A/N: This is a repost of a oneshot I wrote a while back. It's been fixed up a bit but pretty much the same story. Hope you like it, and review. Review Review Review, even if you hated it with a fiery passion, or looooved it, or felt indifferent towards it, review.

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, therefore I don't own any of this jazz you see before you except the plot.

And the title of my story belongs to the title of a song by Avenged Sevenfold. You guys rock my socks.

Warnings: Language, character death (reference of anyway) and reference to m/m relationship.

So, without further ado, here is my story.

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He's dead.

Sirius is dead.

Dead.

It's been just about three months since he died. I've buried him, but I've never cried. My mind has yet to process his death.

I won't let it.

I've lived in a world of denial the past months, forcing out all emotions, fearing what would happen if I let them in. I've become hollow and blank. A shell of the man I was before. But now I can't force them away anymore. The emotions are suffocating me, breaking me, killing me. If I just make it to my room no one has to know of this.

They won't have to see Remus Lupin breaking down, unable to stop the tears and sobs from flowing. If I could just make it to my room.

But, of course, I can't. I'm in the living room at Grimmauld Place; everyone is out for the day shopping for school supplies. The Weasleys, Hermione, Severus, and Albus have been staying with Harry and me since….well, since he died.

I'm sitting here thinking, trying so hard to push away the emotions. But they're eating away my resiliency until it happens. I can no longer shove them out, the emotions envelop me like a huge blanket, planning to kill me, slowly and painfully.

I fall to the floor, the tears I've held back for so long fall against my will. Choked sobs come crashing out, and I shake with the force of it all. I lose grip on time, place, and everything that could be of any importance. The only thing on my mind is him.

He's dead. Gone. Forever. He'll never come back.

I'll never hear his deep throaty laugh again, I'll never snuggle up in his arms again, I'll never steal glances at him at Order meetings again, I'll never be enveloped in the raw passion and love we shared together again.

Never again. It's all over. I'll never again share the complete and overwhelming love I've shared with him.

I dwell on this for minutes, hours, years, lifetimes. I honestly don't know. I mourn for him, for us. For everything that was lost by his death. I manage to push this thought out of my mind somewhat. But once I'm past that thought, another springs up to attack me.

It's hard enough not being able to see him ever again with the love we shared, but the fact that no one knows we shared it is damn near unbearable. I'm surprised I'm still alive with all the pain coursing through my body. No one knows all the nights we shared together, that we've been together since our time at Hogwarts.

How the time we were apart when he was in Azkaban was fucking torture, but was rewarded with the most powerful happiness and love and utter completeness when he escaped.

And now the bittersweet feeling of receiving the letter of his name being cleared months after his death. No one has known of our relationship, except Dumbledore perhaps, but then again, doesn't he know practically everything?

I'm sitting here crying, no not crying, that's too weak a word. I'm sitting here with my fucking unbearable pain that's slowly chipping away my life and crashing out of me in torrents of choked sobs and salty tears.

I can't stand it anymore. The loss. The pain. It's all too much. I've released a monster and it's not being caged up again. I very much doubt if I'll ever be able to free myself from this Hell.

I am completely hopeless, but I really don't care. All I care about right now is how he's never coming back.

Sirius. Is. Dead. Gone. Forever. And I'm alone.

After some time, I have no clue how long, Harry and the others return. Albus and Harry come into the living room and see the broken form of me on the floor. Next thing I know I'm in the study on the sofa with a worried Harry and a seemingly knowing Albus.

I eventually stop crying, my voice hoarse from all the sobs that escaped my mouth. Harry waits a few moments for me to compose myself a bit more, and then asks me what happened. I try to talk but begin to think about him again. The loss still as unbearable as before. The torture just as painful. I breakdown again, sobs once again erupting from my body.

I end up crying myself into a sleep, if you can call it that. More like an uneasy lack of consciousness. I awake only half an hour later (as I'm told) due to the restlessness of my slumber. I'm greeted with a pounding headache, but before my emotions can resurface, Harry talks to me.

He's about to ask what happened once again, but is stopped by Albus. He knows. He fucking knows. He's too smart for his own good sometimes. Albus tells Harry that I will tell him in time and not to worry. I started thinking, tuning out Albus' speech to Harry making sure Harry knows I'm okay. Or as okay as I can be under the circumstances.

I'm thinking about Sirius of course, barely able to suppress the emotions clawing away at my heart. A few tears roll down my face, not that I notice.

But then, it hits me. I'm not alone. Harry is suffering probably just as much as I am. He needs me, just as I need him. I will tell him soon. I'll reveal Sirius' and my relationship and then we will help each other heal. It won't be anywhere near easy, but it will be done.

It needs to be done. I won't get over his death. I'd never be able to do that. He will plague me every thought for the rest of my life no doubt. But I can make it bearable. I can make it less painful. I can make it so I can control myself and not breakdown every waking moment.

I need this. Harry needs this. We'll take it one day at a time, supporting each other. Helping each other. Caring for each other. If we can count on each other, we can hopefully not let his death eat away at us for the rest of our lives. We'll be able to move on to some extent.

We might even be able to be happy. He's dead. No denying it. He will never come back. But, the problem is we're alive. Perhaps if we're together, we just might be able to make it through this. We're alive, no doubt, but hopefully later on we might be able to live again. So I stop Dumbledore's speech and turn to Harry.

I take a few deep breaths, praying I can get the words out of my mouth, and preparing myself for all the horrible reminiscing I'm about to go through. I am about to talk about him. About us. I've never done it. If it was hard when he was alive, it'll be fucking torture to talk about it with him gone.

I brace myself and begin, "Harry, let me tell you about a man by the name of Sirius Black." Harry's confused at first, but I pay no mind to it. I just free all my thoughts and emotions. I tell Harry everything. About us. About him.

It takes hours, many more than it should have considering Harry and I both broke down quite a few times. Once I've finished, Harry and I crumble. We fall into the abyss of complete loss. We're both on the floor now, clinging to each other for dear life. Or for the sweet release of death to come so we can be freed. It's hard to tell now.

We stay on the floor, just holding each other while we mourn. For him. For everything lost. We mourn.

We both wake up when sunlight pours through the window of the study. We're still on the floor, clad with red and puffy faces, clinging to each other. We look at each other, a silent agreement is exchanged. We will make it though this. We can live again, though he is dead.

We'll never forget him or get over his death really, but we'll manage. We'll get through it. With each other for support. We're family, unofficial as it may be.

We're family and we will make it through this together. We have to. For him.

For Sirius.