Slowly withering

Prologue

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose, "I don't understand." He pauses and crosses his arms before finally adding, "What is wrong with you?"

Sirius knows the question is purely rhetorical, but it doesn't hold him back as he tries to explain himself, stepping toward Remus, "Moony, listen—"

"Don't try to 'Moony' me. Don't you dare call me that." Remus spits, matching Sirius' move by taking a step back, eyeing him up and down as he couldn't understand how he could talk to such a pile of rubbish.

Sirius looks down at the ancient granite tiling to avoid the pinched expression on Remus' face, his throat tight. He can feel his glare like daggers across his skin.

"You have no right to call me Moony." Remus passes a slightly shaking hand through his hair. "I can't believe I thought you could be different."

Sirius wavers. Is he condemned to be only capable of disappointing? The desperate urge to prove that he can do better, redeem himself, repent, crawls literally up his throat, before he can stop it, "I—"

Remus closes his eyes as his rage simmered within. After a few moments, he stares back at him, his expression neutral again and his stature rigid. The fact his jaw is quivering betrays the boiling feelings under this smooth surface.

Sirius snaps his mouth shut, and bites his lips. He'd rather Remus yell, insult him or even hit him. Almost anything, everything– whatever would keep Remus from shutting him out.

Sirius' heart sinks in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he tries again, desperate.

"Shut up."

"Remus, No, please. Let me talk—"

"Shut. Up." Remus punctuates his words with sharpened tones. He gives Sirius a cold stare, yet filled with hatred. "I don't want your excuses; they have no value"

"But–"

"I said no! Who do you think you are? Sirius, did you really hope I would care about an apology from a Black?"

Sirius blanches and his stomach drops. The unsaid floats in the air.

The words slap him by surprise, bruising his mind and soul. Burning as if a hand of fire had fallen on him to drive thousands of needles under his skin. He keeps his chin up without a word, and blinks away the tears that are welling in his eyes.

He searches for a flash of guilt in Remus. A trace of regret, anything that would show he doesn't think so. But there is nothing. Not a single sign, not a single sparkle. Realising Remus means every word he said, Sirius feels crushed. Gravity seems to increase all of a sudden, making him nauseous and dizzy. It was as if he was drowning in the air, where breathing became too much and yet, not enough.

Remus turns on his heels without a glance, and leaves him standing pathetically in the middle of the hallway.

He knows he'd messed up big time, alright? The moment those dreadful words slipped out of his mouth, he realised the gravity of his mistake. When panic set in upon realising that Severus somehow learned about his impending forced Mark without anyone else knowing, Sirius inadvertently hinted that if Severus was so curious about Remus' activities, he should go under the Whomping Willow and take the hidden tunnel the next day during the full moon. He saw the triumphant gleam in Severus' eyes at his slip-up, sealing his fate then and there. There's no denying it. He betrayed the Marauders, but worst of all, he shattered Remus' trust, something he could never forgive himself for. Even if, by some miracle, his friends one day decided to forgive him, which frankly seems highly unlikely, he would carry the regret forever.

Because Remus, Moony, is just... Moons. It's everything in upper case. Without him, the world of Sirius has no meaning, no reason to be; without him he is a satellite with no planet, a heart with no soul, a beast with no bite.

He was well, everything.

He feels broken; like he is missing a part.

Sirius doesn't know what to do anymore. He knows deep down that nothing can fix it. He screwed up, as usual. But this time, it's the last straw. A second could have changed everything. A single, unique and tiny fraction of a moment. He would do anything to take it back. It kills him to admit it, but his mother was right. He can always try to flee his family, Grimmauld Square, and even his blood, but he could never change his nature. Something must be wrong with him; he is simply incapable of not hurting the people around him.

Sirius shuts his eyes tight, his throat has never been so dry. Something clenches in his chest.

He's so tired of being himself.