FIC: Every Love and Each Regret 1.4
Jul. 15th, 2008 10:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesEvery Love and Each Regret Part 1, Chapter 4 [Click here for previous chapters]
PG-13 or more, there's swearing, don't be offended.
Angsty McPants
I'll hopefully be updatng this fairly regularly from now on.
Lyrics from Alkaline Trio's Bloodied Up
you have every right to be this appalled with me, join the club
When Remus gets out of bed and can walk, it's a shock. He feels like he should be crippled by what has happened, and while he was half sitting half lying in the hospital bed, he felt it. He felt weak and dizzy and as though all his muscles had turned to water, his stomach to a hot, aching ball inside him.
I hate you I hate you I hate you, he thinks fiercely as he crosses the hospital wing and slips into the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his flushed face and studiously avoids his own gaze in the mirror.
I did something stupid...
How many times has he heard those words and received them with only mild annoyance? Not like this though, never like this, with Sirius' face pale and his eyes red from crying and his hands trembling as he pushes messy hair out of his face. Normally those words mean I pranked someone bigger than me and they found out or I left James' cloak somewhere and I can't remember where or I got myself another month of detention, but from the state Sirius was in it was obvious he didn't just mean stupid. He meant outrageous and unimaginably bad and heartless and cruel, but Remus didn't know that then.
The weak feeling had come over him nonetheless and, all unknowing he'd reached out to pluck one of Sirius' hands out of the air and hold it tightly. He'd even raised their hands to his mouth and kissed Sirius' knuckles. Sirius had swallowed and stared at their joined hands, stared and stared, and tightened his grip gradually as the words came spilling out of him.
All Remus had been able to think was that it wasn't fair, wasn't right that Sirius should be holding his hand while saying I'm so sorry, stroking his thumb over Remus' wrist while saying fucking Snape, squeezing his fingers in a familiar motion while saying I never, I wouldn’t, I hate myself. Desperate apologies and half-hearted excuses had washed around Remus until Sirius broke off in mid sentence and just looked at Remus for a long moment.
"Let go of my hand, please," Remus had said.
"No," Sirius had said, shaking his head. He'd tried to pull their hands closer to him but Remus had tugged sharply, sliding out of Sirius' grip and folding his arms across himself. "Please," Sirius had begged, looking miserable, and that had the same effect on Remus as always except this time he had hated himself for it, a sick little hatred that didn't mean he didn't have to dig his nails into his wrist in an effort to keep his hands from reaching for Sirius.
"Go away," he'd mumbled through numb lips. Sirius had shaken his head and started to cry again, a sight Remus had never seen before and which shook him to his core. "Go," he'd said.
"Remus, please - "
"Go away, I don't want to - I'm not going to make a fool of myself like this, not here."
"I - "
"Go away," Remus had pleaded, and his voice had broken and wobbled. He'd stared down at his knotted arms for a measureless time and when he had finally chanced a glance off to his left Sirius was gone.
He had curled up, pressed his face to his knees and cried.
And now here he is, standing in the bathroom, gripping the sides of the sink, trying not to think. How, he wonders, how can anything hurt so much? He knows he should be concerned with the fact that Snape knows and it's there as a tiny litany in the back of his head, but mostly the pain is all reserved for how Sirius could do this, why he did it, analysing and over-analysing and tearing himself apart.
He doesn't want to think of the last few weeks but he can't think of anything else, can't help comparing the reverent way Sirius had touched him and the careless way he'd tossed his biggest secret open to a person who already hated him. This time yesterday they had been kissing, he thinks, stealing a few heated, promising moments before Peter woke and James finally gave up the bathroom. They had been kissing and then, hours later, Sirius had done this. Hours. How the fuck does that happen, Remus wonders, how does a person go from your whole world to its destroyer in a matter of hours?
Still avoiding his own eyes in the mirror, Remus leaves the bathroom and changes out of the pyjamas which feel strange now - surely monsters who nearly murdered someone a few hours ago don't wear hospital regulation blue and white striped pyjamas? He doesn't wait for Madam Pomfrey to send him on his way like he usually does, and he doesn't hurry to avoid missing classes. Instead he slinks up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, taking back routes to avoid people going to breakfast - or maybe class, he's not sure. It was early when he woke to find Sirius sitting by his bedside, but he has no idea how long he had cried and wondered and stared at the walls.
Thankfully, the common room is deserted except for two first years hurrying off to Potions with overfull bags and panicked faces. He drags himself up the stairs to the dormitory and finds two pieces of parchment folded on his pillow. He discards the one from James unread and tears up the one from Sirius, tossing the scraps out of the window before, fully clothed, he climbs into bed and pulls the covers over his head. His eyes stay dry this time and even though he's not tired, he keeps still and silent until he's so unfocused he might as well be sleeping. It's nice, a warm, distant feeling as though the whole world has receded and he wonders if maybe there's a way to feel like this all the time, to have this blessed disconnect when he has to face Sirius.
six weeks later...
PG-13 or more, there's swearing, don't be offended.
Angsty McPants
I'll hopefully be updatng this fairly regularly from now on.
Lyrics from Alkaline Trio's Bloodied Up
you have every right to be this appalled with me, join the club
When Remus gets out of bed and can walk, it's a shock. He feels like he should be crippled by what has happened, and while he was half sitting half lying in the hospital bed, he felt it. He felt weak and dizzy and as though all his muscles had turned to water, his stomach to a hot, aching ball inside him.
I hate you I hate you I hate you, he thinks fiercely as he crosses the hospital wing and slips into the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his flushed face and studiously avoids his own gaze in the mirror.
I did something stupid...
How many times has he heard those words and received them with only mild annoyance? Not like this though, never like this, with Sirius' face pale and his eyes red from crying and his hands trembling as he pushes messy hair out of his face. Normally those words mean I pranked someone bigger than me and they found out or I left James' cloak somewhere and I can't remember where or I got myself another month of detention, but from the state Sirius was in it was obvious he didn't just mean stupid. He meant outrageous and unimaginably bad and heartless and cruel, but Remus didn't know that then.
The weak feeling had come over him nonetheless and, all unknowing he'd reached out to pluck one of Sirius' hands out of the air and hold it tightly. He'd even raised their hands to his mouth and kissed Sirius' knuckles. Sirius had swallowed and stared at their joined hands, stared and stared, and tightened his grip gradually as the words came spilling out of him.
All Remus had been able to think was that it wasn't fair, wasn't right that Sirius should be holding his hand while saying I'm so sorry, stroking his thumb over Remus' wrist while saying fucking Snape, squeezing his fingers in a familiar motion while saying I never, I wouldn’t, I hate myself. Desperate apologies and half-hearted excuses had washed around Remus until Sirius broke off in mid sentence and just looked at Remus for a long moment.
"Let go of my hand, please," Remus had said.
"No," Sirius had said, shaking his head. He'd tried to pull their hands closer to him but Remus had tugged sharply, sliding out of Sirius' grip and folding his arms across himself. "Please," Sirius had begged, looking miserable, and that had the same effect on Remus as always except this time he had hated himself for it, a sick little hatred that didn't mean he didn't have to dig his nails into his wrist in an effort to keep his hands from reaching for Sirius.
"Go away," he'd mumbled through numb lips. Sirius had shaken his head and started to cry again, a sight Remus had never seen before and which shook him to his core. "Go," he'd said.
"Remus, please - "
"Go away, I don't want to - I'm not going to make a fool of myself like this, not here."
"I - "
"Go away," Remus had pleaded, and his voice had broken and wobbled. He'd stared down at his knotted arms for a measureless time and when he had finally chanced a glance off to his left Sirius was gone.
He had curled up, pressed his face to his knees and cried.
And now here he is, standing in the bathroom, gripping the sides of the sink, trying not to think. How, he wonders, how can anything hurt so much? He knows he should be concerned with the fact that Snape knows and it's there as a tiny litany in the back of his head, but mostly the pain is all reserved for how Sirius could do this, why he did it, analysing and over-analysing and tearing himself apart.
He doesn't want to think of the last few weeks but he can't think of anything else, can't help comparing the reverent way Sirius had touched him and the careless way he'd tossed his biggest secret open to a person who already hated him. This time yesterday they had been kissing, he thinks, stealing a few heated, promising moments before Peter woke and James finally gave up the bathroom. They had been kissing and then, hours later, Sirius had done this. Hours. How the fuck does that happen, Remus wonders, how does a person go from your whole world to its destroyer in a matter of hours?
Still avoiding his own eyes in the mirror, Remus leaves the bathroom and changes out of the pyjamas which feel strange now - surely monsters who nearly murdered someone a few hours ago don't wear hospital regulation blue and white striped pyjamas? He doesn't wait for Madam Pomfrey to send him on his way like he usually does, and he doesn't hurry to avoid missing classes. Instead he slinks up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, taking back routes to avoid people going to breakfast - or maybe class, he's not sure. It was early when he woke to find Sirius sitting by his bedside, but he has no idea how long he had cried and wondered and stared at the walls.
Thankfully, the common room is deserted except for two first years hurrying off to Potions with overfull bags and panicked faces. He drags himself up the stairs to the dormitory and finds two pieces of parchment folded on his pillow. He discards the one from James unread and tears up the one from Sirius, tossing the scraps out of the window before, fully clothed, he climbs into bed and pulls the covers over his head. His eyes stay dry this time and even though he's not tired, he keeps still and silent until he's so unfocused he might as well be sleeping. It's nice, a warm, distant feeling as though the whole world has receded and he wonders if maybe there's a way to feel like this all the time, to have this blessed disconnect when he has to face Sirius.
six weeks later...