Choices

“I’m sorry,” he kisses his cheek—messy and desperate. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his neck, his jaw. “Please, please, I’m sorry.” It’s sad. It all feels so fucking sad and warped. “I’m sorry,” Sirius kisses the tears off of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Remus cries then. And he hates it. Hates that he isn’t stronger than this. Hates Sirius for existing. For being all that he is. For burrowing so deeply into Remus’s bones. For breaking his heart. With those girls. With that kiss. With Snape. He feels sore and raw and bleeding

I do. I just want you to know—I just need you to understand—that you are so beautiful. Every inch of you, every part of you. You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I’m so—so fucking sorry,” his voice is thick, it carries his words like they hurt to hold, “if I made you feel, for even a second, like you aren’t.”