#this shame and guilt bubbles up and is only made worse when he isn’t rejected or hated like he’s expecting. he’s taken back with open arms

[zeb-z]

missa, after his self resentment and lamenting about how he doesn’t feel worthy or like he should be accepted, after telling himself and the capybaras that he doesn’t have a home, not really - after all is said and done, he returns to phil & missa, leaving his mini mi in the house on the wall. as if he’d consider anywhere other than the house he shared with phil safe enough. seeking out safety and home brought him right back where he started.

something about how despite his internal conflicts and issues about what he thinks he deserves, he’ll still come back. and for all he worries that he is not enough to be loved in return, his name is still on the warp stone.

[ibroughtanarsenal]

guilt trips.

WHO: Jason Todd @thatsjasonfkntodd & Roy Harper @ibroughtanarsenal WHERE: Roy’s apartment WHEN: Backdated to mid-June, 2020 WHAT: Withdrawal isn’t easy

Roy: This was the worst part. It wasn't the final stretch, not even close, but this was right where the worst of it showed up and then stuck around much too long. As prepared as Roy tried to be for it, it was difficult to battle with the frustration and agitation. It didn't help that he'd had no sleep and hadn't been able to eat anything in days. It all took a toll on his mood.

Even though he accepted Dick being there just for the sake of giving Jason a break, he stayed holed up in the bedroom. The sheets were soaked in sweat and he was doing his best not to break down and beg Jason not to make him do this anymore. The only thing that helped was consistently reminding himself that he'd done this before and not died, so he wasn't going to die this time either, but it was difficult to remember when everything hurt. When he did manage to sleep it wasn't longer than ten or twenty minutes, only to wake up feeling as if he'd been hit by a train.

He couldn't be in the bed anymore. His entire body felt like one open nerve and he couldn't be in the bed for long before he was up, this time to run the bath. "Cold," was the only thing he offered as an explanation. Jason: Jason had a little time before the initial conversation with Roy to start mentally prepping himself, and then the day and night before the actual withdrawal symptoms set in. It was...like he remembered, though perhaps worse in a way. He was an adult, he knew the full gravity of what Roy was enduring and what he’d asked him to do. On the other hand, Jason was not fully in it with him alone. Roy had other resources if he needed them, if Jason was somehow wrong about his own ability to deal with the situation. There was a safety net present that hadn’t existed for his mother or for him as a child, even if he’d rejected it. It was still there.

He operated mostly with a quiet resolve, giving Roy distractions, bringing him food that he didn’t want. He remembered that part keenly. Toward the end, his mother had eaten practically nothing. It had been a wonder she’d not died of starvation before the overdose, and it had reached a point where he was feeding her himself. He didn’t want to reach that point with Roy. It wouldn’t. They wouldn’t have to do that.

He’d agreed to let Dick step in for a few hours so that he could get some semblance of sleep himself, even though it was barely fit to be called that. It was restful only in the sense that it would keep him from passing out later. It let him be alert. There was nothing comforting in it. Otherwise, he took care of Roy himself like he said he would.

He’d just stepped into the room with a peanut butter sandwich on a plate, which he sat down by the bed before walking into the bathroom. “Come here,” he motioned with one hand, and once he was able to he had one hand under the hem of Roy’s damp shirt to help pull it over his head. Roy: "I got it." It was hard not to snap at Jason even when he was trying to help. Everything felt much worse than it was supposed to. The guilt and shame weighed more heavily on his shoulders and it made it difficult not to express it, however misplaced it was. It wasn't right and it made him feel even worse. Just a stupid fucking cycle he couldn't break, at least not for the next few days, and he hated how he'd treated Dinah the first time around too.

This time he was more aware of it. He managed to hold much of it back. This wasn't going to be a great experience, they both knew that going in, but he'd do his best to not make it shittier. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be snapping at a nurse in detox instead.

Even the fabric moving against his skin hurt. Roy grimaced, already fumbling to get the rest of his clothes off even though the bathtub wasn't filled yet. He just wanted to feel the hot water so he could stop shaking. His teeth were practically chattering and he could feel it in his bones.

Already he was stepping into the tub so he could feel the heat against his skin. The water wasn't rising enough and he exhaled in frustration, laying his head against the side of the tub as he tried to stop shivering. "Sorry. I'm just..." Jason: Jason held up his hands and took a step back as Roy snapped. He considered telling him to just let him do it, but chose to just save that in case there was a moment worth insisting about later. He couldn’t detox for Roy. If he could have, he would have gladly just absorbed it and done it in his stead, which was not the first time he’d had a thought like that. Nothing worked that way.

As Roy sank down into the water, Jason moved to sit on the edge of the tub. It was a little too narrow and definitely not comfortable, but he didn’t want to keep leaving him by himself. He snatched a washcloth from the side of the sink and dunked it into the water. A second later he squeezed it to wet Roy’s chest and hopefully get more of him warmer. He’d been trying to think of the things he’d done for his mother. Some of them didn’t translate. Not everything about the situation was completely identical, after all. He had come up with one thing, and after repeating the gesture with the cloth a few more times he decided to offer. “I could read to you.” It was better than silence, and there was only so much TV that could be watched. Roy: The hot water was helping for now. Roy felt the icy feeling in his bones fade away and he finally reached over to turn off the water once it realized how high it was getting. There was no way to get lower in the water even though he had the need to submerge himself completely. The air was too cold.

Jason's use of the cloth somehow helped. He focused on the movement of it, not as bothered now by the pins and needles sensation under his skin. It was temporary relief, at least. There wasn't a lot that could distract him from the pain at this point. He'd just have to get through it. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, accepting the suggestion since he knew it would be better than TV and it would also give Jason a task, something he could do that might make him feel more in control of the situation. "Yeah. I have some books." Most of them were on his phone, but he had a couple. Jason: He kept the motion up with the cloth until Roy turned off the water and seemed to be a tiny bit satisfied with it, inasmuch as he could be satisfied with anything right then. “Yeah...I’ll be back in a minute.” There was nothing in the bathroom. Jason and Dick had both swept the place in their own way, getting rid of anything that Roy might be able to use to break the detox. Jason had been less than thrilled to discover the nondescript bottle of alcohol Roy had clearly been hiding for who knew how long. He didn’t want to ask about it, but he suspected that it preceded the heroin. The bathroom was clean, regardless. There wasn’t even mouthwash.

Jason stepped out to find a book, but to do a few other things while Roy was occupied. One of the things he knew they’d need was sheets and blankets. Roy wasn’t exactly the type to keep a bunch of extra sets, so Jason had brought some of his own. The memory of sitting on the floor by a bare, stained mattress with no running water to clean the sheets was not one he cared to repeat. So while Roy was in the bath, Jason changed everything on the bed. He’d do it again the next time Roy got back up for awhile.

When he stepped back into the bathroom a little while later, he had a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in his hand. “Bed’s clean, if you want, or I can sit in here.” Roy: Roy didn't bother getting up and raiding the bathroom while Jason was gone. He knew him and he knew Dick. Neither of them were stupid. They weren't about to let him have access to anything at a time like this, when it would be tempting to put an end to it. So tempting that he wanted to look just in case, but he didn't move.

By the time Jason came back he didn't want to be in the tub anymore. Even five minutes could sometimes be too long to be in one place. The discomfort made him restless and agitated, eager to move so he could do something. Maybe listening to Jason read would make it easier. "No, I'm done." He exhaled softly and drained the water, already shivering again as he got up and reached for the towel. It felt like too much effort to get dressed, but he knew he had to at least put on some pants. He noticed Jason had changed the sheets and he was grateful to lay down, pressing his face into the pillow and not caring that his hair was making it wet. "What'd you pick?" He asked, his voice muffled. Jason: “Tom Sawyer. Not doing character voices though, so don’t expect authenticity.” Jason let Roy get settled and, since the sheets were clean for the time being, he slid in next to him.

“Still cold?” He wasn’t normally one to offer a lot of physical comfort, not in a doting or soft kind of way, but with everything going on it wasn’t as if he could carry on normally. He wanted Roy close to him, closer to him. Maybe that was selfish. He wasn’t going to press it, and he’d stay on the other side and read the book if that’s what he wanted. Jason wasn’t accustomed to the unexpectedly needy feeling that kept bubbling up. Roy: "Not the same without the voices." It was hard, but Roy managed to maintain some of his sense of humor during this. It came back to him at random moments, a rare instance of levity, but it helped keep him sane. He had to remember that there was something beyond this part. The next few days would take forever and be hell. If he knew there were an end in sight and kept reminding himself of it, then he could stay focused.

He nodded, turning his head so his other was cheek against the pillow. "Yeah. Come closer." It was only a matter of time before he'd need to get up and move around. He wanted to at least enjoy it for as long as he could. Jason: With the book in one hand, Jason moved down beneath the covers and pushed the other pillow over by Roy’s so he could lay next to him. He held out one arm, offering for him to swap the pillow for Jason’s chest. They were not, strictly speaking, the cuddling type. Jason slept close to him, sometimes with an arm around him, but he didn’t often keep his hands all over him just for the sake of it. The circumstances were unique, though, and it might have been more for him than for Roy. It was difficult to tell. He was warm, though.

He cracked open the book a moment later. “You don’t want to hear my southern accent,” he assured him. Even less than Jason wanted to try doing one. Aunt Polly was just going to have to be a 26 year old man from Gotham and like it. Jason made his way down the first page and the second, letting himself focus on the story rather than the room or why they were in it. He’d only had a couple of books to read to his mom, ones he’d checked out from the library and never been able to return, but he’d gone through them many, many times while she was sick. Roy: Shifting the pillow to his other side, Roy moved closer so he could lean against Jason's chest. The close contact might have normally brought him some pain or sensitivity, but the bath had given him some temporary respite. He didn't notice it, not yet at least, and he exhaled softly and closed his eyes. It was comfortable and he hoped it stayed that way for as long as possible. Comfort wasn't a word he could use loosely or easily these days. Even if it were temporary, he wanted to enjoy it. Jason was the only person who'd have been capable of bringing it at a time like this.

"Kinda do," he admitted, smirking at the thought of Jason reading with an actual Southern accent, but the topic was merely a distraction. He didn't want to focus on other things, less pleasant things, and his arm slid more firmly around Jason's waist as he turned his head more against him. "The heavier, the better," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I need the dramatic effect so I can actually picture the scene." Jason: Jason rolled his eyes and kept reading, though a couple more pages in he did throw in a little twang. Or some approximation of one. It probably sounded closer to Brad Pitt in Inglorious Basterds than Tom Sawyer, though. “If you tell anyone I did this, I’ll have to smother you with a pillow. Sounds peaceful, but it won’t be.” He couldn’t completely let up and just be soft nursemaid for him.

He made it through the first chapter before he laid the book aside and nodded toward the nightstand where he’d left the sandwich earlier. “You should eat. I know you don’t want to,” he headed that off before Roy could say it, “but it’s worse on an empty stomach.” If he started getting sick, and Jason had no doubt that it was coming, stomach acid was just going to make it harder. Roy: Every time Roy heard Jason add some little twang in his voice, he couldn't help a soft laugh. It definitely didn't sound Southern, but he wasn't exactly an expert, and he was already thinking of ways to make fun of him later. "I'm gonna tell everyone," he teased, ignoring the shivering that was starting to return now that he was out of the tub and back in bed. It didn't matter how many blankets he piled on. He was just as cold as before. It annoyed him.

Food didn't interest him at all and he winced at the suggestion, shaking his head. "Rather not." He felt nauseous more than anything, but it was enough to kill his appetite. If he had to basically starve for the next five days he was fine with that. It wasn't like he hadn't already lost weight during the relapse. All of his clothes were too loose. Jason: For the most part, Jason had let Roy make his own calls. He hadn’t really pushed him on anything, not wanting to chance making him get frustrated enough to give the whole thing up, but he knew there were some things he had to fight on. Food was one of them. “You have to eat something. I got those protein shake things, if that’s easier.” He just wasn’t taking a flat no for an answer. “It’ll help.”

Jason sat up a little more fully, adjusting Roy with him if he stayed there. “It’s gonna get worse soon. The next couple of days.” Roy definitely knew that, but Jason knew it too. “Eat something and try to sleep. I can stay in here if you want me to.” By and large, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d one back to the safehouse a couple of times when Dick took over, but mostly he didn’t leave. Roy: Protein shake things sounded just as bad, but Roy reasoned that if he didn't have to actually chew anything then maybe he could fool himself into thinking it wasn't food. "Ugh. You're like a warden." He knew how stubborn Jason could be, though. He had to give into something, even if he didn't want to. "Fine. Something plain."

The words made him scoff softly. "What are you talking about? I feel great." Sometimes he was too sarcastic, but he didn't want to think about how bad it was going to be when right now it felt unbearable. "I've been trying to sleep for hours." He'd keep trying, but he was getting frustrated. It felt impossible. He didn't think Jason would object to giving him some over the counter sleep aid, but he knew it wouldn't do shit. Jason: “Yeah, that’s me. A real hard ass not letting you starve.” He pushed back the blanket and moved to get up before Roy could change his mind. Jason was not above counting sips, either. At the lowest points with his mom, he’d kept track of how many bites she took. Nobody else was going to do it.

“You want to come watch a movie with me then? If you can’t sleep, get away from the bed for awhile.” They were pretty bound to the apartment for obvious reasons, so it was the biggest change of scenery on offer. He walked around to the side of the bed and held his hand out to him. “Or I’ll go back to Tom Sawyer.” He didn’t often find himself grasping at straws, but he knew keeping Roy distracted while he was awake was the best option. Roy: Roy rolled his eyes, but this time he didn't offer a response. It would have been more sarcasm and he had to space it out over the next few days if he wanted Jason to get through this without wanting to kill him.

It was about that time when he had that restless urge to pace around the room. Jason was no longer reading and he had nothing to distract him. A movie could be mind numbing, but they'd had a sufficient break from the TV. And he did feel a little tired. Maybe it would lull him to sleep. "Yeah, okay, so long as it was made in the last decade." He took Jason's hand and pushed himself out of bed. Before letting him go he tightened his grip instead, frowning. "Don't know if you want to stay in here with me, Jaybird. You won't get much sleep." Jason: “I’m not getting much anyway,” he said with a shrug. It didn’t matter whether he was on the couch or back at his place for a few hours. He couldn’t shut his mind down long enough to get more than the bare minimum to function. That was all he needed, but there was no way he was going to be relaxed and well rested through any part of what was going on. He’d had too many dreams about crap he’d not had to think about in fifteen years, if nothing else. “I’m staying.”

He squeezed Roy’s hand before heading into the kitchen. Something plain, he’d said. It only took a couple of minutes to come back with one of the vanilla protein shakes blended up with a banana. He held it out toward Roy and sat down heavily on the corner of the couch, eventually turning on one of the newer Jurassic Park movies when he failed to find anything else remotely interesting.

“I’m gonna make a run out later. Do you want anything?” he asked without looking at him. Dick would take over for him, rather than leave Roy alone so early into everything. Roy: Roy sighed. He didn't like that Jason was losing sleep over him, even though he knew he couldn't do anything about it. The only thing to do was get past this and not let it happen again. That was something he could do. Hopefully he wouldn't act like too much of an asshole in the process. No matter what happened in the past, Jason didn't deserve that.

Nodding silently, he followed him out of the bedroom and went straight for the futon. It seemed much too small all of a sudden. He couldn't get comfortable at first, but when Jason returned with the smoothie he was quick to sit up. His appetite was nonexistent, but he did his best to drink as much of it as possible even though the effort was slow and steady. He watched the movie, but he was barely able to focus on it. Shivering, he closed his eyes after a little while and listened to the dialogue instead, even though he could barely process what they were saying.

A run. That meant Dick was coming over. Roy clenched his jaw and shook his head. "A sledgehammer? That might knock me out a couple hours." Jason: It was a small victory that Roy actually drank that much of a shake. Jason would not have said the first few days had been easy, but Roy at least seemed to be gritting his teeth enough to let him help. That part could have been worse, and he was prepared for it to get that way. Theoretically, at least. Yelling and snapping wasn’t going to be anything new, but if they could avoid it he wasn’t going to complain. Still, he expected the frustration to boil over for Roy at some point or another.

“Got a crowbar? That’ll do it,” Jason said with a little smirk. He had no gauge for how dark was too dark when it came to humor. For him, it was pitch black and fine.

He’d tried to make it so that Dick spent as little time there as possible. He could do it without him, and Roy always seemed more put out by it, but they’d only just got started. He figured he should take the opportunity to breathe when he could. Still, he did hesitate. “I can stay.” Roy: Rolling his eyes, Roy couldn't keep himself from smirking at the terrible joke. "Stop." He flicked Jason's knee and set the smoothie aside. There were a few inches left to go, but he thought he might let him slide. He'd finished most of it. Dark humor didn't bother him, even if the topic was personal, and Jason's death was typically no exception. It bothered him not to joke about things. That was when it got real. Until then, he was happy introducing a little levity. Maybe he'd be able to do the same thing with this in a couple weeks.

Maybe not. He might have to test that out before running with the idea.

"No." Jason needed sleep. Roy didn't want him to stretch himself thin and overdo it, especially because it wasn't going to get any easier from here. "I'm fine. But you better tell Dick I ate. I don't need him trying to guilt me into eating a turkey sandwich again." Jason: “What? I’m only offering to give you what you wanted. I’m being kind.” He glanced briefly toward the glass, but decided there wasn’t enough of it left to make a big deal out of. Roy had drank most of it and semi-willingly, which was really all he was going to push for. They just had to get through two weeks. He wasn’t counting on normalcy, just survival. Jason tended to be more comfortable than Dick with keeping low expectations.

“Does guilting you work?” Dick was an expert at it. That wasn’t really Jason’s tactic, but he was keeping things in his back pocket just in case. Desperate times and all that.

Still, even though he knew he needed to give himself breaks, once he’d hesitated the idea that he shouldn’t leave took root pretty fast. “The futon isn’t that bad.” Roy: “No, it doesn’t.” Yes, it did, but Roy wasn’t going to admit it. He didn’t want Jason to have that kind of ammunition. It was bad enough that Dick could and did use it to his full advantage. The tactic would be ten times more efficient if Jason tried it. He felt guilty just fine on his own. When it was put upon him by other people it tended to magnify the feeling by a thousand.

He wasn’t going to let Jason hang out on the futon and not sleep. That was reserved for him. “Go. Dick hasn’t seen the most recent Jurassic Park anyway. He wouldn’t stop talking about it yesterday.” That was the next movie in this marathon they were on. At least it meant Dick would be somewhat distracted and wouldn’t spend the majority of his visit watching him with concern. Jason: He sincerely doubted that, since Dick had got him to do plenty and Jason knew first hand that guilt was his favored tactic of convincing people something was right. Still, it wasn’t his. He didn’t want more of that particular feeling hanging between them. He harbored enough of it himself for a whole lot of reasons, and he wasn’t going to lay it on Roy. He’d pretty much said so when he and Dick discussed what was going on. He wasn’t forcing or guilting him into anything. “I’ll stick to my undeniable charm then.”

Jason reached for his phone to ask Dick to head that way. He probably already was, but he didn’t want to wait much longer. He preferred sleeping during the day so he could be there at night when things were usually worse. It had always been that way with his mom, and he’d never figured out why. It was like it waited until there was the least chance of finding help.

Aside from occasionally getting into bed next to him or having Roy lay against him, he’d given him space in a physical sense. He hadn’t done much in the way of touching. Roy was sitting close enough right then, however, that Jason did not have to lean far to press his lips against the side of the other’s temple. It was tender in a way that he was often not. “Yeah. I won’t be long.”

[littleoldrachel]

Fifth chapter is up! Read it here on ao3, or here on ff.net, or under the cut.

***Shoutout to a real life angel @mysticalightwood for sending me the loveliest message about this lil thing and making a rubbish day so much better <3***

100 Ways to Say I Love You

Summary: In which actions speak louder than words, Sirius and Remus sort of fall in to a relationship, and even though neither of them have said those three all-important words, they both know it anyway.Or: 100 Ways to Say I Love You by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Previous |  chapter 5/100 - “I’ll walk you home.” | Next

Based on this post by p0ck3tf0x

Tw for mentions of anxiety, mentions of depression, some real intense self-hate, a blink and you'll miss it reference to past self harm, ANGST.

Remus plops himself down in to an armchair, hissing slightly as his muscles shriek in protest. Alice grimaces sympathetically from where she’s curled in her own squishy chair, and Lily drops in to the final seat with a sigh.

She raises her mug of almond-milk hot chocolate, and clinks it against the others’. “The three spoonies ride again!” Alice lets out a little whoop, jingling her silver ‘I’m epileptic!’ bracelet, and Remus smiles behind his cup, unable to match their enthusiasm, because his stomach is killing him. (His whole body is tender and fiery just beneath his skin, but the cramps are fierce and relentless. He surreptitiously cradles his hot mug against his belly; the heat that seeps through his shirt helps a little, but not enough. The chatter and buzz of the café are doing nothing to help his headache either, and he wants nothing more than to crawl in to his bed with a hot water bottle and stay there for the foreseeable future).

“How are y’all?” Lily asks, taking a huge bite of her Danish, and groaning around the mouthful. “This is fucking delicious.”

Alice shrugs a little. “Not terrible, الحمد الله. Haven’t tranced in like, a month?”

“That’s great,” murmurs Remus. “Did you get your meds adjusted?”

“Yeah, they’re better now, I’m less sleepy all the time. The weight gain’s a pain, but,” she pulls a face. “Every time I complain about it in front of my parents, I’m told that I should be grateful that they can even treat it, blah blah blah.”

Lily scoffs. “Spoken like a true Able.”

Alice makes a noise of agreement in her throat. “Anyway. How about you, Lils?”

Lily pulls a face, cramming the last of the pastry in to her mouth. “Had a bit of a flare last week. Also, J made his own ice cream – what a nerd, can you believe he makes his own? – and obviously, I couldn’t resist, and my UC did not appreciate that at all. But this week: so far, so good.”

“It’s only Monday,” Remus points out.

“And I am trying very hard to be positive. What’s gotten in to you, Mr Grumpy Guts?” Lily retorts.

Remus flushes a little guiltily (selfish, selfish, selfish). “Sorry… I’ve had this stomach ache for like four days, and everything hurts. I just – sorry.”

“Oh no, habibi, don’t do that,” Alice shakes her head, and Remus is momentarily distracted by the way her pink, glittery hijab sparkles under the warm, café lighting. “You’re absolutely allowed to be grumpy. Anyone would be.”

Lily nods in agreement. “We don’t have to apologise for our illnesses making us moody here, remember?” She stretches out a hand to Remus, and he smiles back at her, squeezing his fingers. “There’s something else the matter though,” she says, and her eyes narrow as she scrutinises him. “You look awful. And not in an I-can’t-stand-up-straight-and-shower-because-everything-hurts sort of way.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“She’s right,” chimes in Alice, and somewhere, beneath the pain in his gut, Remus feels the stirrings of panic, and even further below that, the churning shame-rejection-disappointment-sadness that he’s been suppressing for the last few days. “Uh oh, what’s that face?” She shuffles a little closer to him, laying a protective hand on his forearm. Remus takes a deep breath, staring down at his hot chocolate, and it trembles a little in his hands.

“I did something really fucking stupid.”

There’s a silence, and then Lily says – her voice low and urgent – “Remus, are we talking I’m hurting myself again kind of stupid, or I’m not taking my meds or – “

“No!” Remus says quickly, hating himself that these are even things that they have to worry about. “Nothing like that.” He feels Lily relax, and Alice lets out a barely-audible sigh, and the ball of self-loathing that wraps around his heart tightens a little more. “I… uh...” he runs a hand down his face, and whispers through his fingers, “I sort of kissed Sirius?”

“What?” Alice yelps, and Lily jolts, going rigid once more. “I have so many questions. When? Where? Sort of? What??”

Remus can’t meet their eyes, as he lowers his shaky hands, and begins twisting them anxiously, pinching at the skin on his wrist. “At the party thing. Last week.”

There’s another pause as they digest this. “Sort of?” Alice repeats. “What does that even mean?”

He lets out a sigh, feeling the guilt-shame-self-hatred writhing low in his belly, and a sharp pain twists through his stomach. (He deserved that, he deserves that and worse for fucking everything up. Sirius hasn’t texted or called in five days since it happened, and the thought of seeing him again makes him feel dizzy and nauseous with nerves… though there’s a smaller part of him that isn’t sure why he’s making this such a Big Deal – it’s not like he hasn’t kissed Sirius before; Sirius is affectionate, and they’ve been friends for long enough that this shouldn’t be causing such turmoil).

“We were kind of just… sitting next to each other, and then he squeezed my hand, and just… didn’t let go? And then I kissed his hand?” He goes to hide his face once more, but Alice catches his arm and holds it fast.

“You kissed his hand? What is this, the 1600s?”

Remus is burning – the pain in his stomach is a boiling, bubbling mess, the pain throughout his body sets his skin on fire, and now, the flush rises over his cheeks – hot, hot, hot with embarrassment.

“Lils, you’re being weirdly quiet,” Alice continues. “Any input?”

Lily has sat back in her chair, and is studying Remus, though not harshly. “This explains a lot,” she says eventually, and Remus’ already roiling stomach lurches.

“What do you mean?” he asks, a little too desperate and raw. “Has he said anything?”

“No,” Lily says carefully. “But he doesn’t have to. He’s been in a kind of… daze? J and I thought it was because of the new job – anxiety, you know? But this explains it.”

“Shit,” Remus murmurs. “Shit, shit, shit.” He draws his legs to his chest, curling up as small as his aching body will allow. (He wants to drop off the face of the planet, or sink in to a deep, dark hole, or fade entirely from existence-)

“Stop spiralling,” Lily says sharply. “It’s not a bad sort of daze. That’s why it didn’t add up. He’s… happy, I think?”

Remus looks at her disbelievingly. “Please don’t lie to me to make me feel better. Not about this-“

“Look,” Alice cuts in. “What did he say when you did it?”

Remus swallows and looks down. “Nothing… it was just silence and then I ran and I’ve ruined everything.” He buries his face in his knees, because he doesn’t have the courage to face either of them right now, and he especially doesn’t deserve their kindness.

“How have you ruined everything?” asks Lily calmly, and Remus snaps his head up incredulously.

“Are you kidding? Now he knows that I – that I – “

“Yes?” Alice says gently, when he tapers off.

“That I – hngh, never mind,” Remus can feel a lump in his throat, and the words are trapped beneath it, unable to escape. The burning sensations throughout his body have reached the backs of his eyes, but he refuses to cry – he will not cry. (This is why this is a Big Deal – this is what makes it different to any other time that Sirius has kissed him).

“Noooo, don’t do that.” Lily grabs his hand back, and strokes the back of it with her thumb reassuringly. “Go on.”

Remus wrenches his gaze to her face, and then feels an icy bucket of dread-horror-panic tip over him because she knew. The tears spill over his cheeks before he can stop them. “You knew,” he mumbles, “shit, shit, shit, is it that obvious?”

“Is what obvious?” persists Alice, taking his other hand.

“That I like Sirius!” Remus bursts out, and then shrinks in his seat as a couple of heads turn in his direction.

“Oh, praise the Lord!” Lily whispers, a smile splitting across her face.

“You finally admitted it!” Alice says, radiant with how wide she’s beaming.

Remus feels – overwhelmed. He’s horrified that this secret that he’s kept so close to his heart for so long was apparently blindingly obvious, he’s terrified by the implications of everyone knowing, he’s still a mess of guilt, shame, and embarrassment. The odd sense of relief at sharing this burden juxtaposes painfully with his utter panic that he’s shared this burden. It’s been his secret (or apparently not a secret, but still), and only his, for as long as he can remember – for weeks, months, years even, and a secret that’s outlasted every other crush he’s had on men, women, people just as kind, brave, smart, funny, gorgeous as Sirius.

(Except that there’s nobody quite like Sirius – not many people are capable of making Remus feel so good about himself just by being around them, not many people give him the confidence to feel like he can accomplish anything he puts his mind to – not many people make him feel like enough, just as he is. But Sirius does).

He doesn’t know what to do with this tidal wave of conflicting emotions, and he tries to suck in a shaky breath, to combat the tears that are trickling down his cheeks, but it’s like he’s lost all control.

“Shh shh shh, you’re alright,” Lily’s gentle voice cuts through his meltdown, and he’s startled to find that she’s moved directly in front of him, and is pulling him in to an embrace. He buries his face in to her shoulder – disoriented, but agonisingly aware that he needs to get a grip – and forces in a few calming breaths like his therapist has taught him. As Lily releases him, her face tense with concern, Alice presses a tissue in to fists that he didn’t realise were clenched.

“S-sorry,” he whispers, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, whilst still struggling with the whole even-breathing thing.

“We didn’t mean to push you,” Alice says, and Remus shakes his head a little too violently; it twinges sharply at the movement.

“It’s just been – a shitty week, and I’m loopy with the pain and – everything – I – argh,” Remus scrubs at his eyes, smearing the tears on his cheeks, and presses until he’s seeing stars. (Sirius is a star, his mind supplies unhelpfully, and he snaps his eyes open again). “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Yes,” says Lily, easing herself back in to her chair. “But we love you more than life itself. Now, we need to talk about this.”

“Whyyy?” Remus whines, hiding his face again, “I’m fine just burying my head in the sand and pretending it never happened.”

“I think we just saw that’s not true,” Alice says quietly.

“Agreed,” says Lily, “so. What’s so bad about Sirius knowing that you have Feelings for him?”

“Because nothing can ever happen and so it will make our friendship super weird – it’s already making our friendship weird, and-“

“Why can nothing ever happen?”

“Because he’s – everything,” Remus waves his hand, unable to explain quite what Sirius is – but knowing that Lily and Alice will understand anyway, because they adore Sirius just as much as he does. “And I’m-“ he gestures vaguely at himself, “this.”

Alice slaps his arm – gently, obviously, because she’s thoughtful and good and Remus loves her so much – and says sharply, “careful now. It sounded a lot like you were about to be down on yourself.”

Remus sighs, “I just mean that compared to him –“ Lily raises her eyebrows and Remus changes track sharply. “My life’s not going anywhere, and sometimes it feels like I have nothing going for me, and I know that’s not true, and I’m working on it, but I can’t help it, and – I just – Sirius deserves everything.”

When he finally looks up, he’s not entirely unsurprised to see Alice and Lily staring at him. What is surprising is the near unbearable sadness in their eyes.

Lily’s voice is heavy and a little tired, “one day, Remus, I swear to God, you will see yourself the way we all see you.”

“You deserve everything too,” Alice adds, the corners of her mouth tugging down uncharacteristically.

“Can we not?” Remus loves his friends – unquestionably, unshakeably; they are the best part of him, and he is frequently overwhelmed by the thought that these incredible, wonderful beings love him too. But sometimes it’s not a good overwhelming, and right now, he’s uncomfortable enough as it is, and any more of their unbounding affection, and he’s going to start crying again.

Lily makes a slightly frustrated noise, but lets it go, and Alice purses her lips a little. “Okay. So, ‘worst case scenario:’ Sirius knows that you have a crazy big crush on him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Remus frowns, because Alice and Lily are two of the smartest, fiercest women he knows, but they’re asking the most inane questions. “He gets weirded out, our friendship is ruined, it splits the group and everyone sides with Sirius.”

“Habibi, never.” Alice looks aghast. “If you really think that we would all abandon you over something like this, then we’re failing you as friends.”

“You are just as important to us as Sirius,” Lily says firmly, and Remus screws his eyes shut. (He’s screwing this up, just like he’s screwed up his friendship with Sirius. He doesn’t want to talk about his shitty self-worth, he doesn’t want to have to explain to them all the reasons why Sirius will absolutely never reciprocate his feelings; all he wants is to curl up in bed with a hot-water bottle and feel sorry for himself).

He’s vaguely aware that Lily and Alice are silently communicating whilst his eyes are shut – probably in BSL, James paid for everybody to have classes the moment Peter joined their group – and he’s resigning himself to yet another pep talk about how loved he is, but –

“Okay, what if this is a classic example of your anxiety working everything up, and he doesn’t actually know, and everything stays the same?”

Remus opens his eyes in surprise. “That’d be the best solution,” he says, like it’s obvious, because that would be ideal, right? That’s what he wants, isn’t it?

There’s a pause, and Alice and Lily exchange another Look, and Remus realises he’s missing something significant. He sort of wants to ask what it is, but his stomach is hurting worse and worse by the second, this conversation is draining more and more of his energy – not a good sign considering he has work later.

“I promise we’ll drop this if you promise us that you’ll talk to him,” Lily says finally.

“Soon,” adds Alice.

The thought of hashing all this out with Sirius makes Remus’ anxiety spike, and his head spins a little even as he finds himself nodding in agreement. It seems to satisfy his friends for the time being though, because the conversation shifts to their jobs – Lily and Alice take lead of the conversation, whilst Remus leans back in the armchair, focusing on breathing through his nerves and massaging his stomach through the pain. (Neither do much to ease his suffering).

He loses track of time – it’s only Alice nudging him and reminding him that he needs to get going for work that forces him to his feet.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” he says, pulling his arms around himself, and his heart warm a little as the two of them scoff.

“We love you so much, sweetheart,” Lily murmurs before he leaves, and he nods, pecking her cheek, before turning to Alice.

“Don’t lose hope. Things will work out, إن شاء الله,” she presses a kiss to his other cheek, holds him tight in her embrace for a moment longer than necessary.

(His friends are the best things in his life; he will never stop being grateful to them, and he can only pray that this thing with Sirius isn’t about to fuck it all up, because it will tear him apart if it does).

It’s not a long shift – only four or so hours, but Tom tries to convince him twice to go home in that time – and every time he catches sight of his reflection in the pint glasses, he has to resist a shudder, because he’s all blotchy and clammy and a fucking mess. He has a minor moment of panic when his brain is too foggy to comprehend a customer’s order, but Tom rescues him (“if you won’t go home, lad, then you’re gonna at least take a fuckin’ break,” and Remus spends the entire fifteen minutes in the breakroom curled in a ball on the floor).

Closing finally – finally – arrives, the last of the regulars slope off, and Remus begins wiping down the tables and bar top, moving slowly to accommodate his aching everything. The soft music – usually obscured by the noise and bustle of the pub – drifts over the empty room, and he’s so fucking tired.

“Can I get a drink?”

“We’re closed,” says Remus automatically, before he tenses as he recognises the voice. Sirius is leaning across the bar with his playful smirk, and he looks – fantastic, of course he does. (And Remus is pale and sweating with how much pain he’s in, and the bags under his eyes are now taking up most of his face, he looks – dreadful, of course he does).

“Hey,” says Sirius, his smirk fading in to something a little more cautious, and his gaze flickers over Remus concernedly.

“Hi,” Remus says, because, in spite of Alice and Lily’s best efforts to prepare him for this moment, he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do now that he’s actually face-to-face with Sirius.

Sirius clears his throat, clearly just as aware of the awkwardness as Remus. “How’ve you been? S’been a while.”

Remus grips the underside of the bar for support, feeling a little weak with panic. He knows Sirius is anxious too – he’s picking at his cuff with one hand, and he keeps adjusting his stance from one leg to another, and Remus doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh… uh, I mean, you know, busy…” he winces at his own excuses, looks down at the glasses he’s wiping dry, desperate for some sort of distraction. “How have you been?” He chances a glance back up at Sirius.

He’s frowning, studying Remus – taking in the way his hands are shaking slightly with the effort of putting the glasses away, at the way he’s cradling his stomach with his arm. He takes a breath, and meets Remus’ eyes squarely. “Not that great. Anxious as heck. Missed you,” he chuckles self-consciously.

Remus’ throat is dry and his stomach is churning, but if Sirius can be brave enough to be honest, then fuck it, so can he. He swallows, “I missed you too.”

“Then why didn’t you text? Or call, or something?” Sirius blurts, and the way his eyes widen shows that he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Remus sees Sirius’ fingers clench around his thigh – a sure-fire sign that he is Anxious -  and his fingers itch with the urge to reach out and take it, to help in some way. But he can’t. He doesn’t have that right.

He can’t hold Sirius’ gaze any longer. He looks away, breathing through his own anxiety, and forces himself to be honest. “I think – I – uh, I made things weird between us, didn’t I?” His chest tightens painfully as he admits it out loud, hate-guilt-shame tearing through him.

“What makes you say that?” Sirius’ voice is careful and measured, and Remus wants to scream, because Sirius is actually going to make him say it – he can’t he can’t he can’t –

He can’t do it. Lying to Sirius makes him feel like the scum of the Earth – he is the scum of the Earth for even considering it, but what choice does he have? Lily and Alice were wrong – he doesn’t deserve Sirius, nobody deserves Sirius; Sirius is too good and amazing and wonderful, and Remus could never give him the life he deserves.

(This is for the best).

(Right?)

He keeps his voice as light as possible, forces a smile to his lips, which probably looks a little too-brittle, but he can always blame it on his fibro. What’s one more lie between them? “Not sure really… it’s not like we haven’t kissed before – I just, on the hand, it’s a bit weird, right?”

(His heart is doing something wrong and painful – a different kind of pain to the pain shooting up and down his body, but no less real. This pain is buried deep, a sort of tearing in his chest, like someone is actually trying to rip his heart out and squeeze the bloody tatters out through his ribcage).

(This is how his heart breaks).

There’s a pause. It’s tense and wrong and overwhelmingly bad. And then –

Sirius laughs, only it’s wrong, there’s something wrong – Sirius’ laugh should be delighted and joyful and loud and this, this is none of those things; it’s forced and uncomfortable and a little awkward, and Remus’ heart aches a little, because he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s fucked up, he’s ruined everything, he’s in so much fucking pain and he’s fucking exhausted and he can’t – he just can’t.

The sob rises in his throat, even as Sirius is choosing his reply. “A little, I guess. But that’s no reason to go all AWOL on me, okay?”

Remus ducks his head to hide the tears forming on his lashes, and nods. “Sorry – I won’t do it again.”

“Please don’t.” Sirius’ voice is too soft and tender and full of something that Remus can’t place – the sincerity though nearly breaks his resolve to not tell Sirius everything, and he bites down his lip hard enough to taste copper to stop himself from spilling it all.

He nods again, not trusting his voice, and takes a few deep breaths, licking at his lips where they’re oozing blood.

“Are you nearly done here?” Sirius asks, and the change of subject is both relieving and distressing.

“Gotta finish with the sweeping,” Remus mumbles to the floor, and the thought of that much movement makes him want to give in to the tears completely and just sob on the floor.

Sirius claps his hands. “Go sit. I’ll sweep.”

He’s already marching towards the cleaning cupboard by the time Remus is stumbling for a reply. “No – I can – you shouldn’t-“

Sirius is back, broom and dustpan in hand, and he presses his spare palm against Remus cheek gently. “Remus. You look like shit. You’re obviously in pain. Please, for the love of God, humour me and go sit down.”

Remus wants to argue. He really intends to, except he finds himself wandering in a zombie-like state towards the soft sofa seats, and watching through half-open eyes as Sirius makes short work of the sweeping. (Another reason he doesn’t deserve Sirius).

A shadow falls in front of his face, and then there are warm hands in his, helping him to his feet. He staggers a little, and an arm slides around his waist, supporting him until he’s steadier. “I’ll walk you home,” Sirius says quietly, and it’s not a question, but Remus still nods his assent, too tired to argue with him.

The walk back (and Remus insists on a walk, because he absolutely cannot spare the cash for a taxi, and Sirius had already done too much for him this evening) is a sign of how strong their friendship is – it’s quietly pleasant, comfortable, in spite of the recent tension, everything is exactly as it should be. And yet, something has changed between them, Remus is sure of it – there’s something different behind Sirius’ eyes, something more in his smile, and Remus desperately wishes he could place exactly what it is, if only he weren’t so bloody tired. Sirius keeps up a stream of only-slightly-nervous-chatter, and Remus lets it wash over him, too focused on his own pain and self-loathing and guilt to really focus on what he’s saying. (Ironically, the thought of his self-absorption only adds to his self-loathing and guilt, and he knows vaguely that this is going to spiral, that he is Not Okay).

(He misses the way Sirius’ smile is a little sad, his eyes a little disappointed, as they say their good nights in front of Remus’ apartment block. He has no way of knowing that the second he disappears through the door, Sirius is on the phone to James – “Prongs, I thought you said he felt the same, I don’t understand, I thought – I hoped –“. He’s busy crashing fully-clothed in to bed, the guilt and the pain and the shame digging their claws tightly in to his body, and pulling him away from a restful sleep).