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Chapter Text

When Remus went down, it was sudden. There was no aura, no warning, no metal taste, no sense of something coming. He was fine, and then he wasn’t. This was how quickly things could go wrong. 

It was a common cold. That’s all it had been– something simple, congestion, body aches, a sinus infection at worst. Remus had told Sirius he was pretty sure he’d caught it from some lady who’d sneezed on him at the café, and as disgusting as that sounded, Remus had just laughed it off. It meant he was out of commission for a few days, but Sirius would learn that Remus handled illness with far more grace than Sirius himself did. When Sirius was sick, he made it everyone’s problem. Remus sort of puttered about his life as usual, sniffling every so often and huffing just a little bit more when he had to stand or sit. 

Remus said he felt creaky.  

“That’s a new one,” Sirius had mused. “What happened to wobbly?”  

Remus rolled his shoulders back, wincing a little as he did. “Nothing,” he sighed. “I’m just also creaky. I feel like the tin man.” 

“I’m not following,” Sirius laughed. 

“I need to oil my joints,” Remus groaned, tipping his head back so it was leaning against the back of the couch.

“If I could help you with that, I would,” Sirius said. “Alas, I can only provide you with off brand sports-drink.”

“Off brand sports-drink?” Remus lamented. 

“I know, I know, but look, it’s blue!” Sirius held out the bottle to Remus, and Remus made a little ooh! sound and took it from him. Sirius held back a laugh. “How’s the headache?” 

“Achey,” Remus replied. 

“Fever?” 

“Fever-y.” 

“Hm,” Sirius nodded, frowning. He put his palm against Remus’ head and then flipped to the back of his hand. Remus raised his eyebrows. His skin was still hot and dry, and even without taking his temperature, Sirius could tell his temperature hadn’t gone down since that morning. “Fever-y,” Sirius confirmed. “I think it might’ve gotten a bit worse, actually.” 

“Lovely,” Remus sighed. Sirius took his hand away. “How many Tylenol can you take before it’s too many Tylenol?” He put his own palm against his forehead, frowning.

“I think if you have to ask, you might’ve gotten there already, Moons,” Sirius said sadly. 

“Lovely,” Remus echoed.

“Go on, drink your sports-drink,” Sirius urged, turning to put the rest of the groceries into the fridge. Groceries was a strong word. It was mostly just crackers and ginger-ale and sports-drink, and toilet paper because they’d run out, but that was beside the point. 

“Can’t we just call it Gatorade?” Remus asked, twisting the cap off with a crack. 

“Nah, we might get copyrighted,” Sirius shrugged, and Remus barked a laugh. 

“Copyrighted?” he huffed. “By whom? Gatorade’s gonna come sue me for mislabeling merchandise?” 

“You never know,” Sirius said ominously. “Maybe they’re in the walls. Always listening…”

“Oh, stop that,” Remus shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. “You’ll give me fever dreams.” 

“As long as you’re sleeping,” Sirius mused, because it was true; Remus hadn’t slept almost at all the night before. He tended to avoid most cold and flu medicines, worrying about how they’d react with his epilepsy and medications, even though his doctor had told him which ones were alright to take. He was paranoid about it– which was valid, of course. Sirius couldn’t fault him for that. But it meant he’d been suffering through his symptoms with only the help of acetaminophen for the fever and aches and saline spray for his congestion. 

“I’m trying my best,” Remus muttered.

“Do you want tea? I think we’ve got something with melatonin. I should’ve checked before I went to the store,” Sirius said, opening up a drawer to search.

“I could do tea,” Remus replied, taking another swig. As he set the bottle down, he started coughing, thumping his own chest. Sirius raised his eyebrows at him from the kitchen, but Remus waved a hand at him in a general it’s alright gesture. “Maybe not melatonin yet, though. Save it for tonight.” 

“We’ve got…” Sirius muttered, turning back to the drawer. “Blueberry Superfruit,” he read off of one box. “Sleepytime. Oh, that’s the melatonin. Right. Er… chamomile? That’s relaxing. I think green tea has caffeine, so that’s out.” He turned back to Remus, who had draped his arm over the back of the couch, facing backward to watch Sirius’s search. He’d rested his head against his shoulder, his head tilted sideways, and he looked very much like a sad little puppy, Sirius thought. Remus swallowed and winced a little. 

“Superfruit sounds like something good for the immune system,” he shrugged. 

“Probably,” Sirius agreed, taking the box out. He read the back. “Aren’t blueberries good for your eyes? Or no, that’s carrots,” he corrected himself. “That was written on one of Harry’s baby foods, I think.” Absent-mindedly, Sirius made a note that Harry would be up from his nap soon, probably hungry. He took some peas out of the freezer to start thawing.

“The puree ones?” Remus asked. He stood up from the couch, stretching his arms back behind him. Sirius glanced his way. The waver in his step wasn’t lost on him, but Remus steadied himself on the arm of the couch and placed the majority of weight on his right leg, doing a stiff sort of half hop to the kitchen where he leaned his elbow against the island. Remus got restless easily, Sirius knew, but he wished he’d just lay down for a while and try to get some sleep. 

“They had little fun facts on the lids,” Sirius recalled. It was very cute. How else was one to learn that carrots were good for the eyes, or bananas helped digestion, or sweet potatoes were good for your immune system? Remus smiled, shaking his head. Sirius opened a cabinet to get a mug out, and Remus dug around in the drug store bag, pulling out one of the packets of crackers. “They had Saltines but they didn’t have Gatorade?”  

“If I knew you’d be so upset about sports-drink, I’d have gone to another store,” Sirius grumbled, and Remus laughed, pinching the bag open. 

“I’m not upset,” he huffed, waving a cracker in his fingers. “I’m pointing out the flaw in stocking.” 

“They had Gatorade,” Sirius noted, “it was just grape.”  

“Eugh,” Remus made a face. “Alright. I take it back. Sports-drink is better than grape. Cheers.” He made a toasting motion and took a bite of his cracker. 

“That’s what I thought,” Sirius nodded. He put the kettle under the tap and started filling it. 

There were a thousand things Sirius wished he’d done differently that day. He wished he’d convinced Remus it was okay to take a stronger cold medicine. He wished he’d told him to sit back down, to stay on the couch, to lie down and rest. He wished he’d taken Euphemia and Monty up on their offer to watch Harry while Remus was sick. 

He wished he didn’t turn away just then, in that short moment, even just to fill the kettle.

“Sirius,” Remus said. 

That was the only warning.

He said it softly, like a statement, almost casually– so casually that Sirius turned expecting him to ask something about what they were having for dinner, or telling him he wanted honey in his tea, or complain about how off brand sports-drink didn’t taste as good as Gatorade. 

Instead, Remus’ knees were already buckling. His arm was sliding off of the granite corner of the countertop, and his shoulder was colliding with the barstool to his right, and his body was thudding against the hardwood, and the only warning Sirius got was his name. That was it. 

He was moving before he even realized what was happening. 

“Fuck,” he blurted out, reaching out blindly to turn off the tap, only closing it halfway before he lurched across the kitchen. The shock of it made his chest cold. “Fuck. Remus? Oh, fuck,” he muttered. Remus had knocked a stool over when he fell. It was laying next to his head. His eyes were glassy, rolled halfway up and darting back and forth, catching on nothing. His hands were stiff near his chest, fingers twitching. “Moony, can you hear me?” 

He put his hand against Remus’ cheek, and it was awful how hot his fever was. Maybe he’d just fainted, Sirius thought. Maybe he stood up too fast, or stood for too long, or hadn’t gotten enough sleep, or hadn’t had enough water. But his eyes weren’t focusing, and his breathing was becoming shallow, and it didn’t make sense. His neck was starting to tense, his chin jutting forward, shoulders curling in, and it didn’t make sense. He was seizing, and it didn’t make sense.

There were steps for this. Before, after, during– they’d been over them. They’d done them. What happened to the before? It didn’t make sense. It was too fast. Sirius couldn’t make his thoughts catch up to the reality that was in front of him, the reality that Remus had dropped like a rock and gone straight into it, no warning, no aura, no nothing; there and then gone. There were steps. They couldn’t just skip them, they couldn’t–

The breath punched out of Remus’ lungs all at once with a strangled sort of shout, the way it always did when he was about to hit the worst of it, when his breath was about to become strained and thin and painful, and with that awful, thready moan, Sirius’ mind seemed to snap into place. 

Before. What was the before? They’d skipped the aura, the sense of dread, the metal taste. They’d skipped getting safely to the ground. They’d skipped clearing the area– but he could do that now, right? He could. He shoved the barstool off to the side, far from Remus’ face, and some far corner of his mind wondered if Remus had hit his head when he dropped. What was next?

Put me on my side, Remus would say. 

But they were past that , now, weren’t they? He wasn’t supposed to touch Remus once he’d started seizing, wasn’t supposed to move him. He was on his back, not his side, but he wasn’t supposed to move him. Right?

Don’t stick anything in my mouth. I might not breathe very well. I make a lot of noise. It’s normal. And I bite my tongue sometimes. That’s normal, too, Remus would say.

Sirius didn’t think he’d bitten his tongue, not yet at least. His breathing was becoming choked. That was normal. That was normal.

Time me, Remus would say. 

“Fuck,” Sirius cursed again, jumping to his feet so fast he nearly tripped. “Hold on, hold on,” he muttered, and then realized how ridiculous it was to tell Remus to hold on just then as though he could help it. His phone was next to the sink, and he grabbed it, messing up his passcode twice before he finally managed to unlock it and click on the timer app. How long had it been? He should have done this first, should have started the timer right away. Was it even accurate now? The seconds started ticking up.

I don’t usually go longer than three minutes, Remus would say, but sometimes I get to four. At five, call 999.

Okay, Sirius thought. Okay. Okay. “Okay,” he said out loud for good measure. “Okay. It’s okay. You’re okay, Moons, it’s alright.” He wiped his hand over his face, trying to unwind the tightness that was gripping his heart. 

Just talk to me, Remus would say. It makes it easier.

Sirius took a deep, shuddering breath, and then he almost felt guilty about it, because Remus’ own breaths were catching in his throat, strangled and cut short. Nothing ever made this easier. They’d been together over a year now, and Sirius had seen Remus’ seizures in all of the forms they took, but familiarity brought him no comfort. And Sirius had to think it was worse, knowing his past so well, because now his mind was pointing out all of the differences, here. 

Remus hadn’t gotten an aura. They hadn’t sat down. They hadn’t cleared the area. He wasn’t turned on his side. 

“It’s okay,” Sirius said again, because he had to. 

It had to be okay. 

He did what he could, and it had to be okay. 

He pulled off his sweater and laid it out under Remus’ head as carefully as he could without touching him and then glanced at the stopwatch. Time always felt agonizingly slow during these ones. Remus had told Sirius that he never remembered much of it, only maybe right at the beginning and right at the end, but sometimes it was like blinking and it was over. Sirius didn’t think that jealous was the right word, but he envied that in a way. He wanted to cut this out of his memory as well, if he could. 

Fifty-nine seconds, a minute, a minute and one… he added ten seconds in his head, or maybe fifteen, because he hadn’t started the timer right away. The uncertainty in that number made him tense. Fifteen seconds to be safe. Maybe twenty. Twenty seconds to be safe. 

And then he waited. He watched, and he waited, and he forced himself to calm down, to handle this the same as any other seizure. It would be okay. It was okay.

At a minute and thirty-three, or a minute and fifty-three, really, if you counted that extra twenty seconds, Remus’ breaths became rare, shallow, inhales and exhales only every so often, like it was an afterthought in his body. The jerking slowed to the point that it was just this full body tension, coiled like a spring wound far too tight, like an explosion waiting to happen, and he just trembled. 

Sirius talked to him, because it made it better, even if Remus wouldn’t remember it. It made it better for both of them, really.

At two minutes and forty-seven seconds, the convulsions came back. Remus’ neck tensed, and he thudded the back of his head against the floor, elbows locking, and there was red at the corner of his mouth. He’d bitten his tongue. That was normal. It was okay.

At three minutes, twelve seconds, Remus’ lungs seized up again, and when he exhaled, it wouldn’t go back in. Sirius had always found he held his breath, too, in those moments. He didn’t mean to, but it happened nonetheless. 

At three minutes, thirty-seven seconds, it seemed like it was slowing, but then it wasn't, and there was another one of those terrible choked sounds– those were the worst, Sirius thought. The ones that sounded like Remus was trying so hard to breathe just for it to get blocked right there at the end. Three and a half minutes was long for him, but it wasn’t dangerous, not yet.

It was at four minutes that Sirius' stomach began to feel tight. 

I don’t usually go longer than three minutes, Remus had said, and said again, and said again, but sometimes I get to four. At five, call 999.

Remus hadn’t gotten to four, before. Sirius had never seen Remus get to four. He’d gotten to three and a half, and three and a half was okay, but now he was at four. 

And this was the thing, though; the difference between three and a half minutes and five minutes felt infinite– it felt safe. It wasn't dangerous yet. There was the whole "and" there to buffer any fear he felt. It wasn't dangerous yet, because it was a minute and something until bad things could happen, and the and was important. It was safe. 

Four minutes was different. Four minutes didn't have that one minute buffer. Four minutes was only sixty seconds from danger, which had no and , and then as soon as it was four minutes and one second, there were only fifty nine seconds left, and then less and less and less. 

And something felt terrible about the waiting, then, after four minutes, because if he waited until five minutes to call an ambulance, what if it was too late? 

Should he call it at four and a half minutes, so that it would give him time to say, on the phone, it's been five minutes? So that someone was there with him when it became five minutes? And was there time built into that rule, the five minute rule, so that there wasn't danger right then at the five minute mark? 

Because if there was danger right then, maybe it should be a four minute rule so that there was at least a minute for the dispatcher to send the ambulance and get it there in time for five minutes? But an ambulance couldn't arrive in one minute, anyway, right? 

So if the seizure continued right until the ambulance got there, it wouldn't be five minutes long, it would be, say, five minutes plus however much time it took the ambulance to get there, and then if Remus didn’t stop, it would be ten minutes seizing, and ten minutes where Sirius felt like his whole world was stuttering to a stop.

He called 999 at four minutes and thirty seven seconds. 

Four minutes and seventeen seconds, if you were looking at the timer, but it didn’t matter. It really, really didn’t matter, because Remus wasn’t breathing, and he wasn’t answering, and he wasn’t stopping.

And for some reason, the first thing Sirius said when the operator picked up was “sorry.” 

“Which service do you need?” the operator repeated, and Sirius shook himself. 

“I– a-ambulance,” he stammered. 

“I’ll connect you now.”  

“Okay,” Sirius breathed, but the dial tone was already changing. The corner of Remus’ mouth had begun to foam red. Sirius pinched himself just to be sure this was all real. It hurt. 

A woman’s voice filtered in through the phone.

“Hello, this is the ambulance service,” she said. “Is the patient breathing?”

“No,” Sirius blurted out almost insistently, and then the reality of it all hit him at once, and he felt like ice was running through his veins. “Kind of. He’s breathing, but it’s not– he’s–” he shook himself. Get it together, he urged himself. Handle it. “My partner’s having a seizure. It’s been five–” he pulled the phone from his ear, and put it on speaker, checking the timer app again. “Five minutes and three seconds,” he explained.

“Alright– what’s the address?” 

Sirius had only ever called emergency services two times in his whole life. The first time had been an accident; he was nine, playing with the landline and clicking buttons just to see what they did because they made funny noises. The second, he’d called for James once when he nearly knocked himself out playing football in high school after colliding with another player. Both of those instances provided him with very little guidance on how this call would go. 

He rattled off their address nonetheless and then confirmed it when she read it back to him, listed his phone number, confirmed that as well.

“Alright, there’s help on its way, now,” the operator said.

“How– how long?” Sirius asked. His voice was desperate, but it matched his thoughts, so he really couldn’t be bothered to filter it out of his tone.

“Won’t be more than eight minutes. There’s two nearby, they’ve both been dispatched,” she assured him, or tried to assure him, but there was a lot of fear tied up in eight whole minutes of waiting that made Sirius feel like the world was crushing down on him. “You said he’s having a seizure?”

“Yeah,” Sirius managed. “He’s– he’s got epilepsy. It’s tonic clonic, he gets them sometimes, but this one’s not stopping, and he– he didn’t get an aura before, and he’s been sick and he’s got a fever–”

“Hold on, slow down,” the operator said. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Sirius,” he replied. “Black,” he added. 

“Alright, Sirius. What’s your partner’s name?” 

“Remus Lupin.” 

“Okay, Sirius. Is the seizure still going now?”  

“Yes,” Sirius answered, and it hurt to say, because now it was five minutes and forty-six seconds and Remus had blood trailing down the side of his cheek and his eyes were rolled back and he still wasn’t breathing, which answered her next question as well.

“Okay. Don’t move him while he’s still seizing. Make sure the area’s clear, and if it stops, you can move him onto his side to help recovery,” the operator instructed.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. I knew that, he wanted to say. I know that. I know what to do. This time’s just different. Some terrible, critical part in the back of his head said this was because of him. He’d done something wrong. That must be it, right? “Can you– can you stay on the phone?” he asked. 

“Of course, dear. It’ll be alright. Is he breathing at all?”

“Some,” Sirius nodded jerkily even though she couldn’t see him. “He’s not totally stopped, it’s just like– it’s like he’s choking.”

She asked questions, and Sirius gave answers– that no, he wasn’t hurt otherwise, he just bit his tongue, that yes, he’d cushioned his head, that yes, he’d helped him through seizures like this before, that no, they’d never gone this long, not while Sirius was there– 

Sirius cut himself off, though, because Remus’ arms suddenly went slack from where they were locked over his body before, and his chest jolted once, twice, stilled, and then he breathed.  

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled, the word sort of slipping out of him involuntarily. “Moony? Remus, can you hear me?” 

“Is it slowing?” 

“I think so,” Sirius answered, and he found himself really very grateful that there was someone here with him to say things out loud to, because usually he’d just be saying it to himself, and left to his own devices here he was pretty sure he’d talk himself into a severe panic that would be helpful to neither of them.

Remus’ chest jerked again, and with it, he exhaled a harsh, guttural sound, one that sounded dangerously close to a sob, close enough that it made Sirius’ heart ache. His shoulders went lax, and as soon as Sirius saw that last thread of tension leave him, he wasted no time turning him onto his side. Remus’ face twisted when he did, but Sirius managed the guilt of that by focusing on the fact that his breathing had picked up, as much as it rattled in his lungs. 

"Okay, it– it's stopped, or–” Sirius kept his hand on Remus’ shoulder. It felt like he was the only thing holding him together. “It’s stopping, I think. I don't know... He's breathing better now. Remus?" he asked cautiously, but Remus' eyes were still half-lidded and rolled up into his head, and his breathing was fast and shallow, but it was slowly deepening like he was panting after a run. "He's not waking up," Sirius said into the phone, and his voice cracked. He willed himself to calm down. He needed to calm down. He needed to handle this. “He’s not–”

"Alright, love, it's okay,” she cut him off. “What’s the timer say?” Sirius paused it.

“Five minutes and–” he did the math. “Six minutes and sixteen seconds.”

“Can you do me a favor? Do you know how to check his pulse?" 

"Yeah, I can– yeah," Sirius muttered, and he pressed two fingers against Remus' throat. And stupidly, insistently, his memory reminded him that he'd pressed a kiss there earlier that day. How had things gone so wrong? It was just a cold. It had just been a cold. His hands were shaking.

"Just tell me if it's strong or weak," the operator said. Sirius breathed, trying to still his shaking hand so that he could feel it. It wasn't difficult. Remus' heart was hammering hard and fast.

"It's strong," Sirius said. "It's– it's really fast, though, is that–"

"That's okay," she reassured him. "That's good." 

"Okay," Sirius said for the hundredth time. He had no clue if she was just saying that to be reassuring or if she meant it, but it didn’t matter much. Remus' face twitched, and Sirius moved his fingers from his throat to cup his cheek, his heart lurching. "Remus?" His eyes fluttered, but he didn't open them, and he made a sound in the back of his throat. "Moony, come on, love. Open your eyes." 

Remus strained his neck a little, arching so his temple pressed harder into the ground, and his whole chest jerked once and then stilled again. It punched a terrible sound from his lungs. Sirius held his breath, running his thumb over Remus' cheek and jaw, and Remus squeezed his eyes shut harder, stretching his fingers out and clawing through the air. Sirius caught one of his hands in his own. 

"It's okay," Sirius said as confidently as he could. "It's alright. Hey, Moony? Can you hear me?" 

“Sirius, is he awake or aware of his surroundings?” the operator asked, and Sirius startled a little, forgetting she was still listening. 

"I– I don’t know. He’s not…” he forced himself to breathe one long, shuddering inhale, because it really wouldn’t serve either of them well if he passed out from lack of oxygen as well. He needed to handle this. “I don’t think he’s aware of anything.”

“Okay. Ambulance is about four minutes out."  

Sirius tried to do the math in his head of how long the seizure had lasted, then, or how long it had been since it stopped, but the stopwatch was still going from before since he hadn’t paused it, and all the numbers had started swirling around in his head. He cupped his hand around the back of Remus’ head, and then he pressed his fingers in a little bit, trying to feel if there was a bump there. He realized he hadn’t seen if Remus had hit his head. 

Maybe he should have called an ambulance right away. 

Oh, fuck, maybe he should have called an ambulance right away. This wasn’t normal. He hadn’t gotten an aura, and he hadn’t been sitting, and he might have hit his head, and he was sick, and he had a fever, so maybe Sirius should have called an ambulance right away. A million what-ifs started ringing in Sirius’ ears. A million other ways this could have gone. A million things he wished he’d done differently. 

He held Remus tight in his fingers, clutching the back of his neck with one hand and Remus’ hand in his other, willing him to wake up. 

“Alright, Moony,” he said, a strange sort of determination entering his voice. “Come on. Open your eyes. Help’s gonna be here soon, and they’ll make it better, okay? Come on.” He ran his thumb back and forth over Remus’ skin. 

Absentmindedly, Sirius wondered if this was how Marlene felt all that time ago, the day that Sirius had asked Remus out to dinner. He’d had a seizure like this then, one that landed him in the hospital. He wished he’d asked more questions about that, now. How it went, what she’d done to help, how it had looked. If it looked like this. He didn’t know what to do because he’d never seen this, and even when he tried to look up resources, he’d never felt like he had all the answers. 

No one talked about what happened after five minutes, he found. Call 999. That was the only instruction. No follow up, no guide, no answers. No what-if. Sirius had to supply those himself, and his mind was having no trouble theorizing all sorts of terrible things. 

Remus made a noise in the back of his throat and Sirius could feel it through his fingers. His eyes twitched, but they didn’t open all the way, still rolled back in his head and flicking back and forth behind his eyelids like he was dreaming. He was panting hard, still, like he was trying to catch his breath.

“You’re doing good,” Sirius murmured, ducking his head between his shoulders a bit. He pulled a breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth slowly. “Keep breathing,” he said. Please.  

He heard a sound, but it wasn’t Remus. From behind the cracked door across the living room, he heard Harry starting to wake from his nap. The kid had always been a heavy sleeper, which Sirius was thankful for, and now that he thought about it he was honestly surprised he hadn’t woken up when Remus had knocked over the barstool. 

But he realized now how complicated this was. How complicated this was about to get. 

Because Harry couldn’t ride in the ambulance with them. 

Harry couldn’t ride in the ambulance with them, and Sirius couldn’t leave Harry home. 

“Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand out of Remus’ (and trying to ignore how awful and cruel that felt) and picking up his phone, switching out of the timer app and over to his messages.

“Sirius?” the operator asked, and Sirius jumped. “How’s Remus doing?” 

“He’s– he’s the same, sorry, I– I’ve got a kid,” Sirius stammered. “I need someone to watch him, I can’t– I can’t take him in the ambulance, can I?”

“No, I’m afraid not, it’s a safety–”  

“Okay,” he cut her off. “Okay. I need to–” Think, he urged himself. Harry had started calling for him, going papa-pa in the other room, and he shook his head, trying to force his thoughts to line up. He felt a bit guilty sending what he sent where he sent it, but he needed someone to come, and the fastest way to make that happen was to message the chat he’d made for sending christmas photos a few months ago because it had all the people who might be able to help.

i need someone to come watch harry

please

emergency

remus going to hospital

and i can’t bring him

Regulus texted back first while Sirius was halfway through writing his next message, something about how Harry couldn’t come with them in the ambulance–  what happened? the message said. Sirius started deleting his text to answer the question, but another from Regulus interrupted him–  on my way. 5 minutes. 

Sirius swallowed hard. Okay, he thought. Regulus lived the closest out of any of them. He often dropped by just to say hello when he felt like it. Andy’s text came through next–  i can come too–  and then one from Mary–  is he alright?  

Euphemia started calling him. 

Suddenly he regretted messaging so many people at once. Notifications started popping up, and Harry was babbling louder now, calling papa and moo-ey and becoming more insistent because he was awake and he was hungry and he didn’t know what had happened, because he was just a kid, but the noise made pressure build behind Sirius’ eyes. Remus made another noise like a moan. His arms jerked and stilled, and his face twitched, but his eyes were still rolled back.

“Can you keep talking, Sirius?” the operator asked, and Sirius flinched. “Just keep telling me how he’s doing.”

“Sorry,” Sirius choked out. Calm down, he told himself. Breathe. Fuck. “Sorry, he’s–” he pushed Remus’ hair out of his face. “He’s still not waking up.” Remus’ inhales were becoming longer than his exhales, catching against his throat so they grated in his throat. “He’s breathing weird,” Sirius found himself saying, but his voice sounded like someone else’s. “It’s different, he’s–” 

Messages were pinging on his phone. His message was abandoned, half-typed, and Euphemia was calling him again, and Harry was calling for papa, calling for Moony, and Remus–

Remus convulsed. His whole body jolted all at once. His back arched. His neck tensed. His elbows locked. 

And then he was seizing again.

"No, he's– he's going again," Sirius rasped. "No, Moony, no, please–" he felt like he was begging him, as though Remus could hear him, as though Remus could help it, but he didn't know what else to do, he didn't– "What do I do? What– what do I–"

"It's alright–" 

"No, it's– he's–" Sirius forced himself to let go of Remus' hand as his arm jerked back, his elbows tucking in close to his stomach. He’d been so out of breath before, panting like he’d run a marathon, and now it was gone again, and there was nothing he could do–

"Sirius, it's okay. Time it, okay? Can you time it?" Sirius wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist and picked up his phone with shaking fingers, trying to get back to the stopwatch. Everything was blurry. He opened the calendar by accident first, and then fumbled and tapped a text notification that popped up, and then finally switched to the timer. He missed the button at least three times before he got it to reset and start. 

Someone was calling him again. He didn’t know who.

"Yeah, I'm– I'm–" he couldn't finish a sentence. He couldn't even form a thought. Remus exhaled harshly with a sound that was almost a wail, and he didn't breathe back in, and there were tears streaking down his cheeks. Sirius held his breath, too. 

Harry started crying.

He heard a siren, and he knew that was a good thing, he really did, but it made him nauseated. It made it real. 

"They'll be there in just a second, you should hear them soon." He did. He hated it. "You'll have to let them in, love," the operator added.

"I don't want to leave him," Sirius choked. 

"I know. He'll be alright. Just prop the door, okay? Prop the door and come back." 

"Okay," Sirius breathed. "Okay. Okay." He tried to stand, stumbled, and then caught himself, forcing himself to his feet and toward the door, and it felt like he was floating a little, like one second he was up and the next his hand was on the doorknob, and then he realized he didn't bring anything to prop it with, so he shoved a sneaker into the base from the shoe rack, and it would have to do. He practically sprinted back to Remus' side. 

He still wasn't breathing. There was saliva and blood pooling under his cheek. He was just stiff, all of his muscles tensed and trembling and locked in place, and Sirius wanted to hold him or cradle him against his chest or shake him and tell him to wake up, to breathe, to stop, just please stop. The siren was loud, and then louder, and then it stopped, and Sirius could hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

And then he was answering questions. 

It was like he was kneeling there beside Remus and then he blinked and then he was standing, someone’s hand on his shoulder, and there were people there and they were setting up a bright orange stretcher and it was all real and wrong. 

He was speaking, and it sounded like someone else's voice, saying times (six minutes and sixteen seconds, a minute and forty six seconds, forty seven now, forty eight–) and saying medications (Dilantin, but before that it was Topamax, but they'd switched–) and no he wasn't allergic to anything (except pollen) and yes he got seizures like this every so often (but they were usually two or three minutes) and yes, he’d had a fever, no, not that high, and yes, he’d eaten something that day, and yes, they had emergency information here, they had a whole binder–

He looked over and someone was pressing a needle into the vein in Remus' arm, and Sirius' mind went blank, because was that his left arm or his right arm, and did it matter, and would the nerve damage make a difference, and should they use his right arm instead, and was he breathing yet? Why wasn't he breathing yet?

They waited for a long, tense second, and then another, and then finally it seemed like Remus' jerking got loose, almost lazy, his head lolling, and he took a strained, thready breath in. 

Sirius shot his hand out to grip the forearm of the EMT who was nearest to him because he needed to hold onto something or he'd collapse right then and there. 

Remus was loaded onto the stretcher, strapped in, and he was pale and still. Someone asked if Sirius was coming with them, and he didn’t really know who’d asked it, so he found himself sort of answering the question to the room, that no, he couldn’t, that he was waiting for his brother to come watch Harry– and no one had questions about who Harry was, because he was still wailing as loud as his little lungs would let him from his bedroom.

He handed Remus’ medical binder to someone. He gave his phone number to someone. Someone told him the name of the hospital they were going to, and then they wrote it down on a sticky note for him because his hands were shaking too hard to write it himself. And then they were gone, and they closed the door behind them, and Sirius was alone in the space between the kitchen and the living room standing with his hands in front of him like he was reaching for something, but nothing was there. 

Harry was crying, and his phone was ringing, and he was alone. 

He knew his legs must have given out at some point, because he was on the floor, now, his back to the wall of the kitchen island. Blood was rushing in his ears so loud it blocked everything else out. He couldn’t think. He was alone, and he couldn’t think.

Think, he urged himself. Handle this.  

He needed to get up. He forced himself to his feet, steadying himself on the counter, looking around the room for something that would spur him into motion, some indication of where to start. He needed to get Harry. He needed to call Regulus. He needed to find his keys–

The front door opened. 

Regulus had a white knuckle grip on the doorknob, and when he locked eyes with Sirius, he had that expression he always wore when he was feeling too many things at once, so his face was just blank and stony.

“He had a seizure,” Sirius blurted out insistently, like Regulus wouldn’t believe him. “He had a seizure, and it was bad, and it– it wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t breathe, and I should have– I didn’t–” 

Regulus crossed the space between them and Sirius reached out blindly. Their chests collided hard enough that it knocked the wind out of him. Regulus cupped the back of Sirius' neck and pressed him firmly into the space between his shoulder and neck, and Sirius wrapped his arms around his brother so tight he wondered if it hurt.

“Okay,” Regulus sighed softly, and Sirius realized belatedly that they had the same tendency to say okay when they weren’t sure what else to say. Brothers, and all that. Sometimes they were so similar. “Where is he now?” 

“Hospital,” Sirius said, muffled by Regulus’ shirt. “They took him in the ambulance. I couldn’t go with him, Harry couldn’t–” he shook his head, the words getting choked off. 

“Alright, that’s– that’s good. He’s with people who can help,” Regulus nodded assuredly.

“What if–” 

“No,” Regulus cut him off so abruptly it startled Sirius a bit. “We’re not doing what-ifs.” Sirius swallowed. “He’s with EMTs and doctors and that’s who he needs, right now. They’ll help him. Okay? You got him help.” He said it with such certainty that Sirius found himself believing him. 

“Okay,” he nodded. 

“Good. Sit for a second, okay? I’m gonna check on Harry, and I need to call Andromeda back. Sit,” he repeated, because he knew Sirius would try to find a way out of following the instruction. 

Sirius sat on a barstool, resting his elbows against the cold granite. It made him shiver. Regulus started opening cabinets in the kitchen, but Sirius stared down at the floor. There was a little pool of red drying on the hardwood. He felt sick. 

“Yeah, Andy, I’m here–” Regulus said, and his voice startled Sirius a bit. He was pinching his phone between his shoulder and ear. ”Can you call Monty back, tell him we’re good? Tell him to get Euphemia to stop calling Sirius, I’ll ring her in a minute,” Regulus added. Sirius realized his phone was buzzing. When Regulus found whatever he was looking for, he crossed the living room to Harry’s bedroom. “He’s fine, he’s just– hello Harry– yes, I know, here, that’s better, yeah? Hi, yes, I know. Have a snack, kiddo, I’ll be back in a sec.” 

Sirius wiped at his eyes, his fingers still trembling. He could have done that, he thought. Just gone and made sure Harry was okay. Just given him a snack. Just said hello, comforted him, stopped him from crying. He could have done anything. He could have done more. He could have called the ambulance sooner.

Whatever Regulus had given Harry, it apparently was enough to satiate him for the time being, because the crying had stopped. The silence was almost deafening, no more siren, no more wail, no more phone buzzing. Regulus came back out of Harry’s room and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Alright,” Regulus murmured. “It’s okay. Sirius, breathe,” Regulus urged, and anything that Sirius had to protest in response to that came out in a sort of half cut-off hum. Regulus put his hands on either side of Sirius’ face, and his fingers were freezing. It made Sirius suck in a breath. “Good. Slower.” 

Sirius shook his head, bracing his palms against the chair under him. He needed to get up. He needed to go. Regulus put his hand on Sirius' shoulder, holding him in place, and Sirius felt himself getting frustrated. 

“I need to– Remus–” 

“It’s okay,” Regulus cut him off. “He’s gone to the hospital. He’s with people who can help.”

“He’s–”

“Sirius, he’s getting help,” Regulus insisted. “You taking a second to catch your breath doesn’t delay that. Breathe.”  

Sirius was seeing stars. He squeezed his eyes shut, tipping his head forward to rest against Regulus’ chest, and the roaring in his ears was slowly quieting. He could feel Regulus’ heart hammering as well. He thought about the texts he’d sent; please, emergency, remus going to hospital–  he’d probably worried them sick. He was worrying himself sick. Breathe, he told himself. 

“Okay,” Sirius nodded. “He’s… okay. Fuck, Reg,” he shook his head. 

“I know,” Regulus murmured. He kept one hand rested against Sirius’ shoulder.

“I need to go to the hospital,” Sirius said. “And I need… okay.” His thoughts were slowly lining up. “Should I bring anything? I don’t– I don’t know what I’m doing.” Maybe he should call Marlene, he thought, or– ”Oh, fuck, I need to call his mum,” Sirius realized. The thought of that made him nauseous. 

“One thing at a time,” Regulus squeezed his shoulder. It was grounding. “Andy’s gonna be here in a bit. One of us can bring you stuff from here if you need it.” 

Sirius nodded. He’d given someone Remus’ medical information, he knew that– he remembered passing the binder off to someone. Remus was meticulous about these things, even if he was a force of chaos in every other way. Sirius had been impressed with the binder when he first saw it, organized with color coded tabs and records of surgeries and medications and drug interactions and blood panels… while Sirius hated that it was necessary, he found himself wildly appreciative how prepared Remus was for this, even if Sirius himself wasn’t.

“Is this the hospital?” Regulus asked, picking up the sticky note from the counter. Sirius nodded again. Regulus opened his phone. “I’m gonna call you a cab,” he said. “You aren’t driving right now.” 

Now that he said it, it made sense. Sirius’ hands were still shaking, and he couldn’t quite see straight. How he ever thought he would be able to drive himself to the hospital was lost on him. 

“Okay,” Sirius murmured. “Yeah. Thanks.” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Everything felt so quiet, now. Just a minute ago, it had been so loud, and now it was so quiet. Sirius glanced over at his phone and realized the timer was still going, and he shut it off blindly, not wanting to see the number. “I need to call his mum,” Sirius echoed. “What… what do I even say?”  

“Just explained what happened,” Regulus said calmly. “He was sick, right?” 

“It was just a cold,” Sirius shook his head. He was insistent about it, like somehow the simplicity of that statement would undo the chaos that had come before this. “He was just… it wasn’t even that bad, just a fever and aches and he wasn’t sleeping great, I guess… god, it just went wrong so fast. He didn’t even get an aura.” 

“It was probably just everything all at once,” Regulus sighed. “It’s unpredictable, right?” 

“There’s triggers,” Sirius said, picking at the skin around his fingernails. “But it– it wasn’t that bad,” he repeated. He was just so stuck on that. It hadn’t even been that bad. A low fever, a few less hours of sleep, a bit of anxiety over missing work. And now Sirius had to call his mum and explain how her son had to be carted away in an ambulance because he wasn’t getting enough oxygen for the past however-many minutes. 

“I know,” Regulus murmured.

“What if she blames me?” Sirius asked miserably. “I should have called the ambulance right away, Reg. He might’ve hit his head, and he was sick– it wasn’t normal. I should have known better,” he breathed, wiping harshly at his eyes again. 

“She’s not going to blame you, Sirius,” Regulus said gently, shaking his head. “She’ll understand.” 

“But it could be bad,” Sirius insisted. “That– not breathing– it’s bad.” It sounded so obvious, something that didn’t even need to be said.

“You’re spiraling,” Regulus pointed out, and Sirius hated that he was right. “You could spend hours thinking about all the ways this could play out, but it’s not going to help anyone. Come on,” he added, picking up Sirius’ phone from the counter. “Let’s call Hope.” 

Something about the togetherness of the word let’s made Sirius feel just a bit less tense. Regulus was here, and he wasn’t alone, and he could do this, because he had to. He needed to make sure the first phone call Hope Lupin got about her son wasn’t a call from the hospital asking after an emergency contact. 

“Okay,” Sirius murmured. He took the phone from Regulus. “Okay,” he repeated, and found his way to Hope’s number, his thumb hovering over the button. “Okay.” He hit call.

The phone rang twice before Hope picked up.

“Hello, Sirius,” she greeted cheerily, and Sirius’ heart twisted. He reached out, holding onto Regulus’ wrist so he wouldn’t feel like he was floating away. “How are you, darling?” 

“Hi, Hope, I– um–” Sirius stammered. He held Regulus tighter. “Something’s…” he blew out a breath. “Something’s happened.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Waking up felt wrong. 

It felt like nothing was real, like he was dreaming, like coming out of this big black void and entering into some space that was equally as fake, equally as impossible, and the only thing that made it clear to Remus that his body was his was the fact that it hurt.

Everything hurt. He was numb, and he was heavy, and yet somehow this deep ache still penetrated his bones like it was born right out of the marrow. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not, the world around him swirling in shapes and colors like some surreal painting. Everything was spinning. His stomach lurched. 

There was a weight in his hand, and someone said something that might’ve been his name, and then he opened his eyes in earnest this time.

He wasn’t at home. He recognized this place– it was familiar, but it wasn’t home.

“Moony?” 

Remus felt his head turn like it was someone else controlling his body. He blinked. The world seemed underwater, but those eyes were unmistakable, grey and starry and worried. Sirius. He tried to say it out loud, but it wouldn’t come out, catching in his throat. 

“Hey,” Sirius said despite that, like he understood anyway. “Hey, it’s okay.” Was it? He didn’t feel real. Breathing felt manual, like he’d stop if he wasn’t trying. The space around him filtered through in bits and pieces. “Moony, can you hear me?” 

Remus nodded, keeping his eyes locked on Sirius’ because it was like that was the only thing that was clear. He was dragging himself through mud.

“Okay. You’re alright. We’re in the hospital.”

That made sense, somehow.

“Okay,” Remus said. His voice was wrecked. He didn’t sound like himself. He didn’t feel like himself. He was startled he had a voice at all, but the word left him anyway, like it was instinct.

“You had some seizures.”

“Okay,” Remus said again. He felt sour and sharp. Something was building in his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was nausea or something else. 

“You’re alright now.” 

“Okay,” Remus said, and then he was crying. It bubbled up suddenly, no preamble, no hitch in his breathing or wobble of his lip, or maybe there had been and he just hadn’t noticed. Time wasn’t linear right then.

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius murmured. Remus reached for him blindly and held on tight. “You’re alright,” Sirius repeated, and Remus tried to believe it. He tried to chase away the cobwebs, to surface from the haze in his head like he was clawing his way out.

“I don’t feel good,” Remus moaned, clinging to Sirius like he was about to float away. That’s what it felt like. Like he didn’t know which way was up. His stomach twisted, and his grip tightened. Sirius held him back just as firm.

“I know,” Sirius murmured, tucking Remus’ head under his chin. “It’s the medication. It’s wearing off. They said it’d feel weird, that it might be confusing,” he added, and that rang true, really, because Remus did, in fact, feel very weird and very confused. 

What medication? Why was it wearing off? Why was it on in the first place, and who was they? Doctors? Sirius had said they were in a hospital, hadn’t he? This felt like a hospital, Remus thought. It had the smell, the feeling in the air, the strange density it always brought with it. He shook his head against Sirius’ chest, but he didn’t know what he was denying with the movement. 

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said into Remus' hair. He was warm, and his breath tickled, and his body was secure and safe, and Remus let himself be held. He let himself melt into it, riding the wave of nausea as it lurched through him right alongside the ache that was slowly creeping beyond his bones and into his muscles. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t feel good,” Remus echoed, his voice muffled against Sirius’ chest. 

“I know. It’s okay. It’ll pass,” Sirius said, his voice steady, far more steady than Remus felt. There was a hand running up and down his back, a chill going through his spine. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. 

It felt like they stayed like that for an eternity. Sirius started rocking them slightly, back and forth, tiny little movements like a ticking metronome, and slowly, very slowly, Remus started to feel like the storm in his head was calming. The clouds were parting. Things started to make sense. Little pieces of the world started putting themselves together, the scratchy feeling of a blanket, the plastic wristband, a taste in his mouth like cotton, a ringing in his ears, the buzz of electricity. 

“We’re in the hospital,” Remus said, partially because he needed to confirm it and partially because he needed to hear his own voice again just to know he was awake. 

“We’re in the hospital,” Sirius nodded. 

“I had a seizure.” 

“You did. A few of them. A lot of them,” he amended. “You’re alright now.” 

“They stopped?” Remus asked, and he couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice. He wasn’t awake enough yet. “They’re not– I can’t–” he couldn’t handle that right now, he thought. If he had one now, he thought he might shake apart, crumble into dust. He might lose himself in that void again and never resurface.

“They stopped,” Sirius replied. “The big ones stopped. You’re alright,” he echoed. 

“Okay,” Remus breathed, and breathed, and breathed. Time kept right on passing, and passing, and passing. The nausea passed, too. The fear. The confusion. He was putting his thoughts in order, but there were bits missing– but that was normal, too, he remembered. He’d done this before. You’re alright, now.

“You were sedated for a bit,” Sirius added gently. “Just until the seizures stopped. That’s why it feels weird,” he explained. “It’ll pass.”

“Okay,” Remus echoed. “I’m… yeah.” 

This felt familiar. He’d done this before, this confusion, this fear, the feeling of coming out of it. He’d woken up like this before. Life, interrupted. What came before this? He was home, and then he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like normal. It wasn’t like blinking. This had felt long and dark and floating. His head was pounding. It’ll pass. Just like always. Because he’d done this before, hadn’t he? 

And oh, it made sense now. 

He’d done this before. The home and then not, the waking up, the confusion, the fear, the hospital. It had been one of those ones. The bad ones. The long ones. The ones where everyone was afraid except for him, because he never remembered them, not until he woke up. 

Not until he felt like this. 

So he breathed, and he waited for it to pass, and he convinced himself he was okay, just like always. This was how it went. When he was a kid and he woke up like this, foggy from the sedatives, he’d wake halfway through throwing up, startled into consciousness by acid in his mouth. He’d go straight from that into crying, and then into asking for his mum, and she’d hold him just like Sirius was holding him now until he calmed down. He’d never really gotten used to the feeling. It was too confusing. It made him too afraid. 

And now, he still felt like a kid. He always felt like a kid when he woke up like this. He always wound up back here. Remus thought that eventually, he should have started getting used to hospitals, that the appointments and ER visits and tests would feel normal like a routine, but that shift never came. The hatred for this place never left him. It made him bitter, now, despite the warmth he felt curled up against Sirius’ chest. 

He always wound up back here.

When he woke, and when the clarity returned to him, and when he was truly himself again, he was always back here.

Eventually, Remus thought he heard a door open, footsteps, and he wished it would go away just then, because he couldn’t really handle anything more than this. Sirius stirred a little from where they were folded against each other.

“Moony?” Sirius asked. “You awake?” Remus nodded against his chest.”Feel any better?” Sirius asked, and Remus nodded again. He felt more clear, now. More himself. More like this was real.“Yeah? Okay. Good. Hey,” Sirius said softly, and Remus felt a hand going through his hair. “You’re mum’s here.” 

Remus jolted back. 

The world tilted a little, but even so, he searched around until he met familiar eyes. It was like the rest of her formed around that gaze, and he was reaching for her like a child, only instinct. And then he was being held again. 

“Oh, love,” Hope said, and her voice vibrated in her chest.

—

It was always the simple things that somehow turned out to be the most complicated. By this point, Remus thought maybe he should start expecting it. 

But he really hadn’t, this time. Maybe that was naive. Maybe it was too hopeful, thinking things wouldn’t go wrong just because everything else was going right. 

His doctor thought it had been the fever that sent him over the edge in the end, but it was really a bit of everything; the fever, the stress, the lack of sleep, the way breathing was just that little bit harder because of his congestion. The seizures were a sum of their parts, little stumbles all adding up to the fall.

They didn’t think he’d truly stopped breathing for any longer than a minute or two at a time (Remus pointed out that there was a large difference between one minute and two minutes, and from the look on his face, Sirius had the same thought), but the fact that he didn’t have much recovery time between those periods was the concerning bit. 

So they’d do what they’d always done after these ones– run the tests, compare the baselines, see if anything had changed, go from there– it was always hard to tell at first if Remus had managed to shake anything loose. If things would get worse. There weren’t clear answers. There never were. 

And so the plan was always just as vague as it had always been; wait and see. Test. Handle it in whatever way they could. Adjust to what they couldn’t. 

Just like always. 

Just like always.

—

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius asked.

“Talk about what?” Remus muttered in reply. 

“I dunno,” Sirius shrugged. “Any of it. You’re upset about something.” Remus felt his chest tighten with frustration. 

“I’m–” he snapped his head toward Sirius, but his anger fizzled out almost as soon as he looked into his eyes, because there was nothing in that gaze except worry. He was just worried. Ever since Remus had woken up the day before, he’d been worried. He had bags under his eyes and he was worn thin and he hadn’t slept because he jerked awake every time Remus so much as twitched in his sleep. Remus sighed, shaking his head. He was just as exhausted. The ache hadn’t left him since he’d woken up, and if anything, it had gotten worse. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sirius said softly. He ran his thumb over the back of Remus’ hand. Sirius had been holding onto him every second he could. “But you can. If you want. You can talk to me.” Remus’ heart twisted.

“I know,” he murmured. He wiped a hand across his face, rolling his shoulders back a little and wincing as he did. “Sorry,” he added. 

He took his hand out of Sirius’ and picked at the plastic band around his wrist, bright yellow with black text that read FALL RISK. It felt like a bit of a cruel reminder, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t accurate. He thought, a little spitefully, maybe he should wear this all the time, right alongside his medical alert bracelet, every time he went out. As though the crutch wasn’t a sign enough. 

“What are you sorry for?” Sirius asked, frowning. 

“I’m not very fun to be around right now, I don’t think,” Remus mumbled. He knew he’d been quieter than usual, bitter and cold and distant, not exactly a model patient. He didn’t feel like himself. Usually, it was only his mum or Marlene who saw him in the hospital like this. Something felt wrong about Sirius being here, but there wasn’t a single part of Remus capable of asking him to leave. Remus ducked his head a little, training his gaze down at the blanket that was over his lap, legs crossed on the bed. “I want to go home.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed. “Me too. One more day.”

The seizures had stopped and hadn’t come back, and so long as he didn’t have another one in the next twenty-some hours, he’d be discharged. Remus knew he couldn’t really control whether or not he would have one, but he was willing his brain to just cooperate with him, just this once. He knew Sirius and Hope were exhausted by this as well. Hospitals were just tired places. They made you feel heavy. One of them had been with him every moment he was here, only leaving to go get food or grab a change of clothes or run home to take a shower in a bathroom that didn’t smell like antiseptic spray.

Sirius had gone to see Harry at Regulus’ apartment the day before and offered to bring him by, probably thinking it would lift Remus’ spirits, but Remus had refused– as much as he wanted to see him, he was exhausted and tired and he didn’t feel like himself, and there was something wrong about seeing Harry when he was like this as well, or Harry seeing him like this. He couldn’t quite explain it. 

Still, it made his heart swell a little when Sirius came back with a video of Harry waving around a spoonful of yogurt and going hi Moo-ey! He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the ‘n’ yet. Sometimes he just threw a random letter in there, saying moomy or mooby or more often just shortening it to moo, which was wildly endearing. 

At night, Sirius had climbed into the hospital bed right alongside Remus, despite how uncomfortable the mattress certainly was, despite the odd angle and then narrowness and the scratchiness of the blanket. He didn’t complain, and nor did Remus, and so they had curled against each other and had equally terrible nights of sleep.

In the morning, Remus was told he should get up and take a walk at some point.

He still hadn’t managed to convince himself to leave their room. 

Which left them where they were now, Remus sitting cross legged on the bed, anxiously trying to force himself to bite the bullet and stand up, because there was really no way to know if his balance had been affected or not except by just trying.  

Sirius was patient, though. Just like always. Remus took a breath and blew it out slowly.

“I’m just… I don’t know,” he muttered, picking at the threads of the blanket. “You know the myth of Sisyphus?” he asked, sort of out of nowhere, and Sirius blinked at him for a moment before he nodded. “This… sometimes, this feels like my rock.” Sirius leaned forward a little, adjusting his position in his chair.

“How do you mean?” he asked. Remus sighed. 

“It feels like… like I do all the work, and I– I go to all my appointments, and I take my medications, and I do the physical therapy and the exercises and then… then I wind up back here no matter what. And I reset. And I have to do it all again to get back to where I was.” Sirius considered this, his brow furrowing. 

“I mean… do you feel different now?” he asked. Different was another way of saying worse, but Remus didn’t want to point that out. It felt a little mean.

“I can’t tell,” Remus shook his head. “I can never tell. I just–” he picked at the bracelet. “No matter how stable things are, it never ends. I just wind up back here. Twenty-whatever years later and I still wind up back here. And I didn’t–” Remus cut himself short because he felt something sharp in his throat, some combination of guilt and regret and frustration building in his chest. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I didn’t want you to see this.” 

“Moony–” 

“And that’s stupid, I know,” Remus cut him off, taking his hands away. “It’s not really avoidable, I mean– you– I knew this would happen at some point because it’s me and this is just how it goes, sometimes, but I just wish– I wish it wasn’t like this.” Sirius was quiet, but after a moment he reached out slowly and put his hand over Remus’ where he was back to picking at the bracelet, scratching the ‘f’ off of FALL RISK so now it said ALL RISK, which he found a little unintentionally ironic, actually. If he was in a better mood, he might’ve pointed it out and had a laugh about it. 

“I know,” Sirius said softly. “It’s not stupid,” he added. “It’s… frustrating. And hard. And I wish… I wish I could help more.” 

Remus shook his head. “You’re helping,” he murmured. “I’m just being grumpy.” 

“I think you’ve got the right,” Sirius pointed out. “I wasn’t really expecting you to be all sunshine and rainbows about this.” 

“Oh, yeah, ‘cus I’m sunshine and rainbows about everything else, huh?” Remus laughed. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re not,” Sirius shrugged. “You just– you’re a bit chaotic, honestly.”

“Chaotic?” Remus scoffed. 

“Just about some things! You’re… bouncy.” Remus blinked at him. 

“Sirius, love, we can’t keep adding words to this list. At some point it’s just nonsense,” he shook his head.

“It’s your list!” Sirius defended himself. “And it’s, what, three things long? Wobbly, creaky, bouncy. Two of those were added in the last few days, mind you.”

“What makes me bouncy?” Remus asked. 

“You– you just– I dunno, you bounce,” Sirius waved a hand vaguely, holding back a smile. “You go from thing to thing, and you’re all excited about stuff you like, and it’s really rather sweet–” 

“Are you sure we’re not describing you?”

“Well, we can both be bouncy,” Sirius shrugged. “Much more fun. We’re a trampoline park.” 

“This is a ridiculous metaphor.” 

“No better than the rollercoaster–”

“Stop, oh my god,” Remus shoved him. “I don’t want to talk about that. Stop bringing that up.” 

“It was cute!” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute,” Remus shook his head, thoroughly banishing the memory from his head. 

“Well, my point is, I’m not expecting you to be bouncy about this,” Sirius sighed, leaning an elbow against the rail of the bed and resting his chin in his hand. “It’s not a very bouncy topic. Bounceless, even,” he nodded sagely.

“We can add grumpy and mopey to the list as well, then,” Remus mumbled. “I’m feeling both of those right now. And angry, but that one doesn’t sound as fun.” 

“Why angry?” Sirius asked innocently, and Remus shook his head. He bit the inside of his cheek, because this really was a bounceless topic, but hospitals seemed the right place to have terribly flat conversations, anyway. 

“When I was a kid, I really held onto the idea that I might be… that someday, I might just– I could be fine.” The words were hard to choose. “I don’t remember anything really before the accident, so I guess I don’t really have anything to compare it to, but… I thought, maybe, when I was a big kid, I’d outgrow it all and just exist. Like I was just a person. A real person. Not… not how I was.” Sirius nodded solemnly. “And being back here just… well, I feel like five-year-old Remus would be right fuckin’ pissed about it.” 

Sirius laughed, and then pursed his lips, like he really hadn’t meant to. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Funny image.” 

“What, my pissed off child self?” Remus asked, and Sirius held in a giggle. Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. “God, five-year-old Remus was pissed about everything. I was a ball of rage.”

“Really?” Sirius asked, surprised.

“Is it that hard to imagine?” Remus raised his eyebrows, and Sirius shrugged. “I had issues. I mean, I think I had a right to be upset, but Christ,” he shook his head. “My mum told me I bit a physical therapist once. Said they had to give him a tetanus shot.” 

“You’re fucking with me,” Sirius gawked, and Remus shook his head. “Well, I mean, clearly you’ve made some progress, then.” 

“Just a tad,” Remus shrugged. “Not biting people is a good indicator. Walking is another one, to be fair.” Sirius hummed, considering this for a moment, He leaned his head against the railing, draping his arm over the bed to fiddle mindlessly with Remus’ hand. 

“What was it like when you were a kid?” he asked softly. He started tracing a line across Remus’ palm, one he’d memorized well, one that trailed down his wrist and up to his forearm before circling right back up to his fingers again, back and forth. Remus couldn’t help but smile at him, even if he wasn’t looking.

“I think that might be a better question for my mum, really,” he mused quietly. “I don’t remember much, early on. I know I had to learn how to walk again. That was the big thing, I think. Aside from the seizures, of course.” 

“Oh, of course,” Sirius breathed a laugh at the casualness with which of course was tacked on there. Remus shook his head.

“And… well, I had something called aphasia, which is like… I had damage to the part of my brain that controlled language. So… I mean, all I really remember is just being frustrated. Like, all the time,” he sighed. Sirius kept tracing the line in his skin. “I couldn’t walk, or talk, or do anything, and it was like everything I wanted to do, my body would do the opposite.” Sirius frowned, but he didn’t interrupt, and Remus blew out a long breath, trying not to get lost in that feeling again. “You know that feeling you get when your foot falls asleep?” 

“The tingly feeling?” 

“Before that,” Remus shook his head. “But we should add tingly to the list.” Sirius snorted. “The numb bit, though. Where it’s like, it’s your foot, and you know it’s yours, and so logically, you’re like, I should be able to move that. It’s your own foot, you’re looking at it, and you know that in your head, you’re moving your foot. You’re doing all the steps, but it won’t… it doesn’t move.” 

“Yeah.”

“It was like that. But with everything, all at once. Talking, and moving, and thinking… sometimes, things would get mixed up, like I’d move my elbow but it was actually my knee, or I’d have to figure out in my head that now if I flexed my thumb it meant my ankle would jerk.” Remus knew that didn’t really make sense, but it made equally as much sense as it had made when he was a kid, and so he figured it was as good an explanation as he could give.

“Do you still feel like that?” Sirius asked, finally looking up from his fidgeting to meet Remus’ gaze. He was such a curious person, Remus thought. He liked knowing things. Asking questions. When Remus was younger, he might’ve torn his head off for it. Now, it made him wonder why no one else had ever thought to ask him these sorts of things. Or why he hadn’t let them.

“Not really,” Remus sighed. “Not the same way. Sometimes I feel like my wires are a little crossed with my leg, or with my hand,” he added, flexing his fingers a little to punctuate it. The last two always moved so smoothly, but the thumb and pointer and index were still a little slow to catch up. “I guess…” he frowned, trailing off. Sirius looked up at him. 

“Hm?” 

“Well, now you’ve got me thinking about things,” Remus grumbled, and Sirius laughed. 

“Is that bad?”  

“I’ve probably arrived at the conclusion you wanted me to arrive at,” Remus crossed his arms.

“And what’s that, love?” Sirius asked, looking up at him with that stupid dreamy face, and it made him want to roll his eyes and then curl up and fall asleep with him.

“Blah blah blah, I’ve come so far, blah blah blah, one step back doesn’t mean you’re starting over, whatever,” Remus sighed, and Sirius stared at him for a moment before stifling a laugh.

“Honestly, I didn’t really have a conclusion I wanted you to arrive at,” he shrugged, grinning. “But that’s a pretty good one, so I’ll accept the credit for it.” 

“Ugh,” Remus said simply. 

“Ugh,” Sirius replied, nodding. 

“It just gets exhausting,” Remus muttered, looking away. “Like it takes so much work just to be a person, and everyone else gets to do it so naturally.” 

Remus was, of course, mature enough to know that everyone had their struggles, but Sirius knew him well enough to know that he knew that. To let him feel this how he needed to feel it. To be frustrated, and then to move forward despite it. He closed his eyes, breathed in, breathed out. When he opened them again, Sirius was watching him. 

“They want me to take a walk,” Remus said quietly. Sirius nodded. “And if I take a walk, I’m gonna be wobbly. No matter what, I’m gonna be wobbly. I’m always off balance after these ones, even if… even if I’m not worse.” Sirius nodded again, and Remus realized he wasn’t actually saying anything that could be seen as a question or something that warranted a response. He didn’t really know why he was saying this, either. Maybe just to say it. “It’s gonna make me angry,” he added, aware that there was a bit of shame in his voice. 

“Okay,” Sirius murmured. 

“I’m not angry at you.” 

“I know.” 

“Okay.” 

—

“You don’t blame him, do you?”

Hope blinked at him slowly, like she was processing what he’d said. 

“Who?” she asked, shaking herself a little. Remus picked at the skin around his thumb idly. 

“Sirius,” Remus murmured. “For this,” he added. Hope’s face twisted a little. 

“What? Wh– no. Remus, no,” she insisted, leaning forward in her chair. “Why do you think I’d blame him–?”

“I don’t,” Remus cut her off, suddenly feeling very guilty about the mere implication. “I–  I don’t,” he repeated. “But I think– I think he might,” he shrugged stiffly. The movement made him ache. Even sitting here in the cafeteria he was sore– the walk over had been slow and treacherous. Hope was, of course, no stranger to those kinds of things.

“Have I said something?” she asked hesitantly. 

“No, no,” he shook his head, “almost certainly not. But he’s… I mean, I think he’s been avoiding you a bit, hasn’t he?” 

Hope thought about this for a second. Remus knew he was right. Even just since waking up, he saw the way Sirius’ eyes darted over to Remus’ mum whenever they were in the room together, the way he left when they started doing tests and Hope would sit closer, just to give them space, just to let him talk to his mum, just to be out of the way. Remus could have recognized the guilt from a mile away. It was awful, and it hung over Sirius heavier with each passing moment, and he’d never say anything about it because he was so certain the burden of blame was being placed on him alone. 

Remus had told him in no unspecific terms that this was not his fault. Doctors had said it, and tests had said it, and Remus had said it. These things just happened sometimes, because Remus was Remus, and this was what his body was like sometimes. This was what his brain was like. Sometimes, it just didn’t work with him, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. 

But then Hope would walk in the room, and the stormcloud would return, because how was Sirius supposed to look a mother in the eye and say he thought he could have done more to help her son? 

The answer, which was obvious to Remus, was that he wasn’t supposed to say that. He was supposed to say he did what he could. He was supposed to curse the universe like the rest of them and then fight through the aftermath as a unified front. But instead, Sirius was turning himself into the shield that meets the spear, because the universe was a very big, very undefined, very uncontrollable thing to blame, but just him–  just one person? That was a very easy thing to draw a target on. 

Hope sighed. “I wasn’t going to say anything about it. I assumed he was stressed. Or maybe he just didn’t like hospitals.”

“Well, both of those things are definitely true,” Remus said.

“Has he said that, though? That he thinks I blame him?” Hope asked, her eyebrows pinching, and Remus really hated making his mum make that face. “What does he think I’d blame him for? For you having a seizure? That’s like– that’s like blaming the sky for being blue– no offense to your brain or anything, it’s quite lovely, really,” she added hastily.

“Thanks, I’ll tell it you said so,” Remus said, holding back a smile, and she patted his hand. “I just… he’s– Sirius likes to control things as much as he can. Er… control isn’t the right word, I don’t think. He– he wants to keep things safe,” he explained. The frown remained on Hope’s face, but she sipped her tea pensively. “And things that are unpredictable, he tries to find a way to make them his. I don’t know if that makes sense.” 

“Sort of,” Hope mused. “Reminds me of someone I know.” 

“I’d like to think I cope with this a bit better, now,” Remus raised his eyebrows, and she smiled at him. “But he’s sort of new to it, you know? He’s gonna assume… ugh,” he shook his head, taking a sip of his own tea. His hands were still a little shaky, but his mum had gotten him a lid, and it made him a little warm how she still knew all the right little things to do for him. “This is the first time he’s seen it really bad. He’s gonna assume it was something he did. Something he did wrong.”  

Hope reached out again and took Remus’ hand in hers, and Remus noted for the thousandth time in his life how steady her grip always was, how certain. How sure.  

“He got you here,” she said firmly. Remus swallowed. Sometimes, the force of her care for him was like a weight on his chest, but it was comforting. She squeezed his fingers. “He kept you safe. He made sure my boy was safe.”  

“I know,” Remus murmured, and he really couldn’t keep the love out of his voice. “Can I just… could you find a way to tell him?” he asked quietly. “To make sure he knows? I can tell him a hundred times, but he won’t believe it unless–”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Hope nodded assuredly. “I know a thing or two about blaming yourself, after all,” she added thoughtfully. Remus smiled, because he did as well. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me about it,” he muttered. “He wants me to talk, but he doesn’t… god, mum, he must have been terrified,” he shook his head, ducking his head a little to stare down at the plastic lid on the paper cup, little wafts of steam rising from the hole on top. “We’ve talked about this before, but how– how do you prepare someone for something like that?” 

“You don’t,” Hope sighed, sitting back a little. “You can’t. Every time, it’s… it’s like it’s brand new.” 

Remus felt something sharp in his throat. He glanced up at her, meeting her eye, and he knew she meant it. They’d adopted a general policy of honesty about things like this, now. There was no use in saying, oh, no, I wasn’t afraid, I’m more worried about you! because Remus knew it was a lie. When he was young, she worried he’d blame himself if she admitted she was terrified– and when he was young, she was probably right. But it was different, now. 

“Just let him process,” Hope added. “He’s working through it. I see the gears turning.” 

“He’s gonna think this changes everything,” Remus said, and it felt sort of like a warning. Make sure he knows it doesn’t, he wanted to say. Make sure he knows you still care about him just as much as before. Make sure he understands. 

He didn’t really need to say it, though, because Hope’s expression softened, and she smiled at Remus a little sadly, and she nodded. 

—

“Okay, this isn't fair,” Remus pouted. Sirius barked a laugh. 

“What’s not fair about it?” he demanded. 

“Because I’m– I can’t defend myself,” Remus pouted. “I’m too busy playing follow the bloody finger over here– sorry– and you’re telling stories about me.” The nurse in front of him stifled a laugh. She moved her finger up, down, up again. He followed it. He felt his focus go a little blurry at the top. 

“They’re cute,” Hope insisted. “You were a very cute kid.”

“I was a very pissy kid,” Remus corrected. The nurse moved her finger up again, and then to the left where Remus’ eyes always started shaking. 

“Both can be true,” Hope pointed out. 

The finger went back to center again, and then up, and then to the left, and back to center again. Repeat. 

“You need to pick some of the cool stories to tell, too,” Remus sighed. “Not just the ones where I pour oatmeal over my head.” 

“Not my fault there are a lot of those ones!” Hope laughed. The nurse brought her finger up again and kept it there, drawing Remus' gaze up with it, and she frowned a little as Remus’ eyes shook back and forth. She checked the chart again.

“That about the same level as normal?” the nurse asked, and Remus nodded. 

“Same level of what?” Sirius asked, leaning over. 

“Nystagmus,” Remus supplied. Sirius raised his eyebrows. “The shaky-eye thing, when I look off up to the side too far?” 

“Oh,” Sirius hummed. “Lot of big words. Hard to keep them all straight.”

“Gaze-evoked upbeat nystagmus,” Remus recited. “It’s about the same, I think,” he said, directed at the nurse, and then looked back to Sirius. “It only happens when I look up, so you don’t see it much. Would be a bit more inconvenient if it was down beat, though.”

“Why’s that?” Sirius asked, frowning, and Remus raised his eyebrows at him. “Is this a short joke? Oh, come on,” he grumbled, and Remus laughed. 

“Okay, hands like this?” the nurse requested, holding her hands palm out in front of her. Remus copied. “Touch your right pointer finger to your right thumb?” Remus did. “Right pointer finger to nose?” Remus did. “Left pointer finger to left thumb?” 

“Neither of those move very much,” Remus noted, but he tried anyway. He got sort of halfway, but without moving his last two fingers as well to guide the tension in his muscles and tendons, there wasn’t much more he could do than that. 

“Right,” the nurse smiled. “Left pointer finger to nose?” Remus did. “Are you able to stand?” she asked next. 

“Theoretically,” Remus shrugged, and then because he was attempting to be a good patient, he added, “I’m only stable on my right leg. Balance tests are sort of out, but that’s normal for me.” And then because he knew what she was going to ask next, he continued. “Not dizzy, no vertigo, been walking fine. Honest. Ask my mum, she tells the truth. Clearly,” he added. Hope had been rattling off stories about Remus’ childhood that all seemed to carry the common thread of Remus being an absolute menace. 

“I believe you,” the nurse said. “Breathing okay?” Remus nodded. “Sleeping?” 

“About as well as I can in a hospital,” he shrugged. 

“He’s still having the clonic seizures at night,” Sirius added.

“More than normal?” 

“I don’t think so,” Sirius shook his head. “Just… thought I’d mention it.” The nurse nodded, writing something down in Remus’ chart, and then she tapped her pen against it twice and looked up, smiling at Remus. 

“Lovely. Your doctor’s going to come check you over once more before we can discharge you,” she said. Remus thanked her politely, and she made her way out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Remus turned his head to his mother. 

“Did you have to tell those stories while she was here as well?” he groaned, and Hope laughed, tipping her head back a little. 

“I’m sure they’ve heard worse stories than kids throwing mud at their mothers or dumping soup into their shoes,” she shook her head. Sirius snorted, and Remus snapped his attention to him.

“Unfair,” he repeated his sentiment from earlier. “Your mum’s not here to tell embarrassing stories about you,” Remus groaned. Sirius raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you telling me you want my mother to be here?” he countered, and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Your mum, not your mother. I’m just saying, if Euphemia were here, she’d have a thousand stories to tell about you. I’ve seen the baby photos. You looked like you got into trouble.” 

“How on earth have you seen my baby photos–?” Sirius asked, but then cut himself off, realization dawning on him. “Oh, the albums. She showed you?” Now it was Remus’ turn to wear the shit-eating grin. “Christ,” Sirius muttered. “Regulus is gonna be more upset about that than I am. Did she show you the one with the turtleneck?” 

Remus laughed, nodding. “Fashion icon, that one.” 

“I put that in his birthday card one year as a little surprise and he almost lit me on fire with his mind,” Sirius shook his head. 

“Not as good as the one where you’re in the little suit, though, with the ascot–?” 

“Shut your mouth,” Sirius cut him off, turning red. 

“Well, now I’ve got to see it,” Hope tutted. 

“I think I’ve got a photo of it, actually,” Remus grinned, picking his phone up, but Sirius was lunging from halfway across the room to wrestle it out of his hand, landing on the bed next to Remus without much grace. 

“Absolutely not,” Sirius shook his head. 

“I’ll show you one of Remus’, then you’ll be even,” Hope proposed, to which Remus turned red as well.

“Wh– no? That’s not how that works!” he spluttered, snatching his phone back from Sirius. He set it back down on the bed, stage whispering to Hope, “I’ll send it to you later.”

“Rude,” Sirius huffed. He nudged his shoes off, kicking his legs up onto the bed to settle against the raised back. “This is an invasion of privacy.” 

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, and he flopped backwards as well so he landed squarely against Sirius’ stomach. Sirius made a soft oof sound, nudging Remus’ shoulder. 

“My boys,” Hope said, smiling and crossing her arms.

“Oh, he’s your boy now, is he?” Remus laughed, jerking his chin up toward Sirius. 

“Well, he’s your boy, isn’t he?” Hope replied, and Remus felt himself go pink at that for some reason. He pursed his lips, hiding a smile, and pulled the blanket up over his head. “What?” Hope demanded, laughing. Her voice was muffled past the fabric. “Isn’t he?” Remus felt something tickle his foot and he yanked it back, tucking it under the blanket as well. 

“Don’t grab me!” he giggled. “Yes, he’s my boy,” he added sheepishly. 

“Exactly,” Hope said, sounding rather content, and Remus pulled the blanket off his head. She was grinning at him, and Remus knew he was still blushing furiously. He felt like he was a little kid getting teased for a crush, despite the fact that Sirius and Remus had been dating for well over a year, now. If he allowed himself the space to be quite sappy about it, it was sort of like he still had a crush, like every day he noticed something new to get himself all flustered over. “I’m going to go get coffee,” Hope added. “Want any? Either of you?” Remus shook his head, and he felt Sirius do so as well. “Right. Have fun with your boy.” 

“Mum,” Remus groaned, but she was already slipping through the door. There was a long silence, and Remus finally ventured a glance up at Sirius who was grinning like an idiot down at him. “What,” Remus demanded. 

“I’m your boy?” Sirius asked. 

“Don’t look so full of yourself about it,” Remus laughed, pressing his fingers into Sirius’ thigh so he jolted away for a moment. 

“She’s lovely,” Sirius sighed. “Your mum.” 

“Yeah,” Remus smiled. “You’re lovely, too. Not– not in a mum way, of course,” he clarified. “More in a… someone you love way.” Sirius gasped dramatically, and Remus looked up at him.

“You love me?” Sirius asked, and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve only said it a million times,” he muttered. 

“You love me?” Sirius asked again, smiling wide. 

“Yes,” Remus sighed. 

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” 

“Completely?” 

“Sirius,” Remus groaned, laying down flatter against Sirius’ stomach so he was looking straight up at him. Sirius had a soft smile on his face, and it made Remus’ heart flutter even after so long. It was like falling for him all over again every time he saw it. 

“Well, conveniently, I love you too,” he murmured, staring down into Remus’ eyes. 

“Lucky me,” Remus mused. Sirius leaned down, pressing a kiss to Remus’ lips. It was soft, and it made his ears hot, and he hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until he opened them again. “Very convenient for us both, I think,” Remus breathed. “Being in love. Hardly ever happens at the same time, you know?” 

“You know?” Sirius teased. 

“Hey! It’s my job to do that to you,” Remus whined. “Not fair. I picked it up from you, anyway. Your fault.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Sirius nodded. “Just like how I’ve started saying I think after every sentence because of you.”  

“Do I really do that?” Remus asked, suddenly very self aware. “Oh, I do, I think– oh, christ, there it is. Did you have to point it out? I’m never gonna stop noticing, now.” 

“Revenge,” Sirius said simply. Remus groaned, adjusting his shoulders a little. 

“Are you comfortable?”

“Hm? Oh. Hold on,” Sirius muttered. He pulled his arm out a bit from under Remus and fixed his leg so Remus was settled more against him. “Yeah.” 

“Good,” Remus sighed, wiggling so the blanket was up over his shoulder. “Because I’m taking a nap.”

“I’m stuck here, now?” 

“God forbid,” Remus smiled, closing his eyes. 

“What if I have to pee?” 

“Bedpan’s right there,” he shrugged. 

“Bedpan? You’re awful.” Sirius sighed.

“Hey, I had to use one of those once upon a time! Re-learning how to walk, remember?” Remus pointed out. “Very judgemental of you.” 

“I’m not using a bedpan, Remus.” 

“Well, you’re not pissing on me.” 

“Eugh! Moony! Jesus christ, what would your mother say hearing that language?” 

“I think she’d have a lot more to say if you did piss on me–”

“Moony!” 

Remus laughed hard enough that it shook Sirius as well.

—

Remus had been expecting the dam to break at some point. 

Sirius had really been holding it together fairly well on the outside, but it was the little things that gave him away– the way he had avoided Hope in the hospital those first few days, the way he always stared so intently at Remus when he stood to go to the bathroom or get water or just stretch, the way he jolted to action at even the slightest indication that Remus might need something. 

Sirius was handling it in the only way he could, and Remus knew he was stuck in that before moment, the moment they’d missed. Because usually, they had space for these things. They had space for the before, and they’d reassure each other and make sure they knew they were both safe and prepared. They had space for the during, that period of fear and waiting, but it came along with knowing there would be an after. And they had space for the after, too, which Remus realized they’d also missed. 

It was in the after that all the emotions came out. Remus would feel wobbly, and Sirius would feel relief, and they’d both process it together. 

They didn’t have that, this time. The after was pushed off and pushed off and pushed off, because there really wasn’t space for it in a hospital. A hospital felt like it was still part of the during. There couldn’t be an after in the hospital, because if they were still in the hospital, it meant it was still going on. That it hadn’t really stopped yet. 

So it was only once they were home– only once they’d stepped out of the cab and unlocked the front door and stepped past the threshold to an apartment that looked exactly the same as how they’d left it– that it seemed the full weight of the after crashed down on Sirius all at once.

And Remus felt a bit responsible for that, honestly, because he’d walked in and out of this door a hundred times and still managed to trip a little on the lip at the base of the door jam. He wasn’t even going to fall, really, but Sirius shot his hand out and gripped his arm tight and froze there, the door slowly sliding shut behind them, punctuating the silence with a dull little click. And then they were statues for a moment. 

The apartment felt a little like a museum somehow. Like it was preserved, strangely silent, cold. Sirius held Remus’ arm tightly and didn’t let go, and when Remus looked at him, he found that Sirius was just staring down at where they were touching like he was surprised he wasn’t letting go himself. His fingers were shaking just slightly.

Remus knew what was coming because he’d seen it before, just like he’d seen all of this before. He’d seen it with his mum and with Marlene, these moments where the after finally came. Only when they were home. Only when they were safe. Only when it was over. So Remus didn’t wait for the wave to crash– he pulled his arm out of the crutch slowly, leaned it against the door, turned, and tucked Sirius against his chest before he had a chance to spiral. 

Sirius started crying almost immediately. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, and his voice was wet. He was trembling, still holding onto Remus’ arm. Remus snaked his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s alright,” he murmured. Sirius’ breath hitched. He pressed his forehead against Remus’ collarbone. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Moony,” he shook his head. He let go of his grip and wrapped his arms around Remus’ chest, digging his fingers in like Remus would fall apart if he didn’t. Remus held him right back. They swayed slightly, almost sweetly, like how you might sway if you were dancing.

“It’s alright,” Remus repeated gently. “Hey, look. I’m okay,” he insisted, pressing his cheek against Sirius’ head, and another sob wrenched free from Sirius’ chest. Remus’ heart twisted. “It’s all done, now.” 

“It’s not,” Sirius said, his voice muffled. “It’s– I couldn’t–” 

“It’s okay. We’re home, Sirius. It’s okay. See? All done.” Sirius made a noise all the way in the back of his throat. “We made it home.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius echoed. 

“Please don’t apologize,” Remus breathed. You’re gonna make me cry, he wanted to say, and at least one of us needs to be stable. “What are you sorry for?” Sirius shook his head again. 

“You’ll be angry with me,” he said, and Remus almost laughed. This was always how it went with them. They’d think all the bitter, self-hating, self-blaming thoughts, but they wouldn’t say them out loud because they knew exactly what the other would say. And so Remus knew exactly what Sirius was sorry for. 

“You did everything right, love,” he murmured into Sirius’ hair. “You did,” he insisted, cutting Sirius off before he could protest, because he knew he would. “And now I’m here, and we’re home, and I’m okay. Right? I am. I’m okay.” 

“You weren’t breathing.”

“I am now. Yeah?” Remus held his hand against Sirius’ head, turning it just slightly so that Sirius’ ear was pressed to his chest, right over his heart, and as if to demonstrate, he breathed deep. It made his lungs ache, his muscles still tense and sore, but it made Sirius melt a little against him. 

“I was so scared, you know?” Sirius breathed. You know? Remus wanted to say.

“I know,” he said instead.

“And I know– I know it’s not about me, it’s– it was scary for you, it happened to you–”

“Sirius–” 

“But god I don’t–” Sirius faltered, his voice falling away, and he clung harder. Remus had to fight to keep his breathing steady, to stop the tremble of his own lip. “I’ve never been afraid like that before,” Sirius said against Remus’ shirt, and it came out shaky and uneven

“It happened to you, too,” Remus sighed, carding his hand through Sirius’ hair. There was a little tangle at the end, and absentmindedly, Remus tugged it apart gently with two fingers. “It happened to both of us. Just in different ways.” 

“You were the one who wound up in the hospital,” Sirius protested, but Remus shook his head. 

“Sirius–” he started, and then sighed, trying to find the words for this. “Sirius, I’ve got no misconceptions about how bloody terrifying all of this is, okay?” he said, pushing the hair back from Sirius’ forehead. Sirius swallowed hard. “My mum was in therapy for years because she was so paranoid that she couldn’t sleep, and she wouldn’t tell me for ages because she thought I’d blame myself. Marlene used to get panic attacks if I didn’t answer phone calls on the first ring. It’s hard. Not just for me. I understand that, okay?” 

Sirius didn’t answer, but he seemed to breathe a little easier, and he nodded. 

“You don’t need to feel guilty about being scared,” Remus added gently, which, as he predicted, was exactly what Sirius was sorry for, and also exactly what he needed to hear, and he could tell because of the way the muscles in Sirius’ back seemed to unwind and he leaned a little harder into Remus. Remus had to brace himself, shifting his weight to his right leg, but he didn’t make any complaints.

“Fuck, Moony,” Sirius muttered quietly. “You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay. Alive and well. Living and breathing. Just as wobbly as before,” Remus assured him, and Sirius blessed him with a tiny laugh. “Maybe less, who knows. Maybe I shook something back into place.” 

“Can that happen?” Sirius asked, rather innocently, and Remus laughed, too. 

“We’ll be the first to find out,” he shrugged. “Next time they do a scan, it’ll be all sunshine and rainbows.”

“No,” Sirius mumbled. 

“No?” Remus scoffed.

“I’d miss the chaos,” Sirius shrugged. He breathed out shakily, prying himself off of Remus and wiping his hand harshly over his face. 

His skin was splotchy and red like how it always got when he cried, and he was a little out of breath, but Remus took a bit of comfort in the fact that he seemed to have cut off the panic before it really peaked. It hadn’t swelled to that all-encompassing crushing that Sirius got sometimes, the kind that made him sick and lightheaded and dazed. 

Sirius looked up at Remus through wet eyelashes, and Remus blinked down at him, ever startled by how easy it was to get lost whenever they locked eyes. Sirius reached his hands up and put his palms against either of Remus’ cheeks, staring at him intently like he’d be able to see if something had been shaken loose in his head just by looking through his pupils.

“You’re alright,” Sirius said, half like a dare, half like a truth. He pulled Remus’ face towards him a little and pressed a kiss to his forehead, somehow both hesitant and firm, and it made Remus smile. “I should have called the ambulance sooner,” he added, his breath tickling Remus’ skin, equally as daring and equally as truthful. Remus felt his expression twist, and he shook his head.

“Maybe,” he sighed. “Or maybe I would have been fine. Or maybe it would have been the same. Or maybe you would have called, and I would have woken up, and I’d have been all grumpy at you because you didn’t follow the plan,” Remus went on. Sirius was looking at him rather miserably, and his hands were still on Remus’ cheeks, so Remus brought his own hands up to cover his. “You followed the plan, Sirius.” 

“I did,” Sirius breathed. “I tried.” 

“You were perfect,” Remus assured him. He thought back to his conversation with his mum, how she had phrased it. How it had made him warm when she said it. He hoped it made Sirius feel warm, now. “You kept me safe.” 

Sirius’ lip wobbled again, and tears welled up in his eyes, like just seeing Remus standing here staring back at him was something heaven-sent, and then Remus was crying, too, because how could he not? They were home. This was the after. Sirius folded back into Remus’ embrace like he was created just to be there.

“I love you so much, Moony,” Sirius breathed. “I was so scared. I love you so much, you know?” You know?

“I know,” Remus nodded. “I love you too.” 

So they stood, and they rocked there back and forth, just holding each other, because this was the after. And this is what they did in the after. It was familiar, and it was safe, and it was only in the after that they could feel like this. That they could feel like it was over. And it was now, in the after, that Remus’ mind wandered to all the ways this would change things. 

How Sirius would wonder every time if this was what was coming, how he knew the what-ifs now, how his fear would find a new peak, how now, when Remus tasted metal, the fear he felt would be just that little bit closer to the fear Remus felt. Because now he had seen more than he’d ever seen before. And Remus wondered if there was more that Sirius would see, if there was something worse, somehow, something lurking, but that was one of those great big unknowns that had always loomed over them. 

He supposed, in a way, nothing had really changed, then, because it was still just as distinctly uncertain. 

“Sirius,” Remus said softly. Sirius hummed. “I’m… I’m really rather wobbly right now, actually,” Remus admitted. His left knee was about one strong wind from buckling. “And I might fall over if we stay standing here, I think.” 

“Ope,” Sirius mumbled, peeling himself off of Remus’ chest to look up at him a little sheepishly. “Right,” he nodded. His eyes were still a bit red, but they’d both managed to settle themselves into a relieved sort of exhaustion. Remus offered him a sleepy smile in exchange. “Bed?” Sirius asked.

“Take me to dinner first,” Remus rolled his eyes dramatically, and Sirius was clearly about to shove Remus’ shoulder before he remembered that he was wobbly, so he sort of awkwardly aborted the motion at the last second looking quite peeved about it.

“You’re so– ugh,” Sirius groaned, offering his arm to Remus instead. 

“What a gentleman,” Remus smirked, slotting his hand into place so he was leaning his weight against Sirius as they walked. It was honestly a little more awkward to walk with a person than it was to walk with his crutch, but there was something so very sweetly intimate about it every time Sirius offered that Remus never said no. 

So they made their way slowly past the entryway, past the kitchen, through the living room, through the doorway, and then finally, Remus caught sight of the blissful existence of a real bed, and he flopped himself unceremoniously down face first onto Sirius’ pillow. 

“That’s my side,” Sirius pouted. 

“Mine now,” Remus said, though his voice was so thoroughly muffled by fabric that he didn’t know if Sirius heard him. 

But Sirius had, evidently, because a moment later, Sirius himself flopped down directly on top of Remus, and the weight punched a funny sort of groan out of Remus that made him giggle at the end of it. It ached, but even though he was sore, it felt good– like a long stretch after a hard day. And really, that’s what this felt like altogether.

“Mine now,” Sirius mimicked, burying his face into the side of Remus’ neck. His breath tickled, and Remus kicked his legs a little trying to wiggle out from underneath him, to no avail. He rolled his shoulders back a bit, and as he did, Sirius brought a hand up and swept a few stray hairs out of Remus’ face, his fingers hardly even grazing skin, like despite the fact that their bodies were pressed together, somehow his touch was the dangerous thing. Sirius stared at him sweetly, studying his face like he was stargazing. “I haven’t hurt you, have I?” 

Oh, Remus was gone for him. 

He buried his face back into Sirius’ pillow in a shoddy attempt to hide his blush, that childish little crush entering back into his mind like this was something secret. He was pining after what was already his, falling in love again and again and again.

“It feels nice,” he breathed truthfully into the fabric, and when he inhaled, he smelled Sirius’ shampoo, tea leaves and rain. That little hint of car paint. Sirius shifted his weight, straddling his legs over either side of Remus’ lower back, and he picked himself up to start kneading his hands down Remus’ spine. Remus felt him start to work through the knots in his shoulder blades and he groaned into the fabric when he felt his muscles unwind.

“Are you still sore?” Sirius asked, but he didn’t really have to. Remus was sure he could feel the tension under his skin.

“I’ll be sore for days,” Remus sighed. “But maybe less, if you keep doing that,” he added quietly, like Sirius might stop if he spoke too loud. Sirius dug his fingers in carefully at the center of his back and Remus felt himself melt, closing his eyes. Sirius made a soft noise, and Remus didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. It made him smile as well, not even seeing it, just knowing. God, they were idiots, weren’t they? He felt so stupidly in love– sappy, soppy, swoony love, mushy and corny and ridiculous– and wasn’t that lovely? Terribly convenient, he thought, to be so in love at just the right time. Oh, he was gone. 

“Thank you,” Remus murmured, because he had been meaning to say it for days, now. “For… for all of it. Thank you,” he echoed quietly. Sirius paused his prodding, instead resting his hands gently on Remus’ back. And something about this all made him feel a little brave, so he kept going. “Usually I’m really afraid, I think, right when it starts. It sort of hits me all at once, but then I’m… you know, so… but I wasn’t afraid this time.” 

“You weren’t?” Sirius asked, his voice hardly a whisper. Remus shook his head against the pillow. 

“I knew I had you,” he finished. “So… so thank you. For being here. For being with me.”

He felt Sirius move just slightly, and a moment later a kiss was being pressed against his cheek. Remus hummed, smiling because he couldn’t help it. And in all the ways that things could change or shift or become something else, there was at least this– just this. Just to be in love. To be in love at the same time. 

This was the after.  

As many times as the cycle could repeat into infinity, they could always come home to this. And so Remus had to think, in some strange way, it was worth it just for that.