TW: Mentions of suicide, and murder. Please don't read if the things mentioned above are triggers.
Made by me subbing for CinderellaAtTheBall for Round Five of QLFC.
Team: Wanderers, Position: Chaser 2: Prompt: Jealousy
Additional prompts: [word] fleeting, [word] casual, [quote] "Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savouring of loneliness." - Poppy Z. Brite
"Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savouring of loneliness." - Poppy Z. Brite
That Deep Down Inside Of Me
George was jealous of his brother. There was no other word for it. It wasn't like the jealousy he had hidden when Fred had gotten their father's good as new watch at seventeen and George had been stuck with Uncle Gideon's tattered one. It wasn't like the jealousy he had hidden when Fred had asked Angelina to be his date to the Yule Ball. No, it wasn't even like the jealousy he had hidden when Fred had been the first of them to notice and open the Marauder's Map. It was a darker, more open jealousy. He was jealous that Fred had left him to rot alone on the Land of The Living while he, himself, skipped away happy in the Afterlife. He was jealous that Fred was probably content, while George stayed on Earth, miserable.
They had been so happy. Since the day they were born —Fred first, then George—those mischievous looks in their large blue eyes, they had been inseparable. They almost never left each other's side, not for anything. When they had begun talking, they had immediately plotted, whether it was out loud or silently, pranks that they would play on their family. When they had been old enough to run around on their own, they had disappeared inside the house for hours, only to come out once someone had found them, goop in their hair or non-existent eyebrows on their foreheads. When they had first used their accidental magic, everyone had, at the same time, prayed to the heavens that nothing bad would happen whist simultaneously being relieved they had their magic. Their prayers had been wrong, however, because, not even an hour after their first bout, they had proceeded to make the lives of every person in the Burrow hell. When that had gotten boring, they had gone quiet for a while. Their family had cherished that time, thinking that it must have been a phase they had gotten over.
They had been wrong. So, so wrong.
They had begun a prank war. It had continued until the twins had been over seven years old. Only then had they stopped. Again, their family had prayed that no more toilets would go missing, and that no more rooms would be covered in glitter.
They had been wrong there, too. The twins had forced Arthur to Charm the tiny shed outside so that it was undetectably extended. Then they would barricade themselves in there for hours, with their mother's Duplicated spoons, forks, and their family's old clothes, toys, anything that could be charmed or Transfigured. George had borrowed any and all books that Bill hadn't needed. They had hardly emerged, except for Quidditch, meals, or sleep. When they had almost sworn Ron to an Unbreakable Vow, something they had seen in Bill's Curse-Breaker books, their father had banned them from any and all books, even joke ones.
That was when they had begun plotting. They had parchment, a lot of parchment. They dedicated one wall of the shed to paper sticking. They permanently stuck building plans, product plans, name plans, anything that they could think of that had to do with their future joke shop.
When it was time for Hogwarts, Molly had taken them into Diagon Alley. They had been sent away with the two Galleons each that they had saved for most of their young lives. They had bought sweets—a giant bag of sweets—for themselves, with half of their money, using the rest for prank objects. They had disappeared with their shopping as soon as they had returned home, dissecting the purchases from Filibuster's to make their own amazing things.
So, when George thought about his twin, he opted not to think about how bitter he was. Instead he thought about their short lives as each other's halves. He visited special places like their tiny shed, snorting at their childhood drawings and crayons. He even went back to the attic to get their shared—their family did not have enough money to buy one for each of them—trunk, which had another Undetectable Extension Charm on it.
But he did not go back to the jealous memories.
Instead, he thought back to the time they took a casual stroll over to the old Diggory farm and stole that noisy little chicken, only to have Molly discover it and prohibit them from entering their shed for a month. That had been a boring month. He thought back to the time George had gotten Dragon Pox, and how Fred had sat outside his magical containment bubble and told him stories and played games with him 'til he fell asleep. He thought back to the many times that he had pretended to be Fred to cover for him while Fred ran around the garden to get a Gnome tooth. Yes, he remembered it all. He remembered how excited they had been upon finding out the identities of the real Marauders, wanting to spend as much time as possible with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.
But as much as he tried not to be, he was still jealous of Fred. Because Fred did not have to live with the pity and sympathy that George did. Fred did not have to live with their family walking on eggshells around him. Fred did not have to live without his other half. Fred did not have to live. And George, no matter how much he tried not to, sobbed at night, wishing more than anything that he was with his twin. George felt suffocated. George didn't want to ban himself from looking in the mirror just because, for a fleeting moment, he thought he had seen Fred. He didn't want to wake up and expect to find goo in his hair, Fred grinning mischievously from his own bed. No, George did not want to look down and notice how split his soul was, or how he could hear Fred laughing around every corner and on every sofa.
So George, overcome by jealousy, was found with a letter saying just that, while he himself smiled contentedly on the ground of his flat, blood oozing from his slit wrists.
In his hands was a photograph of himself and Fred.
Thank you to the lovely CinderellaAtTheBall and NeonDomino for heavily beta-ing this! You would not believe the number of things they had to correct lol. Anyway, big cheer for them.