okay but an army au where either sirius or remus is drafted and the other one wasn't and just general army au feels and panic?
The evening light spills in through their large apartment windows, the warm, dusty glow making every line softer, ever surface warmer.
Remus watches the TV in the living room from their small kitchen has he makes dinner. He really should put some socks onâthe tiles are freezingâbut heâs too scared to leave the lasagna alone and miss an instruction. Itâs more likely than not that it wonât burn in his two minute absence, but he told Sirius he was making dinner tonight. Heâs not going to mess it up.
He dips a carrot stick in the hummus heâs planning on convincing Sirius that he made himself, and munches idly as he attempts to wash a pot and focus on the evening news playing at the same time.
The news reporter is wearing too much makeup and keeps annoyingly folding and un-folding her fingers, âYoung males everywhere are becoming more and more restless as the newly active draft, announced just last Thursday on June 21st, takes more and more brothers, husbands, and loved ones from their homes and jobs. Having been so long since any warfare has effected every day civilians this muchâŚâ
But Remus wasnât listening anymore, instead shaking his head as he watched the images flashing up on the screen of boys tearful at airports, being arrested for refusal, draft letters being burned in the street, thrown from open windows. Remusâ heart ached for them.
Heâd never been a particularly religious person, but he found himself praying to something, anything, constantly asking to end this. He found himself thinking, those poor souls. Over and over again. Those poor souls.
He heard the door click as a key was inserted into it, and was broken from his thoughts. He glances at the oven to make sure the lasagna looks alright and is drying his hands when he hears Siriusâ boots in the hall. Sirius doesnât call out.
His first clue should have been this silence.
âBabe? In the kitchen!â Remus calls, âDonât come in here itâs a surprise! Living room!â
He throws the towel aside and pads into the living room, the warm carpet a relief against his cold feet. Sirius is already standing behind the couch, eyes fixed on the draft video compilation that is still playing, facing away from Remus. He still hasnât said a word.
Remus clues in this time. His brows furrow and he approaches more hesitantly, âPads, what is it? Is everything-â
The way Sirius says his name stops Remus dead. His voice is barely there, quivering. He still hasnât turned around.
âSiriusâŚâ Remus takes a hesitant step forward, âlook at me, love. Wh-â
Sirius turns. He jaw is clenched, eyes slightly bloodshot. Remus sucks in a breath because, of all things, this was not what he was expecting tonight.
âGod, Sirius what hap-â
Then his eyes flicker down to the piece of paper held loosely in Siriusâ hands. Heâs holding it as if he wants nothing more than to let it go. Remus suddenly feels like the world has lurched, or maybe he is falling, or maybe his heart is tumbling, because thereâs no question what it is. Remus can see the seal through the thin white fibers.
He looks back up to Sirius, eyes wild, âNo. No.â Remusâ breathing picks up and Sirius takes a step forward, eyes glassy and lip between his teeth.
âNoâŚâ Remus canât seem to say anything else. This happens. Remus knows this happens but it happens to other people. Not them. Not them. Not Sirius. not him-
Remus snaps out of it, practically flinging himself at the couch where the the evening post is set. He tears through it, throwing every single letter that isnât what heâs looking for.
âNo,â His voice his rising and he doesnât know heâs crying until dark splotches appear on the envelopes, âfuck, no!â
He feels Sirius drop to his knees behind him, feels his shaking arms wrap around his waist, feels his wet cheek against his neck, âRemus, stop. You donât have one, you know you donât have one. Itâs okay, itâs okay-â
âNo!â Remus practically sobs because Sirius doesnât understand. He needs one. He needs one, he needs to go with- âYou arenât going alone! You canât go- I canât-â Itâs getting harder to breath, and he curses the doctor that declared him unfit, curses his lungs, curses his weak, weak lungs, âI canât let you-â Heâs gasping now, choking.
Sirius pulls him away from the pile of papers, pulls him into his lap, Remusâ back against his chest. Remus can barely hear him telling him to breath, his ears are ringing.
âYou canât leave me-â He hears himself say, but it doesnât sound like his voice. His chest fucking burns.
âPlease breath, Re⌠God, breath. Itâs okay, itâs okay-â But Siriusâ voice is breaking and Remus is staring transfixed, face blank, at Siriusâ letter he let fall onto the couch.
He tries to breath slowly, gripping Siriusâ hands against his stomach, until he doesnât feel like heâs breathing through mud anymore. He listens to Sirius crying softly against his neck and turns around in his arms. He wipes his thumbs over Siriusâ wet cheeks, he tries to kiss him but heâs crying too. He drops his face into Siriusâ neck, feeling the weight of Siriusâ against his shoulder, and they sit there, desperate, their world crumbling slowly around them.
Those poor souls. Remus finds himself thinking.
