Author's Note:

I started reading this through and I was wondering how you all put up with my stupid mistakes. So I'm going back and editing it all for you!

Pairing: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Rating: M for harsh swearing, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and what could look like a suicide attempt. There are mentions of prostitution, drugs, cigarettes and alcohol. Although this is a slash pairing, there will be no boysex. So, if you were worried that you would be reading porn, don't worry, you won't be.

Please review so that my lifestyle as a starving artist could be fed.

The lanky, sixteen year old Remus Lupin was sitting sullenly on his four-post bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory with the curtains drawn around him, creating a world of isolation. His friends had just left for dinner. When they questioned him as to why he wasn't going down, he said that he wanted to get a quick start on the Potions assignment before he went to dinner. Unfortunately that was all just a terrible lie.

Ever since his childhood misfortune of being attacked by Fenrir Greyback, Remus had always been a far from normal child. Growing up in a household of unloving parents who were too traumatized by the fact that their little boy was a wretched beast, took a toll on Remus. Depression hung upon his shoulders since he was a third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The form of his depression varied with each year.

His lycanthropy was the central cause of the sadness in Remus' life. It was like the center point of a spinning wheel, and the spokes connected to this base had all evolved around and been morphed by his wretched state of being. His parents hated him for being a werewolf, a fate he could not control. He lived in misery, moving from one house to the next, each house deeper into the woods and shabbier from the lack of wealth in the Lupin family, which was, of course, because of his problem. Tuition was expected for Remus' education at Hogwarts. Bills needed to be paid to St. Mungo's from the night of his fatal attack and three months after. Soon, the Lupin's were forced to take him there on his most horrid of full moon nights, costing them more from there little paychecks. The hopeless search for a cure for his disease drained them of their money. With all these expenses, the family house continued to shrink in size in order for the family to pay it off. Food was a savored treat when there were several coins left around. There were always small amounts of muggle money to afford the cigarettes and alcohol his parents desperately craved to drown their sorrows though. Remus knew he had tortured his parents to this brink of madness. He knew he deserved their hatred towards him. It just pained him to know that his own family could never love him for something out of his control.

His lycanthropy would be the reason why Remus would never find a job in his life, both in the muggle aspect and wizarding aspect. And by job, anything that was above the standards of "moral" was deemed acceptable. He would never be hired by wizards; they dreaded far too much how a werewolf would affect the business and those witches and wizards they hired that considering a person with lycanthropy would be out of the question. In the muggle world, no explanation would persuade a manager to hire the man looking for days off during the month. Sure, he could take a route of destruction: sell his body for those people swimming in lust, sell drugs to those people so desperately looking for a high. Anything against a normal person's standards on a job was what Remus had as a career path in the future. He feared what would happen, resulting in restless paranoia.

His lycanthropy almost cost him his friendship with the few boys he met at Hogwarts when they found out. Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew befriended Remus in their first year in a manner that almost seem to be out of pity. But soon enough, the boys had become great friends with one another, although they were all different in their own way. Remus never intended on telling the others that he was a werewolf. He constantly lied about visiting his sick mother just so he could remain friends with the other three while he kept his secret under wraps. This method worked until their second year, when the three boys put two and two together to figure out the dark secret their supposed friend had kept hidden. All three of the young wizards had been raised in pure-blood households, unlike Remus' half-blood ancestry from his mother. Despite their childish age, James, Peter and Sirius knew how terrible it was to know a werewolf, let alone be friends with one. At first, they decided to ignore the poor boy, mainly because he never told them what he really was, but also because of who he was. Eventually, they overcame their prejudices and soon became friends again. Remus understood that his friendship with the boys was special, especially when they learned how to become animagi just for him on full moon knights, but he also knew that his friendship with them could lead them to their graves, or worse, to a fate as tragic as the one of Remus. Knowing this troubled Remus greatly, leaving him with high multitudes of panicking, with the only method of release being a knife nicked from the kitchens forced through his skin.

The depression he was in during his sixth year led Remus to that blade once again. This sorrow that lurked inside his bones was that of love. Unrequited love to be exact. And not a desire for any old bird in Hogwarts, but a boy instead. To make matters worse, the boy wasn't just any random student, but his best friend, Sirius Black. The boy loved by almost every female student that roamed the school. Sirius fancied what girls could offer him: the sweet taste of their lips, the soft battering of their eyelashes, the tender touch of their skin, the flowery scent basked in their hair and so many other things that are far from being appropriate. He loved the way they Hogwarts uniform pressed against their body. He loved the way the skirt moved as they walked ahead of him. He was all for the women, and they were all for him. He was practically gold in their eyes. His ravenous locks caressed his flawless face. His jaw line was sharp, his eyes were mysterious. Quidditch left him more muscular than most boys his age. He dressed in the careless fashion that girls adored. He was into all things rebellious, but he still managed to succeed in school. He was the ideal boy for any hormonal girl.

Unfortunately, Remus felt the same way as the girls did, and he knew it was wrong. He should love a boy, let alone his best friend. He should desire his touch, taste, scent, anything. They were friends and nothing more, a concept proven difficult for him to grasp. A concept that quieted itself from the sting of the knife.

This is what Remus would be up to when he told his friends he was being studious. Today set him off the edge. For some reason, Remus seemed to intake every small detail about his best friend that he couldn't help but crave him. The way his hair looked that morning when woke up, unkempt, but ever so attractive. The way Sirius' sweater vest was fitted against his body, something Remus could never achieve with his bony figure. The dog-like laugh Sirius gave at breakfast when James mentioned something hilarious. The manner in which he asked Remus if he was okay when Sirius caught him staring in a daze in his direction. His cocky answers in Transfiguration. The way he casually titled his chair back in the classroom. Every little mannerism that Sirius did up until dinner was noticed by Remus, who knew he wasn't supposed to notice those things or crave the perfection that was always alongside him. He needed to tell himself that it was not his place to love his friend like that.

Remus rolled up his left sleeve, baring the horribly marred skin. He knew that most of his scars were from his own demons, but transforming into one helped explain them. He dug the blade out from inside his bedside dresser and pressed the cool tip of the knife against his skin.

The first cut was rather small, but enough to bleed. It was for Sirius, the perfect boy living a perfect life, without the knowledge of the torture he was putting Remus through.

The second was a bit longer and a bit deeper. It was to scold Remus for having carnal lust for his best friend. For his feeling of love and his demand of desire. It was for the pain that this love caused.

The third was the largest and the deepest. It was again for Sirius, but in a sense that Remus would never be able to have him and he needed to come to terms with that. He couldn't burn his impure thoughts of Sirius out of mind, forcing him to dig deeper with the blade, as the blood began to drip down his arm. Tears were forming in Remus' eyes; not from the pain of the blade, but the pain in his heart. He couldn't imagine his life without Sirius, but he suffered through life because of him. He needed him so badly. He needed Sirius just for him to tell him that he loved Remus and that Remus would get better from this state he was in. He needed Sirius to wrap his arms around him and tell him he could make it through this horrible thing called life. He would have dug the knife to the bone if it hadn't been for a voice that pierced through the silence of the room sharper than the blade itself.

"Remus?" questioned Sirius.

Fuck, was all Remus could think as he panicked from Sirius' sudden appearance. Keep calm. As long as he doesn't pull back the curtain, I'll be fine. "Y- yeah," he choked out, from nervousness and from holding back the tears he was previously shedding. Despite the fact that Sirius had entered the room, Remus kept the knife pressed into his skin.

"Judging but the sounds, is potions killing you, mate?" Sirius asked nervously from behind the curtain. "Or are you having a quick wank before dinner, you sly bastard?"

Remus noticed a section of his curtain bunch up, undoubtedly from Sirius' grip on it. He panicked, unaware of what he should do with his bloodstained knife and dripping wrist.

Sirius began to pull back the curtain, thinking he was exposing his friend being a hormonal boy. "Of course you wouldn't ever want your friends to think that studiously little Moony was relieving his 'tension.' You had to come up with some bull shit lie to-" Sirius cut his sentence short when he saw a sight he would have never wanted to see in a million years.

"S- Sirius." The name burned Remus' tongue as he spoke. "Don't l-look at me," Remus's words came out through choking tears. He felt naked and exposed as he watched Sirius stare him down.

Sirius felt sick at the sight. The Remus he saw was not the Remus he knew. His face was a horrid shade of white, darkening the purple circles under his eyes. Tears stained his sallow cheeks and rimmed his eyelids with a puffy redness. His eyes, dull and lifeless, looked at him in what should have been a pleading fashion, but were rather pitiful and heart wrenching. His clothes seemed too big for his body, and his body looked frail, as if one touch would shatter him into a thousand pieces. And there was so much blood from the wound in which he was currently embedding the knife deeper and deeper. Blood running down his hand, staining his pants, his bed sheets, and the knife in his hand. Swallowing down the vomit, he begged through a mumbled tone, "Please, put the knife down," as he watched the world sway from the dizziness that swept over him. Tears were ready to spill from his eyes, but he told himself to stay calm for his friend.

Remus obeyed, too afraid not to. He watched Sirius leave his bedside and walk over to his own trunk in front of his own bed. Remus watched him dig around in the trunk, unsure of what he was doing. It was then that shiver of guilt curled down Remus' spine. He spoke without thought as he tried to talk to Sirius. "I-I. S- Sirius. Please listen to me. I've fucked up, but, but-"

"Here," Sirius said, walking back over and tossing an old sock in Remus' direction. "Just- Just cover it up so you don't bleed out or anything." He wasn't speaking cruelly; his voice carried no trace of emotion as he tried to hide his anger and sorrow for his friend. "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing, whether you want me to or not."

Sullenly, Remus obliged, wrapping Sirius' large sock over his bony wrist. He struggled at tying both ends together with one hand, and Sirius noticed. Sirius took control as he knotted the sock over Remus' fragile wrist and offered him a hand to help him off the bed. Remus folded his left arm over his chest and took Sirius' outstretched hand with his other and weakly pushed himself off the bed. The two quietly left the dormitory together.