Fifty-seven days. Letter to a friend (Magnus/Alexander)
Well, hello, old friend!
It's been a long time, though. How long have you been coming to me so easily and settled deep in your heart? When was the last time you came to me like you were at home, not wanting to leave? Your footsteps were always around. Your voice always sounded somewhere in the back of your mind, because we were always inseparable.
It's funny to live and know that the most faithful and closest companion is despair. Deep and strong, which squeezes firmly, poisons the poison of words and touches, dyeing the body and soul in the same oppressed dark blue color with purple divorces. You know that I can't refuse, I love this style - shining and seductive, behind which it is not visible what is in reality.
I always remembered the pain. So many years of memories and most of them are filled with suffering, and next to them is always you, an old friend, dear despair. Ever since I was born, you've been closer to me, or you've been letting go, but, you know, you're doing something very cruel now.
I am humiliated.
Helpless.
Weak and worthless.
I always wanted to rely on myself. I need people around me, it's hard for me to be alone, but I never asked for anything from them, and now...
Magic is my life. My curse, my pain, but my essence, which I was sometimes proud of because I could surpass many in our hard work. And they took everything away from me... I won't regret it, dear friend, because it was the right thing to do. The price is high for a great deed, but it had to be brought in to win. I did it for the sake of everyone, not only for myself.
Katharina always said that I had an inherent sacrifice. Now I have put on the altar of sacrifice a part of my soul, without which I became unnecessary and broken. You like my condition, you drink it, because, beloved despair, you are the only one who finds salvation in moments of weakness. But it's a mirage - you're just depressing, kneeling down and even lower, pressing down on your lousy shoulders.
I can't get up on my own. It's hard to survive such a loss alone, and you know... you were close to the goal. But you miscalculated something, buddy!
For the first time in so many centuries, I love you, and most importantly, I love you back.
Alexander, my brightest angel.
The celestials are cruel and stubborn, and he is the same. But much better. There are universal kindness and perseverance in him, which does not let him give up on the difficulties. Alexander takes away the reins of power from you, fortunately!
You know, friend, it's time to part with us. Let me go, it's not difficult for you. There are so many weak people in the world that you can get caught up in, only with me nothing is shining on you. I've found support and support for myself. I may lose him one day, but, you know...
I'm not gonna need you again. I will follow him happy.
Thank you for everything, merciful Despair.
Leave quickly and don't forget to close the door. I'm afraid to let go of Happiness.
58 days. Taste (Sirius/Remus)
Everything has its taste.
Sirius, as a risky man, tries everything, wanting to feel the world in its full spectrum. It is foolish to keep yourself in line if there are so many opportunities. And he has them, as well as a burning overflowing desire, itchy under the skin.
The taste of risk is special in itself. It explodes with absolute sharpness, filling the entire mouth cavity, burning the tender sky and tongue, and then cools down, leaving only a pleasant aftertaste that warms from the inside. Someone does not like the spicy taste, and he lives a boring life, and Sirius enjoys burning on the tongue and wants to try all kinds of spicy - from the weakest to the Mexican devil.
Sadness and sadness taste bitter as wormwood. It makes you nauseous and turns yourselves inside out, you want to cry out because there is nothing to wash it off and cover it with, all you have to do is cough up and puke to cover the other one with one torment. It is possible to spice up the bitterness a little bit, which is what Sirius does most often - any grief lives in a fight or in another desperate act, for which he gets his neck.
Fun gives creamy beer and sweet fizzling, which tingles the tongue when you eat it. It's not like he always feels something like that when he's happy, just the most joyful moments with his friends, who often celebrate another success with a bottle of creamy beer, and bubbly beans have always been at home at Potter's house, in a house full of sunshine.
The taste of tranquility resembles herbal tea, which Lunatic is fond of. When Marauders do a lot of work, which is very rare, and end up far away at midnight, which is why there is no time for pranks, Remus, encouraging friends, pouring them his special tea fee. It smells of summer and warmth when you drink it, the whole body relaxes, and thoughts fly away, leaving blissful peace. The fireplace and cozy armchairs only increase the effect, and Mooney laughs, looking at tired but satisfied friends, blurred on the soft upholstery.
Fear tastes like blood and dirt. From them, you spit out, but the taste remains a ghost, squeaky on the teeth. Sometimes, when the fear turns into horror, the taste is intertwined with a bright shade of wool, as every time Remus in the form of a wolf begins to attack himself, tearing the flesh with a wild scream, and the guys rush to stop it. Fear for a friend squeezes like his fangs down his throat, and his taste drops heavy drops on his tongue, staying until Lunatic comes out of the hospital wing wrinkled and with a guilty smile.
At such moments the taste of relief appears. Fresh and spicy as mint, invigorating, permeating the whole body. And the sharpness of the menthol in the mouth explains the moistened eyes and shiver when Sirius squeezes the frayed Remus in his arms.
But perhaps the most precious taste is the taste of hope. Sirius keeps it as the most precious, although he admits that over time it has come to mean something else. But initially, it is a timid, brilliant hope. It flashed brightly when Sirius suddenly stomped in front of a friend, who stared at him cautiously, holding the books to his chest. Lunatic is charming in his uncertainty, although sometimes you want to erase it because Remus is the most amazing and the best. It's like Sirius, and it's like he's lost it, confusing his classmate even more. Only then did Black decide, without thinking, to just kiss Luni, trying to explain that he was in love with a modest, intelligent and sad boy. Sirius hoped very much that he would not be pushed away or driven away. He dreamed that he would not be abandoned. And this hope was shyly sneaked out of other people's lips with the taste of bitter chocolate, which Lupin loved very much. And that day his hopes were fulfilled, and the bitter taste was forever associated with this feeling, as well as the loving Marauders, when Luni awkwardly answered the kiss, blushing to the tips of his ears.
Later on, the taste of chocolate became a sign of love, but that's another story.