Once, Twice, Thrice.
--
"May you live forever, and I never die."
Tipsy one night, they giggle and slur the old toast. Once, twice, thrice, they'd slipped through. Once, twice, thrice, they'd eluded death. Fourth was soon, they couldn't be found. Ruffle the baby's hair; he's safe too.
The dead of night, soon after, comes the chilling scrape of the front door.
--
What if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two
That's all it had been. A dawn of a doom of a dream of impossibility. No. He couldn't have, it was him. No spine, no room in a tiny mind for treachery. Yet the impossible was possible, the evidence before his eyes in splinters of a house, a sharp, fresh scar. It had ceased to be inconceivable the second the secret had changed hands.
Nothing left for the man standing among ruins of his own creation.
--
Two nights later.
Smoke, wafting into the cold night sky through an open window, grey against black.
Takes another drag, he's not used to it, but they were James' favorites. Out the window an eye of the rugged man in the moon weeps, the other hidden by shadow.
James' favorites; 'course they were (are?) Sirius' favorites too. Quickly stubs it out on the damp newspaper next to him.
Sees the moon in the early November sky, tears slip down his cheeks and mingle with the ashy taste on his lips.
Doesn't even dread full moon this month. Restraining himself has become tortuous, no one to run around with anymore, not since he left school. Now though; now, he sees no reason for self-discipline. No reason for him not to tear himself apart, to hunt others too.
His reasons, they've all gone, all three of them.
Picks up the picture frame next to the newspaper, intending to take out the picture, to rip it into a million shreds. Then he looks at it again, at the four smiling faces; tucks it far under the mattress instead.
Blinks once, twice, thrice; falls asleep with the frame resting on his chest.
--
First quote from Ivan Doig's The Sea Runners.
Second quote by e.e. cummings.