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Hey sweetheart,
I’m sorry for writing so many letters to you. But this is insanely urgent, and it’s getting even more so as time passes.
Sirius isn’t doing well, and I know I’ve stated this many times. His mood is becoming increasingly random, and after sulking for hours without eating anything, he suddenly grabbed his healer by her collars and pinned her to the wall in the most violent way possible. He was banging the wall and everyone could hear the terrifying sounds. When I forcefully pulled him off of her, he yelled at me. He has never yelled at me in such a menacing way.
I’m begging you, please come to visit him. If you don’t feel comfortable, then please stay outside his door and, I don’t know, perhaps wave behind the glass window?
I’ll protect you if anything goes wrong. But please, I know this sounds dramatic, but he really is mumbling your name when he sleeps. It seems like he only finds peace this way — sleeping and thinking about you.
So please. Friday at 6 p.m. We can have dinner together afterwards if you’d like that.
Always with love,
Remus
With trembling fingers, I put down this letter. How is this possible? How could Sirius turn so mentally unstable?
After I ended our relationship, he volunteered to go on a mission for the Order. It was almost a suicide mission, but wasn’t I the one who suggested that we should act like strangers? I didn’t have the courage to confront him or say anything after the day we broke up.
I didn’t have the right to have a say in his life anymore.
I didn’t have the right to care.
Our relationship was initially working, with romantic gallery walks and passionate motorcycle speed-drives. But then it seemed like he didn’t even care about me. He flirted with other people and constantly forgot about our dates. And every time when I was upset, he would use his hugs and apologies to fix whatever it was that he broke.
But eventually I couldn’t handle it. I was wearing myself out. I felt as if I was the only person fighting for this relationship. The distance between us kept growing. And I was so, so exhausted.
Of course, I tried to communicate with him. Yet he always said that I was overthinking and being overly protective over him, and even if he apologized, he probably never meant anything he said.
So when he didn’t show up to our new year’s date a few months ago, I walked back home and packed my stuff and when he showed up hours later, I ended whatever I had with him and walked out of the door.
He didn’t even stop me. He was so quiet.
And now my trusty friend Remus is owling me again. How could I possibly respond to that? Of course I feel sorry for Sirius’ condition, but I don’t think it would help if I show up.
· · ─────── · ✧ · ─────── · ·
Yet I’ve showed up anyways. Remus is originally fidgeting with his watch, but when I walk towards him and he lifts his head, a pained smile shows up on his beautiful, scarred face.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” he says.
I suddenly feel very nervous, “Honestly though, I don’t know if it’s a good idea I’m here.”
CRACK.
It sounds like a glass vase shattering into pieces. Remus suddenly tenses and his eyes widen, “Holy crap, is Sirius okay?”
He swiftly moves past me and enters Sirius’ room. “Sirius, what happened? Is the bandage on your shoulder still there? Don’t worry about the broken vase—”
“Don’t let her in.”
No emotions. No cracks in his voice. No nothing.
I swear my heart breaks when he says this.
I know I hurt his feelings when I broke up with him, but I’ve never considered that he holds a grudge towards me and yet—
“I can’t control myself. I don’t want to scare her.”
This is when I involuntarily inhale sharply and suddenly find courage to slowly walk to his door.
Damn.
He’s so pale. So thin.
So ill.
His black locks are no longer fluffy, and his eyes are dimmer than before.
Before I have stepped in, I thought that he would not want to see me. But now I realize that his eyes are glued on me as if I’m the only person in the room, while I find it hard to look into his eyes.
There’s so much pain, so much longing, so many unasked questions.
God, how is it even humanly possible to look so sad yet so beautiful at the same time?
I look at Remus for help, but he just steps aside and walks to the door, whispering “I’ll be waiting for you outside,” as he passes by.
A palpable silence lands between us, now that we’re the only two left in the room. He’s sitting on his bed, with his lower body covered with St. Mungo’s typical quilt.
“I—”
“I—”
We open our mouths at the same time. The same word tumbles through. We both softly chuckle.
“Sorry, you first,” Sirius smiles.
His smile still gives me butterflies, dammit.
“I hope you’ll get better soon. I’m sorry for everything that you’ve experienced.”
Shaking his head, Sirius silently laughs, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“Why did you go on that mission then? And what happened to you?”
I must have pressed on the wrong button. In a split second, his smile disappears and he leaps out of bed, dangerously approaching me.
Laughing dangerously, he lifts his eyebrows, “Isn’t it ironic that you are the one asking me this question?”
Scared, I take tiny steps and move backwards.
Seeing that I’m unable to find anything to say, Sirius lowers his gaze so that he is looking straight into my eyes, “You left me shattered and now you’re trying to fix me?”
“I, I’m sorry, I didn’t think that it would—”
He suddenly grabs my wrists and growls with a deep voice, “Would you come to my funeral if my mission failed?”
My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
He lets go of my wrists and pulls up his shirt.
Scars.
So many scars.
He shakily points to a dark wound on the left side of his chest, “Whenever I cut myself I thought of you and how disappointed you would be if you knew about this. So I stabbed my heart again and again, thinking about how afraid I am of letting you go and—”
“Babe shush.”
I haven’t realized I have just called him “babe” because I am stepping forward to closely examine his wounds.
Softly, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have definitely taken you to a therapist.”
“And now you’re pitying me, oh, fuck, I’m so weak.”
Chest heaving, he turns his face away from mine.
“Seeking help from a therapist doesn’t mean you’re weak. It’s just like you got a fever and you’re seeing a doctor to get some medicine.”
A teardrop rolls down his cheek. “I hated myself. I was a burden to you. I wanted to feel useful.”
I step back. “Thus the suicide mission?”
He looks back at me with pleading eyes, obviously realizing that I’ve stepped out of his personal space.
For a split second I saw guilt in his expression.
“I— fuck, yes, okay? Yes. But I couldn’t allow myself to die, I couldn’t let some stupid ass dark wizards take my life, because I wanted you so bad and I loved you and I hated the thought of losing you more than I hated myself.”
Pulling his shirt down, he tries to catch his breath. “But nothing matters now, doesn’t it? I’ve disappointed you again, we agreed to act like strangers—”
“Sirius, look at me.” I interrupted.
He obeys.
“I’m not disappointed. I’m not treating you like a stranger. I don’t want you to hate yourself. I’m happy you’re alive, and—”
Now it’s his turn to interrupt me.
He takes a huge step forward and pushes me to the back wall and furiously shouts with roaring flames in his blown pupils, “Then why did you leave? Why did you, the only fucking person I love, why did you, out of all those billions of people on this earth, why did you fucking LEAVE?!”
He is holding onto my wrist with such huge force it stings. I’m scared yet not scared at the same time. This isn’t the Sirius I once knew. But in some ways, he hasn’t changed at all.
Yet he is still roaring, “Answer me, damn, answer me! I missed you so fucking much! Every time a visitor appears at my door I hoped that it’s you who’s here. You couldn’t just walk out of my life like that, did you ever consider my feelings?”
His grip on my wrists tightens with each additional word he spits out, “I, fucking, lost, you—”
I was crying. His words hurt far more than his grip. But I don’t have it in me to tell him that his words hurt me.
So instead, I whisper, “Sirius, my wrists hurt.”
The flames in his eyes suddenly die. His eyes widen in horror and when he loosens his fingers originally wrapped on my wrists, ugly red marks have already crept onto my skin.
“I, I’m sorry, I— did I hurt you? Oh shit, I obviously did, I, I, I’m so fucking sorry baby I—”
Lightly shaking my head I say, “It’s okay.”
His body stiffens when realization hits — he calls me “baby.”
Understanding what he’s thinking, I murmur, “That, too.”
I carefully place my hands on his arms, “I didn’t know what you were experiencing. I’m sorry. I felt ignored when you never showed up on our dates and flirted with others. I didn’t know what was going on. I thought you didn’t love me anymore and I was terrified.”
Words seem to die on Sirius’ tongue. He remains silent, so I continue.
“Honestly, I was waiting for you to break up with me. But I knew I couldn’t handle it, so I left before you got the chance to say you don’t love me anymore.”
His arm muscle twitches. In a tone that is the opposite of accusing, he asks, “How could I not love you?”
I tore my gaze away from him.
He raises his right hand and gently wipes away the teardrop that is about to fall down my cheek. And he repeats, even softer, “How?”
He confesses, “We should have communicated more. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I’m sorry I seemed like I didn’t care. I’m sorry you felt so unloved.”
He gingerly pulls me into his embrace. “I’m sorry I hurt us both in this process. I’m sorry I caused your heartbreak. I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess again.”
Now he is actually hugging me. Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he breaths, “And I’m sorry I’m still so fucking in love with you.
“I missed you so much,” I hug him back, “I need you.”
Still hugging me, he lightly strokes my hair. “What would happen when we pull apart? What do we become?”
My fingers softly caress the soft skin on his neck, “We become lovers, once again.”
Mumbling with an emotion so pure it seems child-like, Sirius begs, “Stay.”
His warm, strong arms encircle me in a tight embrace. It feels safe.
I move back to kiss his forehead, “I promise.”