A/N: I'm writing this cause I read a story and I really wanted to write this down. It's a one-shot so don't expect any more.
Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. Harry. Potter.
"It's almost time I think." Angelina Weasley (née Johnson) whispers to her husband.
"I know, but you should enjoy it while you can." Her husband, George Weasley says, reluctantly giving a small smile.
Angelina, had gotten a Muggle disease called cancer, and was soon going to die.
At this time, they were both 75 years old and they had received a visit from their grandchildren a little while before.
Thinking back to his childhood, all George can remember is Fred, his deceased twin.
Angelina was the only one that made him accept that Fred was gone and that Fred wouldn't want him to end his own life to be with him again.
She gave him the happiness he needed, and with that, he fell in love with her.
Without her, he would remember. He would be alone again. He wouldn't have his second half. Now, he would only have two fourths of his being.
Himself and his family.
Fred was gone. Angelina was dying.
He wished so much that he would die soon.
"It'll be ok." Angelina croaks, barely able to speak.
George shakes his head angrily. "I should be telling you that. Your the one dying."
She lets out a faint laugh, which turns to a cough.
"You'll act like you did after Fred died. I can already see it. George, you can't do that. You just can't."
George nods his head, he wasn't going to deny his dying wife of one last thing.
"I'll see him." She manages to get out after a moment.
George gulps, tears running down his face.
"Tell...tell him I said goodbye, and I love him."
Angelina strokes his face and nods, sighing sadly.
"I will. I swear I will."