ficlet remix: Where I Went Wrong
title: Where I Went Wrong
characters/pairings: Remus/Sirius
summary: It is November of 1981. Remus Lupin sits on his windowsill looking out at the River Thames, not at the boxes stuffed to the brim with the life he no longer wants.
genre: drama/angst
word count: 565
a/n: a remix of planetgal471's The Frame of Fables. er, sort of. And the remix bonanza continues.
It is November of 1981. Remus Lupin sits on his windowsill looking out at the River Thames, not at the boxes stuffed to the brim with the life he no longer wants.
He closes his eyes and tries to will it all away. It starts to rain, the city greying with fog, and Remus thinks that there's no use lighting the now-sodden cigarette clutched tightly in his fist. He tosses it to the ground and lifts up his face to the skies.
He can, will, must forget. It is the life he no longer wants, and if he tries hard enough, it is the life that never happened.
It is March of 1977 and his stomach never gave that painful flip at the sight of one of Sirius's smiles for the first time, a flip that let him know just how completely and utterly doomed he was for his closest friend. How hopelessly in love he was.
The old woman who lives in the flat above them (him, only him) gestures to Remus from the street, her umbrella turning inside out from the wind. Remus can make out the words "catch a cold" and "are you mad?" from her frantic waving.
That, he thinks, should be blatantly obvious. Mad to be sitting here, allowing the rain to drench him to the bone, his threadbare clothes no help whatsoever. Mad to have ever trusted that earnest look in Sirius's eyes, mad to see it for anything other than what it really was. (Deception, surely not love, never that.)
It is May of 1978 and he never grabbed Sirius's shirt in frustration, pulling the other boy forward for a fierce starving kiss. Not for the first time, nor for any of the other millions upon millions of times after that.
Lily and James's funeral was earlier today. A quiet affair held in Godric's Hollow. The rest of the world was celebrating, but in that cemetery, the Order members knew the truth. There wasn't much worth celebrating over. The battle may have been won, but their way of life was lost forever, lost along with so many young lives. Remus had stood to the side, alone, and left as swiftly as possible. Can't stay, he had told a concerned Dumbledore shakily, too many boxes to pack up.
The boxes have been packed for hours, but there's nowhere to go. No job, no friends, no love, and no war left to fight. Remus starts to regret tossing that cigarette, it was his last and he doesn't have the money to waste.
It is October of 1978 and he never agreed to live in this flat with Sirius, the flat with the bed where they first came together, shaking and overwhelmed, because nothing that good could last forever. (It didn't.)
Remus jumps down from the windowsill, shrugs on his coat, and shrinks the boxes until they can fit neatly in his pocket. There's enough in his wallet for a train ticket to somewhere, anywhere but here. A new life, perhaps no better than the one he's leaving behind, but in it he is not a man mourning a lover.
There was no lover, Remus tells himself as he shuts the door behind him with a click. He lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the door. If he tries hard enough, he can will it all away. (He can't.)
characters/pairings: Remus/Sirius
summary: It is November of 1981. Remus Lupin sits on his windowsill looking out at the River Thames, not at the boxes stuffed to the brim with the life he no longer wants.
genre: drama/angst
word count: 565
a/n: a remix of planetgal471's The Frame of Fables. er, sort of. And the remix bonanza continues.
It is November of 1981. Remus Lupin sits on his windowsill looking out at the River Thames, not at the boxes stuffed to the brim with the life he no longer wants.
He closes his eyes and tries to will it all away. It starts to rain, the city greying with fog, and Remus thinks that there's no use lighting the now-sodden cigarette clutched tightly in his fist. He tosses it to the ground and lifts up his face to the skies.
He can, will, must forget. It is the life he no longer wants, and if he tries hard enough, it is the life that never happened.
It is March of 1977 and his stomach never gave that painful flip at the sight of one of Sirius's smiles for the first time, a flip that let him know just how completely and utterly doomed he was for his closest friend. How hopelessly in love he was.
The old woman who lives in the flat above them (him, only him) gestures to Remus from the street, her umbrella turning inside out from the wind. Remus can make out the words "catch a cold" and "are you mad?" from her frantic waving.
That, he thinks, should be blatantly obvious. Mad to be sitting here, allowing the rain to drench him to the bone, his threadbare clothes no help whatsoever. Mad to have ever trusted that earnest look in Sirius's eyes, mad to see it for anything other than what it really was. (Deception, surely not love, never that.)
It is May of 1978 and he never grabbed Sirius's shirt in frustration, pulling the other boy forward for a fierce starving kiss. Not for the first time, nor for any of the other millions upon millions of times after that.
Lily and James's funeral was earlier today. A quiet affair held in Godric's Hollow. The rest of the world was celebrating, but in that cemetery, the Order members knew the truth. There wasn't much worth celebrating over. The battle may have been won, but their way of life was lost forever, lost along with so many young lives. Remus had stood to the side, alone, and left as swiftly as possible. Can't stay, he had told a concerned Dumbledore shakily, too many boxes to pack up.
The boxes have been packed for hours, but there's nowhere to go. No job, no friends, no love, and no war left to fight. Remus starts to regret tossing that cigarette, it was his last and he doesn't have the money to waste.
It is October of 1978 and he never agreed to live in this flat with Sirius, the flat with the bed where they first came together, shaking and overwhelmed, because nothing that good could last forever. (It didn't.)
Remus jumps down from the windowsill, shrugs on his coat, and shrinks the boxes until they can fit neatly in his pocket. There's enough in his wallet for a train ticket to somewhere, anywhere but here. A new life, perhaps no better than the one he's leaving behind, but in it he is not a man mourning a lover.
There was no lover, Remus tells himself as he shuts the door behind him with a click. He lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the door. If he tries hard enough, he can will it all away. (He can't.)