"It was because of me, wasn't it?"

Remus stops dead in his tracks, the smile on his face slowly fading as Sirius' words sink in. He's just coming back after sending Severus and Lily away, and the marked contrast between how Sirius was just a few hours ago and how he is right now is almost too much to bear.

He's out of bed, standing. And watching Remus with his forehead creased and his fingers squeezed tight. Remus can't imagine how much it hurts to do that with a broken wrist. So when he rushes forward, it's only in hopes of getting Sirius to stop hurting himself.

"Stop that," Remus says softly.

"Answer me," Sirius says, ignoring him.

Remus can't bring himself to look at those eyes. They aren't gray anymore, only hurt. He reaches for Sirius' hands instead.

It's always better when they're holding hands.

"Sirius," Remus says.

"I don't care," Sirius whispers, "Just tell me the truth."

It's so easy for Sirius to ask that of Remus.

"It was my choice," Remus says firmly. It's the closest he can get to admitting it.

"I don't care," Sirius says, drawing his hands away from Remus and wrapping both of his arms around himself. He curls in on himself like a withering flower, his hair dropping over his pale cheeks as he turns away from Remus.

It makes Remus so afraid that he finds himself grabbing Sirius' arms. He half expects to be shoved away, but Remus is taken by surprise when Sirius wraps his arms around his neck and hides his face in the bend of Remus' shoulder.

"Why do I always ruin everything, Remus?" Sirius asks. His voice wavers, and Remus feels that tremor inside of his own heart.

"You haven't ruined anything," Remus says, drawing himself away just enough to look at Sirius. "Look at me," he says, pressing his hands on Sirius' shoulders. "You haven't ruined anything at all."

Sirius does look at him. But his eyes are still void of anything but hurt.

"Do you think it's worth it?" He asks, voice scratchy. And Remus can hear the question that he's really asking.

Do you think I'm worth it?

"I do," he replies. "Nothing could be more worth it, Sirius."

Sirius doesn't reply. He hides his face in Remus' neck again, hands pushing Remus against himself. His grip is too tight, but he can't bring himself to attempt to loosen it.

"I hate myself," Sirius says quietly. His muffled words rumble through Remus' throat. He sounds like he's crying. "If it weren't for me, then you'd—"

"If it weren't for you," Remus says firmly, "then I'd probably not even be alive."

Sirius shakes his head, taking step back. "You don't—" he clutches his chest all of a sudden, his face twisting into a grimace. Remus rushes forward, leaning over Sirius as he helps him lie down.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he frowns. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

"I already have," Sirius gives him a smile that doesn't sit quite right on his face. "But not nearly enough."

Remus swallows thickly, not sure of what to say. "Please don't say things like that," he whispers, taking Sirius' uninjured hand in his. He half expects Sirius to pull it away, but he doesn't. Instead, he drags himself a bit closer and pushes his forehead into the bend of Remus' neck.

Hiding his face again.

His hair tickles Remus' throat. "You could still... Maybe if you wrote to them..."

"No," Remus mumbles, his free hand moving into Sirius' hair with only half of him realizing it. He pushes the curls back from Sirius' forehead, exposing the healing cut in his pale skin.

"Remus..." Sirius raises his head.

"I won't."

"But—"

But what? Remus shudders as he remembers his hearing once more. The look on Sirius' face, his hunched shoulders as he listened to Murray. Nothing could be worth a repeat of that.

"I won't," Remus says again. "Please, Sirius. I'm not going to change my mind."

Sirius deflates a little. Remus feels horrible seeing it, but this is one thing he just can't do. He grips Sirius a little tighter—but still not tight enough to hurt him—and hopes it makes up for hurting his feelings.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispers finally.

Remus closes his eyes, taking a moment to let himself be consumed in all the little things that make up the Sirius he knows. The warmth of his cheek, that little curl that keeps tickling Remus, and that sweet flowery smell that he's grown to love too much for his own good.

Remus presses a soft kiss on Sirius' warm temple. "Me too, Sirius," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, too."

***

Author's Note

You know who else is sorry? Me. I'm sorry, three