IV. Sunstorm
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It's been a day since Sirius walked out, since the door slammed shut, the loudest thing in the flat since their first Christmas as adults.
(Have some mead, Moony! Ishgood stuff!
Maybe just one.
Oi! Mistletoe, you two!
Oh, Merlin no. Not now.
Be a sport, Moony! Come on!)
It's been a while since awkward, stilted conversation could turn into loud, angry shouting, and the last time that happened, Remus didn't talk for a week and Sirius cried himself to sleep every night, but only Peter knew that.
It's been a while since he's bitten his lip till it bled. He hasn't done that since he was thirteen and James shoved a moon chart in his face, all boyish humour and knowing grins.
It's been a while since Remus has cried. When his dad died, it was all soft words and small tears and his mother's comforting embraces. All flowers and black robes and rainy days. But now, in his own world of perfect irony it's all harsh thoughts and blood, and the sun shines brightly.
