I can't believe the month is almost over already, I wrote so little! But well, I'll try and continue to update this even when the promts stop coming. The promt was scarves and hats but just how I ended up doing angst with such a happy promt I have no Idea. Your reviews make my day, seriously XD
Snowflake
By: Nekare
His old scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck, a rope ready to choke him to death with the autumn colors he still identifies as home and security (red and golden as the sunsets he's watched with Sirius in silence).
His fogs the air next to his lips, still swollen by his (their) last outburst of passion, ice melting on the window with their heat; and most probably Remus would never be able to show his face again to his neighbors, after the spectacle he did of himself yesterday while having sex against a near frozen window. (The feeling of an ending made it taste sweeter.)
Remus presumes Sirius is still on Remus' bed, curled up beneath the sheets, the black locks Remus has passed his fingers through so many times spilled on top of the once white pillow. Remus can picture him in his own head, one of Sirius' own fingers pressed against his lips as he always did when relaxed, possibly dreaming of the happy times, when a psycho wasn't messing with their lives; the same way Remus dreams every night.
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again he's back to reality, alone in the snow covered park (poetry written in whites), just a block away from his dingy flat; trying to make up his mind and gathering courage enough to leave Sirius for good.
They're hurting each other, he knows, and there's no point to keep on lying; not when he can see the suspicion in Sirius' eyes, as cold and dead looking as his grey irises.
The snow starts to fall again, tiny snowflakes of long lost hope, and amidst it he sees Sirius across the street, wearing the stupid hat Remus had taken off his head the first time he kissed him, and his expression grave and so different from his memory-Sirius that Remus has to frown a little. The war has changed them all, filled them with paranoia and dark thoughts; seeing a threat in every single face.
Sirius stares languidly at him, not acknowledging the old jumper Remus has stolen from him (old but Sirius scented, a souvenir of laughter and cold days by the fire), and Remus looks at him in the eye as he mouths Good-bye.
(The I love you he will keep to himself.)
He's alone once again when Sirius turns and walks away, dark figure getting lost in the white of the snow (which will turn to gray, Remus thinks, as soon as it touches the ground); and Remus looks up into the sky. A snowflake falls into his eye, because the dampness there can't be a tear.