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Things haven’t exactly been going well for you lately. The stress of everything is beginning to get to you. You’ve been seriously contemplating things you thought you’d put behind you, which makes you feel even worse. As time goes by, however, it’s almost like an itch that you’re trying not to scratch--trying not to think about it, trying not to do it, just makes the idea stand out in your mind that much more. It doesn’t help that there seems to be no one you can talk to about it, either. You know you shouldn’t feel guilty about asking for help, but unfortunately that doesn’t really make it any easier to do.
You think your roommates, Sirius and Remus, might have started realizing something is up with you, because they’ve been talking a little more softly and casting curious glances your way lately. Part of you is mortified that they might find out your thoughts; another part is kind of hoping that they will. It’s difficult to say which part of you is more dominant, so your behavior becomes a strange mixture of dropping vague hints and pretending to be fine even harder than usual. Of course, all this only adds to your stress.
One day, you find yourself locked in the bathroom. At first, you had just wanted to escape from everything for a while. That was fine. What was not fine was the way your brain kept making mental notes of everything in the room that could potentially be used to hurt you. You tried to focus on grounding yourself. Think about the cool smoothness of the toilet you were sitting on. Look at the tiny patterns in the tile floor. That one looks like a--no, don’t think about that. You’re so lost in your thoughts and your battle with them that you jump slightly when you hear a knock on the door.
“Hey, you alright in there?” Remus’s familiar voice carries through the wood, gentle and full of thinly-veiled worry.
He’s so sweet, his concern is almost overwhelming. You bite your lip as tears well up in your eyes, trying to work up the courage to speak without your voice betraying you. You hear whispers through the door, and the idea of both of them talking about you is embarrassing enough for you to force out a single word: “Yeah.”
More whispers for a moment, then Sirius says, “Come on out of there then, mate. It’s one-against-one out here voting for films. We need you to break the tie.”
You sigh, trying to calm yourself enough to do as he says.
“Remus made chocolate cupcakes,” he adds.
“No, I haven’t,” you hear Remus hiss at him.
“Better go make some quick then.” You don’t see it, but you can hear the smirk in Sirius’s voice, and it brings a tiny smile to your face. It’s only a small difference, but it’s enough to get you to stand up and unlock the door, opening it slowly to peek out.
Their warm, happy smiles greet you, and the realization that they just helped you out of such a situation, and furthermore that they’re so happy to see you okay, hits you like a ton of bricks. You try to smile so they won’t be too worried at the tears you unsuccessfully try to blink back, but you know it won’t work completely. Suddenly, though, that’s not as scary as you thought it would be.
“Hey, hey,” coos Sirius, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before. He takes your hands and leads you over to the sofa where you both sit down. He won’t let go of your hands to let you wipe your face, but he seems to be aware of that. “I know it’s hard, I know.”
“What?” Your eyes widen but you’re not totally sure he’s saying what you think he is.
Sirius just nods. “You were in there thinking about hurting yourself, weren’t you? I’ve been there.”
You’re vaguely aware that Remus has gone off to the kitchen, but mostly you’re too busy feeling a million different things at once. Relief, sadness, joy, gratitude, pain… You look down at Sirius’s hands holding onto your own as he squeezes them gently. For the first time, you notice how the tattoo on his arm hides a few slightly raised lines. Scars. It seems so obvious now, but the ink masks it very well. You look up at him again, not sure what to say, not sure if you could even speak if you wanted to. He just smiles again.
“I almost regret covering ‘em up, now. Don’t want Remus thinking scars are something to be ashamed of. Because they’re not, you know.” He finally lets go of one of your hands to brush some of the tears from your cheek, and you can’t help but blush a little. He chuckles. “Think of everything you’ve been through, everything you go through every day. Most people would need a patronus to deal with all that. You don’t, though. I mean, it would be nice…” He grins and gives you a wink, making you laugh a little. The pressure that’s been building inside you for days starts to dissipate slowly, just a bit. “Honestly, think how strong you are to still be here right now. You’re a fighter. Just like I’m a fighter. Just like Remus is a fighter, too, in his own way.”
At this point, Remus comes back from the kitchen with a bowl and spoon. He sits on your other side and offers you the leftover batter from the cupcakes he’s obviously just popped in the oven. You just take the spoon to lick. Normally, Remus would bicker and argue about basically being told to make cupcakes by Sirius, and not even very nicely, so you understand that it means he really cares about you since he didn’t make a peep this time.
“Chocolate fixes everything,” he says with a small smile, but it fades quickly as you watch his eyes unfocus as he looks off into the middle distance. “There are things I’m not proud of doing. I think everyone has some.” He suddenly looks right at you, his gaze almost intensely serious. “I know I don’t have to tell you how to fight your battles. You did really well today, after all. But sometimes, you can lose the battle and still win the war. We just want you to know that we’re here for you when you need us.”
“With chocolate,” Sirius chimes in, swiping a gob of batter from the bowl onto his finger and sticking it in his mouth. “And films. Now, back to the most important thing: what are we going to watch tonight?”
Remus rolls his eyes and sighs, but there’s a bit of a smile curving his lips.
You smile, too. “Thanks, guys.”
Sirius waves a hand dismissively. “Pretty sure that’s not a film title.”