I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm
This body will never be safe from harm
Still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal
Touch my skin to keep me whole

He lays on his back, naked, save for a sheet haphazardly strewn about his legs. His right arm dangles over the edge of the bed, his hand nearly touching the needle and tourniquet he left there. His other hand rests on his stomach, slowly working its way downward. He's empty now, as empty as the house that creaks and moans around him.

If only you'd come back to me
If you laid at my side
Wouldn't need no mojo pin
To keep me satisfied

Alone now, alone always, the magic he injects into himself is his only comfort. It seems almost ironic that he should have to resort to this Muggle vice. He knows that, were Sirius here, none of this would be necessary, everything would be different. His hand works into a steady rhythm.

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

He has no more tears to cry. In the beginning he cried often, hiding it only from Harry. He no longer has the strength to stand, though even when he did, it always led to him collapsing onto the floor. The pain of missing him is physical, a knife in the chest, worse than anything from his transformations. He vaguely wonders if being unable to move is a worse hell than wandering through the house where so many memories lived on. Now he could only watch them in his head, something he couldn't stop if he tried.

Precious, precious silver and gold
And pearls in oyster's flesh

Sirius had left him everything. Money, jewels, the house. All of it was as useless to him as it was now to his Padfoot. His hand's rhythm stays steady but speeds up to a pace that would be frantic if not for apathy.

Drop down we two to serve and pray to love
Born again from the rhythm screaming down from heaven
Ageless, ageless and I'm there in your arms

When Sirius was alive, Remus revered him. The two found a sort of religion in each other, in Love, and they worshipped it passionately and often. Never apart for long before and then after Azkaban, they could finish each other's sentences and read each other's thoughts. Now the only way he could reach Sirius was in the form of a needle.

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

His back arches and he mutters a cleanup spell.

The welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more

Towards the end, things were strained between them. Sirius, restless and resentful, would take out his frustrations on Remus, who was there every moment he could be. He'd always start by fretting over Harry, then over the war, and then he'd start complaining about his lack of freedom, being pent up in the house all the time when everyone else could leave. Every time, it ended with Sirius in tears, thinking Remus would leave him.

To this, Remus would cup his lover's face in his hands, look into his eyes, and say, "Well it's you I've waited my life to see. It's you I've searched so hard for."

Don't wanna weep for you, I don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow

It flows through his veins like the tears should from his eyes. It's not enough anymore, so he takes more and more, trying desperately to drown out the noise in his head.

The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty i love you so

He drifts off to sleep, and Sirius welcomes him with open arms.