Chapter Text
Looking back, Remus scoffed at the days when he had begged the universe for a chance to start over with Sirius. He should have expected this request to be taken much too literally.
Not to mention, a new start didn’t guarantee a different ending, and some things had not changed over the course of 14 years. They both felt the gaping absences of their friends, most of them either dead or traitorous, and 12 years behind bars had worn the once bright Sirius Black down to the core; but they were always either fighting or silent, a state that felt as painfully familiar as the threat of war.
Thankfully, they weren’t fighting that night, which made it easily their best since Dumbledore first instructed Sirius to “lay low at Lupin’s.” Remus had foolishly thought that he was strong enough to keep it together, swearing as much when Sirius suggested finding a different hideout.
The days that followed, punctuated with traded barbs and arguments that cycled over and over, quickly made him change his mind. Remus finally accepted that it was impossible to find a way through the barriers between them. His only hope was to avoid them with silence.
It was more characteristic of them than anything else- stubbornly making the same mistakes as before, willfully forgetting their previous failures, and still wondering why they fell apart.
Among the less dire of these recurring mistakes was Sirius’s insistence on trying to cook, even though his efforts resulted in fire more often than food.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said after Remus had successfully contained the crisis.
You’re going to burn my fucking house down, he thought. “It’s fine,” he said.
“It’s just- my magic-”
“Really, Sirius. It’s fine.” With a deep breath, willing himself to hold onto their fragile peace, Remus sent the blackened pan to the sink and summoned a new one. He turned his attention to shuffling through his fridge for a suitable substitute, putting a bit too much focus into the task.
“I wanted to do something nice.” Remus almost missed his words over the sizzle of a new round of sausages in the pan.
“Why?” he asked, pretending to be much more interested in the surface of the stovetop: black and smooth, the yellow light overhead casting small shadows among the scattered crumbs.
“You’ve done nice things for me,” Sirius said. “I appreciate it.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.” He didn’t intend for his response to carry with it the bitterness that he felt. Cursing his own temper, Remus listened for the telltale signs of another row to come- a chair pushed in too harshly, a signature Sirius Black scoff- but he heard nothing.
The sausages finished cooking, joining the potatoes that Sirius, thankfully, had not burned (though the somewhat watery texture betrayed how overcooked they were). Remus brought their plates to the table, set with clearly mismatched forks and knives. He silently sat in the chair that rocked unsteadily on a poorly-attached leg.
Sirius, equally silent, was the last to sit down and the first to finish eating, the harrowing memory of food scarcity fresher in his mind than it was in Remus’s. Once Remus was done, gaze locked on the scratched wood grain of the table to avoid the stare he had long been able to feel without seeing, Sirius brought their dishes to the kitchen. He cleaned the silverware, letting Remus take over for the plates that they both knew he was liable to break. Sirius lingered close.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice imbued with an emotion that tried to imitate the softness Sirius once reserved for their youthful love. It came out plain and sad, but somehow truer than ever before.
Remus acquiesced a weak smile. It was difficult to ignore how many bad qualities they had retained over the years, but Remus was struck by one of the few good ones- sometimes, when they were too tired to fight and too lonely to be silent, they could fall for each other again.
With the constant uncertainty about whether they would live to see another day, it was enough.
I may have failed,
But I have loved you from the start.