This is a Sirius/Remus after Sirius died in the ministry. Loosely based off the song lyrics from Brad Paisley's 'Whiskey Lullaby'. Enjoy.
I put the gun to my temple, fingering the trigger.
Oh Sirius, you've made me come to this. Why in the world did this happen to me? To you? To us?!
The fire whiskey isn't enough anymore. I can still hear your voice in this house. Our house. I can't put up with it any more.
I see you EVERYWHERE! In every dark haired man. In every stupid dog on the block. Every fucking one. Do you know how much that hurts? It's a constant reminder of what I lost. It's drilling into my head, and the emotional pain has become so powerful, it's a physical pain. Or maybe that's just the constant hang over.
I can smell you still. Like you were just here. Especially in the bedroom. I can't get rid of your things. People keep telling me it will help me to forget, but here's the thing, I don't WANT to forget. I'll be doing the laundry, and there's one of your socks or you old shirt. Then I have to stop. Your pillow is the worst. It smells like your shampoo. The sad this is, I can't wash it. I don't want to wash you away. I can't. If I wash the pillow, then it's admitting you won't come back. It's admitting that you left us. That you left me.
If I hadn't been so absorbed in holding your godson back, I would have jumped after you. I wanted to follow you so fucking bad. So fucking bad Sirius, you don't even know.
I can't take the constant suffering anymore. It's tearing me apart.
Gods or something must have it out for me. Why does everything horrible happen to me and the ones I love?
Sirius. Oh Sirius. I love you so much. So much.
Picking up your pillow one last time, I press my face into it, inhaling your scent. Oh I want to be with you so bad right now. So that is why I'm doing this. Looking at your picture one last time, before finally, after all these longs months, admit defeat and pull the trigger.
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