Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Old Friends

"I wish someone
had warned me
when I was younger,
now I stay up all night and weep:
the ghosts of everything
you have loved and lost
come back to haunt you in your sleep."

-via Nikita Gill, Haunted

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Manchester, May 1978

Sirius lay in his bed, eyes unable, or maybe just unwilling, to close long enough to let him sleep. His legs, intertwined with Remus' were asleep, the tingling sensation on the soles of his feet almost burning. It reminded him of memories he'd buried years ago when he'd escaped the confines of Grimmauld Place for good. Memories of switches and salt canisters, frigid marble tubs and ice against his skin. He shuddered briefly.

Sirius hadn't dared to tread into such mental territory. It never brought him anything but pain; Slade described how trauma worked quite a few times, but even her explanations and techniques could ease the ache in his bones as he remembered his childhood. He was unsure why, out of all hours of the bloody day, his mind chose to amble to such things at nearly four in the morning. Perhaps it was giving him the luxury of a pleasant day, or maybe he lost his sense of focus at the hour.

He hadn't spoken to either of his parents in weeks. Sirius was uninformed of his father's condition and his mother's heavy drinking. Regulus didn't bother to bring up the matter, and Sirius was appreciative. He'd hoped he was at a point in his adulthood where he could look back on everything that had once happened to him, the loss and pain inflicted by his parents, and smile. It had made him sharper, more resilient. It had prepared him for the brutality of war and its prisoners. It had made him nearly resistant to the starkness of reality. He should be grateful that his family treated him as such; he couldn't imagine being as sensitive as Regulus, so pliable and vulnerable.

Despite all of that, however, he felt his toes curl at the mere memory of ice baths. Remus had once asked him why his showers were near-boiling temperatures. How do you tell your lover that cold water rattles your bones? How do you tell him that your body goes rigid with panic despite knowing that your mother could hardly walk up the stairs of her own home let alone sneak into his own flat to disturb him? That was the thing; he couldn't tell Remus that. He settled, instead, with the gentle lie: The bathrooms are too bloody cold and hot water works wonders for your hair.

Sirius really did hate how these thoughts managed to spoil his magnificent night. They'd had such fun at the club, even with Benjy's appearance. Remus had made love to him after their outing, caressed every inch of his tanned skin, tugged on nearly every feathered curl on his head. For hours, so it felt like, they tangled themselves in limbs and sheets, gasps and moans filtering out the bone-crushing silence at one in the morning. And they'd beamed. Laughed. Remus had fumbled with his lubricant, nearly missed the bullseye altogether with his enthusiasm. But it had been alright; there were no expectations. No time limits. Nothing to hold them back from doing exactly what they'd been learning to do: loving their silliness, flaws and all.

Just over a year ago, Sirius had broken Remus' heart in a chilly hospital room. Remus declared his love just hours before, risking his life for Sirius like the fucking moron he was. He thought that Sirius' life held more value than his own, and it angered Sirius. So, he'd been livid upon entering the room. Angry with himself, for putting anyone in such a position. Angry at himself for crying in the restroom like a bitch. Angry at himself for ever making someone as gentle and virtuous as Remus John Lupin fall for a wreck such as himself.

He'd lied and told Remus he didn't love him back. Lied and told him that he never could. There'd always been a light in Remus' eyes much like a candle. It sputtered every now and then, threatened by the winds of time, but it remained resolute. And in a heartbeat, after the utterance of no more than six words, is extinguished. It was like the world went dark, motionless and cold.