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Remus's best friend is his radio. It's not James and it's not Peter and it's definitely not Sirius. It's just him and his radio, together against the world ever since Halloween.

He doesn't like to think about Halloween much, so he tries very hard not to, but who is he kidding? If Remus is anything, he's an overthinker, just like his fellow Marauders used to say. ("Don't be so big-brained, Lupin!" this and "I can hear you thinking from here, Moony!" that.)

It's one of the few things that hasn't changed since Halloween, because you can always leave it to Remus to be awkward and smart and stupidly tall. That's just the way he is, and believe it or not, he actually misses being ridiculed.

How pathetic is that? Remus- Moony -misses Prongs' playful jabs and Wormtail's quiet puns and Padfoot's awful flirting. He misses it all and so much more, but he's never let himself admit that.

Not once in these past few months has Remus let himself miss and mourn his losses, all because he's not entirely sure he has a right to. He wasn't there when he should've been, and now all he's left with are hollow regrets and empty promises.

He can't stop thinking about their promise, the one they made when they joined the Order. They had all promised that, no matter what, they were the Marauders before they were part of the Order.

It was always supposed to be them— And Lily, he'd never forget James' lovely wife. —before Hogwarts and Dumbledore and everyone else. And Remus knows that that's probably selfish, but he's a bloody werewolf after all, and aren't werewolves selfish creatures?

Though that hardly matters now, not when he's the only one left living. Because James is gone and Lily is gone and Peter is gone and Harry is gone and Sirius is-

Remus doesn't like thinking about Sirius.

Moony doesn't like thinking about Padfoot.

He can barely handle thinking about James and Lily and Pete and Harry on good days. How's he supposed to think about someone who meant more to him than those four combined, especially when said someone is still fucking alive?

It's a lot, to say the least, which is why he and his radio have become the best of acquaintances. The inanimate object knows him inside and out. Every fault, every regret, every depression. It's all known by his radio, simply because of the songs he makes it play. (There’s also the fact that his radio is basically a human being to him now, but like everything else, he chooses not to think about it.)

And yeah, Remus knows this is far from the best coping mechanism, but what's he supposed to do? Everyone is either dead or alive and too far out of his reach, and it's not like seeing a therapist is going to change that.

No matter how much Remus vents and talks and cries and rants, James will still be dead. Lily will still be dead. Pete will still be dead. Harry will still be with his remaining relatives— Why not him, Dumbledore? He knows he's a werewolf, but that doesn't mean he's incapable of taking care of a child. —and Sirius will still be…

Gone.

Alive.

Rotting away in Azkaban like Remus is

almost

certain he deserves.

It's been a few months, and yet Remus isn't certain Sirius deserves what he got. Remus will always think "almost," because there was no trial and he wasn't there when he should've been.

Moony wasn't there, and now Padfoot's locked up and Prongs and Wormtail are dead.

There's nothing he can do about it, though that doesn't mean he won't think about it. Because that's just who Remus is, "a fucking overthinker," as his fellow Marauders always put it.

So, he’ll think about all the “what-ifs” and “what could’ve beens.” He won’t go a day without them, without the constant wondering of what it would be like if his family was still around. If fighting for the right to raise Harry might’ve been worth it after all, and if Sirius is really the traitor.

That’s the one thing Remus has never been able to wrap his mind around. Despite all his thinking and pondering, he can’t make sense of Sirius’ betrayal. None of the puzzle pieces Sirius left him fit, and here he thought that out of all the Marauders, he was the one Sirius opened up to the most.

But that can’t be right, because if there’s one thing that Remus knows about Sirius, it’s that he would never willingly join up with Voldemort, of all people. Not to mention he’d never betray James in cold blood, knowing what it would mean for Harry and Lily and Peter and Remus himself.

And then there’s the whole Slytherin thing, and how Sirius- Padfoot -refused to do anything remotely associated with the house. He could barely tolerate Regulus in the end, so how could he just run off and team up with the bloody Dark Lord?

That’s not the Sirius Remus knows.

That’s not the Padfoot Moony loves.

Because that’s what Remus feels— has felt since fourth year because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight and it took him ages to come to terms with his raging gayness —and it’s what he’ll continue to feel regardless of the complexities revolving around Sirius.

It never mattered to Remus. Even now, with Sirius locked away and everything utterly destroyed, Remus doesn’t care. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s hopelessly depressed or hopelessly in love, but that’s something he can decide on later in life.

For now, it’s just him and his radio. It’s just Remus and his depressing songs, just Moony and the big fat hole in his heart.

Remus thought he had more time. He had convinced himself that there would come a perfect time and a perfect place for his confession, but really, what was he thinking? There was a war going on and James and Lily still welcomed Harry into the world. So how had he tricked himself into believing that his feelings could wait until after?

If there was one thing about being a Marauder that Remus should’ve taken to heart, it’s that mischief never waits. There’s always a prank that needs to be happening, or a party that needs to be planned. They were just never meant to be stopped.

Except they were.

They all got stopped, one way or the other.

Because James and Lily and Peter are dead. Because Harry was taken from him. Because Sirius did the stupidest thing in the whole Wizarding World. Because Remus doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep on going like everything’s fine and dandy.

How does the world keep turning?

The answer is supposed to be simple, but ever since Halloween, the answer escapes him. He thought the world would stop with him, because everything that made up his world is gone. That’s just not how life is going to work.

The world will keep on turning, and life will keep on going. Because not once has Remus ever let himself believe that things would work out in his favor. He was bit by a fucking werewolf at the ripe age of five, and every bloody full moon is a reminder.

That’s how he knows life won’t ever stop for him. He knows because living life was a hope crushed by a werewolf, and he knows because being worthy of a life was shattered by Voldemort.

Remus’s family is gone, but life just keeps on going.

Moony’s pack is gone, but life just keeps on going.

But he just has to keep on going. That’s what’s expected of him. Everyone loses people all the time. Fuck, who hasn’t lost someone by now? There was a blood war! Obviously, people are going to lose the ones they love.

It’s what they signed up for, anyways. Even with that silly little promise they made, they all knew what going into the Order meant. They all knew the sacrifices they’d make, the hearts they would break.

Though, honestly, Remus doesn’t think Sirius knew just how much he meant to him. In fact, Sirius was, and still is, probably the only person who never realized how much Remus loved him. And Moony still loving Padfoot makes it hurt worse.

Remus isn’t quite sure his wolf understands what happened on Halloween. The loss hasn’t caught up to him yet, which is probably why Remus is stuck grieving like this. Like his heart is in shambles and nothing will ever make him feel better ever again.

Even the bathroom in his hinky dinky apartment with the best acoustics known to wizarding kind isn’t making him feel any better. Blasting depressing Christmas songs through the early hours of the morning was working for a short two weeks, but now he’s back to that gut-wrenching sadness he first felt when the war was over.

And, now that he’s really thinking about it, is the war over? Dumbledore said it was, but he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. In fact, he feels like he lost more than Voldemort did.

Maybe it’s because today is Christmas, or maybe it’s because he’s physically incapable of crying. Which is strange, considering that crying is the only activity he’s engaged in since Halloween.

Because, clearly, Remus isn’t taking care of himself. All he does is cry and moan and complain, not specifically in that order. Then there’s also the changing into a werewolf once a month bit, or, as Sirius used to say, “werewolf mode.” (Remus never thought there’d be a day where he’d actually miss hearing the words “werewolf mode,” but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.)

He can’t even remember the last time he ate or took a piss, which is quite pathetic to be honest. But, then again, he’s depressed and has officially lost his true family- pack -so. He probably gets a free pass for being depressed and all.

Still, he feels like he should've moved on by now. Everyone else has, now that the war against Voldemort is over and all losses have been mourned properly. Why can’t he just bloody move on with life already?

Literally everyone else has gotten back into the swing of things, if his occasional looks out his window whenever he musters up the courage to face daylight are anything to go by. There’s been people bustling around shopping for over a month, and here he is on the bathroom floor with only his radio to celebrate Christmas.

Remus never even bothered with a tree or a stocking this year. There was simply no point, because Sirius and James were the ones who decorated the tree to be as ugly as possible and Peter always hung up the stockings for them.

As for Remus, he just sat back and enjoyed the company of his family. He was always happiest when he was around the other Marauders, Sirius especially.

Even Moony grew to favor Padfoot the most, more often than not creating more problems that never needed to be created in the first place.

It made him wonder what his life would have been like without Sirius and James and Peter, without Padfoot and Prongs and Wormtail. What else could he have been, other than werewolf?

Other than heartbroken.

Could this have all been avoided? Just altering one thing could cause a butterfly effect so drastic that maybe Remus would’ve worked up the balls to ask out Sirius before the bloody war. He had waited so long for that stupid perfect time and perfect place shit that he forgot he could’ve just asked out Sirius, regardless of wars and legalities.

Who gives a flying fuck about Voldemort anyways?

Not Remus, and certainly not Moony.

Besides, wars are overrated, especially the ones where you lose all your loved ones and end up depressed and alone on Christmas.

But alas, that seems to be his fate. Not that he ever really believed in fate to begin with, because he’s too logical for all that fate and destiny bullshit.

Was it fate that decided Remus’s friends would die?

Was it destiny that decided Remus would always be alone?

He doesn’t think so. In fact, he’s more likely inclined to agree that he has the shittiest luck known to all of the wizarding world. That’s probably why his life is like this now, since being a werewolf seems to make you cursed.

“But you’re not cursed, Moony!” Padfoot’s voice echoes in his mind. “Really! You just have a tiny case of werewolf-itis! But don’t worry, even if it’s not curable, I’ll still be there for you! Always!”

Remus smiles, a sad little thing that barely quirks his lips upwards. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Moony echoing back what he said to Padfoot all those years ago.

“Sure, Padfoot. Always.”

He sighs, and then asks, just like always:

“So much for always, huh, Sirius?”

His voice echoes, just like always.

His radio doesn’t answer, just like always.

Always.