A/N: I was just in this weird mood one day and wanted to write something depressing, but got the tittle and the setting and never actually wrote it. I think I could've done a much better job with this one-shot, but I'm never really happy with how my stories turn out, so meh. :P Please be warned about the feels. Summary: George is going through the five stages of grief, and has been going through them for seven months. Situations trigger his anger, and make him see what he's really missing. Rating: T (light cussing, angst) Word Count: 1.600 Disclaimer: I don't and will not ever own the characters/places I use in my stories. Sadly. :/ Have fun reading, and please do leave a review. :)
And I'd give up forever to touch you And all I can taste is this moment And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't wanna go home right now
And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
"George, dinner is ready!"
Molly's voice rang in George's ears, causing the male to jump from his bed in fear. He sighed when he realized it was only his mother calling him for dinner, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Coming…" he mumbled under his breath and combed his hair with his fingers, hanging his legs on the side of the bed, looking at the floor blankly.
He had been feeling that way since the very first day he'd found out.
Found out that his other half was gone. That the one person that always understood him, the one person that could make him laugh when he was at his worst, the brother he was closely bonded with, his twin, was gone. Swept from life as he was defending himself and his twin, laughing one moment and the next falling with a harsh thumb on the floor, his smile fading.
George shuddered and got up from the bed. He'd been sleeping for a while, not really aware of the time or the situation he was in. He would often sit in his bed, look up at the ceiling and start thinking. When he began thinking, questions filled his head; memories took over reality and washed through him like a wave, crushing him on the hard rocks of reality as he realized his loss. The only person he had ever wanted to tell about Harry beating Voldemort, was Fred. The only person he had ever wanted to tell about his new idea for fireworks was Fred.
The only person he ever wanted to talk to about Fred's death was Fred.
George shook his head, wiping his eyes and walking slowly out of his room which felt incredibly dark and empty, walking down the stairs, finally getting himself to the ground floor after a while of walking like a ghost.
"George, we waited for you." Molly said as she saw her son, smiling and showing him his seat.
As the male sat down on his seat, he looked around with the same blank stare he'd had for seven months now. His father and mother were there, along with his younger brother Ron and his friends, Hermione and Harry. Charlie and Bill, along with Fleur, had also come around to visit for a week, since it was finally Christmas.
Yes, George had forgotten. It was celebration time, which explained the lightly decorated house and a small tree with lights that trembled softly.
George's glance fell outside the window, where the snow was pilling up around the small frozen swamp. He sighed, poking his food without eating, going back into deep thought.
"George… Harry and I were thinking maybe you could join us at a snow fight? Just to get our heads out of things for a while…" Ron suggested in a soft mumble, looking at his brother.
George shook his head. "Thanks Ron, but no." he said softly.
Molly sighed softly. "It's Christmas Eve. Would you like to go through some presents?" she asked her son hopefully.
"No, mum, really, you didn't have to get me anything…" George said.
"Hush. We always get you things." Molly stopped him with a small smile.
George sighed. "Later, I suppose." He said softly.
Molly knew that George had been through everything. When it first happened, George had closed up to himself, didn't come out of his room or didn't eat for weeks, being in denial of the loss that tore all of them. Then she noticed he was becoming more and more angry as the first month passed, and sooner or later George would get angry at almost anything that reminded him of Fred. Then George would start these conversations where he'd blame himself and say things like "If only I had stepped in the way…" and such.
She had been terrified when George fell into his deep depression, poorly repeating what he'd been through for a while. It would take years for him to accept the loss, but she knew he'd calm down after a while. Or so she hoped.
George was once again staring at the tree they had set up, glad the dinner was over quickly. He had waited until everyone was gone to bed, not really wanting to explain why he wanted to stay around.
When he was finally left, he searched through the packs, wincing when he found his mother's usual packages for sweaters. Only the one he picked up was not wrapped in the colors it usually was. The wrapping was a dark blue, with a small red bow on it.
Carefully, George opened the pack, not wanting to rip anything apart. Tears pricked his eyes when he removed the wrapping.
A blue sweater lay in wait, a large golden F on the chest, as it had been every year, on every single sweater.
Anger began building up inside George, pulsing through him as he took the sweater with him, running upstairs after putting the fire out. He ran into his room, closing the door behind him and falling in the bed, clutching the sweater on his chest.
"Why, Freddie?! Why did you have to do this to me?!" George bellowed as he hid his face under the pillows, sobbing quietly as he dug his fingers in the soft material.
Harry was the one that heard George's sob in the night, having been awake for a while now from a nightmare. He rushed to the room George was in, seeing the older male sobbing.
"George…" he whispered softly and neared the bed.
"Leave me alone." George stated as he sniffled pretty obviously.
"I don't think she meant to do it on purpose…" Harry said softly as he noticed the big "F" on the usual sweater Mrs Weasley made every year.
"He did."
"Pardon?"
"He did it. He doesn't want me to forget him, so he keeps tormenting me with images and memories. Whenever I go up to the lab we shared, he's always there, I can feel him, Harry. He's there, waiting for me, wanting to tell me it's alright, but it's not. It's never going to be alright. He was my soul mate, my other half, my twin. I can't live without my twin brother." George whispered, trying desperately not to start crying once more.
Harry sighed. "I'll go bring you some tea. Get back in bed." He said and got up, walking out of the room.
George looked blankly again, tears staining his cheeks. His fists unclenched, slowly calming down. The sweater fell on the floor in a small pile as George stood up and looked into the mirror. He wiped his eyes softly, staring deeply into his reflection, looking at his own eyes.
"Why, Fred?" George whispered harshly and glared at his reflection. "Every single day that passes I somehow get more hurt. Every day that goes by, I miss you. I miss you, and I can't and will not ever forget about you. Because when I look in this mirror, I see your face, I hear your voice everytime I speak, just by using my own…I often think it's you I'm seeing in this thing… But then again… It can't be you. The pale-faced, thin person with the bloodshot eyes in the mirror never even smiled. And you'd always smile, Freddie." he said, raising his hand and stroking the reflection of his own hand, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "I ask myself… why you? Why you, instead of me?" he whispered and closed his eyes tighter, his fingers turning into a fist which hit the mirror angrily, his mouth tensing as he let out an angry shout.
Lights turned on and Molly along with Arthur, Hermione and Harry rushed in the room. They all noticed the bundle in the floor with the large golden F on it, they all saw George stumbling backwards, his hand dripping blood, as well as the smashed glass pieces of the mirror.
"George, baby." Molly breathed and rushed towards him, only to get pushed away.
"Why did you have to make a sweater for him, huh?!" George bellowed and walked out of his room angrily, grabbing his coat and running down the stairs.
"George!"
George was not listening to them as he ran quicker, bursting out of the house and running on the icy ground, not caring how much it hurt him. He kept running, not knowing towards where. He just ran.
Until his pajama leg got caught on a log, making him fall with a hard sound on the ground. He closed his eyes, letting himself pass out.
A warm hand on his forehead made him open his eyes. George groaned as he got up, finding himself in his bed. He thought maybe it was all a dream, but then he saw his hand which was covered in white bandages and the mirror was removed from the wall.
"Leave me alone…." Came his hoarse voice as he tried to make the room stop spinning.
"Stop this, George." Harry responded softly.
"I thought you were on my side…" George grumbled.
"I never choose sides." Harry sighed.
George let out a small whimper.
"I know how bad it feels. I know he was the one and only brother for you. But will you stop being so selfish? You're hurting the people around you and Fred as well. He'd want you to be happy, and continue running the shop and miss him everyday, but be happy that-"
"That I live? Oh please, Harry." George glared at him.
"No." Harry said. "Be happy that he loved you enough to save you. Be happy that you made all those things together. Be proud of him because he was a great person and you had the chance to live with him so long." He said, looking at George softly.
Closing his eyes, George fell back on the bed again. "What now then? I'm supposed to be all happy?" he whispered.
"For now you just have to accept it. Love him for who he is, love him because he gave you enough time." Harry said softly and patted George's shoulder.
George sighed. "Thanks mate. Really." He said softly and for the first time in months his lips twitched upwards very faintly, in a try to smile.
"Come on, we've got some presents to open." Harry said and got up, giving him his hand to help him up.
George took his hand, sighing deeply as he got up and walked down with Harry.
It wasn't much, but after Harry told him all that, George decided it was time he accepted that his brother was gone. And maybe, just maybe, he could start running the shop again.
THE END That was it. I'm sorry if I destroyed your feels... I'm so sorry. Leave a review? It'd be great to see one. Thanks for reading!
~Venustus