Title: Split
Author: Fuchsian Flag
Summary: The word 'us' is never less plural than when you're dealing with Fred
and George. *Mild twincest/implied slash*
Disclaimer: If J.K. Rowling is the king in the castle, I'm the dirty rascal.
You know that much.
A/N: Can I just say that if the idea of either twincest or slash offends your
sensibilities in any way, you now have the opportunity to close this fic and
never have to look at it again—thereby sparing yourself the trouble of thinking
up some incredibly clever flame for me to chuckle over.
Split
It was as if they took one person and split him down the middle.
Made him whole, twice. And got us. Or so you say.
I suppose it's true. I wouldn't know, really. I've never been one person. You
know this—and it's exactly the kind of thing you expect us to say.
You look at us. I know what you see, and you're not deceived.
"Don't you get sick of each other sometimes?" You ask, and we reply,
"Who was the 'other'?"
Other people? Yes, people and us do get sick of each other. So we go to our
room to be alone there. Until the world is ready for us again. Which it hardly
ever is.
They know what to expect, and yet they don't. They still get surprised.
At least there are no aesthetic problems. We are beautiful. Because if you are,
then I must be too. It's not arrogance, just honesty.
George, I reckon we should bleach our hair.
Not bleach. I'd go for green.
Wouldn't it clash with our eyes?
Blue and green? Color of the sea.
You're right.
We'd look good, better than we do already…
Allright, we'll go for it then.
Remember when we were kids? Fingerpaint streaked, running in the garden,
pouring Ribena down the gnome-holes? Remember our fort in the tree, where
nobody could see us? Throwing acorns at little Ron, the tripwire between the
bushes? Brushing baby Ginny's hair? We said she was our baby, remember?
Remember growing taller, taller, bigger shoes and calcium.
Fred, it's your turn, your turn!
GRYFFINDOR!
WithFredwithFredwithFredpleasepleasewithFred
Twins, together…Oh, I see—
See what?
GRYFFINDOR!
It's not so easy though, is it? For the others to understand. I hate sleeping
apart. I get cold. Once the others are asleep, then. You'll come here, I'll go
there. Whichever, these nights need you like they need the dark—just to be
night at all.
Curled up like we used to, way back in the beginning—we think we can remember.
Then the world came upon us in a rush of light and cold.
Who's that? And that? Where are you, where are you? Who have I known but you?
Red and screaming, cold and breathing. There you are. I was scared—who's this?
Whoever, it's warm. It seems to like us.
Could we remember that? Is it possible?
I see you looking at Lee. You turn and we smile.
Us, Lee?
It'd make a change, wouldn't it? How long? Since we were…twelve, thirteen? When
other people started, er, flogging the dolphin.
Come here, Fred. They're asleep, it's okay.
We were split. We're whole, for fifteen minutes whole.