Summary: An alphabet monologue, from Sirius' desperate point of view. Companion to "Love."
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Category: angst, romance
Warnings: This is a slash story, which means romance between two guys. If you cannot handle this type of content, please do not read this story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the story itself. Harry Potter belongs to Scholastic, Warner Bros., and the lovely and talented J.K. Rowling.
Author's Notes: This is my second alphabet monlogue. I actually wrote it not too long after "Love" (back in March), but didn't publish it because I didn't feel I'd really captured Sirius' voice. However, a recent reread made me fall in love with it, so... here it is. Feedback is always appreciated!
Passion
Anytime anyone dares to suggest I only keep him around for my own selfish passion, I curse them and walk away. Because they're wrong, and yet right, in a way.
Can this be real? Do I love him, and more importantly, does he love me? Every book I've ever read on the subject says that werewolves mate for life, but that doesn't mean they're happy about it. Forever is an eternity, and if you get right down to it, it isn't hard to see why I'm questioning him.
God, if only I could figure out what I feel for him... but then what? He's mine, and nothing can change that, but I don't know why. I say I love him, but he claims I can't because I don't respect him, don't respect anyone but myself... and he's right. Jealousy of other people was never the issue here; the only thing he has to envy is my ego. Kissing him always makes me feel guilty because I know I'm only using him, and he needs me far more than I need him.
Love? Maybe someday, maybe in another life but not now, and not with him. Not that I couldn't love him, that I don't want to love him, but pleasure is far more important at the moment.
Only he would put up with me in my ever-changing moods. Passionate kisses, naughty words, sly glances are all I need to make him mine again, despite whatever I may do to hurt him and make him question our relationship. Quietly I wonder if he even still believes in us, in me, or if I've destroyed that too.
Running my fingers through his beautiful hair, I realize how much I must have hurt him in my passion, how much it all must have meant to him and how much it must have hurt when he realized that I understand nothing about love, and everything about pretending I do. Struggling with my emotions, I begin to understand that this passion I feel for him, however pleasurable and exciting, isn't stable and lasting like the great loves he reads about and dreams about.
Talking to him, however, isn't easy, not if you're not smart like him; sometimes I can't even comprehend what he's trying to tell me. Understanding words, however, isn't important when it comes to his emotions; they're written all over his face. Very often I don't speak because I already know what he's feeling, and for some reason he respects that and stays quiet.
Why do I stay with him, and put us both through this hell day after day? X-ray my soul and see that I want him, need him, love him... no. Yet even though I can't love him, this passion isn't enough anymore.
Zipping through the sky, two stars collide, and while the explosion is brilliant and fascinating for a time, eventually the dust will settle, interest will wane, and all will be forgotten.