There are very few things that Sirius views as intolerable. His family was one of them, the same believes that drove the opposition in the war another. As he watches Remus walk out the door, and leaves it hanging open long after he's gone like some foolish, hopeful child waiting for him to come back, Sirius discovers another intolerable thing, this time about himself.
How many times does this have to happen, where he feels hurt and confused all at once because of one Remus Lupin? How many times is he going to go searching for excuses, any that fit, to justify those actions? He's doing it right now, replaying the conversation yet again, looking for something, anything, that he could have done. He's clinging to the invite, knowing that it was probably made out of polite obligation but trying with all of his might to convince himself otherwise. How many times does this have to happen before Sirius can't help but wonder, if people who loved him so much in the past always seem to catch the sudden urge to run away in his presence, maybe they aren't the problem?
"Fuck." It's a quiet whisper to himself when he finally closes the door, and the sudden silence in the apartment is only broken by the sound of the dishes washing themselves. He doesn't know how long he stands there in the doorway, staring at nothing, searching for a way to fix this but not knowing where to start. When he finds movement it's into the kitchen, as if making his way to put away the dishes, but he stops once again to look at the place where Remus stood in front of his stove, his own chin nestled into Remus's shoulder just moments before. What happened?
"FUCK." It echoes through the apartment and that anger welling in him, left over from their conversation and stoked by hopeless confusion, is released when he kicks the kitchen chair and sends it into the wall with a jarring sound that leaves a mark on the paint. He suddenly feels the urge to go find a fight to pick again, the way he did when Klaus disappeared, but Sirius closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep, because he can't do that again. All he can do now is push it all aside, and think, and replay until he finds it.
And when he does he is going to go to apartment 204, he decides stubbornly. There are no bars here. Remus can't just run away from him and leave him wondering what happened. Sirius has more power this time, he has his freedom, and he fully intends to use it. Let Remus run. He's not afraid to chase, not when it's worth it, and it's always worth it for Lupin. Always has been.
"Fuck." The last one is sighed and tired as Sirius waves a lazy hand to fix the wall and chair, dragging himself into the living room to collapse back on the couch. He could watch television, but he doesn't turn it on. The silence is fine. He just needs to think. And he'll do it for as long as he has to before he figures out what to do, because it's not over this time. If Remus wants to put distance between them, this time, Sirius will make him say it.
no subject
How many times does this have to happen, where he feels hurt and confused all at once because of one Remus Lupin? How many times is he going to go searching for excuses, any that fit, to justify those actions? He's doing it right now, replaying the conversation yet again, looking for something, anything, that he could have done. He's clinging to the invite, knowing that it was probably made out of polite obligation but trying with all of his might to convince himself otherwise. How many times does this have to happen before Sirius can't help but wonder, if people who loved him so much in the past always seem to catch the sudden urge to run away in his presence, maybe they aren't the problem?
"Fuck." It's a quiet whisper to himself when he finally closes the door, and the sudden silence in the apartment is only broken by the sound of the dishes washing themselves. He doesn't know how long he stands there in the doorway, staring at nothing, searching for a way to fix this but not knowing where to start. When he finds movement it's into the kitchen, as if making his way to put away the dishes, but he stops once again to look at the place where Remus stood in front of his stove, his own chin nestled into Remus's shoulder just moments before. What happened?
"FUCK." It echoes through the apartment and that anger welling in him, left over from their conversation and stoked by hopeless confusion, is released when he kicks the kitchen chair and sends it into the wall with a jarring sound that leaves a mark on the paint. He suddenly feels the urge to go find a fight to pick again, the way he did when Klaus disappeared, but Sirius closes his eyes and tries to breathe deep, because he can't do that again. All he can do now is push it all aside, and think, and replay until he finds it.
And when he does he is going to go to apartment 204, he decides stubbornly. There are no bars here. Remus can't just run away from him and leave him wondering what happened. Sirius has more power this time, he has his freedom, and he fully intends to use it. Let Remus run. He's not afraid to chase, not when it's worth it, and it's always worth it for Lupin. Always has been.
"Fuck." The last one is sighed and tired as Sirius waves a lazy hand to fix the wall and chair, dragging himself into the living room to collapse back on the couch. He could watch television, but he doesn't turn it on. The silence is fine. He just needs to think. And he'll do it for as long as he has to before he figures out what to do, because it's not over this time. If Remus wants to put distance between them, this time, Sirius will make him say it.