a/n: let's pretend its sirius's 21st not 22nd, also sorry i-

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

✧.* but then he watched me 
watch the front door all
night willing you to come
and he said it's supposed
to be fun turning 21 ✧.*

╰┈➤✧.* IN WHICH
Sirius Black turns 21

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

A single ray of sunlight peeked through the grills in the window, hitting the shard of glass on the floor. 

It was morning, the light told him. I know. he said. 

Twenty One was a big number, he thought. A completely random and unrelated thought which had nothing to do with his current peril.

Or maybe it did, who even knew?

He would have paced but The Assholes hadn't fed him yet and with his lack of sleep he was at an all time low.

He ran his finger over the glass shard that had ended up in his cell. He touched it, hoping it broke skin, hoping to feel anything but this still and silent horror, but the glass was scraped smooth from drawing on the walls.

Twenty One tally marks on his right and six stick figured to his left. He had another look at the drawings. One stick person was smaller than the rest and another was furiously scribbled out.

He threw the glass on the wall, the sound of the shatter a sweet melody to his ears after Kissing Booth 300's long drawn silences.

Because maybe this day would have been different if he was different. Maybe. 

Maybe he would have been having a laugh with his mates or been in a stifling room with his family or maybe he would have ended up in this dark and cold room all the same.

What if he'd never run away from his family? Would he have still been in a cage, the only difference that it was a gilded one? What if he hadn't insisted James make Peter the keeper, playing right into Voldemort's hands?

What if he'd sat with who is mother had told him to on the train and grown up sneering or if he hadn't fucked up his one chance to redeem himself.

When the bell had tolled as it did at 12 every night, he'd watched the window all night, willing them to come. He'd waited for something, wished upon every star in the sky, hoping for a miracle, but it never came.

Wasn't it supposed to be fun? Turning twenty one? It was, but he was stuck in the dark, his eyes swollen but Sirius Black did not cry, oh no.

He waited, and he waited all day for something new to happen. The Emo Ghosts came and fed him the bare minimum to keep him going, Padfoot paced, yapped and yelled this his throat was sore but there was still absolutely nothing except the press of loneliness from all sides.

Maybe he would get used to it, or maybe he wont, it wouldn't change this day.

He could pinpoint the exact moment when the needle to the balloon of hope struck, but it didn't cause a sound or go out with a bang, it just emptied out leaving a carcass for all to see.

He remembered in perfect clarity how the bell chimed again, his drooping eyelids registering it with just a blink, glancing at the porridge like substance smashed on the wall hiding the drawings from view for now, until it would peel off in pieces.

He remembered how the dying moans emanating from the next cell over pierced the stony silence left in the wake of the tolling alarm.

He remembered every moment and he remembered every sound that passed after, until his eyes shut and his breathing stilled. He remembered every sound into being twenty-one, he remembered every breath every passing wind.

He remembered it in clear detail. With a magnified clarity, he remembered it all too well.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

a/n: I AM SO SORRY PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME I'M BEGGING YOU I JUST GOT THE IDEA LISTENING TO ALL TOO WELL AND THEOUGHT HEY THIS WOULD BE COOL IM SORRY

anyway i tried to keep it short so that there wasnt too much payne being spread aroundm i did want to write more but i figured the longer it was the more shit i'd get for it so here is the cut up version of events

ily all sm dont hate on me please

ana <33