Sirius had very very much been willing himself not to cry over all this very sudden and very bad information, but somewhere along the line -- probably between Remus's tears and shaking hands, and the way he'd pulled out those broken and cracked frames like they were still something fragile and important to someone who wasn't -- well.
He sort of lost his battle with himself, and no amount of blinking would hold back his tears. "No," he said of the glasses, because -- because that cemented Remus' words into something more than just sad and into absolute truth. He wanted to take them; just to hold them maybe, to see what he could get out of that. But another part of him didn't want anything to do with them, and that was the part that won out -- childish and full of fright, he put his hands behind himself, wrung them together where Remus wouldn't see. Touching would make it worse than it already was. If that was even possible.
"No," he repeated, and this time it was fierce and angry, even if his knees felt wobbly, like one small gust of wind would have him and knock him over flat. "I wouldn't. I'd die first." Of that, he was certain, not matter what everyone said. There was no possible way.