A/N: I've had this in my head for awhile and finally decided to publish it. It's kinda short and simple, nothing too convoluted. Let me know what you think!

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

The first thing that Sirius Black did when he escaped from Azkaban was go see Harry, of course. He had to make sure that he was okay and what he found wasn't nearly as reassuring as he had hoped. Seeing Harry blow up his aunt, Sirius trotted off to his next destination, glad that his godson had at least a little bit of James' humor. After that came the hard part: visiting James and Lily. Honestly, what else was he going to do? James was the only one that could give Sirius clarity or help keep his head on his shoulders. It would be impossible to move forward with anything until he spoke to James. He was still in his animagus form from his escape, knowing that it would be safest for him to be in that form. His feet hurt with overuse but he kept walking, not knowing how long he had been moving forward. No matter how much his body protested, Sirius didn't stop, not even for a moment. He had to see James, he simply had to.

When he had finally reach Godrics Hollow, his breathing began to get more and more shallow. Sirius approached the cemetery with caution; he had never been there before so he hardly knew where to look for them. He should know where their graves were, that realization made him feel guilty even though it wasn't his fault that he had missed their funeral. He should have been at their funeral, telling everyone about James and Lily, but quickly realizing that he probably wouldn't be able to get through a speech sober.

The gravel crunched underneath his paws and the wind sent a shiver through him. He started to breath differently, like something was constricting his lungs. As he became nearer to the rusty gate that led to their graves, the feeling worsened. He pushed the gate open with his snout and rushed through, afraid that if he hesitated he wouldn't go through with it. Once safely behind a tree, he changed back to his human form.

It was colder as a human, but Sirius didn't feel it. Every step he took towards the grave made him more and more numb. When he finally arrived in front of it, he had stopped breathing altogether. He looked down at the tombstone that held his friends and let out a horrible noise of sorrow, mangled and broken. His body shook uncontrollably, but he couldn't cry. Sirius just knelt in front of the marble slab with his head hung.

"Prongs," His voice shook.

No one answered.

"I'm sorry I haven't come to see you but.. I've been sent to Azkaban, mate. We always joked that was where I was going to end up. Turns out we were right but it was for all the wrong reasons."

Snow began to fall from the sky and fell onto his black, mangy hair. The snow fell quickly and covered the cemetery in minutes, making Sirius feel even more suffocated.

He continued after several moments of silence. "Why did it have to be you, Prongs?"

Again, there was no reply.

"Why couldn't we be invincible? We always said we were when we were kids."

Sirius didn't know what he had been expecting when he came to visit. Clearly it wasn't going to end well for him and at the moment, spirals of guilt were churning in his stomach.

"I thought you said that you'd be here to see me grow old." His voice was barely a whisper.

The wind whistled through the trees and the lights went off in a house down the street, giving Sirius some idea of how late it was.

"Prongs," He sobbed, without tears. "We were supposed to be the oldest Quidditch players ever. I was supposed to be Harry's cool uncle that never settled down. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

More houses began to turn off their lights as the happy muggle families went to bed but Sirius knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight. He had hardly slept in twelve years and now, facing his deceased best friend would just bring back the nightmares that he used to get as a child.

"They think I killed you," He muttered, his hands wringing themselves together. "They think it was me who told Voldemort about you. Everyone thinks that. It's probably because everyone always suspected I was mad but.. I didn't do that, Prongs, I swear."

Sirius looked around the cemetery as if he thought that his best friend would jump out from behind a tree and tell him the last twelve years were another horrible prank. He wished with all his heart that that would be true.

"You don't think I told, do you?" Silence. "I couldn't bear it if you did."

He wasn't expecting a reply, of course but he still paused as if he did.

"It is my fault, isn't it? Even if I wasn't the one to rat you out. I convinced you to make Pettigrew the secret keeper and.. now you're dead" his voice broke. "because of me."

Sirius bowed his head and had to take a few moments to control himself. It felt as if he was ripping at the seams and soon he was going to burst. Finally he had finally regained control of his breathing and continued.

"You should see Harry," Sirius laughed. "He looks exactly like you, except he's got Lily's eyes, obviously." His voice choked. "He's so alone, Prongs. That muggle sister of Lily's is awful. They lock him in his room and pretend he doesn't exist."

The snow continued to fall though Sirius didn't feel the sting of cold.

"He doesn't put up with it, though," the fugitive smiled. "he's like you in that sense. He blew up his aunt, ya' know that dreadful hag that we met at Lily's house? That's the one."

Sirius leaned back and fell onto the cold grass, staring up at the dark sky.

"It's worse than it was before, James," Sirius sighed. "there's no one left. Marlene's gone, you and Lily, and everyone else thinks I'm a murderer."

The truth of that statement shook him. Before his best friend's death, no one had ever hated Sirius. Sure, there were some people that disliked him, but no one ever really loathed him (other than the entire Black family and of course, Snivellus). Now, Sirius had accepted that a great deal of people hated him. Harry probably hated him, which Sirius understood.

"I'm gonna take care of him," Sirius said. "Harry, I mean. Someday he'll know the truth about you and about everything. I'll tell him all about you since I doubt the muggles tell him anything."

The last light post on the street flickered then went out, leaving Sirius in complete darkness, but he didn't notice.

"Why did it have to be you, Prongs?" He repeated. "Why couldn't it have been someone unimportant? I suppose Lily would say that that's insensitive but it's the truth. I wish it were someone else, anyone else, but you."

Sirius sat up again and was kneeling towards the tombstone.

"It makes sense that you both went down together," Sirius pondered. "We both knew you couldn't live without Lily and she couldn't live without you. I just wish someone could be here for Harry."

Sirius thought for a moment.

"I wish it were me," He whispered. "I wish I was the one that died, instead of you."

With all of the sincerity in Sirius' mangled and empty heart, he said this:

"You deserved to live," His voice was choked now. "I don't, James, don't you understand?"

Silence.

"For fuck's sake, Prongs, just bloody reply!" He shouted, standing up and throwing a handful of grass at the tombstone.

Sirius knew that no one would reply. He fell to his knees again and let out a horrific sob that shook his entire body, tears finally escaping from his eyes and pouring down his face. They left dirty tracks through the muck on his face, cleaning his skin for the first time in years. Sirius hadn't cried in decades it seemed; he hadn't even cried when James died. He was just numb and that numbness continued to fill him for the last twelve years. The last time that Sirius cried was when he ran away from home and that seemed to unbearably insignificant now.

For the remainder of his time spent there, Sirius just repeated four words: "It should've been me."