Ron never really understood the concept of heroes. I mean, sure, he knew what a hero was, but the term was flung around far too often. A dog saves his owner - hero. A woman stops a kidnapping - hero. A man risks his life to save a girl getting mugged - hero.
Why?
Shouldn't everyone does these things anyways? It's not as if they are heroes, but everyone else were cowards.
That is why he is shocked when he starts hearing the term more often. Boy hero, boy-who-lived, child hero, hero, hero hero. Why? Why is this small, scrawny child a hero? Because he lived when no one else had? This isn't a fairytale, it's real life.
He's a child, he shouldn't be fighting a bloody war. Sure, he isn't any younger than himself, but he knows he would be quite put out if people started calling him a hero for no reason. He is almost certain Harry doesn't see it that way.
They all expect him to fight Voldemort, and win. But why should he? He's a child. He should be worrying about his school work, and girls, and kid stuff; not a war.
When his Sirius dies, Harry distances himself. Ron sees this, and always tries to be there for him. But, Ron knows, at fourteen you understand death. You understand murder. He knows Harry knows. And now, it's personal.
Sometimes Ron wonders if it's really worth it. Why not let Voldemort win? Let Harry rest, let him be a normal kid. But, he knows it doesn't work that way, and Harry continues to be the boy hero.
He watches as Harry becomes more and more distant, more tired, more worn out. Time drags on, and more people die. Harry blames himself of course; he's the hero, but he can't save everyone. He finds Harry sobbing in the bathroom.
He's not sure when he knew what he had to do. He's sure finding his best friend alone and crying had to do with it, but, a little part of his mind says he knew before then.
It's not hard to get Voldemort to come to him; pretending to be Harry and summoning via letter worked quite well. The grounds are empty, students asleep inside the school walls, and for a split second he wonders if his plan will work, or if he has inadvertently killed thousands of children.
Voldemort, once realizing he has walked in to a trap, lashes out at the boy. Ron cries out in pain, but is not defeated. He summons up all his hatred for the man and with a flick of his wrist, and a green light, Voldemort is no more.
He is a murderer, but he does not care. He may be named as a hero himself, but he did it for Harry, not himself. He did it for the boy, not the hero. For a boy with a thirst for obscurity, and a need to be seen as himself.