Ink was dried onto his fingertips. He leaned so close to the yellow parchment that a little dot of ink was on the tip of his nose. His hand was scrawling so fast that his muscles ached. With love Forever, he wrote, your patient Moony. And with that he set his quill down and stretched his back like a cat. He was finally done. He had been working on it for nearly a week. Twenty-two cramped pages lay on his desk, he paused a moment to let it dry. He'll like it, I think, he thought, if he'll hold still long enough to read the whole thing. Maybe I went a little overboard…
He had spent the time talking about their love and friendship, talking about memories he had, talking about how he wish he was with him, and how he'd wait forever just to see and hold him again. Tonks had a good idea. Going through that maybe was the thing he needed, just as Dr. Treneski said. He took a deep sigh, feeling refreshed and happy. He couldn't wait for Sirius to read it.
But then, after so much toil, a realization dawned on him.
He'll never read it.
He can't read it.
He's dead.
He just stared dumbly at his desk. For a few moments, he had let his mind slip from reality, forgetting Sirius had fallen, thinking that he would send the letter with his owl and it would fly to him and Buckbeak out on some beach far away. That temporary nostalgia had made him so happy. It was like he was drugging himself to believe that Sirius was just away on a trip and would be back in a month or so.
But that's not true. He is dead. And I'll be without him the rest of my life.
His hands clenched his weeping visage, fingertips blackening his face with the mixture of ink and tears. He whispered into the indifferent air, "Come home to me, Padfoot!" He howled into the empty room, "Why did you have to go where I can't follow?!"
A villainous, evil voice, the voice of the wolf, echoed inside his mind…
Can't you?
He eyed the quill innocently lying on his desk.
Doubtless he found himself back in that familiar setting of magazines and squashy chairs. He had thought about committing suicide. That was the first time. But it wasn't the last. A steak knife, a staple gun, a garage and a car, anything became a possible weapon. He didn't share these thoughts with anyone, although he cut himself with the quill, but backed out of suicide at the last second, and the marks made Tonks and Mrs. Weasley eye him strangely. After a while he decided that if the temptation was too great, he would have to get help. He had to learn to live without Sirius.
He had gone through the same thing, years ago, when James and Lily died and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. He had survived then, but only just. He messed around with drugs and men. He had become the shell of a man, and when Sirius came back, it rekindled that spark that had long since been gone. He wanted that spark, and he didn't want to be a shell like he formerly was. That was why he was so focused on killing himself.
That was also why he was here again, after telling himself never to come back. It was another moist July day, and the doctor wasn't in the greatest of moods. "Lupin, Remus. Here again, I see…"
They went in and sat, Remus lying on the sofa, tensely. "Is this about your lover's dea…" she began.
"Itryokilmsef." He blurted.
"Er… come again?"
He coughed loudly, and tried to stay calm. "I tried to kill myself."
Her face didn't flinch. Her eyes didn't widen. "You too, eh?"
He stared.
"Everybody's been trying to do that these days. It's like a bloody fad. I was talking to a girl who wanted to kill herself just because she listened to Metallica too much." He twitched a smile. "I understand how depression feels like, and how loneliness feels like, Mister Lupin, but trying to take your own life is uncalled for. Sometimes, people just don't believe that life is worth living. That's ok, but you only get one chance…" She sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just sick of it…"
Remus eyed the carpet. "I just… I just want to be with him." He defended.
She rubbed her eyes, and played with the papers on her clipboard. "I'm prescribing you an anti-depressant. It's called Zodof. It's 100miligrams a day, with food," she handed him the slip. "It will prevent chemicals in your brain from not functioning right, or something…"
He took the paper, and left her office hesitantly, without her saying goodbye.
In the waiting room he found a familiar black sight.
Severus Snape?
A/N: I wrote this kina quickly… Iftheirs mistakes I is sorRy.
Yeah, Zodof is a rip off Zoloft. Poop on them. Please review, cause I like this story. Flames will be used to grill hotdogs.