DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't sue. Hurrah. I'm back again, this time with a 3-part fic (no one-shots, shock horror!!). More Sirius, more James, more angst, more shit, uh yeah the usual angsty, slashy mess (but what a lovely mess it is!!). Part 2 and 3 coming soon, so it'll be White, Red and Black (hence the 3 colours title). I know the whole '3 colours' concept is owned by Krzysztof Kieslowski, who made the films Red, White and Blue, so no-one get shitty, I don't own the title or any of that. Going to write a full length marauders fic, narrated by Sirius, will be up soon (if my schedule permits) as will the other two parts. Cheers, read the fic, RnR and fame and fortune will be yours!! (well not really, but what the hell).
Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide
I'll take it by your side
Such imagination seems to help the feeling slide
I'll take it by your side
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies
I'll take it by your side
Over saturation curls the skin and tans the hide
I'll take it by your side ... Without you, I'm nothing
Without you, I'm nothing
Without you, I'm nothing
- Placebo "Without you I'm nothing"
A sea of whiteness, washed out under my feet. Like a blanket of purity, renewing everything, beautifying it. But what is that I see? In the perfect whiteness of my utopia, blood mixed into the sea, the blanket. My blood.
I shake the hair out of my eyes, and continue down the cold, stark street. Snow covers everything; the pavement is blanketed in it, it swirls under the streetlamps and the shops look like something out of a children's storybook. Like Hansel and Gretel, with the gingerbread house and the frosted roof. Sweet and innocent, but all the more dark and dangerous. Its funny how the opposite always shows through in things. Like James, when he went on a self-righteous rant about monogamy and his marriage. "Staying true to people is important Sirius, even if you don't think so, well of course you don't thinks so, you've never been true to anyone in your life, that's why you're not in a stable relationship, and you won't be until you understand about monogamy. Partners like faithfulness, now you don't have to look so bloody shocked, they like it when you have eyes for only them, and, and that's why I cant be with you, it'll all end in tears and I love Lily, I do, Sirius I do", he says, standing up and looking down at me from his great moral height. He rants like this for ages, even after I stop listening. He knows I'm not listening. I don't think he cares. He's not really talking to me anyway. He's talking to himself, justifying it to himself that he needs to be monogamous and true to his fiancée. As if he's trying to make himself believe it.
His eyes always give him away. He never was an actor. In even the loudest and most pious rant, his eyes are never in it. His face is contorted in a stern look, but his eyes stand out like beacons of truth. They look dull, deadened by the lies. "We don't love each other Sirius, what we were doing was just a bit of fun", says his mouth. But his wonderfully contradictory eyes scream: "I love you, come to bed".
I turn the corner and continue down the street. Away from the place where I don't want to go. Because he's there. I trudge through the cold and wet, trying to think of somewhere to go away from the other place. People walk past me, around me, through me. They don't see me walking beside me or in front of them. Or when they push past me. I'm like a ghost. And I'm lost. I wish someone'd bloody take me home.
I hate arguing with James. He won't bloody shut up once we start, and he tells a heap of bullshit all the way through. It starts off innocently enough, with him sitting at a restaurant table, playing with sugar packets and chewing his manicured nails. And I sit idly by, watching his nervous movements. He's had a bad day, poor guy, I think scathingly, what with the robes and the manicure and all. He nearly had an aneurysm when the dry cleaners gave him the wrong robes and he freaked out outside the manicure place because 'it's not fair why do I have to have my nails done, I don't want them done.' And I was the supportive, comforting friend I always am and put up with his nervous chatter. It is his wedding tomorrow, after all. Our beers come and he sips his nervously, and seeing my scowl asks me "What's your bloody problem?"
"I'm tired, I want to go home."
"Well you can't. We still have to pick up your robes and all the stuff we'll need for tonight."
"What like whisky?"
"No, I already explained to you, I'm not getting pissed tonight, I'm getting married tomorrow morning, and I don't want to feel like shit".
I roll my eyes. "What are we going to do then, compare the size of our dicks and beat the shit out of each other?"
He leans back in his chair and glares at me. At least he's stopped biting his nails. "Sometimes I think you haven't grown up at all."
"Sometimes you're right". I sip my beer.
"Why are you being such a shit today?"
I snort, which makes him glower at me. "You're being more of a shit than I am".
"I have a reason to be a shit, I'm getting married tomorrow."
"What cold feet? I could hijack you a boat to Bermuda or something".
"No, I'm not reconsidering getting married tomorrow. I made a decision, and I'm not going to go back on it".
"Ah, Mr Responsibility. You'll regret it when you're weighed down with a mortgage and three kids with ginger pubes".
"Why are you so against this bloody marriage?"
"I'm not against your bloody marriage!"
"You hate Lily, don't you?"
"No, I don't hate Lily, I think she's paranoid, clingy and obsessive about white freesias". It took Lily three hours to choose the right shade of 'white' freesias for the flowers at the wedding, even though all the 'whites' looked the same.
"So what about the fucking freesias, she just wants the wedding to be perfect!"
"It would have been better if they were lily's because then it would have matched her name".
"Stop changing the subject. You never wanted me to get married did you?"
I lean onto the table and speak slowly, as if he's an idiot. "If you want to get married, I want you to get married."
He sits up straighter in his chair and I see him rearing up for a big fight. "You haven't been excited about this wedding from the start!"
I sit back and smirk at him. "Well forgive me if freesias don't excite me as much as they should".
But he won't be swayed. "The first time I told you, you weren't excited then!"
I roll my eyes. "I had a hangover, and even though I was dying, I went out celebrating with you!"
He snorts. "Only because there was beer involved".
"This is a stupid argument, I'm not getting into it".
"Just tell me the bloody truth, you never wanted me to get married, did you?"
"No James I never wanted you to get married".
He seems satisfied for a moment. Then he lowers his voice and leans over the table, because he can't stand making scenes in public. "And why is that?"
"You tell me, you seem to know everything".
"I know, I just want to know if you do".
"Tell me asshole".
He leans forward even further and lowers his voice even more. "Because you're in love with me."
It was as if some cataclysmic change happened, right here at that very table. We both knew it, we'd always known it, it was just never spoken, as if it was some unwritten law. He wasn't meant to say it, he shouldn't have said it. Something snapped inside me; a chemical reaction, heat rushing to my chest as it tightens with anger.
"That's right James, you hit the nail right on the head", I say, my voice rising and I feel the anger flare inside. James' eyes go wide and he's silently pleading with me not to make a scene. But I think I will. "I'm in love with you. I can't fucking think why, you're such a self absorbed fucker. And somehow, I believed you all the times you said we could be together, even though I knew deep down somewhere that it couldn't happen. Because of your fucking medieval Anglo-Saxon values and that you always care so fucking much about what everybody else thinks of you. And I'll tell you something, you fucking asshole, you love me back. That's why you come over and fuck me and then give me a self-righteous rant about how being true to your partner is so important, because you have to justify it to yourself that what you're doing is wrong, even though it feels so right."
I break off, anger still burning inside me, taking in the wounded look on his face. People are watching us, craning their necks to see what's going on. His cheeks are burning with humiliation and hurt. I sit back, satisfied for the moment with the pain I've caused. Capable of being terrible, my mother always used to say. How right she was. We can't stay here now, after what's just happened. I fish in my pocket for money for the two beers and put it on the table, shove back my chair and walk out. I don't look at James, perhaps I can't. Out in the cold of the street, I stop. Taking in what I've done, what I've destroyed, the unwritten laws I just trampled. I'm going home. I can't take this shit.
"Here's the money for the beer". James. He's standing beside me, the money for his beer in his hand. He's staring at the side of my cheek, and I can't bring myself to look at him.
"It's fine. My shout", I say, staring out at the shops and avoiding his eyes.
"You're right".
"About what?"
"What you said inside. That I love you and the rants are me justifying it to myself. Mostly that I love you".
I close my eyes, wishing he was gone. I feel like I've ruined the unspoken agreement, our relationship. The truth shouldn't have come out, it hurts too much.
"And you're right that I care too much about what other people think. But that's just the way I was brought up. I'm not trying to justify it, it's the truth. You learnt early on not to care what everyone else thinks about you. You had to. But I'm not like that. I don't want my parents, my friends and Lily to think badly of me. And they would think badly of me if I was with you. If I walked out on my wedding. I've come to far, Sirius. It's all organised and Lily would die of shame if I abandoned her at the altar for anyone, all the more if it was you."
He takes a deep breath, as if he's suppressing emotion. "I still love you", he says, as he stares at his feet.
I feel like my worst nightmares have come true. I always hoped, dreamed, he wouldn't go to the wedding, that he'd stay with me. Because he loved me. But we're past love. Love counts for nothing. Responsibility fills the void where love used to be, on the pedestal, where love had flourished with beauty and humility, now responsibility sits, stone cold in all its convention, like a foreboding reminder of what is to come.
"I've got to go", I say, gathering my coat around me.
"You still coming tonight?" Slight pleading in his voice.
"I don't know". I never want to see him ever again; it hurts to see him standing beside me, to feel him kissing me, like we always end up doing anyway, when he can't be mine.
"Please come. I don't want to be alone". His voice is pitiful, like he's a child begging his favourite uncle to stay for tea.
"I'll see, I've got some stuff to do". I turn, and I walk down that god- forsaken street, leaving him standing in the snow, covered in the blanket, wading in the sea.
I stop at the street corner, wondering what I'm going to do. The twilight is beautiful; all the lights are misty through the thick darkness. I want to go home. Where is home? Home used to be wherever James was, but now... I don't know. I feel frozen to this spot, unable to make a choice. James was always the ambivalent one; I was usually quick and decisive. Not anymore. I look back down the street, the way I've come. The hotel is down there, where he is. Where I could be. He's waiting for me, sitting on the bed, chewing his nails. My heart sore and bruised, I take a step back down the street. The ambivalence isn't gone, it's just ignored. I still want to see him, even if it is for the last time. Just one more time, one more touch, one more word. One.