Need You Now
I know that neither Fred nor George would have had phones, but for this story they did.
Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor.
George was alone. He hadn't talked to anyone. He hadn't left his room since the funeral. What was the point? Why should he talk to anyone? None of them knew how he felt. They may have lost a brother, or a son. He'd lost his other half. The one he could always rely on. He felt lost. And lonely. The house always seemed to be full of strangers, none of whom really knew Fred. He wanted to tell them to shove their pitiful "I'm sorry for your loss" up their ass. He couldn't be down there, with all the weeping women who never really knew his brother. The funeral was hard enough. All talking about how Fred was a lovely person and died too young. None of them even mentioned the sparkle in his eyes when he'd had an idea of how to cause trouble. The only one feeling anywhere near what Fred did, was Harry. Not because Harry knew Fred much better than any of the others. But George knew that Harry blamed himself, no matter how all of the Weasley's had tried to reassure him otherwise. George almost felt sorry for him, single-handedly taking all of the blame for anything Voldemort had done in his quest for power. Of course he wasn't really in any state to be feeling sorry for anyone else. He had been lying in bed for days. Lying in Fred's bed, (he couldn't stand to see it empty). He was surrounded by photos of his brother. Memories of their years together. Inseparable. Together forever. To borrow a quote from one of his current favourite songs: "Who would have known forever could be severed by, the sharp knife of a short life?"
He'd been doing that a lot recently. Listening to sad music in an attempt to really feel something. Instead of this haunting numb feeling that was worse than any pain.
Reaching for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore.
He wouldn't admit to this to anyone. Sometimes he tried to call Fred. Obviously, his brother couldn't answer. But just hearing his voice almost helped him to forget. George would do anything to forget. Not to forget his brother, just to forget that he had been taken from him. The worst part was remembering. Remembering that he was never going to see Fred smile again. Never going to see him grow old, get married, have children. They'd always both thought that they'd grow old and live next door to each other, with their respective families. Secretly they'd both thought they'd die at the same time, so one never had to live without the other. But that couldn't happen. Every time George woke up, for a minute he'd forget. Then he'd look over at the empty bed beside him, and it would hit him again. As bad as the first time that he'd heard those stupid words. "I'm sorry." He'd heard those more times than he could count over the last few days, and he hated it. Did they think apologising was going to make it OK. That a few insincere apologies would bring his brother back. It was a stupid tradition, something people said when they didn't know what else to. Unless they were going to tell him that Fred was okay, and that it was all a horrifying prank, he'd prefer them to keep their mouths firmly closed.
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
For me it happens all the time.
George wanted to know what being dead felt like. He'd never really believed in the concept of heaven before, but he didn't want to think of the alternatives. It was a much more pleasant image to think of Fred smiling down on them as their guardian angel, than to think of him rotting away in the dark, damp ground. George shook his head. His imagination had gone out of control recently, conjuring up grisly images for no real reason. He didn't really understand why. He didn't really care why. He wished their 'twin telepathy' worked beyond the grave. He supposed that would kind of defeat the point of death though, if you could communicate with your loved ones anyway. Almost like when Ron and Ginny were still at Hogwarts after he and Fred had left. They hadn't talked or seen each other for months at a time, yet he knew they were both safe and happy there. Maybe, if he just pretended that was what had happened to Fred, all this hurt would go away.
It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.
Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now.
And I don't know how I can do without.
I just need you now.
George didn't know how he'd lasted this long without his brother. He couldn't sleep. The deep purple bruises under his bloodshot eyes proved it. The nights were the worst. In that room, staring at all of Fred's things. Molly had once offered them separate rooms, but they'd refused. They didn't even want to be apart overnight, how was George meant to cope for the rest of his life. He wished he could talk to Fred one last time. Just let all of his feelings out; tell Fred how grateful he was to have had a brother like him. Ask him for advice on how to cope on his own. Fred had always been the best at giving advice. He always knew what to do. George missed him more than ever.
Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door
Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before
"It will get better." That's what they all said. The hospital therapists he had been forced to talk to in St. Mungo's. How dare they say that! As if he'd cut his knee or something. "The pain won't last." It made him furious, how they could just dismiss how he felt. Say that he'd get over it. Maybe he didn't want to get over it. George clenched the bottle of firewhisky tightly. It no longer burned going down his throat, he'd got over that a while ago. It was his lifeline. It made everything feel like some kind of horrific nightmare, and that he'd be able to wake up and see his twins smiling face. He'd give anything to know what Fred was laughing about when he died. That was one joke that George would never get to hear. It was just like Fred to not tell him the punchline, just to annoy him. Now Fred was happy and laughing in heaven, leaving the rest of them to try and pick up the pieces. It made him angry. Why did Fred get to go instead of him? Maybe he should just give up and join his brother.
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time
That wasn't an option. George knew how angry Fred would have been to know that his brother had even considered that. Plus he didn't know if his family would be able to cope with another loss. Whether Molly could survive losing two of her children. Whether Ginny would be alright if she lost both of her two closest brothers. Who would bully Ron and annoy Percy? Who'd make sure that Harry knew that he'd be in for a world of pain if he hurt their baby sister? Fred and George had planned to do these things together, but he knows now that life never happens the way you plan it, and that he's just going to have to suck it up and do it by himself.
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now.
Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now.
And I don't know how I can do without.
I just need you now.
He's going to have to run the joke shop alone. He'd need some help with that, maybe Hermione was interested in a summer job. Just until the Ministry rebuilt itself enough to employ her. He knew she was smart enough, if only he could do something about her incessant need to follow rules. Fred had always thought she had mischief potential hidden away deep inside her. He'd have to find away to break it out. George knew he was going to have to go back there one day. Back to Hogwarts. He couldn't let all of the years of good memories there with his brother be spoilt. Not when he knew there was no chance of replacing them. One day he'd go back, maybe when it didn't hurt quite so much. It might have just been the firewhisky talking, but the pain seemed to be getting better, more manageable. Not that it was going away; he seemed to miss Fred more with every single minute that passed. It just felt like he was getting better at coping with it. That was good; he was going to have to deal with it for the rest of his life. Losing your twin wasn't exactly something you got over.
Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all
George knew that instead of focusing on Fred's death, he should think of all the happy memories they had made together. That's what everyone said to him. But how could he when he knew that he would never even have the chance to see his brother laugh again. Never get to finish each other's sentences, never get to test new products on each other. The closest he'd ever get to seeing his brother grow old was when they had used the aging spell when trying to put their names in the Goblet of Fire. But the pain was a good thing. It meant that he was alive. The first week after Fred's death was hazy for him. He had been shrouded in disbelief, denial that his brother was gone. He had gone numb. The numbness made him feel sick to the core. Shouldn't he be grieving? Why couldn't he feel? It made him feel like he didn't care enough that Fred had died. Like he was a horrible human being for not feeling anything. Like he didn't deserve to be alive.
It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.
And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now.
And I don't know how I can do without.
I just need you now
I just need you now.
It was going to be OK. Not good, but he'd be OK. Eventually. But for now he still needed Fred more than words could say.
"Oh, Freddie I need you now"