Loser’s Prize

“Sirius.”

God, he hated that look. That stupid look James always had, like he was worried sick for Sirius (which he never really was), and like he had no idea to fix it (which he always did). But there was compassion in that look, the face Sirius had fallen in love with, and that’s what hurt.

And even grinning, dressed in his goddamn tuxedo with a top hat several sizes too big, a flower as big as his face, turning on a little revolving stand surrounded by mirrors, there was something there, some sort of vague concern for Sirius’s wellbeing. It wasn’t real, though, Sirius reminded himself, fixing on a blank sort of expression because he could hardly smile anymore. He didn’t like frowning in front of James, because it hurt James, and because it was all Sirius’s fault to begin with and it wasn’t fair to pout.

So, he’d lost.

Not like he could have won. Lily Evans looked a thousand times better in a wedding dress, he was sure; though personally Sirius thought that he looked much better all around. And he could probably put out better, Sirius thought. And he knew everything about James, and she knew nothing – nothing.

“Sirius,” James was saying. His head was turning on its axis like an owl as the platform he stood on turned round and round.

“What?” Sirius didn’t mean to speak harshly; it just hurt. He was expressionless, untouchable. They looked so perfect together, James and Sirius. James and Lily never were quite as remarkable. No one would ever think of James and Lily and think it legendary, because they weren’t amazing together. They were just pretty. Like two little dolls in a storybook house, flawless, while the third wheel rotted in the back yard unnoticed.

James was smiling at him. Just smiling, still turning about. His hat drooped comically over his eyes; he was always so adorable, almost like a little kid. Sirius finally smiled a bit.

“What?” he asked, more gently this time.

“Nothin’.”

“You look like an idiot in that hat.”

“I know. I thought you might like it.” He waggled his eyebrows.

It was just them. Remus had some sort of obligation (probably Nikolai, who was getting rounder and sweeter every day, as though the baby’s size had something to do with his mood), and Peter was sick. He had that terrible flu that was going about, and couldn’t stand up without blowing up all over the floor. Any other time Sirius would have thought it a private, romantic sort of moment, but he was older and wiser today. Today, James was getting married to someone else.

“I don’t,” said Sirius, very strangely considering the joke, and James frowned.

“I know.” He understood. He always knew, but for some reason he thought it was funny to pull Sirius’s leg with this crap. He thought it was somehow wiser to break his best friend’s heart than to break tradition.

“Why are you doing this?”

James stepped off of the rotating platform, stumbling a little bit as his center of balance shifted. It was a human move; why was his heart so inhuman, then? “I told you,” he said, and his voice was deeper, his eyes darker. Sirius had seen him upset like this before, many times, but never because of him. He wasn’t sure whether or not to feel bad about it – maybe a good emotional beatdown was all James needed to realize what a prick he was being.

“You fed me bullshit, and now you’re upset because I spat it back out,” Sirius snapped.

“Don’t.” James looked so intense standing there, even with his goofy suit. He had a way with being impressive when he needed to prove a point. “Sirius.”

Sirius said nothing. He turned his face away, biting into the heel of his palm, still sitting in his chair so stubbornly. He was stubborn about everything, until it mattered.

“It’s not like I want it to be this way,” James said, coming close to Sirius, who stiffened but didn’t move.

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Sometimes it isn’t about what you want.”

“It’s always about what you want, James. And you want to hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t.” James raked his fingers through his hair – his immaculate hair, which they’d spent hours fixing for that day, the two of them together topless in his bathroom tackling the problem like the beast it was, swearing and hissing and sometimes even bleeding into the sink, if it required the force. Because they always did everything together – he was breaking that today with that whore Evans. Their perfection was shattering.

“You never gave a damn what people thought of you before,” Sirius said.

“I grew up, Sirius. It’s time you did, too.”

Sirius was silent, picking at his teeth now, eyes glazing over. Shutting out the problem was so much easier than facing it. “Since when has growing up meant abandoning yourself?”

“I’m not abandoning myself.”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. James thrust his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight around. Sirius could feel the pain in his eyes, instead of feeling it, but refused to let it get to him. Quietly, James said, “I don’t love you.”

Sirius stood up, and walked out of the room, closing the door politely behind him.

And James was alone, again.

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Author's Notes: Comments are great, even flames, but there's no need to flame, now, is there?