The longer she held him, the more the tears came, as he finally allowed himself to consider the true possibility that Sirius was never coming home again.
The pain and relief of the admission ripped through him, as if all the numbness had formed a scab that was being torn off, and he could no longer think, could only spill out his agony as if Padma was a vessel solely designed to take it in. He cried with the knowledge that he would never again see Sirius' laughing face, or feel his arms lifting him up after a full moon, or hammer another nail at his direction, or paint him another picture, or ever, ever feel like someone wanted to be a father to him ever again.
The loss was worse than when his own family had turned their backs. Sirius had chosen to care for him, had made him feel all kinds of things about life and people and himself that he never would have believed possible only a year ago. Faelan had given his previous self up, had relinquished all of his assumptions and defenses and had let Sirius break him down to bare nothingness only to be built back up again into who he truly was. And now he knew, he knew what it meant to be a person who could love and be loved but he was only learning to tread water, wasn't ready to be thrown into the deep-end with his most important life-vest torn so far out of his reach.
It was as if Sirius had led him to their deserted island and set him off alone into the woods, but Faelan was lost. He didn't think he could ever find his way back without Sirius, and while he knew it shouldn't matter, knew he shouldn't care enough to be afraid, there was too much about his life now that was worth coming back to, and he didn't know how to be lost anymore than he knew how to be found.