See The Rainbows In My Eyes

Voices In My Head

Thursday 15th April 1976

Sirius hunched up the stairwell to his dorm, sniffing and runny-nosed from crying all over Evans. It was a moment they agreed to never discuss again but Lily would always have that on him, his breakdown was precious blackmail.

"The less you say, the less they know," was something his parents had drilled into his mind, Regulus' too. Sure, he hadn't said much to Lily but he'd cried and that was a special type of vulnerability that words could never meet.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, wiping his snot with the back of his sleeve and drying his eyes. James was there, sitting on his trunk with a bouncing leg and arms resting on his knees.

Fuck, the revisions. He'd forgotten and knew how strongly his friend felt about unkept promises.

James turned at the sound of Sirius kicking off his docs. "You didn't show!" he exclaimed, blue disappointment in his eyes. "You're lucky Evans didn't either or else I would've made a complete fool of myself."

Sirius doffed his leather jacket and threw it on his bed, so sick and tired of putting on a show. Why did people expect so much of him? Couldn't they deal with their own shit for a change?

"James, fuck off," he grunted, rummaging through his nightstand drawer for his cigarette pack. That was a bit harsh but he wasn't in the mood for clowning and horseplay. His remark was quick and to the point like ripping off a wax strip but still left a sting.

James got the message, sealing his lips, and didn't bother Sirius for the rest of the night.

***

Insomnia consumed him until far past midnight while his stomach beggingly growled since all he'd eaten were saltine crackers and a jaffa cake. Being high and alone with your thoughts was a dangerous combination because you begin to believe every lie you tell yourself.

There is no guard to stop the bad things from coming in. You're just floating on a cloud and dopily dreaming, even if it might be one of thunder.

A chilly draft wafted through his curtains and without willing it so, Elio came into his mind, and everything replayed from the start. How long would he torture himself, beat himself up about moments already written into history?

The more he remembered, the more breathless he felt. Elio. It's as if there's a hole in his throat. The girl. The little air he was able to grasp grew thin and stale. The kiss. His lungs go chapped. The emptiness.

To literally explain every emotion Sirius began to feel as he squirmed and panted in his bed would be too complex for someone other than himself to understand. But in figurative terms, it was like drowning, but not dying.

It began as if he were floating in the ocean and turned to see an enormous wave towering over him, about to crash. The sneakiness of the moment caught him off guard and he was swallowed by the monstrosity before he could cry for help.

He was taken under, being tumbled and thrust around the sandy floor like a sack of rubbish. He was impotent but writhing, wasting precious air on fighting an unknown force. His heart beats faster than his poisoned lungs can manage, pounding like angry fists until the knuckles bruise.

That is where he was at now, dying beneath the waves, feeling everything at once like a blow to the head. Clenching his sheet, he pleaded in his mind, breath, breath, breath, but all that came back was, you can't breathe, you can't breathe, you can't breathe.

If only his thoughts had an off switch.

His empty stomach churned and his body trembled, hyperventilating until darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. Sirius rushed to the bathroom and gripped the countertop, begging his body to throw up but as if in spite, it didn't.