Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Swear This One You'll Save

"Well, I suggest you stop with the sulking," Benjy hissed. "It puts everyone off."

Sirius felt something in his chest tic dangerously, a chord that had been stagnant since Remus' departure struck painfully. He didn't need Benjy of all people telling him what he should and shouldn't feel; if Benjy felt anything besides the prick between his legs it would've been a damn miracle! Sirius didn't need the lecture nor did he want advice from someone who's longest relationship had been with his own pillow.

"Forgive me for missing one of my best friends," he snapped. "Some of us have a beating heart."

"And forgive me for looking out for everyone else," Benjy countered.

Sirius pivoted on his heel, thoroughly put out with some kid's advice. He knew nothing – Benjy knew nothing – about Sirius or how he felt for any particular person.

"Why is everyone so bothered by my own sulking?" he shouted. "Everyone else gets to go on about their day with the people they love with not an inkling of misery or longing! Then, here I am, motherless, fatherless, without Remus, and tending to my brother – alone! So, don't preach to me about sulking. If anyone deserves to sulk, it is me, and there's not a fucking thing you can say to change my mind. Now, bugger off before I knock your teeth in, Fenwick."

Sirius stormed off, ready to be alone with his thoughts. His lungs were hot, throat on fire, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. All of them were so lucky to have someone – anyone – to make this war easier. Everyone Sirius ever cared for was either dead, sick, gone, or too busy with someone else. And yes, Fleamont had been right when he'd said that war doesn't give a damn about one's heart, but that didn't make swallowing the pill any easier. In fact, it served as a constant reminder that even if they did win the war against Voldemort, only a fraction of them would have someone to bask in the glory with. Sirius was not one of them.

"They killed my sister," Benjy called.

Sirius slowed his pace. So what? They killed Sirius' mother and father, endangered his brother and everyone else he loved. Why did it matter if they'd killed Benjy's sister? Nobody seemed to care when it was Sirius' own family; his mother didn't even get a proper funeral.

"And my brothers," Benjy continued. "And my mother and uncle. They killed my lover and two of my friends. Not to mention the family cat." He added the last bit for comedic effect, no doubt.

Sirius halted, back still toward Benjy, in hopes that the swelling guilt would soon subside against the contempt in his chest. What did it matter, he asked himself, but that voice in the back of his head reminded him that war was not fair. Not just to him, but to everyone else. Perhaps Benjy had been right; maybe they were all losing people. However, Sirius remained stern in his misery. He'd lost more than anyone, hadn't he? Lost someone who continued to live, only without him. Wasn't that the worst loss of all?

"Instead of sulking about it, why don't you try talking about it," Benjy offered. "I haven't seen you with James and Lily properly since October."

"Because," Sirius said, tone clipped and cold, "their wedding is next month, and they don't need me fouling everything up."

Benjy snickered, "Fair enough. But why else haven't you been talking to them?" Sirius kept his mouth shut. "They don't understand, do they?"

Sirius hadn't wanted to put it like that – not at all. However, it was true. Neither Lily nor James truly understood loss. James, especially. Their families were still intact. Their friendships were still strong. Their relationship was fierce and beautiful. Their lives were immaculate if one erased the tragedies of war – movie-like, almost. Flawed in the most beautiful of ways, yes, but still strong. They had each other and their parents; they had Sirius and Peter. What the hell didn't they have?