"I know," Sirius whispered. "I know you're right. I just... I don't want to." It sounded so lame, even to himself. I don't want to. How fucking childish.
"I don't know how," he admitted, letting go of Peters hand and sitting it. He'd unloaded to James. He'd confided he's fears to Remus. But somehow Peter was easier to talk to. Maybe because it wouldn't destroy him as much if Peter pushed him away.
"It's not like you guys don't already know. At least, you know how fucked up my family is. You know my parents, they were, well, they were them." This wasn't coming out right. "They were abusive fucks. I, uh, I didn't get it when I was a kid. The things they, my mother, would do to me. I thought it was normal. And I learned to just... Turn off. Smile. Laugh. Swear. It pissed her off, but, but then there was something she was angry about. Something that I had control over. If she was going to hurt me at least she was hurting me for reasons that I could understand. And then I got older and I started doing things specifically so she would hurt me. I goaded her, I made her do it because at least then she was looking at me. You know?" He wasn't articulating it right. And he still wasn't telling Peter anything that secret. His friends could have figured all that out from context clues. But he didn't know if he was even capable of delving deeper than that. It was already more than he'd said out loud.