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i take you for granted because you are mine
⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅
Celeste sat in the dark living room, her head resting on her arm. An unread letter sat at her feet but she hadn't brought herself to touch it. She hadn't bothered to turn on the lights either. After all, there was no one to see her and no one she had to see. It was just the lonely silence of Sirius' flat that had accompanied her like this for the past month.
Fleamont and Euphemia had passed a week ago, and Sirius had completely shut out the world. He never spoke, and was constantly kept away in his Order work and drinks.
So many drinks.
Every night he stumbled through the door, intoxicated and out of his head. Sometimes, he didn't show up at the door at all and would claim that he'd been with James or Remus. Nothing Celeste did could persuade or soothe him into staying. Nothing could coax him to sleep or lift his spirits.
He did not enjoy music anymore, and he had no care for eating real meals. Drinking and overworking was his best solution. He didn't cry and he didn't waver at all. He prefered to sulk with a cigarette rather than speak to her.
Celeste had indulged him in the beginning, thinking that it might bring him distraction and focus, rather than the way she would simply spiral and retreat inside herself. But now it was doing more harm than good. He needed help, but was refusing even a glass of water.
Celeste despised feeling helpless, but now she was sinking beneath an entire sea of it.
She didn't know what to do.
-
Sirius had bought a motorcycle and hadn't told a soul. He had done it just that afternoon with nothing else to fill his schedule. He craved adrenaline and a rush of rebellion, so he'd confunded a sales associate and purchased a blue and silver motorcycle.
His fingers itched for some sort of control ― something in his life that he could manage and not have gone completely to hell. Something permanent and something he could protect. The bike was the first thing he could come up with.
His hands gripped the clutch tightly, putting more and more pressure on the lever to go faster. The world whirled and roared past him, wind slashing at his face and against his leather jacket. He felt the most stable he had in a long time.
Stable enough that he decided to turn home earlier than usual.
He parked the bike outside his flat, glanced at his watch, and saw that it was only 8 PM. Celeste would still be awake, and maybe ― just maybe tonight could be nice. He unlocked the door after a moment of fumbling with muggle keys and stepped through the door.
