Why is all of my writing so depressing? I guess I'm not very good at happy stuff. Oh well. Maybe I'll try writing some, but in the meantime, here's a little one-shot of George, mourning Fred after the last battle.

I miss him so much it hurts physically. Every time there's something new I want to share with him, it hurts again, just as much as the first time I saw him lying there. It's been so hard to go on without him. Before it happened, there had literally never been a day I hadn't seen him. We were so close I can still barely believe he's gone.

For a few weeks after the final battle I didn't say a word to anyone, not even that stupid Healer they tried to get me to talk to. I didn't want to discuss my feelings when they were still raw inside me. I just spent the days lying on my bed, crying my eyes out. My family tried to help but they couldn't. Of course, it was terrible for them, especially for Mum and Dad; no parent should have to bury a child.

But it felt so much worse for me, I could tell. I was the most affected by my brother's parting. I was so glad to see the rest of my family after the battle. I know that if anyone else had been hurt I wouldn't have been able to cope at all.

As time passed, the ache faded and the gaping hole in me (my heart, not ear) seemed to be smaller. I told myself that Fred wouldn't want me to be moping like this. I smile slightly as I imagine him.

Ah, Gred, cheer up a bit, would you? I'm fine here but you're making me miserable, mate. Go work on the jokes or I'll come down there and make you.

So I was healing. The pain was lessening and I was moving on, even though I missed him every day. And then came our birthday.

My birthday.

The first birthday I'd ever had without him. Christmas had passed and it was hard, but the rest of my family was there and I could cope. But birthdays are different. It was always our day, the one for us. It hurt so much when I saw the single jumper. It sounds like such a small thing, but ever since I can remember, there's been two hand-knitted jumpers every year, identical but for the letters.
It was like the one sign that really drove home that he was gone. He would never be part of this world again and I'd never, ever see him again, as long as I lived.

I couldn't face it. I ran out.

I ended up on a beach somewhere, sitting in the sand. I just sat there and screamed and sobbed and pulled at my hair. It was dark before I felt strong enough to return home. And since then, again, it's improving, but I can still barely take it. Every time I see a mirror, my stomach jolts. I keep turning around to laugh with him, and the pain courses through me again, like fresh poison every time.

And slowly, it came to me. I'll never see him again in this world, as long as I live. The answer is simple.

If I die, I'll join him wherever he is and be with him again.

Of course, I can't just die. It took me a long time to get my thoughts straight. It will be hard on my family to lose both of us but better than crying every time they see me. They will see and understand that it was the best thing for us all. I know they will.

So here I am. I left a note that explained everything. I close my eyes and say goodbye to everyone I love. Goodbye to all but one.

"See you soon, Forge," I whisper, and I smile as I jump. Wind slips past my ears and I feel a split second of pain.