Art Deco

night we met

pairing- sirius black x reader
warning(s)- mention of major character death (let me know if i should add more)
a/n- i'm depressed so i'll make everyone depressed 😽
 ps- set during ootp

your face basked under the highlights of the orange flames flickering in the fire place. loose strands of hair framed your face. you adjusted the glass of firewhiskey on your knee, watching the ice cubes melt into the drink, the fire illuminating the liquor.

'do you miss them?' a soft yet deep voice called out. you looked up, your eyes searching for the voice of the speaker. it was sirius. you stared at him, his eyes soft reflecting a deep affection for you.

but you didn't need to know that.

'i do. sometimes yes,' you say as sirius walks to over to you. he sits near you. you watch as his pinky finger twitches over the fabric of his trousers. he breaths slowly, and you sense a whiff of cigarettes and leather. you take a sip of your whiskey and the sound of the ice cubes dancing in the liquor echo in the emptiness.

grief echoed in the void of your heart as you silently mourned the death of james and lily potter. it lit a dim agony which throbbed into your carefully engraved memories, which died by a thousand little cuts. it scarred you, it made you feel vulnerable. the memories turned into nightmares. you reminiscence them, keeping the cold knock of nostalgia concealed in your poor heart.

'it's halloween ain't it?' he asks. you look at him, into his eyes.

'yes,' you confirm your lips whispering out your reply. you stare solely into the thunder like grayness of his eyes. you wonder what lies beneath the curtain of emotions he displays as he holds your gaze. hotness lurches through your body as he shifts closer, his tattooed finger tucking the stray flyaway behind your ear. a coil of sentiments bubble inside your stomach as you feel your cheeks grow hot.

'i took the day off today because today was halloween. thought you could use some company, -you know um-' you say. your throat feels dry as he continues staring at your face. he shifts stiflingly at your words, apparently speechless. you don't provoke a reply, instead you pour a glass of firewhiskey for him. you don't expect one, he supposes.

he holds the textured glass slowly listening to the fire crackling. he feels lost, hanging by a thread. the end of the thread was held by you. he felt lost in the terror of tragedy, it was the bitterness of cold memories that haunted him. he had all of james, as a brother, as a best friend, as his emotional crutch. perhaps in the path of finding for light, fighting for light he'd lost him, he now had none of him. he'd slipped away like sand between his fingers.

the harsh liquor rolls down his throat. he coughs softly. his voice is strained as he says, 'thank you,'

you look into the engulfing fire, as your heart aches. you want to hold him, you want to keep him close within your hold. the tingle of excruciation starts from the very core of your heart. in engulfs you whole as you feel his head on your shoulder, tears seeping through the thin fabric your shirt. his hand crawls up to your thigh and you hold it.

it's cold, his hand and you feel him shaking beside you. it feels like a dozen of electrical shocks as he slowly wraps his arm around your body, pulling you closer. he sobs through broken whispers, neglected pain and ignorance. he sobs through the sheer curtain of suffering his heart beckons. he sobs.

to his broken self, his exposed self you feel like the only comfort he has, the only comfort he can hold onto. you feel like the invisible thread his sanity hangs upon so he whispers, afraid to loose you, 'i love you. promise me you won't leave me?'

you stare at him though struggling as you try to maintain eye contact through his tight grip. your palm cups his sunken tear stained cheeks. you place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

'i love you too,' you reply as he sniffs, hiding his head into your shoulder.

the both of you know you cannot love each other. the both of you know you are haunted by both of you pasts. the both of you know you suffer with the tragedies of you lives. and yet that perhaps makes you want to go back to the night you met each other, cherish the innocence of being a kid again. perhaps that's what brings you close together, the love that you both know you cannot get.

perhaps that's what makes you love each other.