Remus quietly took a sip of his almost-cold tea, starring at the broken plates all over the kitchen floor. they had been here since yesterday and he still hadn’t cleaned it up. He knew he should – the band aid around his toe being enough of a motivation – but he couldn’t find the physical or emotional strengh to do it.

He remembered, quite vividly, how Sirius had thrown all of those on the floor while swearing and saying how much he hated him. Remus couldn’t exactly blame him. In fact he was more often than not wondering why it had taken Remus so long to figure out that Rems wasn’t someone people should like.

The fight – the last but most likely not least of a long series – had happened because Remus refused that Siriuscomes with him on the next full moon, which would happen in less than half a day from now.

And Remus knew for a fact that after the full moon, when Sirius would see him all bruised and cut, he would tell him a thousand times that none of this would have happened if he had allowed Sirius in and then, when Remus would be too exhausted to argue, he would shout a bit and go away. The routine had become very natural.

With a sigh, Remus finished his cup and scratched the not-quite-healed scar on his forearm. He was shit at healing spells and ever since Sirius stopped doing it for him, he hurt all the time.

He found himself wondering when was the last time they had kissed. They had fucked, and it had been filled with rage and ressentiment, but kiss ? He couldn’t remember. When they were in Hogwarts, and they were whole, they would kiss all the time, for hours even, to feel as close as possible. Peter often teased them about it, and they would all laugh and be together.

It had all changed because of the war.

James was away, into hiding, and Rems didn’t even know where. Peter avoided him like he was carrying a dangerous disease. And Sirius. Sirius was the worst of them all.

He would disappear for weeks, come back to have a fight, fuck, drink, go away. In any order. He had been like that since months, the death of regulus being the explosion point for all the fear and anger he bottled up. Once again, Remus couldn’t be mad at him.

He knew the other ones thought he was a traitor. Didn’t took a genius to figure it out – not being told where the Potters were hiding was proof enough. He could, if he wanted, shake all them up and tell them it wasn’t him. But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything these days. Everything was too much, and in a way he felt like he deserved it.

He knew his life was never going to be easy, but he never guessed he wouldn’t care. He had nothing, and he didn’t care.

But deep down, he missed it. He missed the kissing, the wholeness, the sweet touches. He wanted it again, needed it with all his being.

Tomorrow, he reasoned. Tomorrow he would try to fix things. When Sirius would be back fro the Potters’s Halloween Celebration, they would kiss again, like they used to kiss, and they would no longer be broken.

He went to his bed, feeling empty, and felt asleep with a troubled mind.