he hardly registers that out of concern for his friend, out of concern for both of his friends.
(James is still your friend even if you don’t feel like that encapsulates what you feel for him, Sirius reminds himself. No need for delusion.)
“James, now.”
“Remus, easy, it’s okay. I’m right here, can you hear me?” James asks, hand still stroking Remus’ sweat-drenched hair.
“James!” Sirius shouts, and he turns into Padfoot a second later out of muscle memory when Remus’ bones start contorting it.
James is still James, not Prongs, and Padfoot barks as pointedly as he can; he’s not ready to watch James die or to watch Remus deal with the fallout of accidentally killing him, either.
Right as Remus’ jaw opens and teeth turn to fangs, there’s a stag in James’ place, leaping far away from the disoriented and agitated newly changed werewolf.
The next morning, after they return to their dorms post visiting Remus in the hospital wing, Sirius can’t help but yell and throw all of James’ laundry pile across the room, piece by piece.
He’s reminding himself of his parents at the moment, especially his mother, but he’ll process that regret later.
He’s never known anything more instinctually than the fact that James is the greatest love of his life, regardless of James not reciprocating, at least not in the romantic way.
“You almost died and almost ended Remus’ life in another way, too. Fuck you, Potter!” is what he tells James instead.
James, do you hear me?.
The first time Sirius brazenly risks arrest after Azkaban is to visit the graves of James and Lily Potter.
Lily’s a lovely woman– she was a lovely woman– and she doesn’t deserve to listen to this, but it’s secrets and betrayal that led to the orphaning of their son, so maybe she’s owed the truth.
Or maybe Sirius is just selfish and needs to get it off his chest before breaking everything in Grimmauld Place.
“I never meant to fall in love with you, and I know you probably think this is some stupid joke because you thought I told you everything and I never told you anything about liking men, least of all you, but I swear that this is the truth. I loved you more than I should have, I loved you differently than I should have, and I loved you longer than I should have. Even now, I still do… I told Remus and he told me he always knew, so maybe you did all along, too, and just pretended not to for the sake of my pride… no, I know that’s true. You would’ve wanted to talk about it, to try and make it feel better for me somehow, even if it made you uncomfortable. That’s who you were, always giving me everything.”
His eyes fill with tears and he blinks them down his cheeks instead of blinking them back. The time for feigning a reckless sort of “strength” has long passed. War has come and passed, and is coming again. People he loved are dead and some are dead specifically because he made the mistake of mistrusting Remus and trusting Peter.
“I don’t know if you two are actually watching down on me or whatever it is that people say happens after someone dies, but if you are, I know I’m losing my mind. I know I’m behaving recklessly, and I know that everyday I fall more unwell than the last. And I guess, along with confessing my stupid love, I wanted to apologize. To the both of you. I know this isn’t what you wanted for me, but I don’t see myself coming back from this. In Azkaban… I’m sorry, I’ll do my best with Harry, I promise– just don’t get your hopes up too high. It’s too late for me but if you can, spare some love and light for Remus, yeah? He looks at me like I’m already gone.”
Straightening up his shirt after standing, Sirius turns away from their graves, ready to make his way back to his cursed hiding place, and that damn portrait of his mother. Does he want to get arrested again? Maybe, he’s not sure.
“James,” he whispers, turning back as the clouds open into rain, “can you hear me?”
No, James isn’t crying, it’s just fucking raining.