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kometdancer · 4 years
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I have no idea what I wrote, but I’m feeling somewhat angsty rn, so enjoy this self-indulgent (wait, how is this self-indulgent?) oh yeah, because my brother’s busy on his playstation using ‘gay’ as an insult fic or read it on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763209
Sirius growls and fumbles with his keys in the lock, trying to force them into the jammed mechanism. This shitty flat isn’t his home, and the neighbours who surround him aren’t his family.
Sirius wrenches the key to the side. The door bursts open, finally, but the key is crooked when he pulls it out. When he tries, it won’t bend back. He stares at the defiant piece of metal in his palm, and tosses it carelessly on the wobbling table under the chipped mirror. He’ll have to get the key fixed.
It’s dark outside, and the flat is cold and empty. He’s exhausted, after the day he’s had, and he’d like nothing more than to collapse into bed and forget himself in sleep, but his bed is cold and empty, and the springs dig into his skin through the worn padding. Undoubtedly, the couple upstairs are going to have loud sex the second that Sirius crawls under the thin covers, so he decides to camp on the grimy sofa without changing out of his clothes, like he’s been doing since before he even moved out.
He closes his aching eyes with a weary sigh, and thinks that if he has to spend one more hour in that courtroom, listening to all his flaws and faults being bared before the eyes of some unsympathetic judge who’d heard it all before a thousand times, he’d go mad.
He knows he’s the one who’s messed up, and he’s the one whose fault it is that they were in this mess in the first place, but that doesn’t make hearing it any easier for him. He’s always had a selfish streak when it came to drowning in his feelings and self-pity.
The flashing light of a street lamp outside burns through his eyelids, and he groans and turns his face away, wishing he could hide from all of his problems so easily. Remus isn’t the only one he’s let down.
“Moony, why’s Padfoot gone?”
Remus looks at the child in front of him, and tries to crush down the overwhelming guilt and pain that wells up within him. He’s already lost his parents once, and Remus can’t bear to put him through it all again. He swallows back the swelling lump in his throat, and blinks rapidly until his eyes stop stinging. For Harry’s sake.
Harry continues to stare up at him with big green eyes, and once again, Remus is forcefully reminded of Lily. He wonders how things might have been if she and James were still here. Perhaps if Peter hadn’t lied that night, about Regulus and Remus, Sirius wouldn’t have stormed off on his motorcycle, and James and Lily wouldn’t have crashed searching for him, knowing how impetuous and rash Sirius could be. Sirius’ downfall was always going to be how self-destructive he was.
Remus clears his throat, and wets his dry lips. He doesn’t know what to tell the boy. “Uncle Padfoot – Sirius – he’s– he’s going through a lot. He can’t be here right now, but he still loves you very much,” he says, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper.
“Will he ever be back?” Harry asks, eyes full of hurt. It must be like like losing his parents, all over again, and Remus’ heart aches.
He can’t tell this boy that it’s over between him and Sirius, and that Harry won’t ever have his Uncle Moony and Padfoot together again. He can’t tell Harry that his other Godfather is a reckless, imploding disaster, that this is what’s finally set the dynamite inside of him off, and that it isn’t good for Harry or Remus to have him around. He can’t tell Harry that it hurts Sirius every time he looks at him, and that the grief and guilt stab him in the heart like a knife every time he looks up and meets Lily’s eyes in James’ face, living on in their son. It hurts Sirius to be around Harry, and it isn’t Harry’s fault, but Sirius can’t stand it, and both Harry and Remus have suffered for it.
“I dunno, Harry,” Remus answers for the fourteenth time in seven days. “I dunno.”
The form on the table in front of him is mocking him. Sirius is sure of it. He stares at the swimming letters and numbers, and growls, shoving a hand up in his hair. He reaches for the penpot he’s kept (a habit picked up from Remus) and knocks it over, so that all the leaky and dried-up biros are scattered across the table. He reaches for the nearest one, and carves his signature onto the paper, not caring anymore about what the document signifies.
Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
He crumples the paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his leather jacket, and grabs his keys, not bothering to lock the flat up after he leaves. The key probably wouldn’t work anyway.
The drive is long, seeing as he’s moved across town, but he needs this. The purr of the motorcycle beneath him, and the wind whipping at the long, uncut strands of his hair make him feel alive in a way that he hasn’t felt for a while. Despite how fast he’s moving, even in the muddle and jam of central London, the weight of the form in his jacket feels like it’s dragging him down.
Sirius forces all thoughts of what had been and what could have been as he approaches the little house on the hill, with the perfect lawn and picket-fence he’s secretly yearned for all his life. This is the moment all the dreams he had growing up die for sure; the first moment that he’s truly been on his own since he was eleven, and James had burst in with his bright eyes and raucous laughter, Remus following, and together they’d chased the dark out of Sirius.
His motorcycle is parked down the road, no longer welcome on the garden path or by the garage where Sirius used to waste long afternoons, tinkering with his bike and showing a wide-eyed Harry the different bike parts he’d brought home to mend. He steels himself for Remus’ accusatory stare, or even worse, indifference in his eyes as he takes in the miserable state Sirius is in now. And worst of all, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle Harry’s questions and his eyes, which only serve to remind Sirius of just how many of his loved ones he’s let down.
Each step down the garden path lasts an eternity, and the paper in his pocket is a rock. He finally musters up the courage to knock weakly upon the door, hesitating before forcing himself to get on with it and do it.
It takes a minute, but soon the door swings open, and a familiar smell Sirius has missed for so long washes over him, and Remus is standing there, flour on his cheek, and his eyes and hair as honey-like as the first time Sirius had been fortunate enough to have laid eyes on him. Sirius tries to speak, but his mouth moves uselessly and the words swell in his throat and stick like bile, so he swallows them down.
Remus’ expression is carefully neutral, and his eyes are guarded, but Sirius knows him well enough to recognise the pain behind them. He tears his own eyes away, unable to acknowledge it for one second longer. Sirius fumbles around in his jacket and grasps at the sheet of paper tucked away in there, holding it out clumsily to Remus, refusing to look at him all the while.
Remus stares down at the piece of paper emotionlessly, and moves his gaze to Sirius’ face. “Come in,” he says flatly, moving aside to allow Sirius in.
Sirius follows him reluctantly down the hall to the kitchen without looking around, afraid he’ll see an ancient relic or a photograph Remus had forgotten to take down, and that the tears he’s been biting back will escape.
He takes a seat at the table, as does Remus, and busies himself with tracing the swirling patterns on the wood. Neither of them say a word, but he can feel Remus’ eyes on his face. Disappointed, maybe. Or perhaps he’s ashamed of what a coward Sirius is, just like Sirius is himself.
“The document?” Remus asks, but he isn’t asking really.
Sirius slides it across the table, and Remus straightens it out, and reaches for his pen-holder, his mouth tightening disapprovingly at the messy scrawl Sirius has provided instead of a signature. “I can barely read this.”
Sirius shrugs. “Yeah, well.”
Remus raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t respond, shaking the ink pen out. “It’ll be over, once we sign this paper,” he says. “Forever.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve already signed it,” Sirius responds bitingly. His nails bite into the wood of the table, trying to get through to the soft skin of his palms. His eyes burn, and he tries not to think of how handsome Remus looked that day, with his golden hair, and his golden eyes, and his golden heart, surrounded by friends and family, and his eyes full of nothing but love and adoration for Sirius, love and adoration Sirius didn’t deserve.
Remus purses his lips and picks up the pen with firmer fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, faster than he can stop himself.
Remus’ hands freeze, and he looks up in Sirius in disbelief. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” repeats Sirius. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude of me.”
Remus nods. “Yes, well. It’s – it’s all right.” His eyes return to the paper, and he reads over it one last time, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles Sirius has put in it. He smiles, soft and bittersweet, and it almost stops Sirius’ heart to see. “Wonder how it all happened. Us. This.”
Sirius coughs, and subtly brushes an eyelash away from his eye.
“Guess we just fell apart,” Remus shrugs, still smiling that awful smile. “I mean, you see it happening, but I couldn’t help but think it would never happen with us.”
“Me – me too,” Sirius croaks, feeling a thousand years old. His voice won’t stop cracking, and he hates himself for it.
“For a while, I thought we were going to make it through. After James and Lily died. Even if it was just for Harry. I suppose I was wrong.” He smiles at Sirius again, a sad thing that lifts the corner of his mouth half-heartedly, and Sirius wonders how long it’s been since Remus last smiled properly.
“And Harry?” asks Sirius, a little more life in his voice. “How is he?”
“He’s sleeping,” Remus answers quickly. “I wasn’t – I wasn’t sure how good it would be for him to see you. To see us like this.”
“You’re probably right,” rasps Sirius. He wishes he could be the perfect Godfather to Harry, the parent that Harry deserves, but he isn’t, and he hates himself for it. He feels guilty for feeling relieved that he won’t have to see Harry, and he knows Remus can see it.
“He misses you a lot, you know. Won’t stop asking about you.”
Sirius can hear the bitterness in Remus’ laugh. “I’m sorry,” he repeats dumbly, for the third time.
“Don’t be,” says Remus briskly, before seizing the pen and moving it towards the paper in earnest this time. “Both of us played our part in this.”
That isn’t true. Sirius knows that he’s the one to blame, just as well as Remus does. He watches the pen lift and drop, arcing smoothly down towards the paper …
“Stop.” The word spills from Sirius’ lips, louder than he’d intended for it to, and he realises he’s standing up.
Remus blinks, and looks up at him. “Stop?” he asks quizically. “You’re the one who asked for this. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Sirius’ chest is heaving, and he clutches onto the table. “I don’t know,” he says, panicking.
Remus sets the pen down. “You don’t know?” he repeats scathingly.
He’s hurt, and Sirius knows he has every right to be.
“I don’t want you to not be my husband.” He forces the words out, even though they tear at him inside.
“You haven’t been a very good husband, lately,” Remus says at last, and Sirius is horrified to see tears glistening around his lashes.
“I know. And I haven’t been a good father to Harry, either. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. And I can’t promise you I’ll fix myself and make it all better right away, because I can’t. But I’m still so in love with you, and being away from you is the worst thing I’ve done to myself, ever. And I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit.” He chokes a weak laugh out, and reaches up a hand to brush away the tears that are already falling from his eyes. He sits back down.
Remus hasn’t said anything for the past minute, but the tears by his lashes have begun to fall from his honey-coloured eyes.
“Don’t,” says Sirius harshly, once he’s managed to wipe the dampness away from his own eyes. “Don’t cry over me. I don’t deserve it.”
His voice cracks as he says it, and his throat aches like it never has before, and the shame is overwhelming, so he hides his face in his palm, and tries to look anywhere but Moony’s face.
Remus makes no move to stem the tears that flow from his eyes, as he continues to stare at him, golden eyes on washed-out grey. He picks up the awful paper, and crumples it in his hand like Sirius has wanted to do since he first printed the form out, and he tosses it to the floor.
He reaches across the table, and takes Sirius’ free hand. “Maybe we don’t sign it just yet,” he suggests.
“Judge’ll be bloody annoyed,” Sirius mumbles into his hand, before moving it so that he can look at Remus properly.
Remus smiles, and rubs his thumb gently across Sirius’ hand in his. “I know. But I think we’ll be okay.”
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Did you know?
professional Tai Chi Swords on: http://www.icnbuys.com/tai-chi-swords
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kometdancer · 4 years
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Happiness Will Come To You.
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kometdancer · 4 years
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~yourpositivityreminder
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kometdancer · 4 years
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Had amazing time with my cousin! She's so great and I love her so much!
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Garden vibes
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Just have to say, Happy Birthday to all Febuary birthdays. It's the shortest month but I know the most people born then, including myself. So Happy Birthday!
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kometdancer · 4 years
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kometdancer · 4 years
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Isn't that the truth
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kometdancer · 4 years
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💐💐💐
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kometdancer · 4 years
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okay i’m posting it now cuz i can’t wait :) enjoy!
“I can’t remember how you take your tea.”
Remus looked up, the book in his hands falling to his lap as he saw Sirius standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His eyes were cast downward, and his shoulders were hunched inward, looking like a child who was waiting to be scolded by their mother. His bottom lip was tucked neatly between his teeth and Remus fought the urge to stand up and kiss it better. Sirius’ eyes were sort of glossed over and there was a melancholic look on his face mixed with pure agitation and confusion.  
Azkaban had taken a lot of things from Sirius; Remus knew that. The dementors were vicious creatures who toyed with the happy memories of their victims and twisted them into faux nightmares. Sirius had spent twelve years with them and when he finally escaped, the man who came out was not the same as the man Remus once knew.
There were still instances of the old Sirius that Remus’ heart would melt for whenever they happened to appear. Like the crunch of his nose whenever he was thinking intently and the way he bounced on his toes whenever he got excited. The way his eyes lit up when Remus read to him and the barking laugh that was rare to hear these days. Little things like that made it bearable for Remus to withstand the screaming he woke up to every night and the blank expression that resided on Sirius’ face most of the time. It was heartbreaking to see, but Remus would bear it in the hope that one day, the Sirius he loved would fully return to him.
“That’s okay, Sirius.” Remus said calmly even as his heart sank deeper into his stomach. How many other details had the dementors made foreign to the man in front of him? “Just a splash of milk. No sugar.”
Sirius let out a disgruntled sigh and his eyebrows furrowed more. His bony fists clenched at his side as he became frustrated with himself and Remus thought for a brief moment that the frail bones may break under the pressure. Apparently, Sirius’ impatience was still intact.
“Okay.”
He turned and left the room, leaving Remus alone with his book once more. He couldn’t be bothered to focus on reading now, though, and set the novel down on the small coffee table before him. The sound of dishes clinking softly together came from the kitchen where Sirius was attempting to make the tea and Remus wondered if he should go in to help or stay put. It was always like that now. The decision making that should have been simple but seemed near impossible now because of the circumstance. Remus knew what he would have done fourteen years ago but things had changed—they had changed—and Remus was walking on pins and needles, waiting for the inevitable breakdown to come.
“Here you go.” Sirius’ voice brought Remus out of his mind and he reached forward to take the tea from Sirius’ outstretched hand. He took a sip, feeling Sirius’ gaze on him and his heart broke a little bit more as the taste of sugar filled his mouth, but it might as well have been salt because of the bitter flavor it left.
“Is it right?”
Remus looked up to the hesitant eyes of the man he loved and the hopeful gleam that was hidden behind them and smiled the best he could. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
 * * *
“I can’t remember the lyrics.”
Remus had come home from the market to see his records scattered across the bedroom floor with Sirius sitting in the middle of them, head in his hands and tears streaming down his face. The record that was actually playing was instantly recognizable to Remus as Billy Joel’s “Turnstiles” and the track was “James,” making the whole scene that much more painful to bear witness to.
It would have been so much easier if James were here, Remus thought. James always knew how to handle the worst sides of Sirius, the two of them always having some sort of connection others couldn’t even comprehend and it jarred Remus not for the first time in his life that he ever believed Sirius could betray James Potter. How the war had twisted them, broken them down into fragments of distrust and paranoia.
“That’s okay, Sirius.” Remus said because what else could he say? What comfort could he possibly offer the broken man before him when he was partially to blame for it all? Remus had left him to rot in Azkaban just like everybody else did. He should have known better. He did know better.
“I miss him. I miss them both.”
Remus just nodded. There was nothing he could say that would banish the pain and anguish Sirius felt over losing James and Lily. He himself had yet to figure out how others dealt with such grief, how they woke up every morning claiming to feel better. All Remus felt was worse, with each passing day acting as a reminder that James and Lily Potter were gone from the Earth, taken in such a cruel and devastating way. The world had celebrated—the Dark Lord was gone! Let the light thrive! —but Remus had felt nothing but despair, a hole forever left in his heart. How could there be light with the two of them gone? They should have lived. Over him, Sirius, Peter and everybody else who had somehow survived that first war, it should have been James and Lily who made it out alive. But it wasn’t. Because fate or destiny or prophecy or whatever the fuck it was had made up its mind.
So, Remus sat down on the floor next to Sirius, and they cried for their fallen friends.
* * *
“I can’t remember how she died.”
Remus cringed, closing his eyes and willing himself to keep it together. They were standing there, he and Sirius, in front of the smallest headstone in the cemetery—it was all Remus could afford—looking down at the name scrawled across it.
                          Hope Howell Lupin
                                1938 – 1979
She was only forty-one when the cancer had finally consumed her. It was almost ironic that Hope had survived the early stages of the war and all the attacks against muggles but was defeated by some chronic disease that had no cure—magic or otherwise. It pained Remus to sit there and do nothing as he watched her wallow away to nothing those last few months. She had grown thin and frail that Remus had taken to carrying her around like a small child everywhere she went. A part of him was glad that Sirius couldn’t remember. It was hard on the both of them. Sirius had adored Hope and she adored him in return. He was so starved for motherly affection and she was so happy that Remus had someone who loved him that the two of them became fast friends. The day she died, Sirius cursed every star in the sky for taking away such a woman. He screamed about how unfair life was that it had taken her away, that he would die ten times over just to have her back. At the time, all Remus could do was watch Sirius yell into the night as he tried to understand his own feelings. He was never truly able to.
“It was a brain tumor.” Remus said and he hated how his voice cracked. “Cancer. Terrible.”
Sirius nodded minutely and they were quiet once more. After everything happened—with James and Lily’s deaths, Peter being assumed dead as well, and Sirius being locked away—Remus thought his life was an embodiment of irony. He had lost everyone that was important to him in a matter of two years when in all reality, he should’ve been first to leave them all. The wolf inside of him was bound to kill him one day, and Remus was okay with that. He never thought he’d have to be the one grieving.
He would have rather taken the former option.
The feeling of Sirius’ cool fingers intertwining between his own pulled Remus from his thoughts and he turned to the man beside him. Sirius smiled, albeit a bit brokenly, and gave Remus’ palm a squeeze. All the walls Remus seemed to have put up broke down in that moment and he fell to his knees, pulling Sirius down with him. It was as if all the emotions he had been holding in for the past sixteen years came flooding to the surface, making him crumble.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Sirius whispered, delicate fingers running over Remus’ scalp.
“I’m sorry,” Remus stuttered, because he was. God, was he sorry.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine. It would never be fine. But Remus nodded anyway.
* * *
“I can’t remember our last kiss.”
Remus almost missed the quiet admittance of Sirius’ latest lost thought. Usually he sounded frustrated or sad whenever he talked to Remus about the things he couldn’t remember but now he almost sounded ashamed for forgetting such a thing. They were sitting on the back porch because Sirius was feeling too claustrophobic to be inside at the moment, gazing up at the night sky. Remus’ eyes would always find the moon while Sirius’ tended to linger on Regulus. Neither of them mentioned it, though.
“It was August. 1981. The 31st, I believe.” Remus said. He remembered it perfectly, the way it down poured that night, as if the universe knew what was about to come. “It was our last night together before Dumbledore sent me off…off with the werewolves.”
He took a breath to compose himself. It was the last good night before everything went to hell. The last good night the two of them had together before suspicion and paranoia drove them apart. Remus often wished he could go back to that night.
“We made love. You had left the window open and so the rain came in and chilled our skin, but we didn’t care. I just kept kissing you and you kept saying my name, like some sort of mantra or prayer. And afterwards we just laid there, arms wrapped around each other and legs intertwined. I didn’t want to let you go. I really didn’t. I wanted to…to run away with you that night. Just run away from it all. But I knew that we couldn’t. So, I just kept kissing you. Trying to memorize the way your lips felt on mine just…just in case.”
The silence between them seemed to stretch on for ages after Remus finished speaking. It was a lot to say, a lot of emotions to unpack. Remus was never good at talking about his emotions, but Sirius deserved this. He deserved to remember how much they meant to one another, no matter how much it hurt now.
“Remus?”
“Yes, Sirius?”
“I…will you kiss me?”
He finally turned to Sirius, who was looking at him sadly, silent tears streaming down his face. The moonlight illuminated his pale skin, offering an almost celestial glow on his broken appearance. Silver eyes that had long since turned to ash stared at Remus with such longing sorrow and the werewolf felt his heart break. Even though he was damaged, possibly beyond repair, he was still the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen.
Remus nodded minutely and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Sirius’. It was soft at first, hesitant, but then Sirius surged forward, hands reaching up to cling onto the back of Remus’ neck and pulling him forward. Remus brought his own hands up to curl in long locks of dark hair that crowded Sirius’ face, urgent and desperate, holding on like he would be taken away from him again at any moment. He wouldn’t let it happen. This was everything, Sirius was everything.
They were together again. Despite the odds, despite fate, they had somehow found their way back to one another. And Remus was not going to let go.
They broke apart, hands still holding one another close, gasping for the same air and looking at each other like they used to, back when all that mattered was their love.
“Was that like how you remember?”
“Yes,” Remus gasped, and he smiled genuinely for the first time in years, “Exactly how I remember.”
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kometdancer · 4 years
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I love how it mentions that people notice things about it us that even we don't. I think it just brings a great message to others.
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kometdancer · 4 years
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When someone says these days sexism and misogyny don’t exist anymore show them this.
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kometdancer · 4 years
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kometdancer · 4 years
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