love is watching someone die
"Be careful making wishes in the dark / Can't be sure when they've hit their mark / And besides in the meantime / I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart" -Fall Out Boy
You are alone. He is dead, and you are alone. How does it feel, darling?
Empty.
He smiles at you, and you swear that you've never seen anything more beautiful than the way the corners of his mouth turn up.
"Pads?" James says.
"Hmm. What?"
"I asked you if you've got any summer plans."
"Oh. Err, about that. I've been meaning to ask." You look around at your friends. "Does anyone have a spare bed?" You're momentarily distracted by the way he furrows his eyebrows. Merlin, Remus is going to destroy you someday.
"What's going on?" Remus asks.
You sigh. "I'm...I'm not going home this summer. I'm fed up with my family and it's time I got out. Regulus is going to the Death Eaters, I know it; he's tangled up with the Minister's son and they've both been out of the house a lot. Mum and Dad aren't worried about him, and they don't care about me, so I'm leaving."
There is pity in their eyes, but you ignore it. "I would, but..." Remus says. "You know."
"For the last time, Remus, I don't care. You go wolf at school all the time, what's the difference?"
"My parents don't want to put anyone else in danger."
You can see that it's hurting him not to be able to do this for you, so you let it drop. "It's okay, Moony, really."
Peter doesn't speak up at all, but James does. "You're welcome at my place for as long as you need, and if my parents don't agree we'll go buy a flat."
James, always the adventurous one; making grandiose plans that are nearly impossible to carry out. Still, you appreciate the sentiment. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Remus looks sad for a moment, as though someone had just told him that he was going to die. As quickly as the expression came, it vanishes, and though he appears happy, you know otherwise. The ghost of something bigger than the four of you is in his eyes, and you give him a small smile. This time, his smile does not seem real in the way that you have come to love. It's wrong.
You drop your bags on the floor of your new room. "We hope it's alright, dear," Mrs. Potter says, and you turn around.
"It's more than alright," you answer, and you mean it. "Thank you."
"Of course." She leaves you with James, but he gives you a knowing grin and slips out of the room. You lay back on the bed, exhausted, but still filled with adrenaline. There's only one thing missing, and he's walking through your door.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself." You pat the bed next to you, and Remus joins your sprawled-out body on top of the sheets.
"You saved me," he says quietly, out of nowhere, and takes your hand, running his rough fingers over your much smoother palm.
You rest your head above his shoulder. "You saved yourself," you reply. "And I'm so proud of you."
Remus is on the floor, and his wrists are crying. They're screaming, in fact, and all you see is red, and it doesn't look as pretty as he tells you it is and it's certainly not beautiful.
This has happened before, and it's happened again. Over and over and over, he keeps hurting himself. You wonder why he can't see how utterly gorgeous he is. But he always heals. He always comes back. You can always save him.
Can't you?
These days, he looks less and less like Remus and more and more like a ghostly version of himself. Around the full moon, he's withdrawn, and his grades are slipping. He won't talk to James. He won't talk to Peter.
And so you sit, quietly, rubbing his wrists and begging the god you definitely have stopped believing in to please, please let him be okay.
Coming back to school was hard for him, and it's not been getting easier. He's fading.
One night, he rolls over in bed and you can feel his gaze even though it's pitch dark. "I wish that I was dead," he says, and you hug him so tightly that you think you'll break his bones and his wish will come true.
"No," you whisper. Your voice breaks and the tears in your eyes threaten to overflow. One lone traitor escapes and rolls down your face, hitting your pillow. "Don't. You don't wish that."
It's so dark that you can't tell whether he means it or not. Something tells you that he does. You're terrified. This is a monster you can't protect him from; you can't dig it out of him with a knife and you can't leave it alone. You have to hold him and let him stain your robes with tears.
But what happens when you let him go?
"Please, Remus, please," you're saying. His mouth isn't moving, and you can't figure out where the sobs are coming from until you realize that you're making those ungodly noises. His head is cradled in your hands, his wrists and arms and stomach and even his neck are weeping away his life, and you're angry. You're so angry that you start to shout at him.
"Remus, come on! You can save yourself!"
He weakly shakes his head and tries to smile at you. A small trickle of blood from his neck falls onto your arm, and you don't bother to wipe it away. Instead, you pick up a towel from the floor next to you and press it against his gashes. It soaks up the blood so quickly you think it wants Remus to die, and so instead you use your hands.
As his breaths get shorter, his look changes from one of resignation to one of panic.
"What is it? Rem?"
"I…I don't want to die, Sirius." His hand grabs yours, and you squeeze it gently. "I…" He starts to hyperventilate.
"Shh, shh, Remus, it's going to be okay, it's going to be fine."
James rounds the corner. "Hey, what's…" He stops cold. "Oh, Merlin."
"Go, James, get Madame Pomfrey," you say, biting back a remark about how he should have been here half an hour ago. He doesn't move. "Go!"
As he dashes off, Remus doesn't even protest. His breaths are getting quicker and shorter, and every time he pauses in between breaths you swear that your own heart stops. There is nothing as heartbreaking as watching the person you love die; nothing. And you know it.
"Remus, I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine, Sirius, really," he replies, waving you off. "Come on, we're going to be late. We don't want to miss the train, do we?"
"No, I guess not." You shake off your concerns. Remus is Remus. He's resilient. He's gotten through this before, and he'll get through it again. You'll be there for him.
"Hey." Remus reaches over and pushes your hair back from your face. "Love you."
You grin. "Love you, too."
He'll be okay.
"You're going to be okay," you manage. "You're-" Hic. "Going to be okay, I promise."
"Don't make…promises you can't keep," he gasps. "I just. I don't want. To go."
"Then don't." Your voice comes out much clearer than you thought it would, and you're brought to tears again. "Don't."
"But it's. What I. Wished for, isn't it?" He looks at you, and his eyes make you want to die. He's leaving you. And you're so, so broken, that when he finally takes his last breath, you don't say I love you until after they've taken him away.
"Remus John Lupin is…he was my best friend. And I hope that wherever he is, he's happy," you finish. There's light applause. His parents are crying. James is looking down. Peter looks like he's going to be sick.
Instead of walking back to your seat, you walk straight out of the church. You sit in your vaguely mundane Muggle car and take the mundane drive to the quaint Muggle café by James's house and sit with a cup of tea for a couple hours until the waitress asks you if you'd like another cup. Yours is cold; you haven't touched it.
You say no. You put the strange paper money on the table and leave. And that's it, isn't it? That's the end. There's nothing else. This is your life. It's turned into a tragedy that you have no choice but to accept. And the rest of it is going to be a cold cup of tea that you have no interest in drinking because the seat across from you is vacant where Remus should be.
You thought that you could get him through it. You thought that you were different because he trusted you, because you were all he had, but you weren't enough in the end and it kills you. You couldn't get to him in time; couldn't make him see that you would always love him no matter if he was a wolf or if he wasn't. You thought he knew that.
You are alone. He is dead, and you are alone. How do you feel, darling?
Empty.
A/N: For Ali and the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013, May I. Ali, dear, I hope this wasn't too sad :3
Also for the If You Dare Challenge with the prompt 999: Love is watching someone die, the All Sorts of Love Competion: Angsty Love.
I'd love it if you could drop a review on your way out. Have a lovely day!
Allie