A/N: Two days ago, my best friend ran away from home. I hope you enjoy this, because this is literally my entire soul poured into a story.

Disclaimer

If he doesn't reply in a week I'm going to kill myself.

If he's..dead..then I'm going to kill myself.

I'll keep taking pills and cutting until I die.

I'm not doing this without him.

Remus clenched his numb fingers, dimping out the last of his cigarette and letting his phone fall to the floor.

He was sat on the windowsill, his head resting against the cold glass, the lack of warmth reminding him of Sirius' cold shoulder next to him. His fingertips were blue, and he huddled around the flame as he lit another cigarette, sparking the flint of his lighter after several clumsy tries.

Two days ago, Sirius had messaged him, telling him he couldn't handle his mother anymore, and he was leaving, before he either killed himself, her, or both.

He'd told Remus he planned to catch the train to Manchester, and promised he'd call once he reached the city, that night.

That was Saturday night.

It was now twenty to nine on a Monday night, and Remus had never felt more dead inside.

He'd opted to stay at school through the winter break, politely declining James' pleas to join him and Peter at his house.

Sirius had gone home that break too. Remus still remembered Sirius' last moments with him, a simple 'until next time, yea?' and a cheeky wink.

Sirius had ran away a week later.

Remus hadn't eaten in two days, since Sirius had left.

He'd been eating a packet of chips when the message arrived, which he had rapidly dropped in favour of his phone.

They were still on the floor, half-eaten.

No, wait, that was a lie.

He'd eaten half a chocolate chip cookie that lunchtime. Then he'd remembered, dropped the packet, ran into the bathroom and promptly vomited his guts out. For once, it wasn't self induced.

Worry was like the hydrochloric acid contained inside his stomach, washing through his system and ejecting any source of nutrition.

He hadn't slept either. Insomnia hit like a bitch, and he spent the lonely nights slumped against the windowsill, smoking cigarette after cigarette and flicking his phone on and off again, praying to a God he'd lost faith in that there was a reply waiting for him from Sirius.

Remus knew Sirius had no money on him, so he'd be on the streets somewhere in Manchester in the middle of December. He was also underweight as all fucking hell, six foot two and weighing a tiny one hundred twenty pounds. His anorexia had been getting better, but being denied food at home was a terrible trigger for him, and the self-loathing being there filled him with always resulted in a relapse.

Sirius also had a problem with drugs and drink.

He hadn't had a drink in months, but he'd need something for warmth.

He smoked weed on an almost daily basis, mixing it with methamphetamine and heroin on occasion, and Sirius would need something to distract him from the abysmal surroundings he had landed himself in.

So the tiny amount of money he had would be spent on that, instead of being used to getting the fuck back home.

And home was Hogwarts, with him and James and Peter, not with the fucking Medusa whore who gave birth to him.

Remus missed him so much it was physically painful.

It's always the little things that get you while you're missing someone, and right now, Remus missed everything.

He missed Sirius' pathetic attempts at studying; reading for a few seconds, reading the questions, groaning in confusion and asking Remus for the answers because 'the questions were completely irrelevant to the text'.

He missed Sirius' light humour, the way he'd shamelessly flirt with everything that breathed, and not let a scream or a drink to the face wipe the cheeky smirk from his face.

He missed watching dumb movies with Sirius, and watching his face light up as he leant forward, muttering the script under his breath because he'd seen the films countless times but never tired of them.

He missed the light night talks with Sirius, whilst everyone was asleep, leant against his skinny frame and smoking together, whilst they talked about how they were going to move in together and find a better life.

He missed how light Sirius always seemed to be. Sirius was the only one who knew about Remus cutting himself, so whenever he spotted the new cuts, he'd always whack Remus around the head and tell him to last double the time before he did it again.

He even missed Sirius' complete lack of boundaries, but then again, he'd gotten used to walking into the dorm and seeing Sirius sprawled out across his bed, flicking through Remus' quite private song journal and still in his pyjamas, because sometimes he just couldn't be bothered to attend class.

Without Sirius here, Remus had nothing left.

Sure, he had Peter and James. But him and James didn't actually talk that much when Sirius wasn't around; and if they did, it was usually James doing impressions or talking about Sirius. It wasn't a properly grounding friendship. It was replaceable.

But it was different with Sirius.

Sirius was the one who sat outside the bathroom for an hour, because he knew Remus was crying and cutting inside and he blatantly refused to leave him in there, at three in the morning on his own.

Sirius was the one who still managed muster a real smile and keep it there even though his parents were abusive alcoholics. Even though he was severely underweight.

Sirius was the one who stayed with him when he took pills to try and kill himself, and ended up getting high. He'd been there through the hangovers, though Sirius was the one who usually spiked his drinks in the first place, and the countless comedowns.

Sirius was the one who always had a spare packet of cigarettes, because he knew 'Rem gets grouchy without his fix.'

He was the only one who hadn't screamed at him for smoking; rather, he taught Remus how to smoke because, quote, 'if he was gonna get cancer anyway, he may as well enjoy the damn cigarettes while he's at it.' And he'd been there to shriek with laughter when Remus used to get nicotine rushes, amusedly watching his best friend stagger around the room like he was on good cocaine.

Sirius had never given up on the friendship, even though Remus had deemed it beyond repair countless times. It was Sirius who refused to define what they were, because the term 'best friends' obviously put too much pressure on Remus.

Sirius was the glue that held the broken pieces of Remus together.

But now he was gone, possibly lay dead in a Manchester gutter, and Remus could feel himself falling apart.

He couldn't eat without Sirius. He couldn't sleep knowing Sirius wasn't there. He couldn't breathe without Sirius, because Sirius was the only oxygen he needed, and without it, he was slowly suffocating.

There was no reason to live with the curse of lycanthropy without Sirius Black guiding him through the darkness.

If Sirius doesn't reply in a week, then I'm going to kill myself.

And nobody can stop me.