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Summary
Sirius stands there in the kitchen, clothes still hanging off his slight frame even after months of Remus’ mediocre cooking, one sock slipping down his ankle; a man so perfectly shattered, like he’s a pearl and Remus is an open wound sliced on the edge of the oyster, stinging with salt and sand mixed in with blood, a sacrifice in the pursuit of treasure.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius tells him. Again. Like it makes a difference.
Remus scoffs a little. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”
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or: after 1981, Remus does his best to keep going, until eventually Sirius comes back.