Chapter Text
Waking up next to his boyfriend is one of Remus’ favourite things. The smell of his shampoo, the soft look on his face Remus only gets to see when Sirius is sleeping.
Needless to say, his day was already ruined when he was robbed of that very moment. He knew Sirius would be gone before he woke up. He had to pick up an extra shift at the café because one of his coworkers had called in sick.
For Remus, having depression means experiencing many highs and lows. Some days he’s thriving. Meeting friends, cooking, going out. On others, he barely gets out of bed or can’t find the energy to brush his teeth. It had gotten better since he lived with Sirius, but sometimes it still got pretty bad.
He had sensed it for the entire last week. He knew what would come. He’d gotten very good at hiding his feelings from everyone. And he liked it that way. He didn’t want Sirius to worry. He had enough to worry about in his own life, so there was no reason for Remus to put his silly little phase onto Sirius’ plate.
So after he woke up, missing the smell of fruity shampoo, the brunette knew it was going to be tough to get out of bed today. There was this overwhelming numbness that consumed him and pulled him down. He just stared at the ceiling for several moments, wishing for the black hair that normally annoyed him to be back in his face. He felt a headache rise and the well-known tension building up in his chest.
Breaking the one and only rule they had in their flat, which was not to smoke inside, he lit himself a fag while still in bed. He knew he’d be mad at himself later because of the lingering smell, but he couldn’t help it.
The cigarette didn’t do what it used to; it rather satisfied a need than a want. So he lit another. Many, actually. Using the mug left on the nightstand as a makeshift ashtray.
It didn’t help.
He finally got up and headed to the kitchen. Contrary to his mood, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw Sirius had prepared breakfast for him. His lovely boyfriend had even left a note next to the plate.
I love you, my moonbeam.
Next to the written message, there was a heart and a smudged print of dark red lips.
Oh, he was so gone for this man. Remus smiled. A genuine smile. He ate his pancakes and poured himself a cup of tea from the thermos flask Sirius had left for him. Happy about the slight bit of comfort, grateful for Sirius’ care. After eating, he even found the strength to do the dishes.
However, his brief feeling of happiness quickly faded. He just wanted to curl up on the sofa, hide under the blankets, maybe read his current book.
But he couldn’t. He not only had to hand in an essay for uni – he also still had to write it. The professor who had given him this homework was (in Remus’ opinion) a massive twat. It was obvious that papers not supporting his own opinion (which was fairly outdated in terms of gender stereotypes and equality) got lower grades.
There was nothing he could do about this, but it still got him raging every time he had to turn something in. So he sat down at his desk, pulled up his laptop and opened a new document. For a couple of minutes he just stared at the blank page. His brain somehow didn’t seem to work anymore. His leg got bouncy. Everything felt foggy.
There were no pre-rolled cigs left, so he grabbed the tobacco, rolling papers, filters and his lighter (Sirius had gifted it to him) and headed out onto the balcony. It felt like a ritual, taking out the paper, carefully putting some tobacco and the filter on it. He licked the glue and sealed it. He did this a couple of times. The repetitive task made his mind completely blank, but today it wasn’t a good blank. It was already November, so the cold crept up on him, still in his pyjamas. He lit his first.
Again, it wasn’t his last. And again, it didn’t get better.
Remus knew a trick that would make the fog disappear, at least for some time. He had promised Sirius not to use his little trick again, even given Sirius most of his tools (or, as Sirius believed, all of his tools) not too long ago, and he’d stayed clean since. But he didn’t see another way out.
Rationally, he knew he should call Sirius or even James, the only two people he trusted enough to let them know about his problem, but he didn’t want to bother them by being more of a burden than he already was.
Only one. It won’t be a big deal. I just need to release some pressure, he thought to himself.
So he made his way to the bathroom. There, at the underside of the trashcan, was his release, waiting for him. He scraped off the tape the blade was fixed with, so Sirius wouldn’t find it lying around somewhere, and just stared at it for a second. The little piece of metal was thin and light, but to Remus it seemed too heavy in his hand.
He knew what would come after: the guilt, the stinging showers, the struggle of hiding it from Sirius. But in this moment Remus didn’t care. He pushed these thoughts back, only thinking of the feeling of relief it always gave him.
So he pulled up the sleeve of the knitted jumper he was wearing and stared at his left arm. It was covered in white lines — some thin, almost unnoticeable, others more prominent.
He placed the thin metal. He applied pressure and dragged it over his tanned skin. The sting only settled in several seconds later, and the blood took even more time. At first there was just white. Then the red came flowing, but the relief stayed missing. Just like with the cigarettes, one apparently wasn’t enough anymore.
Before he even realised what he was doing, he cut again, and again, and again.
Soon there was too much blood, even for Remus’ liking. It was on the floor, soaking his pants and jumper. Everywhere. At some point he landed on the floor, the blade falling with him, disappearing in the stream of crimson. He scrambled on the bathroom floor, trying to get up, but he just got dizzy.
Then he heard it. The familiar click of the front door. The sweet voice of his love, his Sirius. The man he’d promised never to do this again.
“Moony, I’m home.” Pause. “Where are you, my moonbeam?”
Shit. He was home. He’d forgotten to watch the time. Sirius would be disappointed. Disgusted. And he’d have every right to think so.
He tried to lift himself up to at least fix some of the mess he’d made, but it was too late. There was a knock on the bathroom door and a worried-sounding Sirius asked
“Remus, are you in there? Is everything alright?”
With all his willpower, Remus got an answer out of himself. “Yes, I’m good. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Are you sure? Remus, love, you don’t sound too well.” Pause. “Remus, I’m gonna come in now.”
“No, please,” Remus cried out, but it was too late. The door slowly crept open, allowing Sirius to see the mess Remus had made.
“Oh fuck. What happened?”
Remus could barely process the situation, on the verge of passing out.
Sirius quickly made his way to the brunette, worry in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Remus whispered, but he kept repeating it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know when he started crying, but suddenly he felt wetness spread on his cheeks.
“Please don’t hate me.” Before he knew it, Sirius knelt near him and cold hands were caressing his face, cupping his cheeks, wiping away the tears. Lips pressed a kiss to his temple.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Love, I need you to stay with me. Can you do this?”
Remus nodded a little, although he wasn’t sure.
Sirius fetched a rag and the medical kit from under the sink and got to work cleaning Remus’s wounds.
He dampened the rag and began to wipe off the blood from Remus’ arm. He sat down behind him and pulled his boyfriend up into his lap.
Sirius worked with featherlight touches, efficient but gentle. He let Remus squeeze his hand when it stung too much, whispering sweet, reassuring nothings in his ear. The touch felt grounding to Remus, and eventually his sobs turned into quiet sniffles. Sirius started putting bandages on the wounds. The boy in his arms kept apologising, kept saying he didn’t want to.
When Sirius was finished patching him up, he got up, not without picking up the blade. He really needed to get rid of this thing.
“I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I know I’m wrong. I’m disgusting. But please, please don’t leave me.”
Hearing that, his heart broke a little.
He crouched down to Remus’ level again and pulled him into a tight hug.
“I’m not going to leave you. Never. You understand me? I love you. And nothing is ever going to change that. No relapse, no bad day, nothing.”
He pulled back a little and cupped Remus’ face.
“Look at me.”
Remus lifted his eyes until they met his gaze.
“I love you.” Sirius leaned forward and pressed their lips together. When they parted, he tried to put on a smile.
“And besides that, you’re not wrong, darling. It’s okay.”
“I was just going to get you a fresh set of clothes. Is that okay? Just count to 50 and I’ll be right back, okay?”
Remus nodded. He felt terrible. He didn’t want Sirius to worry, that was why he didn’t get help in the first place, and now there was so much more to worry about.
When he got to 31, he heard Sirius’ footsteps nearing, and by 38 he felt slim hands helping him out of his soiled clothes and into the new ones.
It was a soft jumper and a nice baggy pair of joggers.
Remus felt somewhat okay and clean, thanks to his boyfriend.
“How about we get out of here and cuddle for a bit? We have to talk afterwards, but for now let’s just get comfortable.”
When he tried to stand up, Remus’s legs were still wobbly, and the dizziness was creeping up on him again.
He leaned on the other boy for support, who helped him up slowly.
They walked to the bedroom in silence, leaving the mess in the bathroom as it was. It still reeked of cigarette smoke, but Sirius didn’t mention it. He must’ve smelled it when he came in. Sirius pulled back the blanket and helped Remus settle in before getting in himself.
He immediately pulled Remus close, and the boy melted into the embrace. Remus hid his face in the crook of Sirius’s neck, his arms wrapping around his waist. Sirius traced patterns along Remus’s back while whispering soft, sweet nothings into his ear.
They stayed like this for a while. Remus felt safe in those arms.
Just before falling asleep, Remus turned to Sirius and whispered, “Thank you, love. Thank you for staying and for helping me… I love you.”