Drive
It's quiet for a long while before one of us speaks. As per the norm, it's Remus who talks first.
"What're you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm driving, Remus."
"No," he says, his tone steady and calm. I could snarl with frustration. "I mean you look..." he hesitates, observing my expression, "upset. Like the world's fallen apart or you've lost all you've known in the world."
"I have."
"How do you mean?" He picked that up from me. He never used to say 'how do you mean?' rather 'what do you mean?' Or maybe I picked that up from him. That's a possibility.
"I mean, Remus," I press down on the gas pedal harder than necessary. The truck jerks forward. I bought the damn thing because of my parents. To piss them off. Travel by car instead of broom. They'd need an autopsy if they'd seen this piece of shite. "That I have."
"Have what?"
"Lost all that I had in the world."
"That's not true."
"Is."
"You have me."
I give him a long, blank stare. The road blurs past us in grey and black streaks. He stares back. "You are nothing." And it's back to the road.
Remus doesn't miss a beat, but I can tell I've hurt him. He bruises easily, but never shows it. Quietly, he says, "We both know that I'm your everything, Sirius."
"And I repeat, you're nothing."
"Explain."
My lip twitches. "No."
"Explain, Sirius. Please."
"No."
Remus is angry now. So am I. No one can make me angry like Remus can. No one can make me happy like he can. The rain outside turns to hail. "Explain."
"No."
I'm an emotional driver. I brake and the car spins in two perfect circles in the middle of the high-way. Three cars swerve violently to miss us, one scrapes across the passenger's side and another clips the bumper. I don't care.
When the car stops, it's laid horizontally across the middle lane. Four more cars honk their protest.
"No, I don't think I will."
Remus has reached an impasse. Argue with me, or let it go and have me drive on. The few cars that are left on the road scream past. Remus' face crumples.
"Please, Padfoot." His voice cracks. I want to laugh. "You can tell me."
"No."
Brittle. Meek. Frail. But my world is weaker than its words, and I fall apart.
Without meaning to, I break down. I haven't cried since I left my parents' house, but now I'm sobbing. My body convulses in dry heaves, its tears already cold and withered. I curl into fetal position.
The highway is empty now, or full of traffic for all I care.
Remus unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to me. His face is serious and tired through his misty eyes. He lifts me and slides under my body so he's in the driver's seat and I'm in his lap. He shifts the car into drive and gets off the highway.
I bury my face in his shoulder and cry until the rain stops.