Work Text:
Sirius POV
James stares at the ceiling for thirty minutes in a sleepy haze before Remus enters with a tray of tomato sandwiches, a bored expression on his face. "I got so bored I cooked."
Peter immediately takes the biggest one, and I grin at my fiancé. "Oh, Remus. Typical you."
James blinks, and then slowly comes back to Earth. His eyes drift around and then settle on the sandwiches. I chuckle a little when he grabs two of them, wolfing them down.
I finish mine, just as they slump into the cushions, eyes half closed. "I'm so fuckin' tired."
Remus smiles a little at him. "Thought so, you were completely spaced out there for a while."
James' eyes cloud over again, before clearing with a shake of their head. "Yeah. I don't want to sleep. That's all I did in the fucking hospital."
I try to ignore the new flat tone and the dead expression James talks with these days. It reminds me of a depressed person with tousled hair and glasses, a far cry from the James who talked rapidly and laughed a little louder than usual, shouted at us when Peter pushed his buttons too much.
The three of us look at each other, remembering when we read about rapid-cycling bipolar on Fleamont's computer. The signs are so obvious. So why doesn't his psychiatrist just diagnose him?
"Would you stop doing that?" James is standing up now, hands loosely curled at their sides. But they aren't angry. No, he looks close to tears, too exhausted and medicated to even feel anger.
Remus reaches for their hand, and I know James isn't himself when he doesn't pull away, as they usually do when angry. "Doing what?"
It's then James flinches, flapping their hands and beginning to sob. "Looking at each other like I-I'm a fuh-freak or something! Just....stop."
He sinks back onto the couch cushions, curling in a ball. I tentatively touch their arm. "Hug?"
James nods, whimpering. I embrace him, patting his back. He sobs into my shoulder. "I'm just so tired, all the fucking time."