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Remus sits against the headboard of their bed, knees tucked up tightly against his chest. They act as a shield, hiding away his vital organs from all the sharp edges that could puncture skin and spill his blood right onto their white sheets. His fingers shake as he reaches for the edge of the blanket; it's old and soft, the fabric worn almost see-through in some spots. He holds on like a lifeline, weakly pulling it over, adding an extra layer of protection from whatever it is that's trying to hurt him.
He can't pull in a full breath, his lungs won't work as they should, they are tired and refuse to do their job. The air he is able to get in feels stuffy, and his chest tightens further. It shouldn't. He tries, he really does try to go through the method of calming his breathing down, the way he was taught when this would happen. But he couldn't, he tried and tried, but the air would not move from in front of him down to his lungs and back out. As if it was determined to let him choke and wither away.
He curls his fingers tighter in the blanket, twisting the edge, the pressure feels good. He holds onto that tattered old blanket like it's the only thing keeping him tethered. Maybe it is. A fresh wave of tears falls down, and he feels a sting in his chest as they roll down his sticky cheeks and soak into the blanket wound tightly against him. He lets out a sob, a loud, pathetic sound forcing its way out of his mouth.
He can't breathe.
He can't breathe, but he can taste the salt from the tears as they force their way down to his lips and on his tongue. The salt mixes in with the iron from the blood. His blood. He's almost sure his lip is bleeding because he’d bitten on it to force the cries to stay in. The taste is awful, and it makes him want to sob more. Sob until the little air he has left leaves, and he’ll just pass out. That way, he wouldn’t have to feel this anymore.
Remus doesn't know what's happening, everything spins, and he feels weak. Weak and stupid and silly for crying like a child. All he knows is that he can't breathe and that his fingers are starting to cramp from the way they pull at the blanket. He can't breathe, and it tastes like salt and iron. He can't breathe, and his head hurts, and he barely knows where he is. Maybe he's dying.
He must be dying.
His heart thuds loudly against his chest; he's sure soon that too will force its way through. It'll break free from the veins, bone and skin. It'll flop down onto the white sheets and leave him with a gaping hole where his heart once was. It beats louder at the thoughts, as if gathering the strength to push through his chest. Another sob breaks through, raw and guttural. He wants to scream, even though his mouth hangs open, no sound will come out apart from the pitiful whimpers and cries.
There's a warm hand placed on his, the one tightly curled in the blanket, he can't see as the tears cloud his eyes, but his fingers loosen their grip just slightly. Good, he thinks he hears amidst the panic and loud drumming of his heart. Is this it? Is someone coming to rescue him from this pain and bring him to whatever comes next? Whoever it is keeps talking, but he isn’t sure if they’re actually there or if his mind is playing its final tricks on him. The hand is still on him, and there’s a voice, but he can’t see them, nor can he breathe. It hurts, and he wants to-
“Doing so good for me,” The voice says, it’s clearer this time, and Remus can make out the blurry, shadowy outline beside him, kneeling on the bed, still holding his hand against Remus' shaking one. It sounds like Sirius. But it can’t be? He pulls in another choking breath as he tries to will his eyes to focus on whoever is in front of him. When he still can’t see, his body lets out another heartbreaking sob, closing his eyes and shaking his head violently as his thoughts spiral out of control again. But the voice breaks through again, giving him something to try to focus the little energy he has on. “Shh, I'm here, baby. It's me, Sirius, can you hear my voice?”
Remus nods, or at least he thinks he does. It's not like his body is listening to him, and his brain keeps screaming at him to do something, but he can't. He can’t move, and he can’t breathe, but he does hear Sirius. He’s almost sure that it is Sirius. Sirius eases his hand away from the blanket, intertwining their fingers together, lifting them up slowly to kiss his hand before allowing them to rest in the space between them. Remus holds on tightly, not necessarily a conscious choice to do so, but he does, and it’s all he can do because it’s the only certainly real thing.
“You're doing so good, Remy,” He says, inching closer, but not wanting to overwhelm him more than he already was, but he knew Remus liked to be close and that it comforted him. “You're safe, safe here with me. But I need you to come back to me, yeah?” Remus thinks he nods again, head spinning as more hot and salty tears fall down. He opens his eyes, though he can't really see through the fog of the tears, but there's a bright light to the side of him, and a shadowy figure is still in front of him, but it’s a bit clearer now. Sirius. Must be. It's his voice, it must be Sirius's body, too. Sirius tentatively reached to brush hair away from his face, and when Remus didn't flinch away, he cupped his cheek, thumbing his wet cheek gently. Remus blinks away more tears, his gaze slowly focusing more and more.
“There you go,” he breathes with relief, but a soft smile on his lips nonetheless as those amber eyes finally meet his. There is still a veil of salty tears covering them, but they aren't far away and distant anymore. He wiped away the bout of fresh tears, both hands coming to cup his cheeks. “There you are, hi baby. I'm here for you, my love,” Sirius said, watching as Remus crumbled again, a loud sob falling from his lips as he leaned against Sirius.
Sirius' arms wrapped around the boy, one hand cradling the back of his head as it was hidden in his neck. He sat against the headboard, letting Remus lean against him, curling up tight, one hand winding up tightly into Sirius’ t-shirt, desperate to hold on to something. “I love you,” He whispered into his hair, playing gently with the curls at the back of his neck, his other hand holding him close by the waist. He still couldn’t breathe. Something was squishing his lungs together, pressing them into some small pathetic things that could not do their job. Just like him. His breath hitches, and his lungs won't fucking work- “Can you try to take some deep breaths for me? Breathe with me, baby,”
“I-i c-can't - Sirius- I-.”
“I know you can, just breathe with me… nice and deep. C'mon, give me your hand, Remy.” He took one trembling hand into his, pressing it flat against his chest, threading their fingers together at the top, and taking a deep breath. “Feel the way my chest moves? It rises and falls, hmm? Copy that for me, darling. You can do it.”
He tried to focus, tried to draw a full breath without hitch or break, without that ache in his chest. But he couldn't, his body wouldn't listen to him. Maybe it wasn't his? Someone had ripped out his brain and soul and placed it into this body that wasn't his, and therefore didn't listen to his request to breathe and relax.
“Easy, baby, there’s no rush. Just try for me, in through your nose-” he instructed, taking in a deep breath himself. “Just like that, good job. Then out…” he breathed out, smiling proudly as Remus took in a proper breath. The exhale was shaky, but it was better. It was crackling and whistling, it wasn't his normal calm rhythm, but better. “You're doing so good, I'm proud of you, baby. Let’s do it again,” He smiled softly, kissing his head before repeating his instructions once more, breathing with him.
“I-I’m sorry,” Remus whispered, voice hoarse from all the crying. He still wasn’t breathing properly, but at least he could talk. “I’m sor-ry, didn’ mean-”
“Shh, nothing to be sorry for,” he soothed, rubbing his back gently. “Let's just focus on breathing for now, hmm? You've done nothing wrong, no need to apologise.” He whispered into the blonde curls, pressing a kiss on them, continuing to rub his back at a slow pace. Slowly, Remus calmed down, body relaxing as he continued to work on his breathing. His lungs were finally working, filling themselves with fresh air and slowly letting it go. It didn’t hurt anymore, and they weren’t actively trying to kill him anymore. His heart had calmed down, too, no longer frantically trying to escape the confines of his chest.
“You're doing so good, my love,” Sirius said again, kissing his head, smiling softly as Remus tilted his head to look at him, glassy, red-tinted eyes locking into his. Finally able to see him properly, he let out a sigh of relief. He could finally see Sirius. Maybe he wasn’t dying after all. Sirius brushed his hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” He whispered quietly, leaning his head back down against Sirius’ chest, listening to his calm heartbeat. “I’m sorry, I-”
“No, shh, no saying sorry, it’s all okay,” He interrupted with a small shake of his head. “All that matters now is getting you feeling better, yeah? We can talk about it all later, if you want.” Remus nodded, closing his eyes. “How about I go get you a glass of water, and then we can lie down for a nap? You must be tired.” Now that he thought about it, he was absolutely exhausted, and some cold water did sound nice. So, he nodded, reluctantly sitting up so Sirius could get up from underneath him. “I’ll be right back, baby, sit tight.” Remus smiled tiredly, nodding as he watched Sirius leave the room, closing his eyes and leaning against the headboard.
He heard the water running, and before long, Sirius came back, sitting on the edge of the bed, handing him a large glass of water. “Thank you,” He whispered before drinking nearly all of it in one go. The cold felt good on his raw throat, and his head didn’t feel so awful now. Sirius let out a small laugh as he took the glass and set it down, cupping Remus’ face into his hand, starting to gently clean it with a washcloth he’d wet while he was getting the water. Remus blushed at all the attention, but he had to admit it felt nice to have all the stickiness washed away from his face. Sirius finished with a kiss to the tip of his nose and forehead before setting the washcloth down, then moved to sit back against the headboard, propped up by the pillows. Remus laid down beside him, curling up around him, head resting on his chest. “Thank you sirius. I love you.”
“I love you too, Remy,” He smiled, kissing his head. “And, you don't need to thank me, I like taking care of you. Now rest, it’ll all be better when you wake up.” He said, pulling the blanket over Remus, starting to rub his back in a slow rhythm in hopes of lulling him to sleep. “I’ll be here, you don’t need to do it all by yourself, my moony,” Sirius whispered, smiling as Remus gave a small, sleepy nod. He held him close, starting to hum one of Remus’ favourite songs as the exhaustion pulled him under, trusting that everything would truly be better when he next woke up.