leashy_bebes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leashy_bebes) wrote2008-07-26 10:56 am
leashy_bebes) wrote2008-07-26 10:56 am
FIC: Every Love and Each Regret 2.1
Every Love and Each Regret (Formerly Untitled Series)
Part 2, Chapter 1.
R
This is set three and a half years after the conclusion of part 1. The boys are living together, but all is not well. This is going to be largely angst from here on in, but brace yourselves and (please!) stick with me, we will come through it ;)
Lyrics from Tom Waits' Please Call Me, Baby
I wish to god you’d leave me, baby I wish to god you’d stay
Life’s so different than it is in your dreams
As Sirius wakes, he reaches sleepily across the mattress, and glumly finds it cold and empty. Coming fully awake, he rolls onto his back and rubs at his face. Sirius knows that they are ending. The distance between them is inexplicable and immense. Sirius is angry, and desperate, and scared, and suspicious by turns - when he's not burying his head in the sand, that is. He ignores it as much as he can, but the only result is a strained silence when Remus gives evasive replies to Sirius' rare enquiries.
Things have been wrong for a long time, and Sirius knows that. The silences that used to be so comfortable have changed and twisted into something oppressive. He tries to tell himself that it's the war, and the lack of trust it demands of everyone, but he is quietly terrified that they are simply sick of one another. Sirius has never understood why people stay together when they no longer care for each other, and has always taken a strong line on leaving before you want to throttle the person you once loved. He thinks he's starting to understand it now, because as much as Remus has been driving him round the bend lately, Sirius loved him and maybe even still loves him. The past tense is what he thinks of these days though.
The past tense...
Everything is better in the past tense, Sirius thinks. Everything was better three years ago. Hell, most things were better as recently as a year ago.
The past tense is full of easy acceptance and breathless, reckless love. The present is full of unasked and unanswered questions, loaded stares and hurt looks and secrets. The past tense has better sex, too.
Sirius is not as sex-mad as other people think he is, but he can't help thinking about it. He remembers nights - hell, days too, more often than not - when they couldn't keep their hands off one another. He's not daft enough to imagine that lasts forever for any couple, but he's sure it shouldn't be like this either. Remus used to touch him with such love on his face and his eyes would light up greedily at the sight of Sirius' body. Now, when they do anything together it's perfunctory and although it's nice in the way that getting off is always nice, it's not like it used to be.
He remembers one time, right here in the flat, practically in the doorway to the hall. They'd been to a party, and Remus had been staring at Sirius all night, and Sirius had known, just known what would happen when they got home. Sure enough, with the front door still hanging open, Remus had pressed him up against the wall and looked at him through his eyelashes, leaned in to whisper in Sirius' ear, "Don't move."
Sirius had gasped something about the door being open but Remus had just narrowed his eyes, kissed Sirius hard and fast and said, "Be quiet, then," before going to his knees in front of him. Sirius had been unable to speak or even think at the sight of Remus, tugging open his jeans and shoving them down to mid thigh, trapping Sirius with his legs just barely parted, throwing his balance off so he has no choice but to collapse against the wall. His breath had left him with a whoof and Remus had smirked and sucked Sirius into his mouth, leaving him doubly breathless. Sirius' eyes had flickered between Remus' hollowed cheeks and the open door and he'd come in record time, watching Remus swallow around him and sit back on his heels, laughing up at Sirius' heaving breath and wide, wild eyes. Remus had whispered, fuck me, and Sirius' knees had given out straight away, tugging Remus towards him and kissing him messily, hungrily, wanting him so badly, loving him so much. Sirius had apparated them straight into the bedroom despite Remus' protests and they'd stayed up until the wee small hours, completely unable to drag themselves away from each other.
But in the present tense - three and a half weeks ago, Sirius reminds himself - Remus fixes his eyes on a spot over Sirius' shoulder or stares straight through him and they bring each other off without really speaking or even touching more than strictly necessary. And, just to prove he's not completely obsessed, it's not just the sex that Sirius misses, but the afterwards. He misses the feeling of Remus' hammering heart rate slowing to normal, and he misses the way Remus would curl around him, his breath drying the sweat on Sirius' chest.
One of the most sickening parts of it is that Sirius has no idea what he wants. And Sirius always knows what he wants, has since he was a child. He doesn't understand people who don’t know what they want, who dither and delay over every single decision - they frustrate him. But now, now he understands, now he appreciates the agony of wanting two things that are each other's diametric opposite.
He wants Remus to leave, because this pale imitation of what they once had is depressing and frail, and hurts them both. And yet he wants Remus to stay, because he cannot imagine life any other way, as though Remus is his wand, or his voice, something utterly integral to his own self. He wonders whether that is as selfish as it sounds inside his own head and, heaving another sigh, swings his legs out of bed and heads into the silent kitchen to start his day.
one month later...
Part 2, Chapter 1.
R
This is set three and a half years after the conclusion of part 1. The boys are living together, but all is not well. This is going to be largely angst from here on in, but brace yourselves and (please!) stick with me, we will come through it ;)
Lyrics from Tom Waits' Please Call Me, Baby
I wish to god you’d leave me, baby I wish to god you’d stay
Life’s so different than it is in your dreams
As Sirius wakes, he reaches sleepily across the mattress, and glumly finds it cold and empty. Coming fully awake, he rolls onto his back and rubs at his face. Sirius knows that they are ending. The distance between them is inexplicable and immense. Sirius is angry, and desperate, and scared, and suspicious by turns - when he's not burying his head in the sand, that is. He ignores it as much as he can, but the only result is a strained silence when Remus gives evasive replies to Sirius' rare enquiries.
Things have been wrong for a long time, and Sirius knows that. The silences that used to be so comfortable have changed and twisted into something oppressive. He tries to tell himself that it's the war, and the lack of trust it demands of everyone, but he is quietly terrified that they are simply sick of one another. Sirius has never understood why people stay together when they no longer care for each other, and has always taken a strong line on leaving before you want to throttle the person you once loved. He thinks he's starting to understand it now, because as much as Remus has been driving him round the bend lately, Sirius loved him and maybe even still loves him. The past tense is what he thinks of these days though.
The past tense...
Everything is better in the past tense, Sirius thinks. Everything was better three years ago. Hell, most things were better as recently as a year ago.
The past tense is full of easy acceptance and breathless, reckless love. The present is full of unasked and unanswered questions, loaded stares and hurt looks and secrets. The past tense has better sex, too.
Sirius is not as sex-mad as other people think he is, but he can't help thinking about it. He remembers nights - hell, days too, more often than not - when they couldn't keep their hands off one another. He's not daft enough to imagine that lasts forever for any couple, but he's sure it shouldn't be like this either. Remus used to touch him with such love on his face and his eyes would light up greedily at the sight of Sirius' body. Now, when they do anything together it's perfunctory and although it's nice in the way that getting off is always nice, it's not like it used to be.
He remembers one time, right here in the flat, practically in the doorway to the hall. They'd been to a party, and Remus had been staring at Sirius all night, and Sirius had known, just known what would happen when they got home. Sure enough, with the front door still hanging open, Remus had pressed him up against the wall and looked at him through his eyelashes, leaned in to whisper in Sirius' ear, "Don't move."
Sirius had gasped something about the door being open but Remus had just narrowed his eyes, kissed Sirius hard and fast and said, "Be quiet, then," before going to his knees in front of him. Sirius had been unable to speak or even think at the sight of Remus, tugging open his jeans and shoving them down to mid thigh, trapping Sirius with his legs just barely parted, throwing his balance off so he has no choice but to collapse against the wall. His breath had left him with a whoof and Remus had smirked and sucked Sirius into his mouth, leaving him doubly breathless. Sirius' eyes had flickered between Remus' hollowed cheeks and the open door and he'd come in record time, watching Remus swallow around him and sit back on his heels, laughing up at Sirius' heaving breath and wide, wild eyes. Remus had whispered, fuck me, and Sirius' knees had given out straight away, tugging Remus towards him and kissing him messily, hungrily, wanting him so badly, loving him so much. Sirius had apparated them straight into the bedroom despite Remus' protests and they'd stayed up until the wee small hours, completely unable to drag themselves away from each other.
But in the present tense - three and a half weeks ago, Sirius reminds himself - Remus fixes his eyes on a spot over Sirius' shoulder or stares straight through him and they bring each other off without really speaking or even touching more than strictly necessary. And, just to prove he's not completely obsessed, it's not just the sex that Sirius misses, but the afterwards. He misses the feeling of Remus' hammering heart rate slowing to normal, and he misses the way Remus would curl around him, his breath drying the sweat on Sirius' chest.
One of the most sickening parts of it is that Sirius has no idea what he wants. And Sirius always knows what he wants, has since he was a child. He doesn't understand people who don’t know what they want, who dither and delay over every single decision - they frustrate him. But now, now he understands, now he appreciates the agony of wanting two things that are each other's diametric opposite.
He wants Remus to leave, because this pale imitation of what they once had is depressing and frail, and hurts them both. And yet he wants Remus to stay, because he cannot imagine life any other way, as though Remus is his wand, or his voice, something utterly integral to his own self. He wonders whether that is as selfish as it sounds inside his own head and, heaving another sigh, swings his legs out of bed and heads into the silent kitchen to start his day.
one month later...