Three
“What the fuck happened to you?” Remus gapes as James comes walking in through the door with blood running all the way down to his chin from his nose. He glances over his shoulder where Sirius is rubbing his arm and murmuring something to himself, he doesn’t direct any questions to him.
Of course, that doesn’t stop Sirius from answering sharply, “My fucking brother. You know him? About this tall? A complete ass? Oh right, apparently so, because you were draping all over him this morning.”
This makes Remus boil because no way, in no world, is Sirius Black getting pissy with him right now. A tightness in his chest hardens away all potential worry he ever had for him, “Fuck you. You probably fucking deserved it.”
Sirius lets out a dry laugh and starts for him. James wisely holds him back because honestly, right now, Remus has no problem beating his ass right now. Maybe it’d do him some good, to get it out of his system.
“Maybe you’ve forgotten Sirius, but you are in no position to be getting mad at me for anything right now.”
“Fucking backstabber.” Sirius hisses as Remus turns to head to the bathroom and that, oh, that. That hits. He wants to audibly laugh. Remus turns his head to face him with narrowed eyes, practically fuming with anger because how does that saying go? Takes one to fucking know one.
“No, you started this, you did this. Remember that.”
Remus can feel Sirius, he always has been, and not in a literal sense. He can feel him in the same way an animal can taste the thick metallic tang of blood before they bite into it, the way he can feel Sirius’ magic vibrate through him like instinct, drawn to it like a magnet. Like a weight on your chest, like a pest buzzing to get under your skin, like the cold chill when a ghost is present, like an insatiable hunger. Maybe it’s a wolf thing, but at times, Remus truly believes he could eat Sirius whole, rip into him and consume every part of him.
Down to the very last bone.
He even imagines it might be cathartic.
Remus lets the bathroom door slam for what possibly might be the fourth time today and leans his head back on it. He can hear James arguing with Sirius, and Peter trying to settle them both while asking questions, but it’s not as harsh as it usually has been. He doesn’t really know what to make of that and honestly, he doesn’t even care.
How dare Sirius be angry. How fucking dare he.
For lack of anything else to do, he turned on the tap and started washing his face. Cold water splashing into his nose and into his overhanging hair.
Alright, so Remus at least had an idea of what he was getting into when he sat down at Regulus’ table but honestly, he wasn’t expecting him to knock them both out. Especially not James, because Remus is actually rather thankful for James. He was there, he gets it, but again, he’s Sirius’ other half. No matter how angry James was and still is with Sirius, eventually they will find their way back together, maybe they already have. So actually, maybe he doesn’t get it.
But Regulus does.
He’d spent the entire day, outside of classes, with Barty, Evan, and Regulus. They don’t really talk, well Barty does, but even then, with Regulus it's easy. In his head, Remus could almost compare it to being with Lily, just more him. Regulus doesn’t even know what Sirius did or even the smallest idea of how fucked up just being associated with Remus can be. It doesn’t make sense, not in the fucking slightest but theres a mutual understanding linked between them now that neither of them really acknowledge but they know it’s there. Maybe it's because they see that in each other. Or many it’s just pure hatred for Sirius- No, that's not it, maybe it's just pure complicated messy hatred for Sirius.
Either way, it works and despite everything, if Regulus did deck Sirius, he owes him a pat on the back.
By the time Remus gets out of the bathroom, Sirius is already in his bed with the curtains closed but there's restless rustling from inside. Good, he can’t help but think. Remus hopes he can’t sleep. James, on the other hand, is awake, cleaning blood off his face and inspecting his glasses in a little hand held mirror by his bed.
“The one in the loo is free.” He gestures but James shrugs, dabbing the last of the blood with a towel.
As he’s climbing into bed, James turns to face him, putting back on his cracked glasses. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, quietly casting a silencing charm. “Remus, why are you doing this? Is it just to get back at him?” He asks soft and tired and Remus immediately hates the question because he has no real answer. All he knows is that he’s angry and he’s bitter and that, fuck, he really thouroughly hates what Sirius did. And if hating Sirius is what it sums up to, then fine. Easy. Done.
“Yes.” Remus replies flatly and inwardly, beyond all the tight coiled resentment and all the scars stretched from skin to bone, his chest falters and becomes a weakening sinkhole at the sincerity of his words, “And I really really hope it hurts.”
…
Remus can’t sleep. It's sort of become routine by now, staring at the top of the maroon canopy, restlessly turning in the sheets he has to continuously rip off because it’s too hot, even in the growing cold. He tries to read but his brain won’t let the letters translate, he just flips through the pages mindlessly until he’s had enough. He turns over on his side and closes his eyes.
Despite the effort, Remus still can’t sleep. Too many nightmares and lingering fears. Too many unwarranted thoughts and worries about the ghostly bruise blooming on James’ face and the absolute nerve in Sirius’ eyes as if he had any right to be pissed with him, and how after everything, he still wanted to know if he was okay. To rush towards him and cup his face and tilt back his head and examine him for any part that could’ve been left with a scratch or a dent. Too many played out make believe fantasies of what they’d be doing right now if all this never happened, too many bruised feelings that usually hide under red heated spite these days, and too many reminders that he has no idea what Sirius is capable of anymore, all of which slowly come up his throat to choke him.
So naturally, Remus shoves the curtains aside, steps into his shoes, grabs his wand and a coat and walks out the room. He doesn’t even bother grabbing the map from where it sits on James’ desk because he’s had the entire layout memorized three weeks after they’d created it. Remus reluctantly lets himself look tiredly at the drawn curtains around Sirius’ bed when he swivels to fit through the entrance, he tears himself away and Peter lets out a heavy snore as he quietly shuts the door behind him.
It’s maybe around midnight, just from the feel of it, and Remus doesn’t even need to charm a lumos as he walks down the corridors, running a hand along the cool stones. It’s quiet and just warm enough from the charms cast throughout the castle, and with each downfall of his steps going nowhere in particular, helplessly, he thinks about things.
He does a lot of thinking nowadays.
Remus walks for a while, intentionally taking longer routes and shortcuts that would pop him up somewhere completely farther than he started at just to kill the time, but finally, he does end up at a secret entrance to a small alcove in the wall underneath a set of stairs. He used to come here a lot when he was younger, before the Marauders, before they knew about him, before he let anyone close enough to know, before Sirius found him here one day and dragged him by his hand out into the open, with a light in his eyes that Remus couldn’t help but become eager to follow. Funny how he finds himself right back where he started.
James had asked him if he was doing all this to get back at Sirius and he’d said yes, he’d said that he hopes it hurts, and as fucking close to true as that is, Remus hates feeling like somewhere deep down, he’d follow him again, that he’d do it all again to get back to Sirius. But some wounds, some scars, just won’t allow him to do that, so where does that leave him?
“Regulus?”
The younger boy snaps his eyes up at Remus, hand suddenly gripped tightly to his wand. Regulus sits in the arched window, outlooking the green that leads to the Black Lake and the clouded sky above, which Remus is mildly grateful for the lack of stars tonight.
“What are you doing here?” Regulus snaps, shifting his weight in the smallest of increments on the thick stone sill which reminds him a little of Sirius when they were younger, always twitching with the need to hide something.
“Perfect duty.” Remus lied because well, he has his pin still attached to his coat.
“A bit past curfew for that, isn’t it?” Regulus says flatly and Remus raises an eyebrow as he looks down to where Regulus’ own green and silver perfect pin is attached to his jumper.
“Don’t you have a dorm room? Why are you here?” He ignores, glancing at the closed book in Regulus’ fisted hand resting on his knees, a quill woven through two of his fingers.
“Don’t you?” Because of course they’re doing this, going in circles.
He can feel Regulus watching him as he ignores him again to sit down opposite of him in the alcove, with at least three feet of distance between them, which apparently is too little for Regulus as he pulls in his legs immediately as Remus sits down. Despite the long glare, Regulus doesn’t argue or tell him to go away so Remus doesn’t either.
Regulus lets his wand loosen in his hand and begins writing in his book again after a while, the hushed brush of the quill against the paper is oddly soothing in a way that normally is for Remus. They don’t say much else and Remus almost has half a mind to ask him why he isn’t telling Remus to go away but he doesn’t. He also has the urge to ask him if he hit James and hexed Sirius but that one lingers on his tongue for too long and it never makes it out, and honestly, he doesn’t want to think about that right now. They just sit for a long while and Remus looks out the foggy window, remembering bitterly on a time where Sirius took his finger and drew a star and a moon in the haze and whispered, Look, Moony, me and you.
Out of the quiet, the quill had stopped and Regulus’ eyes are still fixed carefully and eyebrows furrowed, familiar seeing familiar, just the same as at breakfast. Then out of nowhere, “Whatever joke or prank you and your friends are pulling, leave me out of it.”
Remus blinks back with a humorless huff through his nose, because the thought is almost comical, “Trust me, pranks aren’t exactly my thing anymore.”
Regulus doesn’t look away, scanning him like he’s waiting for some green or red light to pop up in his head, telling him whether to believe him. Either way, Remus can’t tell, just that he nods and closes his book again.
They leave each other to their own devices, simply existing in the space between like they’d been all day and Remus wonders if he should speak but something tells him he doesn’t need to. When Regulus leaves, he tucks his book and quill between his arm and his chest and stands, when the shadow hovers, Remus looks at him in question. “Guess I’ll see you at breakfast then, Lupin.”
Remus nods before Regulus is turning curtly and walking away. He lingers a little longer after he leaves, watching the clouds drift and contrast with the dark sky and in the corner, it whisps and reveals a waning moon. Remus can’t help himself from falling back into that tormented cycle of his when his finger goes to trace it out on the foggy window.
“Me and you.”
“James, what happened. Where’s Sirius…”
“Remus, we need to talk.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“Fucking backstabber.”
The words play on loop and the cycle pulls him and shoves him and drags him around and around, and it hurts. From behind the outlined traces of the moon and a star that isn't even visible tonight, a heated shaky breath escapes Remus’ caving chest as the clouds creep back in, not a cry but like a switch edging so desperately to switch off out of self preservation. He frantically wipes the image away and in the distance, the whomping willow weeps for him in the dark.
Okay. Fuck you, he thinks to the memory. Fuck you.
Remus thinks it's now that the switch finally goes off.
…
Remus hears them wake up again. James first. Then Peter. He doesn’t even bother to wait for Sirius. He’s out the door before he can even let himself think twice about it, and this time, he doesn’t forget his wand or book.
Regulus and his friends aren’t there yet so he remains at Gryffindor. Only two other people are in the hall, both busy quizzing each other quite formally for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Remus should be studying for them, and he has been the entire year, it’s just that, well, almost killing two people and nearly dying yourself, while having the secret that you’re a werewolf be at threat, that’s been a little distracting.
He’s not hungry but he serves himself a slice of toast and puts whatever’s closest to him on it, some sort of marmalade he thinks. He flips through his book but the words don’t stick, he reads the lines but they don’t string together as nicely as they used to. Nothing does anymore.
Sirius has taken that. He’s taken everything in Remus, everything good and lovely, and jumbled it into a thousand ways and curdled it until nothing is recognizable. And he did it with a smile on his fucking face. He did it to win.
Anddd that’s it. Appetite completely lost.
Sorry Poppy.
It’s been almost twenty minutes before Remus just gives up on the book, he’s read the same passage the entire time and he can’t even remember what it said. In some miraculous timing, the doors swing open and the three boys walk in the same way, close to the wall all the way down the Slytherin table. Barty and Evan sit opposite each other today and Regulus stays beside Evan, studying some sort of small rolled book that could even pass as just a bit of parchment.
He’s over at the bench before he realizes it. They don’t make a fuss this time. Regulus shuffles his book and eventually just closes it, keeping it beside his arm. Barty laughs a bit under his breath but pats him on his shoulder as he sits down. Remus doesn’t say it but that’s his bad shoulder and he grimaces at the impact.
“So this a regular thing now, Lupin?” Barty quips from the side, leaning against crossed arms on the table.
“Might be.” He responds, glancing at Regulus who doesn’t look up or protest, pouring himself a cup of tea so that he can at least have something to tell Madame Pomfrey when she inevitably chases him down and asks him. Barty reaches over and smacks Evan’s chest and they share a devious gleam in their eyes, sparkling. It should remind him of the Marauders, Remus thinks, it’s so similar, but it’s not in so many ways. Remus takes another sip of tea.
Breakfast continues and he and Regulus don’t really speak, only in short sentences at most, but soon students start filling up and Barty and Evan grow restless, and actually so does Regulus but it’s less obvious. The doors swing open and just like last time, Remus can feel it the moment he’s there. The minute he steps into the room, the room shifts and changes and Remus knows it like a wind on the back of his neck.
Regulus must feel it too because he glanced up in place where Remus is trying hard not to, he fails. Peter comes in quickly, joining Marlene and Mary, looking back every often like his friends might disappear. James’ glasses are still cracked but his nose seems to be alright now, though his cheek is the slightest bit bruised. An urge comes over him to go over there and tell James to fix his glasses because he’s sure he’s forgotten there’s a spell for that. Sirius doesn’t stop this time but he looks over at them, this time, any hurt is concealed and his eyes sourly narrow.
But Remus knows him, that’s why this all hurts so bad in the first place. Remus knows Sirius and Sirius knows him. He can see the bitterness so clearly because Sirius is a heated fire that is easily explosive and even from afar, so far behind a mask, Remus can see the burning embers. He can smell the char of flesh.
Sirius takes a glance to Regulus and back to Remus and that’s that. He sits himself down next to James with his back facing them.
When Remus turns away, he finds Regulus looking quite pleased with himself. Not smiling, just features relaxed and a twitch in the corner of his cheek, but Remus notices it.
They leave not long after that and somehow they all sort of just drift towards the library. Barty and Evan are complaining about O.W.Ls to one another and trying out spells in midair as they walk, accidentally hitting a few lanterns and decorative mantel pieces in the process. Some not so accidentally.
“Did you hit James and Sirius?” Remus lets the question from last night fall plainly as it is because why bother beating around the bush now.
“Yes.”
Well Remus wasn’t expecting him to lie but he also wasn’t ready for Regulus to just own it, like that. Oh well, Remus gives him a mental pat on the back. “Technically, I only hit James. I jinxed Sirius.”
“Why James?”
Regulus doesn’t answer so Remus just continues, “I mean, I didn’t even tell you what Sirius did.”
“What makes you think I did it for you?” Regulus answers back straightly, turning to hold his eye for a second. Like he knows something, or is on the brink of something.
Remus doesn’t know what to say to that so they just walk quietly the rest of the way to the library. Evan hits a candle holder with an offensive charm and it comes clattering to the floor in front of Remus, as they all come to a stop
“Toss it here!” He gestures, holding out a hand while walking back as if to catch it.
Remus looks down and once again, a sick fearful feeling strikes him right through the chest into the soles of his feet. At this point, he wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling this way. It’s only been his whole life, he should be used to it by now. But as he looks down at the silver candle holder, decorative and detailed with swirls and metal leaves, he’s sure he’ll never outgrow it. Evan calls for it again and Remus doesn’t move.
Evan makes another impatient noise and suddenly, Regulus is there.
He bends down casually to pick it up, tossing it right above Evan’s head. Evan takes a couple quick steps back and hits it with another curse that turns it into jelly as it hits the floor.
“Really?” Regulus huffs before Barty does the same, “Yeah, fucking lame, you should’ve split it or blown it up.” Barty shakes his head in disappointment as he shoves harmlessly into Evan’s side.
“Fuck off, it was the first thing that came to mind.”
“Jelly?” And Barty gets a shove back. As they continue to walk, Remus steps over the pile of jelly and Regulus doesn’t say a thing.
…
They sit in a secluded section of the library, at a table lining the back of a shelf and where all the chairs face the same way. Regulus is near the wall and above him is a window so when Barty and Evan go off looking for books a little too eagerly, it's easy for Regulus to turn his chair to the side and face Remus beside him.
“Why do you hate my brother?” He asks clippedly and Remus wonders if Regulus knows just how defensive the question comes out as.
Remus takes a sharp breath in, no reason in lying, sort of. “Because he hurt me.”
“Sirius hurts people everyday, without thinking twice, same as I,” For a second, Regulus’ eyes flicker with the same contemplation as before, “I doubt you’re an exception.”
“I trusted him and I- He didn’t just help my worst nightmare to come true, he starred in it, he created it. It’s different.” Remus defends, because it is, inwardly fighting the instinctual urge to fight Regulus on his statement, to push back and argue that Sirius doesn’t hurt people without thinking, but that’s just not true, is it. He’s walking proof, right?
“I’m sure it is.” He blinks back slowly, “Hence why the four of you aren’t tied at the hip anymore?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Regulus looks for a moment as if to make sure he really is and then nods.
“Good on you, then, it was about time.”
“Why do you hate your brother?” Remus repeats back to him, leaning back into his seat so his head hits the stone behind him.
Regulus’ jaw tensed a bit but if was offended by the question, he didn’t look it. “He hurt me.”
Again, the urge is there. Behind everything that he’s done and everything in him that wants to scream at him, the urge to defend Sirius and tell Regulus he’s wrong is there. The urge to protect him and spit at anyone who said anything otherwise, but he doesn’t because he can’t. He wonders if Regulus feels that way too.
“Care to elaborate?”
Regulus stays in place and eyes him carefully, always watching the water for something to spring out of the surface and grab him, to drag him under. Remus knows what that’s like. “You first.”
No one says anything and Remus and Regulus stay like that for a moment, two people looking into a mirror, two people hurt by someone they wanted, someone they needed, someone they trusted. They don’t say it and they likely won’t anytime soon, or maybe they never will, but they’ve both been hurt by someone they love. Regulus sees it as well as Remus does and they both know it, in some way or another.
“I bet mine’s worse.” Remus offers harmlessly and the corner of his mouth can’t help but crack a grin.
Regulus stares at him for a second longer before a smile starts to spread on his face and suddenly a laugh escapes him, his jaw adjusting out forward to move with the action. “Comparing scars are we, Lupin? Because I hope you know we’re not friends.”
“Good. I don’t need any more friends.” He shrugs and doesn't look away, ignoring the comment about the scars. Because if they are comparing, Remus has a thousand silvery white lines to prove it. He half predicts Regulus to say something else but he doesn’t. Remus is realizing that silence between them speaks like a language you didn’t even know you could know until it’s spoken and right now, the words don’t even matter because the silence says something different entirely.
Before they can say anything else, Barty and Evan come strolling back with no books whatsoever in their hands, grumbling about class starting while Regulus starts to gather his things.
“Oh, Lupin, we’re having a party-”
“It’s not a party,”
“Fuck if it isn’t-”
“It’s five people-”
“That you know of”
“Anyway, we’re having a party this weekend for when Slytherin inevitably beats Gryffindor’s ass and hands it to them, you in?” Barty finishes with a grin.
“Sounds like a conflict of interest.” Remus’s eyebrows arch, getting up and flicking his wand to send his book flying back in place on its shelf.
“You’re way past that hanging out with us.” Evan scoffs a chuckle and in turn, so does Regulus.
He can’t argue with that, “And you’ll have booze?”
“Why? needing to forget someone?” Barty raises a mocking eyebrow before laughing, “Don’t worry, only the best shit you can think of. ”
“I’m taking your word for it.” Remus nods and collectively, they all file out of the library and split their separate ways. In the distance, he hears Evan blast another candle holder and this time it shatters. Barty and Regulus both clap aloud.
…
Remus didn’t use to hate Potions and honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it, but now it seems to be draining the fucking life out of him and Slughorn- oh for merlin’s sake, just won’t stop talking.
“What’s up?” Lily whispers beside him, nudging her elbow to hit his.
“Nothing, why.” He moves his elbow and watches the steam float up in swirling streams from the cauldron in front of them. Slughorn’s been getting through the instructions for the past twenty-five minutes and still, no one’s been able to touch their work.
They work in pairs, Lily and Remus, Marlene and Mary, Snape and some other kid from Slytherin, Peter and Dorcas, James and Sirius. Snape naturally just avoids all confrontation with Remus as possible, making snide concealed comments to whoever will listen to him as well but after Dumbledore suggested the severity of Remus’ secrecy to him, well, that at least shut him up from anything actually threatening. James checks in on him, every so often looking up to see if he’s alright, then glancing over at Snape who huffs and complains under his breath each time, and Sirius has been staring holes into the back of his fucking head.
“Because you’re barely talking to me.” Lily argues, quite firmly under such a hushed breath, “Something’s going on with you and Sirius and whatever happened last week. You’re my best friend, so either you tell me or I’ll find out myself, you know I will.”
Remus sighs as she continues, “And now you’re hanging out with Regulus Black? When did that start? Am I being replaced?” He turns to look at her with a dull expression and she shrugs, half joking but worry still in her face, “How would I even know?”
“It's complicated.” He murmurs and starts taking notes absentmindedly, just so he has something to do. He’s not even really sure if he’s writing down the correct words.
“I can keep up.” He can feel her eyes searching for his.
Remus doesn’t respond, strictly making any effort now to jot down whatever Slughorn’s going on about. Timely enough, he claps his hands together and addresses everyone to start working, walking slowly around the room to provide help, which in his case is usually just some vague ominous twist of whatever question he was just asked with no real help or solution.
He and Lily move together smoothly, working around each other and helping one another without having to be asked to do so. Lily holds out her hand and Remus knows to give her the bitter root at the same time he stirs in the hemlock. They make the same casual small talk they usually do and it’s easy, but it’s different. There's a road block that’s been built over the course of the last week and it seems impossible to take down brick by brick. Either they suffer apart or he lets the entire thing crumble, possibly burying them in the process.
Remus gives her a weak smile when they finish, they watch the cauldron as it bubbles peacefully until Slughorn makes the rounds and congratulates them on finishing second next to Snape. As the class is dismissed, there is a distinct scratching of the stool against the floor as Remus watches Sirius push himself from the desk and gather his things. Remus, who can feel Sirius still staring, in turn, grabs his bag and walks right past him and James and Lily without looking back.
…
“Alright, it’s Blishen’s firewhiskey but mixed with draught, and I add my own signature touch.”
“Cinnamon isn’t a signature touch, Barty.” Regulus raises an eyebrow.
“It’s not just cinnamon, you prick, and you seem to drink it all the same,” Barty shrugs before biting off a bit of bread and breaking out into a grin, “Either way, it’s fucking wicked and it only takes Reg two or three before he’s actually fun to be around.” He snickers but Regulus doesn’t look amused, picking at the corners of his closed book as he sips his tea.
“Oh and Evan’s cousin is into all this sick shit from Bulgaria, herb and powders, so we’ve got that as well. Strong though, nearly choked on it the first time I had it.” Evan just nods in agreement while Barty pats Remus’ shoulder. This time, thankfully, it’s the one that’s less sore.
Remus sits with them at the same spot at the same table for nearly every meal now, even if it’s just to pick at his food and listen to Barty chatter on about whatever enters his head at the moment, and every time, he watches Sirius walk into the hall and tip and balance on whether to light up in flames or break down. Honestly, Remus would be fine with either one.
“Your cousin?” Remus looks over to Evan who just spooned a bite mixed of spinach and mashed potato in his mouth.
“Yeah, it’s fucking great.”
“Ev, you think he’ll have the-” Barty lowers his voice as he reaches over to tap the table. Whatever he’s referring to, Evan seems to understand and he nods with the same glint in his eye.
Regulus doesn’t say much for the rest of dinner so really, neither does Remus. They just listen to Barty and Evan pester each other and at one point Evan leans over and nods his head towards Regulus, “He’s just focused on tomorrow’s match, he gets like this.” This earns him a sharp look and a frown, “I don’t get like anything.”
They leave dinner early, as soon as Regulus starts getting snappy and Remus follows suit.
The walk to the Slytherin common room isn’t far, it’s just down the corridor, taking three turns and down the stairs a bit. Sort of isolated in a way but at least these stairs don’t move so Remus counts it as a win. They get to the door and Regulus disappears behind the tapestry hanging without another word while Barty and Evan send quick goodbyes as they do the same, leaving Remus to walk back up the stairs and more stairs to get back to the tower. Less of a win.
When he gets back to the dorm, it’s empty. The other boys probably still down in the hall eating or doing whatever they do these days, practicing for the match, spilling important secrets that can ruin someone’s life, the usual.
Remus pulls his bed curtains up and shifts through his trunk to find his stash of cigarettes he’s collected over the holidays, pulling one out with a metal lighter he’s had for as long as he can remember- one that Sirius used to gush over in admiration- and lighting one up. He pulls out his alchemy textbook and pulls it onto his lap where he sits on his bed beside a window he charmed to crack open.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been studying but he’s filled up the make-shift ashtray by his bed a significant amount by the time he actually finds himself getting tired. He changes into his pyjamas, goes to the loo, smokes one more cigarette, and encloses himself into his bed with the curtains drawn and lets sleep take him before it can escape him. He doesn’t hear as the door opens and closes in the background minutes later and three boys he’s known for years move around each other, always so careful to not wake him.