Bewitched | wolfstar au

Ninety-one

After dinner, Remus is on his way to Sirius' room when he sees someone on the balcony. He takes a step back and squints at the silhouette, trying to figure out who it is.

And he feels his blood run cold when he sees it's Sirius. The first instinct is to yell out his name, but Remus can't even breathe, let alone speak. All he can think is that Sirius is going to jump.

Shakily, he moves closer.

"Sirius?" He calls.

Sirius turns around. Remus notices the cigarette between his fingers. "Hey," Sirius gives him a small grin. It fades quickly as his eyes skim across Remus' face. "Remus?" He frowns, "Is something wrong?"

Remus blinks. Is something wrong?

"Did you," Sirius frowns deeper, taking a few steps so that they're closed. Remus flinches a bit at the smell of smoke. Sirius' voice is markedly softer as he speaks, "Did you think I was going to jump off my balcony?"

It would be comical to hear it put like that, if Remus hasn't been thinking that all this time. He swallows. "I... I don't know," he mumbles, "Maybe."

Sirius nods. "I can understand that," he replies. He sits down in front of the railing, crossing his legs, and leans back against the wall behind him. "Come sit," he pats the floor next to him. Remus obeys quietly.

He watches Sirius take a long drag. And then, deciding that it's enough, he reaches out and plucks it from Sirius' fingers. Sirius turns to him, surprised.

Remus looks at the cigarette for a minute, at the stringy wisp of smoke gently swimming into the air from its tip. He looks at Sirius then, and throws the cigarette over the railing.

Sirius stares at Remus, face blank. Remus almost thinks he's made him angry, but then Sirius says,

"Well, that was hot."

So surprised is Remus that he can't even blush.

"Hopefully you didn't just start a fire," Sirius adds. That makes Remus blush. Sirius laughs at him. But his face grows sombre very quickly.

"Hey, Remus?" He mumbles, scooting a bit closer.

It's cold outside. Christmas is steadily approaching, and the nights are slowly growing colder and colder. The sky is pink, as it always is in this part of London, and Remus can't make out any stars. But the moon... The moon is almost full, and the way it shines in the rosy haze of the night sky is almost cruel.

Remus looks down quickly.

"Hmm?" He replies.

"I wasn't going to jump, I promise."

"I know," Remus says, carefully observing the pale scars on his forearms.

"Putting aside the fact that I won't achieve much more than breaking an arm," Sirius huffs, "I don't... I don't want to."

Remus looks up at Sirius. "You don't want to?"

"I don't want to... Die," Sirius says quietly, as if it's an admission he doesn't want to make. His hands are tight fists on his lap. Remus reaches out for one, twisting their fingers together. Sirius lets him.

"I didn't want to, not even... On that day," he says, "I didn't want to die. I just wanted it to stop."

Remus can't take his eyes off of Sirius' face. It's drawn in all the colours of sadness, and Remus has never seen anything quite like it.

"I'm sorry," Sirius sighs.

"What for?" Remus asks.

"I don't know," Sirius shrugs, finally looking up. He leans his head back, tilting his face up to look at the moon. He turns his face to Remus. "For complicating everything. For looking for an easy way out."