Disclaimer: Not mine.
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You see, James knows Sirius. Knows him better than anyone else, knows him almost better than he knows himself, so it's rather futile for him to pretend that he doesn't know what's wrong.
But he does pretend. Pretends that he doesn't see the brittle smile, the lost look. The torment in his eyes. Pretends that he doesn't hear Sirius at night, biting down savagely on his fist to hold back sobs, and in the morning he sees the faint indentations on his hand and looks away, like he looks away from every other sign.
Because, maybe, if he pretends like he doesn't see what is staring him right in the face, it won't be true. Maybe he can tell Sirius that Lily Evans has finally said yes, and his friend will smile at him, congratulate him and throw him an impromptu party (but he'll do that anyway, he'll do all of that and just wait until night, until he's alone to die that little bit more).
"You're my best friend, Sirius," he tells him, and the words taste bitter on his tongue. "My brother."
He sees that last shred of hope disappear, the mask hastily pulled up, and he pretends, he pretends like he doesn't see any of it. Not the way Sirius pulls him into a hug, held longer than the usual male half-embrace, fingers digging into his back and clutching tightly at his shirt, and his throat feels tight and his heart aches for his friend, his other half, and he wishes, wishes he could give him this, this happiness that he so greatly deserves.
But he can't.
So he continues to pretend, and he never says anything, and to everyone else, Sirius is the same, all wide smiles and wild pranks, and if his stunts seem to get more and more dangerous, well, that's just a reckless Gryffindor for you, isn't it?
James is the only one who sees him dying, day by day.
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