A/N : I don't read a lot of slash. I am not a fanatic of gay fics or something like that. But for some reason, I find that Sirius and Remus just make sense together.
And well, they are insanely cute that way...
Masks
He wasn't quite sure how it all began.
Or when, really.
One morning, he woke up and it was there. The feeling, the weight crushing his ribs every time he tried to take a breath. Everything.
And there was nothing he could do, so he just kept sitting in silence, waiting for it to stop.
But somehow, he already knew it never would.
His nose scrunched up in distaste as he reflected on the pitiful state Sirius Black had put him in.
And the git wasn't even aware of it.
"All right there, Moony ?"
Remus sighted and nodded, forcing a smile on his lips as the very object of his thoughts plopped down next to him on the bench.
"Yeah.
- You don't look like it."
Sirius frowned. Remus smiled again, putting on a mask of calm before busying himself with his cup of tea.
"Just thinking about homework, nothing to worry about."
Sirius didn't look really convinced but dropped it and began to fill his own plate until food was spilling out on the table.
Remus watched him from the corner of his eyes. He was very good at this - after all, he did have a lot of practice. As usual, Sirius was eating like it was his last meal or something - stuffing his face in a disgusting way while sparing glances and greetings to everyone as long as they didn't wear a green tie.
Remus sighed inaudibly. This person was not Sirius. This person was a walking lie : just because he went with anyone who would look at him twice and played pranks didn't mean that he had to be the bubbly excited Casanova they all made him to be.
Behind the mask, Sirius Black was as dark as his name. Dark and cruel and lonely. A sad child who wanted everything because he had no clue of what he really needed.
His animagus form fitted him so well. Not because it was noisy and jumped everywhere, but because Sirius was exactly like a dog : reveling in attention and constant petting, while crying relentlessly when somebody left him behind.
And Remus loved him for it. He loved him when he was asleep or dead-drunk and that he let the child show. It was nauseatingly cliché, Remus knew, but it was true all the same.
He abruptly stood up, explaining himself with a brief: "library" when Sirius, James and Peter looked at him curiously. He strided out of the Great Hall, willing himself not to turn around when he heard that awfull barking laugh he always gave in the company of others.
Sometimes, he really hated them all for that - for ruining Sirius without even realising it, for making him this uninteresting twit they all thought he ought to be. But at the same time, he was so glad to be the only one who knew what was underneath it all.
In a way, he relished how Sirius was broken and lonely inside and he felt terrible for it. What kind of friend was he ?
But what kind of friend dreamed of doing unspeakable things to his best friend behind the crimson curtains of his canopy bed ?
And sometimes, he thought about the things he said when he was merely a child ; when he woke up in the bleak hospital room with nobody at his bedside except for the nurse who was eyeing him with distrust and the old doctor who was trying with all his might not to touch him.
Him. The monster.
"What is it child ?"
Oddly, his answer would probably be the same today as it was then, just not for the same reasons.
"I... I think I wanna d-die. Could you k-kill me, mister ?
P-please ?"
But, as he thought about it while trudging towards the potion classroom, Remus realised that in a way, the reason was still exactly the same.
"Why ? You are so lucky to be alive."
Remus was only seven years old, but he was by no mean stupid and he understood perfectly what was left unsaid :
You ungrateful beast. How can you complain when they should have shoot you on sight ?
He never answered, thinking that maybe they were right and that he deserved it. But even now, years later, the emptiness was still here.
Because, nobody loves me anymore.
Remus shook his head, trying to dispell his growing distress. He really didn't need that right now.
Of course, he knew that the Marauders loved him. Hell, he knew that his father, wherever he was and his mother in her hazy grief loved him.
But somehow, it just wasn't enough.
And there was the little voice very deep inside of him, who was constantly whispering that maybe, just maybe Sirius would be.
But that would never happen. He could probably bed Sirius - anybody could do that with a bottle of Firewhisky and a semi-decent pick-up line. That's what he told himself anyway, because as needy as Sirius was, he wasn't an idiot and probably knew better than to ruin six years of friendship for mediocre sex with an ugly, inexperience werewolf. Who would want to touch someone so contaminated that he had become his disease anyway ?
And even if he was drunk enough to agree, Remus had the feeling that it would make the whole thing worse. Like having five minutes in paradise before being send back to hell.
Remus didn't think he could stand it.
So he kept lying and hiding. And making up disgusting fantasies when he was supposed to take notes. To sleep. Or to eat. All the time, really. And when Sirius came to him with his concerned-serious-I-am-not-joking-this-time face to ask about the so purple it was almost black marks under his eyes and the shoulders so bony he said he could probably sharpen his knife on them, Remus just shrugged him off. He was careful to take a step back and to scowl as if he loathed the contact.
A mask, just a mask so that Sirius couldn't see what was underneath - the need and the desperation which could compete with his own.
It seemed to work as Sirius looked at him with sad lonely dark eyes and whispered something about a boy waiting for him in the Common room before exiting the dormitory.
For a moment, Remus felt mighty. He could bring him out - Sirius, the real Sirius. When this boy down the stairs could not. He stopped the thought that maybe one day a girl or a boy would be able to and then...
And then, he wasn't feeling mighty anymore.
He just wanted to cry.
A/N : I don't really know what i think about well... this thing. I am just a little depressed and doing everything I can not to do my homework (bad, I know...). But I would be really delighted to know what you thought about it.
Pretty please ?
With (a lot of) chocolate on top ?
