sirius black had fucked up monumentally. his life as a rockstar in a boy band, alongside his best mates, was a relentless whirlwind of commitments-- an almost unpalatable schedule for someone who tended to oscillate between being a trauma-bound perfectionist and a half-asser.

you were his motivation, a friend beyond the eyes of the public and nosy media projectors. see, he had a bit of a loophole as the both of you were not exclusively in any form of relationship beyond casual rendezvous and fleeting assignations; but that did not mean he wasn't stricken by guilt.

a thing to note, was that you had found out through a hollywood fix article; perhaps the worst way to discover infidelity, as it was hard to mourn when the text itself was so preposterously melodramatic. however, the blaring reality was clear: sirius had been photographed kissing the french model yvonne couriez outside a bar.

sirius had been drunk out of his mind, which was no excuse, but the silence was jarring. sirius despised having to rely on anyone for anything as it made him feel inferior, but he hadn't realized how dependent he had been on you till you'd withdrawn from him. perhaps it was as regulus had theorized; he was simply born to be a cheater.

"it meant nothing, she meant nothing, you know this." sirius had turned up at your home in the middle of the night, in the rain, his hazy gray eyes looking simultaneously orphic and desolate when he set eyes upon you. it'd been over a month, and he was sick of it. "i was drunk, high, whatever level of hell i was in. i didn't mean to hurt you."

his black hair was curling slightly from the rain water it had absorbed, and his leather jacket was ought to ruin from it; but he was rich, so it probably didn't matter to him. silver earrings glittered along with the trails of moisture he'd dripped onto your doormat.

"don't look at me like that." sirius muttered, wincing at the expression on your face. "i swear on my life, that i never wanted to do anything to make you feel like this. i'm a fuckwit."