Pensieve - Wolfstar Fanfiction

26

The light gray walls of Sirius' room looked dark blue. The dark wooden floor was cold and black. The boy pressed the back of his head against the pile of pillows, almost forcing his eyes shut. The air was cold too, it froze on his bones even though he was laying under a blanket and a thick quilt.
The bruises on his face were aching, though he barely even noticed. He was numb. The big grandfather clock hit two AM, it's loud and majestic echo reached all the way to the fourth floor.

His mind wandered to a place it had never been to before. Back to the black lake, back to the soothing feeling he got whenever staring down into the darkness. The desire for it to consume him, because the darkness of the lake was different from the darkness of his life. Purifying, not suffocating.

He stared at the ceiling and wondered if anyone within those walls would miss him if he died. Regulus would, his parents wouldn't.
Back at Hogwarts, in his real home, his real family would be destroyed if he was gone. James would find a way to blame himself, though if Sirius did die, it would most definitely not have anything to do with him. Peter wouldn't know how to deal with it and end up eating his feelings. And Remus... the thought of the feeling of losing Remus was the first thing Sirius actually felt that night. Like a glowing beacon of pain in a dark sea of numbness. He felt it in his heart and stomach, it weighted terribly. So terribly that he broke into a silent cry. he was scared, because no matter what he'd have to leave at some point in order to save the both of them. and when he really started to think about it, that'd be quite soon. Orion had heard the rumors, all he needed was to catch them in action. Then they both would be as good as dead.

The tear drops felt warm as they rolled down his cheeks to his tangled hair. At first they were separate, big heavy pearls that iched as he rubbed them off. Then they started to fall in such a rush that the pearls mingled together, creating little streams. From far off they sparked in the dim stripe of yellow light that shone from the window of the boy's room. The sky was still black like death, and the old streetlamps dyed the snow with their glow.

He saw that pale, scarred face of the boy he loved in his head so vividly. He tried his best to recall the feeling of the tall boy's soft lips on his, the feeling of their fingertips uniting in the warm darkness of their dorm room.
He tried to remember the rugged beat of his heart and the pressure in his lungs he had felt when they first kissed.

But he couldn't remember.

And he cried even harder.