a beautiful world | wolfstar

vague sound

Remus stared at his revision notes, reading them through thoroughly and registering absolutely nothing.

It was about two at night, and the other boys were asleep. He could hear them snoring and sighing, the mattresses creaking when they shifted.

Well, he could hear two of them. Sirius was lying still, curled up in on himself, barely breathing. But Remus didn't want to think about whether he was awake or not. He didn't want to think about him.

And yet... and yet...

He buried his face into his hands, eyes aching and head heavy.

Five weeks. It had been five weeks. Two and a half from when they had fought. Two and a half before that.

Four days, a familiar voice muttered in his head.

Remus sagged further, feeling sick with exhaustion. His sleep was more fucked up than usual: he was up most nights, revising for his exams (which were a terrifying two months away).

Although he didn't mind it too much - it distracted him from guilt. Guilt, shame, and regret.

If he wasn't revising, Remus was thinking about the fight. About him saying he wasn't gay. About the way Sirius seemed to shut down right after. Like a computer, blank-screened and unresponsive.

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They were broken now. They were both cracked and frayed and tired, just so tired, and it was Remus' fault. He had kissed Sirius. He had lied.

Someone sneezed, making Remus flinch.

It was too cold for early April. Remus shivered, pulling his jumper tight around him. The clock ticked slowly on the wall. And still the boys slept on.

He had tried to come up with something to say. Again and again, he had been on the verge of coming out, of kissing Sirius, of doing something. But he was too afraid. He was too much of a coward.

Leaning back, Remus looked up at the ceiling. There was a burn mark above his head, along with faint footprints, dark against the white.

Remus smiled at the memory, letting his mind drift to happier times.

He had nearly fallen asleep, darkness pulling him gently away, when a vague sound made his eyes open.

Sitting up, Remus glanced at Sirius' bed. The boy was shaking, his face twisted towards him, eyebrows furrowed. His hands scratched at the bedsheets.

"N-no, no, please..."

"Sirius?"

No answer, except for the continued muffled cries.

A moment's hesitation. He didn't want to scare the other boy, or make a fuss, or try to help when he wasn't welcome. But then -

"Save him, goddammit - !"

Remus got up, padding across to Sirius. He sat on the bed, watching Sirius scrabble through his dreams, words frenzied.