The Melody of Us

Stitch by stitch I tear apart,

If brokenness is a work of art,

I must be a poster child prodigy.

Thread by thread I come apart

If brokenness is a work of art

Surely this must be my masterpiece.

James is there, holding his best friend of five years.

He’s there as Sirius folds into James’ shoulder and cries, his frame wracked by gut-wrenching sobs.

James is there as Sirius tries to get words out, choking as they come up his throat. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t push, he simply holds Sirius in his arms, stroking his back and waiting for Sirius to cry himself out.

James could count on his fingers the number of times Sirius had broken down to such a degree.

There’s a moment where he flashes back to almost three years ago, when Sirius had last cried this hard in front of James.

“I left him there. I just left him there.” Sirius rocked back and forth, his shoulders shaking.

“I know, I know. We’ll get him later, we’ll get him out.” James had soothed, hand on his friend’s back.

"What good is it that I left if he’s still there?” Sirius had caught James’ eye, and his heartbroken expression had James leaning forward to wrap both arms around his shoulders.

"We’ll get him out together later, I promise.”

But later had never come, and James pulled back to look Sirius in the eye as Sirius’ tears ebbed. “It’s Regulus, isn’t it? He’s…” James couldn’t bring himself to finish, and Sirius cut him off, giving a small shake of his head.

“No, but Regulus called to tell me. It’s Walburga.” Sirius sniffed. “Our… his mother is dead.” He pressed the back of his wrist into his eyes. “Good riddance.” James said flatly, before he could stop himself.

That startled a laugh out of Sirius. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He said wetly. “It was a car crash, apparently. Quick and painless. Not even close to what she deserved.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Sirius speaks again, quieter this time. “I don’t miss her. I don’t. She doesn’t deserve my tears.”

"I don’t think you’re crying for her, Sirius.” James prompted gently.

“Yeah, maybe I’m crying for the child inside me that never got closure or some stupid psychological shit like that.” Sirius sniffed. James just fixed him with a glare.

“What?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

"Maybe you shouldn’t joke around with stuff like that and go to an actual therapist, like I’ve been telling you to do for the past year and a half.” James said.

“I do therapy!” Sirius insisted.

“Staring at a blank canvas for an hour and downing half a bottle of whiskey is not therapy!” James returned, and Sirius scoffed.

James could see him shutting down, the change in his expression as his mouth twisted, his eyes shuttering as the walls came up and he crossed his arms, leaning back on the bed.

James exhaled softly through his nose, knowing Sirius wasn’t done talking but also knowing pressuring the information out of him would get them both nowhere.

There was a few minutes of tense silence, the only noises coming from the bustling nurses and other hospital sounds filtering in from the hallway behind the door. Finally Sirius spoke.

"There’s a funeral. Saturday at five” The words are a tangible weight in the air, hanging between them.

James blinks harshly. That’s only two days.

“I’m not invited.” Sirius scoffs, continuing. “But Regulus… He said he wanted me there.” He heaves out a sigh, seeming to deflate even farther into the bed.

"So what do you want to do?” James prompts. “I never want to see any of them again.” Sirius says firmly. “But Reg… shouldn’t have to go through that alone. And I guess it’ll be…” He pauses, searching for the words.

"It’ll be nice to throw dirt on her coffin and know I’m putting her just a bit closer to hell.”

"Do you want me to come with you?”

“I was just about to ask. Yeah, I’d like for you to be there. Of course you don’t have to go, but it’d be nice if you did.”

"Of course I’ll come with you, Sirius. You’re my best friend. If Regulus shouldn’t have to go through something like that alone then neither should you.” James assures.

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, James.” Sirius says, and his eyes shine with tears again.

"Die, obviously.” James shrugs like it’s nothing, but something twinges behind his sternum. “I just have to check if my black suit still fits me from graduation.” James sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Oh fuck no, we’re not wearing black to that horrendous event.” Sirius scoffs, but there’s a glint in his eye.

“You have that face on.” James says.

"What face?”

"The one you get when you’re planning a prank.” Sirius’ smirk only widened.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” James lets out a breathless laugh as Sirius steps out of the dressing room in a lime-green suit. Sirius makes a big show of raising his arms in a “Well?” gesture and doing a slow spin. James laughs again in disbelief.

"I can’t wait to see their faces when they see you like that.” “Yeah? You think it looks alright? I think I’ll ask the tailor to take the pants in just a bit at the hips.”

James’ own suit has just been sent to the tailor, a hot-pink three-piece courtesy of Sirius. He insisted on getting James’ first and then his own.

“I think you look great either way, dude.” James throws up both his hands in a thumbs-up gesture. He’s tired, sue him. Sirius frowns slightly. He looks nervous all of a sudden.

“Don’t you dare.” James points a finger at him, accusatory.

"What?” Sirius blinks at him, all innocent.

"You’re looking at me like you’re wondering if this is a good idea and if you should back out.”

“No.” Sirius shakes his head. “I wouldn’t give up on this if someone threatened me with my life.” He steps back into the dressing room, shutting the door softly.

James lifts his glasses up to rub a hand over his face. It’s been a day, to say the least. Sirius dragged him right to the shops only an hour after he got discharged from the hospital, after James made him eat.

He doesn’t even want to think about how the funeral in two days is going to look like. James doesn’t think he will ever forget the state Sirius was on that fated night when he finally made the phonecall James had begged him to make for two years.

There had been so much blood.

James doesn’t remember feeling anything except the rage that had turned his veins to ice and he had barely stopped himself from killing every single last person in that house.

He hadn’t felt a shred of sympathy when Sirius had cried over Regulus. Because Regulus was a piece of shit for idly standing by and not even trying to stop their parents.

He deserved every single horrid minute he had to spend in the house after Sirius had finally escaped.

James doesn’t know how he will handle looking Sirius’ little brother in the face on Saturday and not choking him until the life bleeds out of his eyes.

But for Sirius, he’ll do his best to try.

~.~

When Sirius walks into his flat, he pulls his phone and wallet out to place them on the little table in the entryway.

Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to walk into the kitchen and open the cupboard, taking out a glass and filling it with water. He forces himself to sip, slowly.

When he gets halfway through the glass, he makes the mistake of glancing out the window. Sirius’ hand seizes around the glass, and in a blink it’s being hurled against the wall, shattering into countless pieces. Sirius pulls another glass out, relishing in the sound it makes when it shatters against the wall.

“Fuck you!” He says when the third glass hits the wall. There’s a shout on the next one.

He imagines his mother’s face, his father’s face on the wall.

His brother’s.

It does nothing to stave off the anger, and the flames only feel hotter with each heaving breath.

He doesn’t stop until every single glass in the cupboard is in sparkling pieces of glass on his floor. It’s freeing and upsetting all at once.

Sirius sinks to his knees, running his hands through the shards. The glasses clink together, and Sirius heaves a sigh before turning and leaving the kitchen.

He’ll clean it up… never.

He could really use a shower right now.

He avoids looking in the mirror as he enters the bathroom, knowing he’ll take one look at his red-rimmed eyes and burst into tears again. Steam fills the small bathroom as he turns the shower onto the hottest setting and steps under the stream. 

It burns, but not more than the tears building in the back of Sirius’ throat. He reaches for the small speaker he’s bought to keep in the shower, and shuffles his music.

Something starts playing, but he’s not sure what, as he can barely hear it over the breaths he’s choking on in his throat.

Sirius is dangerously close to crying and doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it. He clamps his hand over his mouth, pinching his nose shut and trying to get his lungs back under control.

The speaker abruptly shuts off, his phone dying on the counter.

With a sigh, Sirius reaches over, plugging the bathroom charger into the wall and connecting it to his phone, dripping water all over the counter and floor in the process.

Soft music begins to filter out, but not from his speaker. Sirius pauses, listening carefully as the opening notes of Sweet Little Lies plays from the bathroom just one wall away. A small smile pulls at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. He’s missed his neighbour.

The next song would be his, by tradition, and he pulls up This Is Why I’m Hot. Fuck his mother, honestly.

Sirius works the shampoo through his hair gently while his song plays, bouncing his head rather animatedly and singing with a certain fervour, as if hoping his mother would keel over and die again just from hearing this song.

She hated anything that wasn’t classical, to tell you the truth, and Sirius relished in building a playlist that would have caused her to try and exorcise the “demons inside him”. “Leather jacket, hair bleached like a cool kid! If you want something real, this is as real as it gets.” Sirius shouts, throwing a handful of soap at the wall.

Just playing the song isn’t enough, and Sirius would tattoo the words on his fucking bones if he could.

The next song his neighbour plays is so quiet, Sirius turns down the water slightly to hear it better.

There’s a soft piano melody, and the first words have him rooted to the spot, his breath hitching.

“Who are you? Forgive me, I’m hopeless with faces.” Forcing himself to swallow on the next line, Sirius feels like someone who has stuck a fork in an electrical socket.

“But you sing with a voice like I know you, and suddenly I start to see.” That voice joins in with the song, singing the line so softly, just for him.

“Who are you? Who are you, to me?”

The song comes to an end far too quickly for Sirius’ liking, that gorgeous voice quieting with it. He grabs his phone, punching in the name for a song James sang to him as a joke a few times, hoping it will explain as much as he can without using words.

“I’m tryna put you in the worst mood, ah…” The lyrics start up and Sirius smiles slightly. He waits, holding his breath for the chorus, trying to hear what might be happening on the other side of the wall. It was strangely silent, as if his neighbour was holding his breath as well. The chorus started, and Sirius blew out a shaky breath, singing out the words to try and explain.

“I, I’m a motherfuckin’ starboy.”