Chapter Text
Sirius blinks, and the dumpling that was precariously balanced at the end of his chopsticks drops to his plate with a gentle ‘thwack.’ “What,” he says, not as a question, but a statement.
Emmeline bites her lip—pink and soft and oh how Sirius wants to taste it, even now—her expression one of nervousness and regret. For a second, fragile and sweet hope blooms inside of Sirius, until Emmeline sighs and says, “I’m not happy. Neither of us are.”
Hand still in the air, chopsticks poised even as his dumpling is now lying forgotten on his plate, Sirius gapes at her. “What?”
“Sirius… this isn’t working, it hasn’t been working for a while—”
“What?”
“—and it’s not you. Well, I mean it’s not you specifically, it’s us—
“What?” Sirius can feel his voice rising to a desperate pitch, one he knows he’ll be embarrassed of later, but he can’t help it. This can’t be happening. It can’t.
“Sirius,” Emmeline says, her cheeks red and her mouth tight with pain. “Please stop saying what.”
Sirius feels his expression crumple, transitioning from confusion to hurt to rage. It feels as if his heart has stopped beating in his chest. He wouldn't be surprised if it’s fallen out and rolled away, lost under the lazy suzan beside them; doomed and forgotten amongst the crumbs and stray rice.
“I,” he says succinctly. There’s so much he wants to say. So much he can’t say. Mostly he wants to shake Emmeline. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? They’re so good together, aren’t they? Aren’t they?
Emmeline watches him warily, evidently cautious of the blow-up she knows is coming. Her next words are careful and measured. “I know this is probably a shock, and I’m sorry Sirius, I really am. But I think in time, you’ll come to understand why I’m doing this. I really do believe it’s for the best; not just for me, but for you too.”
Sirius wants to scream. Instead, he says: “Is there someone else?”
Emmeline’s cheeks redden slightly, and Sirius swears he can feel his eyes bulge out of his head. He can’t believe it. He really, really can’t. Not from Emmeline of all people. Consistent, reasonable, loyal Emmeline…
“I can’t believe it,” he says, because he can’t. “I can’t believe you.”
“Look—”
"It's like I don't even know you. You disgust me," he spits. He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth; truly, he does. They're not even true. But he can feel the burning rage rising, licking up his spine and turning the contents of his stomach to acid. It’s only a matter of time before he hurtles across the point of no return, but in that moment, he struggles to find it in himself to care.
Her eyes narrow, the warm brown that usually feels like home turning dark and furious. “Sirius,” she hisses. “Don't be a dick. I know it hurts, but that doesn’t give you free rein to insult me.”
“You just broke up with me! If there’s any time to be a dick, it’s now. Fucking hell, Em. We’re about to go on holiday!”
Emmeline’s face twists and she throws her napkin down on her plate. “See! I'm trying to break up with you, and the first thing you think of is this holiday. The holiday isn’t going to fix our relationship, Sirius. I never even wanted to go on it! It’s like—it’s like. You don’t even listen!”
“Oh, so this is my fault, then,” Sirius says crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He feels his baser instincts, to lash out and to cause harm, rearing up. It’s like a wound that refuses to heal over; always seeping, weeping absolute vitriol.
“Sirius… can we please be mature about this? Please?”
“I don’t want to be mature, Emmeline,” he says, his voice rising. "You're breaking my heart."
“Sirius… I really am sorry, but—”
For some reason, this final, feeble apology is the breaking point for Sirius. At this point, he knows he has two options: blow up in the middle of his favourite restaurant, or leave. What would Remus do? he thinks. Remus; his best friend and omnipresent voice of reason.
Remus would leave.
So, Sirius stands up and strides out of the restaurant, not registering where he’s going, the only thought in his mind being that he needs to get out out out. He ends up in a nearby alleyway, glaring at the rats as they scuttle away, as if their presence has disturbed him and not the other way around.
“Sirius!” Emmeline calls from behind him.
He turns to see her out of breath and clutching her abdomen. He feels a twinge of guilt, and he desperately tries to ignore it. He should be upset. He’s allowed to feel upset about this. He’s the dumpee. He’s allowed to be mad. He’s the hurt one this time.
He swallows roughly. “Come to rub it in?”
“Sirius,” she sighs, her hand idly massaging her stomach. She winces, even though Sirius can tell she tries to hide it.
At that, he deflates. It knocks all of the fight out of him and he closes his eyes for one, two, three seconds. And then: “Endo?”
Emmeline’s nut brown eyes hold his gaze for a long moment, assessing. Then she nods.
“C’mon,” Sirius sighs. “Let’s go home. I’ll prep your hottie and you can take your meds. And then we’ll talk.”
They talk. And it doesn’t go well. Emmeline’s pain makes her weary, and Sirius’s pain makes him hostile.
And then that’s it.
After Emmeline leaves, Sirius locks himself in the bathroom of his own flat—a pointless precaution, seeing as the only person who would interrupt him has just permanently left his flat and his life—and cries.
He loses track of time. He wants to call James or Remus, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to make his fingers work. He wonders if this is what death feels like; where everything feels unreal.
He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing; the one thing he remembers how to do.
Minutes, maybe hours, later, his phone lights up on the floor beside him with a succession of texts from Lily.
———
lilypad: so excited to see you and em tonight!
it’s going to be so lovely, thank you again for organising everything!
james is insisting on dj-ing… prepare for an onslaught of dizzee rascal and panjabi mc
if i have to listen to bassline junkie ONE more time……
😫
———
And then, seconds later, it’s followed up by a text from James.
———
prongsie x: 💃 Big 💃 Dirty 💃 Stinkin 💃 Bass 💃
———
Despite everything, a laugh bubbles up Sirius’s throat. And then that laugh turns into a sob. And Sirius curls up again, his arms pulled tightly around himself. It’s the worst day of his life.
It’s also the day of his best friend’s engagement party.
At 10pm, well and truly beyond the 7pm start time of the party that he himself organised, Sirius straightens his shirt and frowns at his reflection. He tries to smile, but all he can see is how terse and false it looks; like a sad impression of a smile. He still looks handsome—not vanity, but a fact—but his usually graceful features are sharpened. Every part of his face is strained in some way. His eyebrows are knitted with tension, his mouth is a straight line, and his usually bright silver eyes are dull and stormy, offset by the surrounding red and puffy skin. He has to keep reminding himself to stop clenching his jaw, to stop grinding his teeth.
He looks like his mother. And that thought makes him grind his teeth even harder.
The party is in full swing when Sirius arrives. Lily and James’s neat little townhouse is packed with people who spill out onto the street as loud music blares from James’s expensive sound system. Gone is the polite conversation and delicate sips of champagne that Sirius knows started the night; everyone is well and truly drunk, and Sirius is miserable.
As Sirius enters their house, politely smiling at the group of girls smoking by the front door, he’s hit with an onslaught of sound. Loud chattering and laughing, with music thumping away in the background. Usually, the thrumming base and intensity would excite him. Now, it makes him want to hide.
In the lounge, people are dancing, their silhouettes illuminated by bright led lights, and Sirius weaves through the crowds, looking for Remus’s head of curls.
As Sirius enters the living room, a voice cries “Sirius!” and Sirius suddenly finds himself being hugged by Benjy Fenwick. He’s smiling goofily up at Sirius, who is frozen in a stunned silence. Sirius has always had the distinct impression that Benjy doesn’t like him very much: a fact that has always mildly perturbed him. As far as he knows, he’s never done anything to Benjy that would warrant dislike. Hell, he hardly ever sees him outside of the odd flat party. He knows that Remus is friendly with Benjy: he’s always meant to ask Remus what Benjy’s problem is.
“And where’s your lovely lady tonight?” Benjy continues. “A little birdie told me she won’t be joining us.” He pouts.
Sirius wants to hit Benjy on the head for the way he says ‘a little birdie.’ Condescending dickhead.
Instead, he says, “Not tonight. Next time, though, yeah?” He follows it up with what he’s sure is a thoroughly unconvincing smile.
Nonetheless, Benjy seems to buy it and slaps his shoulder. “Good man!”
Sirius supresses the urge to roll his eyes. He needs a drink. He needs to lock himself in the bathroom and cry. He needs to find Lily and have her hold him and stroke his hair. But it’s Lily’s engagement party, and Sirius doesn’t want to bother her with his woes; he does enough of that already, he thinks. He’s always been the group’s flight risk, the one everyone has to walk on eggshells around. The one always taking up too much space with his problems. He doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn’t know how to change. Maybe that's just the problem; maybe Emmeline just got tired of Sirius’s shit. He wouldn’t blame her, he’s sick of his own shit too.
He needs a drink. He needs to get utterly bollocksed on free champagne and then sneak home and sit in the bathroom and eat ice cream and cry until the wee hours of the morning. It’s a fine plan, he thinks. He’ll be just fine.
As he enters the living room, he looks around, looking for—there, yes. He sees a head of tawny curls that stands a good ten centimetres higher than anyone else in the room and he smiles. At the back of his mind, he thinks that it's the first genuine smile he's managed since he left that restaurant.
He makes his way over to where Remus is eating chips and talking to a plain, bespectacled man who appears to be passionately talking about something. Remus is nodding along vaguely, but is clearly distracted, looking around at the lights as they bounce off the walls.
He looks utterly sozzled. His golden cheekbones are dusted pink, and his hair is a disaster. He looks almost cute, Sirius thinks idly. Remus’s eyes widen in wonder as the colour of the lights change, reflecting rainbows all over the ceiling and walls. Sirius bites his lip and smiles. He loves drunk Remus.
“—and that’s something that people really don’t understand about it, you know? The nuance. It is cinema. It’s so intricate—”
“Er, alright. If you say so… sorry, what was your name again?” Remus peers down at the man.
“Vernon. I’m Lily’s brother-in-law."
“Oh, right. Yes, Vernon,” Remus says. Then he laughs, throwing his whole head back so that it exposes the long, golden column of his neck. “Of course.”
“What—” the man—Vernon—begins to say, just as Remus notices Sirius.
“Sirius!” Remus pushes past Vernon, smiling dopily as he lopes across the room. He pulls to a stop in front of Sirius, his glassy amber eyes darting around Sirius's face, before he pulls Sirius against his chest with his long arms. Ordinarily, Remus is not a very outwardly affectionate person, but he can be a very tactile drunk whenever the mood strikes. Tonight, the mood has clearly struck, and Sirius is thankful for it. He adores Remus’s hugs; he's surprisingly warm and soft considering his gangly limbs and knobbly knees. He smells like rosemary and old books, like home. Next to Emmeline’s perfume, it’s Sirius's favourite smell in the whole world.
Sirius inhales and closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment. He thinks he could almost forget about his shitty, truly awful day in Remus’s arms. “Hey Moons,” he says, his voice muffled against Remus's chest.
Remus chuckles, giving him a squeeze, before letting go. “Alright?” Remus grins down at him, his amber eyes sparkling, and his cheeks flushed a deep red. Sirius wonders how much champagne he's had.
Sirius steps back, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Where’s the—oh.”
He reaches around Remus to grab a flute of champagne from the table. It's then that he notices the can of beer in Remus's hand. Sirius can’t help his slight nose scrunch when he sees the label. Beer, as a rule, is generally unpleasant, but as he’s discovered through his long-standing friendship with Remus, some beer is truly foul. He tried, once, to get Remus into craft beer, which resulted with Remus calling it "posh tosh" and pouring it down the sink. He's convinced that Remus had actually enjoyed it but pretended otherwise just make a point, just to piss Sirius off. Typical stubborn Moony.
“Where’s Em?” Remus asks, nudging Sirius.
“Not here,” he replies, trying not to sound too affected.
“That’s too bad. Who else am I going to sneak off with to get midnight kebabs now, hm?”
“Me,” Sirius says, his eyes narrowing. It’s become a bit of a ritual between the three of them: Sirius, Remus, and Emmeline sneaking out of parties to go get kebabs. Emmeline isn't here, but he and Remus can still sneak off; it’s not like kebabs are contingent on her.
Remus tilts his head, considering. And then he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
Fuck, Sirius thinks. Damn Remus for being so observant, even while plastered.
“I just—I’m tired of people asking me where Em is. It’s getting on my nerves.”
“Oh,” Remus frowns. “It’s just a little odd is all. You two are usually attached at the hip.”
“Well. Not anymore,” Sirius mumbles.
Remus inhales sharply, and Sirius lifts his gaze to meet Remus's. Remus’s eyes dart around his face, and he must find something in Sirius’s expression, because his mouth hardens and he grasps Sirius’s hand. He pulls Sirius out of the kitchen and steers him through the crowds of people, tugging Sirius into Lily and James’s newly refurbished downstairs bathroom.
Remus locks the door behind them. And then he turns around. Sirius swallows. He’s never been good at lying to Remus.
“Pads?” Remus asks gently, moving towards him slowly. “What’s going on?”
“It smells odd in here,” Sirius says.
“Pads,” Remus says again, his voice firmer this time. His cheeks are still flushed, but his eyes are clearer than they were five minutes ago.
“Nothing!” Sirius insists. And then, quieter: “Nothing… I just…” he takes a desperate sip of his champagne and meets Remus's eyes. His expression is soft and unbearably kind, and internally Sirius curses him: damn Remus for being so… so Remus.
Sirius sighs, rubbing at his face. “We broke up," he says quietly, finally. "She broke up with me.”
He quickly turns away and swallows down the last of his champagne, unable to stomach the expression of inevitable pity he knows Remus is wearing right now. He hops up onto the counter beside the sink and leans back against the mirror, closing his eyes.
"Sirius," comes Remus's voice, and he feels soft fingertips against his own calloused ones. The touch shocks Sirius into opening his eyes, and he's faced with Remus, whose eyes are brimming with a strange combination of emotions. But, amongst them, he can't detect any pity. Instead, he sees sadness, confusion, even something akin to relief, and that confuses him. Remus and Emmeline adore each other. A dark part of his mind wonders if maybe Remus wants Emmeline for himself.
“So anyway,” Sirius says roughly, forcing himself to look away from Remus and his too-perceptive eyes. “I was wondering if you wanted to come on holiday. It’ll be fun, like old times: me and you, partners in crime.” He laughs hollowly.
“Wait,” Remus says, his eyebrows knitted in concern. “Sirius, slow down. Emmeline broke up with you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius says, waving it off. He knows once he starts talking about it, he’ll start crying again, and he doesn’t want to do that. He can’t do that. “Anyway, I know it’s short notice, but the tickets are non-refundable and I was really looking forward to it. So… will you come?”
“Where?”
“On holiday.”
Remus's eyes bore into him. “You want me to come with you on the holiday that you specifically booked for you and your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Sirius corrects. “We can fly from Europe to India for James and Lily’s wedding. That was always the plan. You just get an extra long holiday now too, and I don’t have to burn the tickets.” He tries to shrug, but he thinks it comes across more like a flinch.
Remus continues to stare at Sirius searchingly. Once again, several emotions flicker across his face, only this time, his expression lands on something like hope.
Remus swallows down the last of his beer, his adam’s apple moving with the motion. He puts the can down on the counter and wipes his mouth. “Yeah. Okay.”
After that, they re-enter the party. Sirius feels lighter. He still wants to cry, but it’s a relief knowing that Remus knows. It felt nice to tell Remus what had happened. It always does.
“Sirius! Remus!” Lily calls out when they enter the lounge. She hugs them both tightly. “I’m so happy to see you both. I’ve had far too much champagne with far too little food, and James is playing DJ. Someone needs to talk sense into him! Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to listen to Chumbawamba for five hours consecutively! He’s going to scare all the guests off..."
Sirius laughs. He knows from experience that they’d have to pry James’s phone from his cold, dead hands before they could ever convince him to relinquish the aux cord.
“Think about it, Lils,” Sirius says. “This is a preview for the rest of your life: questionable music and aux cord hogging.”
Remus nods, smiling prettily. “And yet you love him anyway.”
“And yet I love him anyway…” Lily repeats, sighing. She turns to Sirius. “I was sad to hear Em isn’t coming tonight, Sirius. I need to talk to her about saris! I hope her endo flare up doesn’t last too long this time. Poor Em…”
“Erm, yeah,” Sirius says awkwardly. “Another time.”
Luckily Lily’s too drunk for her usual perceptiveness and doesn’t seem to notice Sirius’s stiff tone. Instead, she rounds on Remus.
“But you, Lupin,” she says, drunkly pointing her finger at a bemused, pink-cheeked Remus. “I swear to god, if you don’t bring a date to our wedding…”
“It's not going to happen. Sorry, Lily," he says apologetically.
“I just… you have so much boyfriend potential! You’re starving London’s singles of a wonderful experience.”
Remus smiles, a little slyly. “I’m quite well acquainted with London’s singles, actually.”
Lily rolls her eyes. “Would it kill you to go on a proper date? One that doesn’t end up with you ghosting them?”
“I'm just not interested." Remus follows his words with a placating smile.
Lily sighs forlornly. "Love truly is dead." Then, she smiles and shakes her head. “Sirius, do you remember that poem Remus wrote in fourth form English?”
Sirius laughs. “As if I could ever forget."
Remus groans. "Guys, please," he begs.
Lily’s eyes gleam with mischief. Sirius loves Lily all the time, but he adores her when she’s like this. “How did it go again? 'When you’re around, all the other stars fade away’?”
“I believe there were also some lovely little metaphors in there,” Sirius teases. “It was all ‘marble skin’ and ‘Adonis incarnate'... who was fifteen year old Moony writing sappy gay poetry about, anyway?”
Remus flushes bright red and refuses to look at either of them.
“Meanwhile,” Lily says, turning to Sirius, “Sirius over here wrote a poem about James’s arse.”
“Not that the teachers realised…” Remus mumbles.
“And I won an award for it too," Sirius says lightly. "That’s an award-winning arse you’re marrying, Lils. Be grateful.”
“It’s a great arse,” Lily sighs. "And it's about to be mine. Forever." She giggles in a decidedly un-Lily-like fashion. Sirius feels Remus's snort of laughter beside him. "Six years," she continues dreamily. "They've been the best six years of my life. It's strange, I can remember the first day as if it were yesterday, but it still like we've been together forever, like I can't remember life before." She smiles. "I'm sure you understand, Sirius; you and Em have been together for, what... seven years, now?"
“No,” Sirius says abruptly.
Lily seems to come out of her James-induced trance as she tilts her head to the side, raising her eyebrow at him. “No?"
“No,” Sirius says. He bites his lip. He looks at Remus, whose expression is gently encouraging. Fuck it, thinks Sirius. Fuck it. “Not anymore.”
Lily stares at him. “What?”
“Not anymore," he repeats. "I'm not... we're not..." He averts his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling, watching the strobe lights bounce off it. Sunset colours: yellow, orange, and pink. "She dumped me," he says.
“Sirius," Lily says after a long moment. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” Her voice is soft and concerned, and it draws his gaze back towards her. He immediately regrets it, because as he looks into Lily’s mossy green eyes, he can feel something dangerously close to a sob bubbling up through his chest.
He tries to ignore it, just as he tries to ignore Lily’s question. “But the good news is I can finally shag men. Moony’s going to teach me everything he knows, aren’t you Moons?”
Remus's cheeks are pink. “I, er. Um.”
“Sirius, love,” Lily says gently. “Stop trying to deflect.”
At that, something inside Sirius breaks. And to his own horror, he bursts into tears.
From there, things are a bit of a blur. He’s vaguely aware of Lily and Remus guiding him through the lounge. Sirius focuses on the song that’s playing—Selena Gomez’s A Year Without Rain, a drunk-James classic—and tries to tune out the party goers around them asking if he’s okay.
The next thing he’s aware of is him being steered into Lily and James’s bedroom, which is where Sirius ends up on the bed with his head in Lily’s lap and Remus kneeling down in front of him, stroking his hair.
Then James bursts into the room. “Padfoot, my love! I came as soon as I heard! Who made you cry? Who do I have to fight?”
Sirius lets out a pathetic sob, which sends a new cascade of tears down his face. He’s vaguely aware of the conversation going on around him, and hears the words “break up” and “Emmeline” whispered between Lily and James. He tunes it out. He just focuses on Remus’s face: on Remus’s amber eyes that are looking at him so gently.
After Sirius has calmed down, his eyes dry but still tight and sore, James kneels down in front of him. “What do you want to do, Pads? I can kick everyone out and we can all make a blanket fort in the lounge and cry together?”
Oddly, James’s suggestion just makes Sirius want to cry again. It’s a very typical James thing to suggest: to offer to kick everyone out of his own engagement party because Sirius’s life is a tragic mess. Sirius’s heart swells with love. And then guilt. Why does he always have to make everything about himself? At this rate, he should just forego their wedding. He’s bound to find a way to ruin that as well. As if sensing the dark direction of Sirius’s thoughts, Remus squeezes his hand.
Sirius leans into Remus, pressing their sides together. “No. I want to get shit faced,” Sirius says. “Absolutely plastered. And then I want to go home, eat ice cream, and cry.”
“I’ll come,” Remus offers immediately, untangling his fingers with Sirius’s so that he can wrap his arm around Sirius’s shoulders.
Sirius sinks into the embrace. “I couldn’t ask that of you, Moons. I know you like pulling at parties.”
Remus huffs out a laugh and gives Sirius a squeeze. “Believe it or not, you’re more important to me than a shag, Pads.” And then he clears his throat. “Besides, I, er. I'm all good.”
Sirius pulls back to look at a lightly blushing Remus.
James laughs. “You’re a bloody menace, Moony. Insatiable.”
“Here?” Lily squawks. “Where?”
Remus blushes harder, as the sly smile returns for the second time that evening, and the resulting expression is coy yet shy. It’s an oddly appealing look on Remus, Sirius thinks. “Downstairs bathroom."
Sirius’s jaw drops. At the same time as Lily says, “Remus! That sink is vintage!” Sirius says, “Why didn’t you tell me? What if I sat in—”
“Who was it?” James asks, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Anyone we know?”
“This is our party, James. Of course we’ll know them,” Lily says.
Remus ducks his head and bites his lip. “Benjy.” Then, he looks up, his eyes flicking over to Sirius, as if checking for his reaction.
His reaction… Sirius swallows around the lump that has made itself home in his throat. His chest feels tight, his stomach hollow. He feels strangely affected by this information. He’s somewhat used to hearing about Remus’s escapades at this point in their friendship (not that Remus ever offers up the information voluntarily), but this feels odd, he doesn’t like it. It must be Benjy, he thinks. It’d be fine if it were anyone other than him; Remus can do so much better than Benjy fucking Fenwick.
He schools his expression into something neutral. “Oh, he was in a very good mood when I saw him earlier," he teases. "He even hugged me. Now I know why.”
Remus’s expression flickers for a second before it’s replaced with bemusement.
“See, Benjy's nice, Remus!” Lily says encouragingly. “Why don’t you date him?”
“We don’t have anything in common, Lils. He thinks Love Island is peak television.”
“It is!” James protests, and Remus just rolls his eyes.
“Also, I think the only book he’s ever read is Oliver Twist. He somehow manages to bring it up every time I see him.”
“He’s trying to impress you," Lily coos.
Remus snorts. “I hate Dickens. Anyway, it's always the same with Benjy." Remus's blush has returned, and Sirius stares, fascinated. "It's fine for a one-night thing every now and again, but I... er, prefer a bit of... variety.”
Unbidden, Sirius head is flooded with images of Remus in Lily and James’s downstairs toilets, pink-cheeked, his curly hair a mess. Sirius shifts uncomfortably. He’s never thought of Remus in that way before. He knows that Remus is a sexual being—of course he does, how could he not?—but Sirius has never really sat down and thought about what that entails. As it stands, the thought of Remus in a sexual scenario makes it feel as though a hundred butterflies have set up residence inside his stomach.
He needs some fresh air.
“Remus Lupin: switch and snob extraordinaire,” James says, grinning. “Ah, well. You’ll find the person of your dreams one day, Moony. I just hope they can keep up with you; your libido puts us regular people to shame.”
Remus rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and still blushing. “Mm. But, yes, anyway. I’ll take Sirius home, and you two can party till the sun rises. Celebrate: you’re getting married.”
Lily bites her lip, looking at Sirius in sympathy. “I don’t know… I feel conflicted. I don't feel like partying while knowing that Sirius is sad. It's wrong.”
“We’ll be here for a while,” Sirius says. “I’m going to get trollied, remember? And then Moony gets to deal with me while I’m crying and drooling.”
“Just don’t spew on me,” Remus says mildly. “That’s all I ask.”
“It was one time,” Sirius protests.
“Still better than the time you threw up in my handbag, Remus…” Lily says, grimacing.
Sirius laughs. “God, that was an awful night. Truly cursed. Didn’t you also try to pick up a cop, Moony?”
“Yes!” James laughs, slapping his knee. "Asked the cop to pat him down.”
“Can we not…?” Remus sighs, pinching his brow. “I’m fairly sure that qualified as sexual harassment. I’m lucky I wasn’t arrested... can we please change the topic? Who wants pizza?”
“Me!” James exclaims, leaping up from the ground. “Moony, I could kiss you.”
Lily moans. "Yes. Cheesy garlic, thanks love,” she says, patting Remus’s leg.
“C’mon lads and ladettes. Pizza and a party awaits,” James says, stretching his back. “We’ll come over first thing tomorrow morning, Pads. We’ll make you a big, fatty breakfast and we can all hold hands and cry.”
“And,” Lily says, pulling Sirius up by his hands, “If at any point you need one of us, either to stay with you or to cry with you, just say. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, or who we’re talking to. We’re all here for you, okay?”
Sirius nods. He wants to say ‘thank you’ but he can’t seem to form his mouth around the words; at least, not without crying again.
Remus steps in for him, fluent in the language of Sirius’s non-verbal cues. He drapes one of his long arms around Sirius’s shoulders and smiles at Lily. “Thanks Lil.”
“You’re in good hands, Pads.” Lily smiles.
“As long as you keep him away from Benjy!” James calls from the door.
Remus rolls his eyes while Sirius reels as instant waves of dislike flow through him. Benjy Fucking Fenwick.
The party gets messy, but it’s the good kind of messy that has Sirius rummaging through James’s pantry hunting for snacks and Remus sitting on the kitchen floor smoking a joint at one am. True to his word, Sirius gets very drunk, and around three, Remus helps a very weepy Sirius into an uber. The whole way home, Remus holds his hand, squeezing it every now and again to remind Sirius that he’s there. And once again, Sirius thinks about how warm and soft Remus is, for all his long, sharp edges, and scars. He wonders if Remus’s whole body is like that.
Strange, Sirius thinks blearily, as he gazes through the window at the passing streetlights. What a strange thought.
“Sirius, what do you need?” Remus asks as he drapes a fluffy rug across Sirius’s shoulders. Sirius is now curled up on his couch after Remus coaxed him out of the bathroom, insisting that the couch was a much better place to cry than the hard, unforgiving tiles of his bathroom floor. A fair point, Sirius thinks, but some old habits are hard to break.
“Taylor,” he sniffs.
“Sorry?”
“Swift. I need to cry.”
Remus is silent. Sirius can feel his scorn from across the room.
“Please Moony. This is the worst day of my life.”
He hears Remus mutter something under his breath, but Sirius is too drunk and weepy to bother deciphering it. Instead, he blows his nose.
“Which song?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t know what her good ones are… hmm. Oh, here. This one sounds nice…”
Remus clicks the mouse, and a song starts playing through Sirius’s computer speakers.
Sirius breaks.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Remus says, panicking. “What’s wrong? Is it the wrong song? Should I stop it? Sirius?”
“This,” Sirius sniffs, between heaving sobs, “was our song.”
“Oh fuck. Um, shit. Hold on, let me find a sad one…”
Remus chews on his lip as he scrolls, trying to find another suitably sad song that won’t send Sirius into a spiral. Idly, through his tears, Sirius thinks he's relieved that it's Remus who's here with him, because if it were anyone else he'd be absolutely mortified by his behaviour right now.
Finally, he changes the song, and Sirius’s sobs ease.
“Shh,” Remus says, sitting down and carding his long fingers through Sirius’s hair. He leans into Remus’s touch, and as Remus's fingers massage his scalp, Sirius’s breathing deepens and becomes steadier.
“Remus, d’you think I’m a failure?” Sirius asks a while later, his voice muffled from where his lips are squished against Remus’s stomach.
“Sirius… of course not. Why would you even ask that?” Remus’s voice is tight and sad.
Sirius sits up and rubs his eyes with his fists and, for a second, he sees fractals and rainbows. And then he’s back in his lounge.
Sirius sighs. “Because all I have is my fucking trust fund from Alphard. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a degree. I was going to be Emmeline’s trophy husband, Remus. She was going to be the hot, successful lawyer, and I was going to be the doting stay-at-home dad. I had it all planned out, Moons. And now… now I'm nothing.”
“You’re not nothing, Sirius. You’ll never be nothing.”
“I had it all planned out,” he repeats vaguely, settling his head back down in Remus’s lap. Everything feels better there. “It was going to be okay. And now it’s not. And I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll work it out, Pads. One day at a time, okay?” Remus says, carding his hands back through Sirius’s hair. Sirius lets out a shaky exhale, and then says, “Alright…”
And then he cracks a smile, and Remus tilts his head to the side, smiling back. Sirius reaches up to boop Remus on the tip of his nose. “We’re going on holiday.”
“Oh... You were serious about that?”
“Always,” Sirius winks. He’s sure that which would usually look charming and debonair on him now looks ridiculous, what with his puffy eyes and tear-stained face. But Remus rolls his eyes the same as he always does.
“I’m not even going to tell you off for that. I’m just happy to see you smiling again,” Remus says, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth. And then his expression deepens into something more serious. It makes Sirius nervous. “You mean it, though? You actually want me to come? With you?”
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend, Moons. It’ll be fun,” Sirius says, and he can’t help his soft smile then. “Besides, if you don’t come, it’d just be me getting drunk and crying in different countries. It’d be the world’s most depressing bachelor trip.”
Remus grins down at him; a rare Remus Lupin grin, as bright and as stunning as the sun. “Alright, alright… Where are we going, then?”