A/N: Major angst, just to let you know. No happy ending, yet, but read anyways ok? The idea came to me tonight when my aunt came home smelling of stale beer and whatever else she had drunk, and all I could think was 'God, the smell makes me sick.'
Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own any of these characters.
Remus looked up at the sound of the dormitory door opening, looked up just as Sirius, with disheveled hair and even more disheveled clothing, stumbles into the room.
Just one look at the dark haired boy and Remus knows.
Remus knows that Sirius is drunk, and just knowing makes his stomach turn over and twist itself into knots.
He doesn't want the boy to get close enough for him to smell him, to smell the alcohol on his skin, to smell the foul odor mixed in with his breath. He doesn't want to smell it, to have the god awful scent wrap around him, silently telling him what could happen, what events were sure to come. Nothing good ever happens when alcohol is involved.
He hates the smell of alcohol, hates it almost as much as he hates the affect the stuff has on his friend's behavior. It's like a warning bell to him, silently yelling at him to run, to flea, to escape and find safety.
If only he'd listen to the warning once in a while.
"Remus…" Sirius slurred, stumbling loudly across the room to stand in front of the werewolf, looking proud when he did not trip over his feet. He smiled, a little crookedly, a lot drunkenly, and practically sits on top of the tawny haired teenager.
Remus pushes him off a second later, a look of disgust marring his scarred yet beautiful face.
"I've asked you not to come around me when you drink, Padfoot. Now go away, please."
Sirius pouts softly, looking up at Remus rather pathetically. "Oh come on Moony. Loosen up. I didn't drink that much. Stop being such a prude."
Remus rolled his eyes, his mouth tightening in displeasure as the smell of stale fire whiskey and rum fills his sensitive nostrils. "I don't think that prude is the right word in this situation, Sirius," he says harshly, glaring at his friend. "Get out, now."
"Oh come on Moony. You're taking away my high. It's not that bad anyways. What the hell is the problem," Sirius asked angrily, his words tumbling over them selves as he spoke, words jumbling together and becoming nothing more than gibberish due to the amount of alcohol he had in his system.
He was only sixteen, and didn't know how to hold his alcohol very well.
Remus scolded, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting up straighter on his bed, back to the headboard, glaring at his friend. If looks could kill, Sirius would have dropped dead ages ago.
But they couldn't, and Sirius just glared back.
Remus sighed, a soft, heart wrenchingly sad sound, before he dropped his gaze, eyes trained on the large tomb of a book that sat in his lap. He was very tempted to pick it up at chuck it at his friend's head, just to see if it would leave a dent in the other teen's thick skull. "You know that I hate alcohol Pads. You know I hate it, and you know why I hate it. Forgive me for thinking you cared for me enough to listen to my request about staying away after you've been stupid enough to run off and consume a load of it."
Deep inside Sirius' head, a more sober part of him was awakening, screaming at him to stop being foolish, to grovel and beg and to apologize to the werewolf before it was too late.
But this was Sirius Black, and he never listened to anyone, not even himself.
"Oh come the fuck off it Remus. God, poor little Remus, right? Bitten by a drunken werewolf, beaten half to death by a drunken father, abandoned by a drunken mother? Well you know what Remus, fuck you. Maybe all that shit happened to you because you deserved it all. Christ, you want everyone to be perfect, want everything in order and for everyone to behave, with hands folded in their laps and smiles adorning their faces. Well you know what? Life doesn't work that way, and maybe if you just accepted that, people might treat you like you actually mean something."
Remus looked up at where his friend suddenly loomed above him, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He would not cry in front of this bastard. He wouldn't. No matter how much the words hurt, he knew they were true in a sense (and perhaps that is what hurt the most) and no matter how much Remus struggled to tell himself that 'No Moony, you're not worthless, you don't deserve a life full of depression and scars and agony' he wouldn't let another drunk bastard make him cry.
It didn't matter that he was in love with this person.
The person that stood above him now, grey eyes unfocused, perfectly sculptured mouth tightened in a snarl, did not deserve his love.
This person, this Sirius, who was drunk and cruel and just painful to be around and to look at and to listen to wasn't who he loved.
This person was nothing more than a Black, and no matter how mach it tore at Remus' heart to think of his friend as such, no matter how much everything in him screamed no no no, that's not true, he's better than the lot of them, he knew that it was true. He knew that with enough fire whiskey, Sirius became the very thing he always swore he wasn't. A Black.
That's why Remus hated alcohol more than any damn thing in the world.
He hated what it turned the kind, loving Sirius into. Hated how the stuff turned beautiful, mischievous Padfoot into cruel, harmful Black heir.
Instead of telling his friend all this though, he looked away again, eyes focusing on the cracks in the side of the wall. "Please go away Sirius. Please, please go away, before you say anything more that you'll later regret."
Sirius laughed cruelly, grabbing his friend's shoulders and shaking him roughly. "Me, regret saying these things? Oh, I don't thinks so, dear Moony. In fact, I've wanted to say these things for a very long time. After all, it's all true right? What more does a werewolf deserve other than hatred and scorn?"
Remus breaths in sharply, pain radiating in the quiet, almost silent sound, and this time he couldn't stop the tears from falling, because really, as often as Sirius had drank, as much as the two boys bickered and fought and said things they really didn't mean, never, never had Sirius referred to Remus' curse like that.
Never had he spoken aloud the very things that Remus always felt.
Remus was a monster, and being so made him undeserving, tainted and worthless.
And even now, as the words lay heavily in the air, Remus can't seem to breath, can't seem to stop the tears from falling, because even though he knows that Sirius is drunk, that he doesn't know what he's saying, Remus can't help but think that all Sirius is saying is how he really feels.
Because the truth comes out when you're drunk, doesn't it?
Sirius looks at his friend, awareness creeping into his drunken, clouded mind, and he gasps, sort of, but the sound is too low for anyone to hear. The alcohol is wearing off now, and his brain is finally catching up with everything he's said.
He wants to take it all back, to tell his friend that he didn't mean any of it, that he was just drunk and in pain and looking for someone to lash out on.
But he knew he couldn't. He had gone too far this time, had hurt his friend, oh Remus, oh Remus I'm sorry, far too deeply, and he couldn't take a single word back.
And even if he could, he didn't know if he really would, because really, as much as he hated hurting Remus, as much as he hated seeing his friend so broken and miserable and just… just so sad, he knew he couldn't apologize, knew that he couldn't take back all those things, even though he desperately wanted to, because really, he didn't mean them. Remus was kind and loving and just so sweet and beautiful and perfect. Of course he wasn't a monster, and Sirius would personally hex anyone that said the brown eyed boy was… which meant he'd be hexing himself sometime in the near future. No, taking all those things that he had said back, all those cruel, hateful words back, would mean risking revealing the one secret he had to keep hidden.
Taking Remus into his arms and comforting him would make all of Sirius' shields drop, and really, he just couldn't let that happen.
He couldn't let Remus find out how much he loved him. And he did. Sirius loved the werewolf, was in love with the thin, almost fragile boy.
It was better for Remus to think that he was nothing but a god awful Black, then for him to know that he was nothing but a love sick teenager drinking his sorrows away.
"Rem," he whispered still, feeling the need to say something, to fill the suddenly heavy silence that had replaced the screaming from moments ago.
Remus shook his head. "Just go to bed Sirius. You won't remember any of this in the morning. Just go to bed, sleep off whatever is in your system now. Please just go to bed," before you hurt me anymore, he silently added, looking tearfully at his friend.
Sirius nodded, climbing off Remus' bed and into his own, both sets of curtains snapping shut at the same time.
Neither boy got any sleep that night.
Neither boy could forget the words that had been said, nor the pain that came with them.
Nothing good ever came when alcohol was involved.
And nothing good ever came when you loved, but were too frightened to let the feelings out.
A/N: Hey guys. I know, this is so not like me, because I'm a major fan of happy endings, and that's usually what I deliver. It's just, do you guys get it? Remus hates alcohol because nothing good has ever happened when it's involved, and Sirius is drinking the alcohol because he loves Remus and wants to forget that, for just a little while. Did I make you understand that, that all those things that Sirius said, he only said because he's in love and in pain? That's what I was going for.
I don't really know if I'm going to do more with this. I really hadn't even planned on writing it, till my aunt came home smelling of beer and what not, and the idea suddenly hit me, to put my hate of that smell into a story like this, so I don't know if there will be more, if I'll post a sequel, but I do love happy endings, so maybe.
Please review, and let me know what you think, and possibly what you want from this.