(no subject)
Title: Amongst Chaos
Pairing: Sirius/Remus, hints of Sirius/Regulus
W/C: 255
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Day 13 at dogdaysofsummer--I missed a few there. Also, someone might have mentioned that writing Blackcest is an infective, uncurable disease.
And Sirius is forever amongst chaos-the cab whistles blaring and pedestrians ducking under awnings and thunder making the ground shudder as the sky opens. Sirius is forever amongst, amongst chaos, and he does not follow the pedestrians but stands in the rain with his face turned to the violent clouds.
He closes his eyes and leans into the push of the frantic people and tastes the irony on his tongue-o! how often his traitor is his word and his world. He remembers Regulus’ hot breath against his neck and the shrill epithets his mother cast and now he’s hoping that the rain can drown the sound of James’ voice, low and betrayed, hissing of Remus and unspeakable deeds.
Remus, who is himself an unspeakable deed-Remus, his Remus, and there is loss floating amidst the cab whistles and pedestrian screams and the chaos Sirius is forever amongst. Sirius keeps his face to the sky and clenches his fist and does not howl traitor to the universe the way the universe has howled it at him.
One, two, count the seconds as the last pedestrian jostles him and calls him something-not traitor, not traitor-fucker (Remus, Regulus, oh god)-just idiot, maybe, and Sirius agrees. Agrees and hopes the sky will sing his song, will pour sweet water until he is cleansed, until everyone is cleansed of these indiscretions and there is no more war, only Sirius and Remus and the great sobbing weight upon his chest that whispers traitor and chaos and loss.
Pairing: Sirius/Remus, hints of Sirius/Regulus
W/C: 255
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Day 13 at dogdaysofsummer--I missed a few there. Also, someone might have mentioned that writing Blackcest is an infective, uncurable disease.
And Sirius is forever amongst chaos-the cab whistles blaring and pedestrians ducking under awnings and thunder making the ground shudder as the sky opens. Sirius is forever amongst, amongst chaos, and he does not follow the pedestrians but stands in the rain with his face turned to the violent clouds.
He closes his eyes and leans into the push of the frantic people and tastes the irony on his tongue-o! how often his traitor is his word and his world. He remembers Regulus’ hot breath against his neck and the shrill epithets his mother cast and now he’s hoping that the rain can drown the sound of James’ voice, low and betrayed, hissing of Remus and unspeakable deeds.
Remus, who is himself an unspeakable deed-Remus, his Remus, and there is loss floating amidst the cab whistles and pedestrian screams and the chaos Sirius is forever amongst. Sirius keeps his face to the sky and clenches his fist and does not howl traitor to the universe the way the universe has howled it at him.
One, two, count the seconds as the last pedestrian jostles him and calls him something-not traitor, not traitor-fucker (Remus, Regulus, oh god)-just idiot, maybe, and Sirius agrees. Agrees and hopes the sky will sing his song, will pour sweet water until he is cleansed, until everyone is cleansed of these indiscretions and there is no more war, only Sirius and Remus and the great sobbing weight upon his chest that whispers traitor and chaos and loss.