marauderstower | spoopy shenanigans [ota]

"Know so. You've been-- really helping him, Moony. I can't thank you enough."

And that, at least, is honest. That at least, doesn't hurt to say.

It's the rest of it that hurts. It's the rest of it that's got him waving a hand dismissively, the cigarette making careless smoke loops in the air.

"Don't worry about. Reg told me why y'didn't say. 'm just glad it wasn't because you thought I'd be-- awful about it, or something."

That's considerably less true, but maybe if he says it enough times he'll believe it, himself.

He finally braves a glance up at Sirius, half because the firewhiskey seems to be kicking in on top of the cocktail he had earlier, and half because what Sirius said is truly touching. That he can say something so genuine amidst all the false bravado means a lot, and he's almost able to smile when–

His brows draw together. In a moment of confusion, he realizes two things: the first is what Sirius is referring to, and the second is that he really shouldn't have had that firewhiskey, because he cannot for the life of him seem to control the expression on his face.

Too late, he turns his look of utter guilt away from Sirius, lifting the bottle to his lips again in what's both a terrible idea and an attempt to cover up the look that he's certain Sirius has already seen.

Well, that's. Not a good sign. That's got him taking a deep drag of his cigarette as Remus takes a swig. It gets his nerves down to some place manageable for him to keep his voice from shaking when he asks.

"--what is it, Remus?"

Did he say something? He doesn't know what about his past words would have, unless--

"--did you think I was going to be awful about it?"

He can't help that that hurts to ask.

Edited (i was not done + also wrong face) 2016-10-09 04:09 (UTC)

There's a droop to his shoulders now that gives him a defeated air. Once again, he can't look at Sirius, instead focusing on the mottled play of leaves in the breeze, the weak light from the house behind them making them just visible from within the deeper shadows.

There was nothing for it, now. He couldn't lie to Sirius.

"Regulus... had his reasons for not wanting to tell you," he begins, voice low as though he were in a confessional. "They were easy to go along with. But I–" He draws in a sharp breath, hand tightening around the neck of the bottle before he forces himself to continue. When he speaks, it's barely a whisper.

"I thought you'd never speak to me again, Sirius." He blinks, then closes his eyes entirely against the sudden burn behind them. "I thought I'd lose you forever."

That feels like a punch to the gut. That his him stepping back just slightly from the shock, trying to melt into the shadow a little more; back into the darkness where he belongs.

He almost swallows the cigarette, because the smoke isn't getting into his lungs fast enough. He manages, somehow, to keep his voice from trembling somehow when he speaks.

"Why?" Good. Somehow he manages to keep that steady and not at all hurting. Any roughness on the edges is obviously from the cigarette smoke, "'f I didn't care about-- your furry little problem, why would I-- care about this? 've never said anything-- before, when you've mentioned it."

Or maybe.

"Or 's it-- 'cause it's Reg? Merlin, Moony, why would I care about that?" He can name a few reasons, but he isn't going to. This is about making Remus feel like this is okay. Like Sirius is okay, "You're-- wonderful. And he needs more wonderful in his life. This is-- this is only a good thing."

There. That's a good lie. That one he'd managed to make sound almost completely honest.

"Of course it's because it was Regulus!" The words are flowing before he can stop them, and he lets them go because his head feels a bit fuzzy now and it's easier than trying to make them stop. Better to get it all out in the open now anyway. Better to come clean than keep up the lies that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"I thought you hated him, Sirius. Your whole family, I thought–" He goes to lift the bottle to his lips but stops halfway, for once thinking the better of it and instead holding it out to Sirius to take. He probably needs it about now anyway.

"You acted like he didn't exist. You wouldn't even speak his name. And then there I was, falling–" He cuts himself off again and drags in a ragged breath, shaking his head. "I thought you'd hate me for consorting with the very people you'd been trying to escape."

He's grateful for the darkness. It means that the way he flinches will be hidden from his friend. It means that the way his hand shakes slightly as he takes the bottle back and drinks it will probably not be visible. He'll give it back after a moment, letting his finished cigarette drop to the ground and crushing it out before he lights up another one. He shuts his eyes and inhales smoke instead of a breath.

Regulus loves Remus. Remus is in love with Regulus, or at least most of the way there. That's that. Game over-- not that it'd ever really started for him.

And it's fine. It's really, really Fine. Sirius is going to be Okay.

Now to just convince Remus of that. His voice is soft as he replies.

"Reg is my brother," he says quietly, "I was-- ashamed of leaving him and that's why I couldn't-- bear to talk about him. I still am. But I couldn't-- I couldn't hate him. He was never like our-- our parents."

Never would be, partially thanks to this other young man before him.

"And I-- I could never hate you, Moony. You're-- you're family." His voice trembles at that, but he tries to cover it with another drag of his cigarette, "'s nothing you could-- ever do, to push me away."

Even this, apparently. Even break his heart, though the other man doesn't know he's doing it.

"You were.... You were l-like my brother, even before this. You're-- absolutely family, now, and not from my-- shitty one, either. I couldn't stop-- caring about you anymore than I could James or Reg or Pete, no matter what you did.

"Like a brother," Remus says flatly, echoing Sirius' words as something inside of him crumbles. He'd always known it was there, of course, and he'd always known Sirius didn't feel the same. He'd known since Sirius had informed him confidently that he'd decided he was going to figure out how to become an animagus so that Remus wouldn't have to be alone. The feelings had been there all along but he'd never dared to give them voice, hardly dared to even acknowledge them for fear of losing the first real friend he'd ever had. The one person in his life that he couldn't bear to lose.

And now, somehow, it felt like he was losing him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that his feelings for Sirius would rear their ugly head now, not after everything. What's happened with Regulus wasn't planned, but it's something good that he would never part with. He's come to love Regulus – dearly – even if he hasn't yet been able to say it in so many words, but apparently that hasn't quashed what he feels for Sirius. Not entirely.

But they are practically family. They always have been, and that's always been enough. He shouldn't feel like he's losing something when Sirius is still here beside him, telling him that it's going to be okay.

He takes another swig from the bottle he hadn't realized was back in his hand.

And then he's moving before he knows it. Reaching out and grasping Sirius' sleeve like he's done so many, many times before.

"Sirius..."

He looks at Sirius, and there's something pleading in his eyes, because he can tell they're on the cusp of something. Whether that something is moving forward and being happy or having everything fall apart around them, he can't say. He also can't say the words that he really wants to, and so he simply says what he can:

"You know that... that you mean everything to me, right? You always have. Since the first day we met."

It makes his breath catch just slightly, to have Remus reaching out and grabbing at his sleeve right now. It hurts more than he could possibly imagine, knowing Remus has done exactly this for Regulus. Knowing that they're happy and Sirius giving any indication he's otherwise could break that.

He can't help that Remus' words make something crack in him. He tries his best to keep himself smiling.

"Well-- yeah," he manages feebly, "We're mates. We-- care about one another. We've got each other's backs. I-- I love you, 'nd-- you love me."

And he can manage to say it just like he does to James or Peter or Regulus. He can.

Remus stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. Now, he knows, is the time. The only chance he'll get.

"I love you too," he says, locking his eyes with Sirius and trying to convey all the things he can't say. Not anymore. There's an apology there. A sadness, and a deep sincerity. "I love you, Sirius."

For a moment, a part of him wants to believe he's saying what he's always wanted him to. A part of him wants, desperately, for that look in Remus' eyes to be Saying Something.

But then that part of him quiets entirely beneath the reminder that Remus loves Regulus. That Sirius has never been deserving of Remus. That the hope he's reading into Remus' look and words is solely wishful thinking.

"I know." And he is, at least, certain that Remus loves him like a brother. He can breathe and smile for that, shaky but real, back at at Remus, "I do, Moony. And I promise I'm-- happy for you."

That's true, too, at least.

"You should-- go back in. Check on Reg. He's probably freaking out again."

It's clear that Sirius doesn't understand the magnitude of what he's said – doesn't really get what he's trying to say at all. If he does, he's doing an admirable job of hiding it. Perhaps it's for the best, though. If Sirius doesn't fully grasp what he'd been trying to say. It's not like it would make a difference, anyway. Nothing would change.

He watches Sirius closely for a moment, scrutinizing his expression for any hint of... he doesn't know what. Finally, he nods. With one last squeeze to the fabric between his fingers – not even something Sirius would be able to feel – he releases his grasp on Sirius' sleeve.

It feels like letting go of something forever.

"You'll be all right?"

Edited 2016-10-12 14:55 (UTC)

He'll probably see the hint of resignation, but Sirius still remembers how to do this. His expression won't reveal much else-- not how devastated he is. Not how much this hurts.

It takes him a moment to remember he's supposed to be unquestionably happy. The smile trembles, but he keeps it on his face anyways.

"Of course I will be."

Something still doesn't feel right about leaving it like this. He can tell Sirius is holding something back, but he isn't at all certain what it is.

He hates this, really. Hates the feeling of a wall rising between them and being left with no way to rectify the problem. Of course Sirius is going to be distant after Remus had lied to him for so long. He'd brought this upon himself, dammit. He can't complain about having to lie in the grave he'd dug all on his own. Still, he hesitates, finding it hard to turn away once and for all.

"...okay..." As though just remembering it, he holds out the bottle of firewhiskey, half wondering if he oughtn't have returned to the party with it if just to make sure Sirius doesn't finish the bloody thing on his own.

"If you need to talk, you'll find me, yeah? Promise?"

He tries not to look too eager when he takes the bottle back. He doesn't take a swig of it just yet, though that's mainly because he's trying to still finish of his cigarette.

His nod is mostly instinct, but he somehow manages a smile.

"If I need to talk."

It isn't going to be talking that he needs. Moony doesn't need to know that. He just needs to think that maybe Sirius will come and talk to him about things so that Sirius has enough time to drown himself in the firewhisky and act Normal the rest of the night.

He can get into a fight or a crash or something to kill the pain tomorrow. Reguls and Remus' eyes will be far too sharp tonight.

He watches Sirius for a moment longer, but finally he nods. Sirius is going to do what he wants like Sirius always does, and right now it's obvious that he doesn't want to talk. Doesn't want to be around Remus at all, if the tension he thinks he's picking up is anything to go by.

"Right then."

And it's awkward, turning his back on someone who'd been the center of his world for so long, who'd held more of his esteem and affection than any other living person, especially with the lingering feeling that something's been left unsaid. He'd said his piece, though. And now there's nothing more to say. And so he forces himself to turn – to put one foot haltingly in front of the other – and return to the party, not looking back.

He's going to need a damn stiff drink after this one.

"Later, Moony."

It takes everything in him not to say 'goodbye.' It will feel too final-- like he's giving himself an out that he's not sure he wants to take.

So instead he downs enough of the bottle to make himself feel fuzzy around the edges. He smokes until he can breathe again.

Returns to the party with a smile that doesn't feel at all real, but is still looks surprisingly good, all things considered.

spoopy shenanigans [ota]

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I'd like to take this moment to remind you that Remus is still in a freaking sheep onesie

i cannot believe

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