I know this implicates slash, but I promise that it's not intended.
…
I walk out onto the porch of the house that me and my family still occupy. A thin sheet of rain has begun to fall, but that's nothing new. Ever since my brother died, the rain never seems to stop. I don't complain about the rain, but it really doesn't help matters.
The fact that Fred's still gone, that our family still misses him, that our friends still blatantly ignore any topic pertaining to him, that I still haven't cracked a single joke, and that I still mourn for him everyday are constant reminders of his absence.
It's been almost four months since his passing, but the weight doesn't seem to lift; the burden is still there. And every second of everyday, I blame myself for allowing that curse to kill him. I was right there, and still I…I…I…
…
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all of my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because your presence still lingers here
…
I put my hand on the wooden rail that surrounds the porch to brace myself, to prevent the coming sobs. Unfortunately, just as always, the sobs break through with ease. I fall to my knees and wrap my arms tightly around my chest, sobbing.
…
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
…
The sobs continue shaking my body until I can barely stand it. But, as much as I want to stop the tears, stop sobbing, it's not in my power to do so.
"George?"
I turn at the sound at the sound of my younger brother's, Ron's voice. He just looks at me for a moment, not saying anything as I quickly wipe the tears away. "What?"
"Mum wants you inside today. 'Cause of the rain." Ron says softly. He knows better than to make it sound like an order, but more like a request – even when Fred was alive, he always made it sound like that.
As always, I slowly stand up and walk inside. I ignore the people in the living room, kitchen, and den; they're here for Hermione's birthday, nothing more. I'm still not sure why mum insisted on her having a party here – probably to try and help my mood – but I couldn't care less. I stalk up to the room that me and Fred once shared, and sprawl out on what used to be his bed.
Not once since his death have slept in my own bed, I've never had the desire to go near it, but instead I sleep here to feel as if Fred never left. Besides that reason, I never really slept in my bed to begin with, what with Fred's nightmares and all.
I chuckle twice at the memories before becoming sad again. I turn on my side and curl into the fetal position, this time being able to somewhat control the coming sobs better.
…
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
…
After a moment, I can't control the sobs anymore, and they break through again. With people downstairs having a celebration, I manage to keep quiet, but it's hard.
I want to scream and cry for my precious brother to come back, for him to rise from the dead and be here with us—me again. Even though this is, some part of my brain, that's still somehow logically thinking, prevents me from doing so because it knows that my screams will do no good.
But, I just can't seem to comprehend that Fred – someone who would never kill or hurt anyone without good reason – was taken from this world. Why wasn't it me?! Why couldn't I have been the one Bellatrix LaStrange killed?! Why wasn't it me?! Why him?! Why did someone of such a pure soul…?!
The sobs are no longer silent because I can't keep them that way.
…
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
…
Luckily, no one downstairs hears me, or they just don't care, either way, no one comes up to check on me. They seem to be too wrapped up in the celebration to care about one boy sobbing over his long-dead brother.
After too long, I end crying myself straight to sleep. As always, I wish that I hadn't fallen asleep. Why? Because my dreams are always filled with the times that were, and the times that could've been. Us playing pranks on everyone, trying to understand the muggle world Harry lives in, and that Ginny will ultimately live in too. God, why couldn't he have stayed alive to see that?! His future nieces and nephews…they'll never know him, or that "Uncle George" will never recover from seeing him die.
…
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all of the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
…
I jolt awake much more quickly than intended, my body shaking with cold sweat. I feel moisture in my eyes. Had I cried while asleep? That's never happened before, but I suppose it had to eventually.
I turn my head to the side to see the only picture of Fred left in this room; the rest were taken downstairs to put in an area of the living room.
He's smiling in this picture. He was always smiling when others were around…it was only around me that he let his defenses slip when he had to cry. Whether it was from a bad day, or a nightmare, I was always the only one Fred turned to for any kind of comfort.
…
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
…
I turn onto my side so that I don't have to strain my neck to see the picture. I feel new moisture in my eyes as I stare at the picture. Whether it's from not blinking or from missing Fred, I can't tell. I just know it's there.
…
But you still have all of me
…
I stand up and walk to the window to stare at the rain. The thin sheet from earlier has become thicker as the light rain turned into a downpour while I was sleeping.
"Fred…" I mumble to the rain. I put one hand on the cold glass windowpane, ignoring all feeling as my hand slowly numbed. "Can you come back?" I ask with a shaky voice that's threatening to crack. "Can you tell me this was some elaborate prank?!"
I bang my fist on the glass, not hard enough to break it, and lean my forehead against it as I try to get a grip on myself. This still shouldn't be like this! Why am I the only one who can't seem get over his death?! Everyone else seems to; mum, dad, Ron, Percy…everyone except me…
…
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
…
"Why can't you answer me?!" I scream at the window with fresh tears running down my cheeks. "Dammit, Fred, answer me!"
I hit the window so hard that it shatters with a sound that everyone downstairs had to have heard. Blood trickles down my fist, but is quickly washed away by the pouring rain.
"Answer me, goddammit!" I scream at my bloodied fist.
"Bloody hell!" Ron gasps as he walks in. I knew someone had to have heard…
I pull my fist back inside and look over at Ron, pushing him aside as I walk to the nearest bathroom. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"You broke the window!"
I slam the door behind me and start washing my hand. "You didn't answer me, Fred." I hung my head as water flowed over the open cuts. I sniffed, trying to hold back more sobs. "Are you here? Can you hear me, Fred?" I let out one sob, though it sounded more like a hiccup. "Please answer me, or I might do something else…"
I drop down to one knee involuntarily, my hand resting on the edge of the sink. I feel a warmth I haven't felt in a long time fill me through and through. I relax and calm down. Yes, he's still here, and he's trying to tell me everything will be okay.
I shake my head. "You're still gone, Fred, and that's not going to change."
Am I really alone though? It's almost like…like he never left. It's like he's being the comforter for once, instead of me. It's something I never thought could be turned like this, but I welcome it regardless.
…
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
…
I stand up and take a breath to steady myself as I reach over at grab some bandages to wrap my hand in. I hesitate when I turn for the door, knowing that someone will be out there waiting for me.
From behind, there is something like a small push telling me to go forward. I don't know if this is all in my head, or if it's real, but, again, I welcome the unexplainable event.
…
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
…
I open the door to nearly everyone who's at the house, and an onslaught of questions – all of which pertain to the broken window.
I almost turn around back into the bathroom again, but I feel something like Fred beside me, and I face them.