-This is just a crazy little do-dah that popped into my head. I usually don't write song-fics, but it fit.
-Unfortunately for me, these characters aren't mine. And come to think of it, neither is this song.
-This is dedicated to Mary, who doesn't think I'm crazy for writing these stories.
Callused hands pawed at the cold gray stone slabs beneath him, searching incessantly as his body continued to shake. Each breath was an ounce of strength gone and each movement threatened to be the last as the lithe formed curled up pitifully in the corner, a low moan escaping from between chapped lips.
I cry myself to sleep again tonight…'Cause I cannot hold you tight.
I wish I could see you again tomorrow, to take all this sorrow.
…I'm hollow.
The words spilled from his mouth like the forced confession of a dying man, "Remus…" Croaked to the stone walls, not even loud enough to echo back into his ears. Pain-filled whimpers continued from the corner of the dank cell, the sound of a broken man interlaced with gasping struggles for air.
When I touch you, can you feel it?
When I need you, can you give it?
When I look in your eyes, can you see me?
When I fall, will you catch me?
The crude weapon wrapped beneath spidery digits was a welcome companion to the lost prisoner. The stone "blade" kissed the tender sunken flesh of his cheek before it was drawn down the alabaster skin of his neck. His emptied heartbeat fell into tune with the "drip drip" of a leaky pipe next to him. Putrid green water seeped toward his form, lapped up by the mass of limp midnight tresses that were sprawled onto the stone.
Misery is what I feel, when you're not around, so I can't heal.
Misery is what I feel; it's what I feel.
Hope was not a welcome thing to have here. It would be stripped of you in a second, followed closely by your pride. He had given up on his hope long ago…offered it up for those self-proclaimed demons in a desperate bargain to keep his sanity. A failed trade.
The cracked-sharp edge of his makeshift knife finally came to its destination. Coarse fabric hung off his skeletal shoulders, allowing the all too easy access of his chest. With knees curled up to his stomach, he had to struggle endlessly not to wretch as the green liquid puddled around his head, only to be mildly diluted by the salty smack of the tears that silently streamed down his dirtied face.
These tears on my face are for you,
I wish that I could hold you, touch you, feel you.
My heart is bleeding, can't you see?
I wish that you could hold me…
Touch me...
Feel me…
A weakened hand gripped with all its might as the "knife" was thrust readily into his heart.
When I touch you, can you feel it…
No strength left to cry out, he remained silent as the blade was painstakingly twisted.
When I need you, can you give it…
His jaw dropped as the hand slipped from his weapon, grasping onto the flea-ridden fabric of his dirt-encrusted robe. It was then that the blood began to fall, trickling from his wound, covering his stomach like silken fabric draped over a snowy hill.
When I look in your eyes, can you see me…
More now, joining the wretched green liquid to surround the dying man in a horribly beautiful swirl of vile. A final gasp, a final tear, as charcoal lashes fluttered down to rest on porcelain cheeks.
When I fall, will you catch me…
"…Catch me…" And it was he alone who shared this plea, as the hand that had gripped his robe fell slack.
Misery is what I feel, when you're not around, so I can't heal.
Misery is what I feel…
It's what I feel.
A hundred miles away, drenched in sweat and tears, Remus Lupin jerked awake, his hand clutched threateningly over his pounding heart.
"Sirius…"
-This could turn out just to be an introduction to a story, or it could stay as it is. I haven't decided yet. I suppose it rests on the feedback.