Sirius has breakdowns, more frequently than he’d like to admit.
Breakdowns where he will be rambling about how he isn’t good enough for Remus. How he is too corrupted…That being a Black, the bloodline that he was didn’t choose to be apart of, had filled his veins with a certain toxin. No. His blood was the toxin. He could never be rid of it, for it was what kept him alive, yet killed him all the same. It made him like her. Like him.
He would sob to Remus, profusely, questioning why Remus even puts up with him. Then, he’d fold in on himself and blame his tears— they are toxic too. He would say that Remus is leaving him, like it was a fact— one that Remus had vehemently opposed.
Remus would look at his sobbing lover in his arms, holding on to him ever so tightly. Sirius began to rock softly, his breath hitching as the ugly tears continued to pour out of his eyes, wrecking his body. As this happened Remus squeezed his grip on Sirius hand, grounding his love, before planning to speak.
“Sirius, would I still be here if I didn’t love you? Would I be here, holding you if I thought that you were some kind of incomprehensible evil?” Remus would say.
It usually took more than that. More of Remus negotiating with Sirius’ irrational thinking before he would return to his usual, but much more worn out disposition.
In the following hours, Sirius would grow anxious that his outburst would be the thing that drove Remus away. In the midst of this anxious energy, he’d say “let’s just forget that this happened?” Remus would agree, they would return to normal…
But, it happens again. The amount of time between the big breakdowns is never known, but it will happen again. It always does. On nights when he starts to feel like his mother. On nights where his blood begins to feel like nothing but a toxin running through his veins. It will happen again.
It always does…