Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count - 520
Warnings - Brief mention of suicidal thoughts
A Joke Without A Punchline
He'd tried to soak in the bath, but he couldn't relax. It wasn't new, but it frustrated him nonetheless. He couldn't settle to anything these days. Washing himself off quickly, George climbed out of the bathtub and used his wand to dry off, too impatient to do it manually, even if the magic made his skin itch.
He didn't really know why he'd rushed, it wasn't like he was going anywhere, or seeing anyone, or… anything.
With Fred gone…
He left the bathroom and avoided his bedroom, padding almost silently down the carpeted stairs. Thankfully, his mother had decided to have an early night, and he wouldn't be forced to put on a brave face for her. It hurt him to smile and pretend like he was okay when he was fairly sure he'd never be okay again.
He just couldn't bring himself to let her know that.
She was suffering too, he had to remind himself. She'd lost a son, in the same way George had lost his twin.
While George was perfectly willing, and in fact wished, to let his grief master him, encompass him entirely, his mum was forcing herself and the rest of them with her to go about life as though it hadn't ended with Fred.
He understood, or at least, he thought he did.
She had a husband, other children too, she had more people to focus on. She cleaned and cooked and kept herself busy because it was the way she always dealt with things but George didn't have any of that.
Everything he did, even looking in the mirror, reminded him of Fred.
The curse of spending all of their time together, George supposed bitterly, as he entered the kitchen, was that without Fred there to guide him, George didn't know who he was.
He'd never been alone and now he was, he was floundering.
It was dark outside, nighttime had truly fallen, but George slipped out of the backdoor anyway. He sat on the bench by the pond, balancing on the edge of it, because it wasn't sturdy and he didn't want to break it and the noise to bring people.
He didn't think he had it in him to pretend in that moment.
It was a month. A whole month of being alone. He hated every single second of it, but he'd made it. He didn't know how he was supposed to make it another month. A year. A decade.
Who was he, without Fred at his side.
Even their jokes had been told together, one of them telling the joke, the other with the punchline. That was all that was left of George.
A joke without a punchline.
He'd thought of stopping. Of just… not being anymore, because with one of them gone, would anyone really realise the other had gone too, but he wouldn't do that to their mother.
She'd notice.
He wondered if she'd be the only one who did.
Footsteps sounded behind him, but he didn't look around. As soon as he was joined on the bench, he knew it was his oldest brother.
Bill didn't say anything. He didn't need too.
As soon as tears started pouring down George's face, Bill tugged him close and he held him there and let him sob, and he stroked a gently hand up and down his back.
When there were no more tears, Bill didn't leave. They sat for hours, until the sun came up and then they sat some more. Percy joined them, and then Charlie, and Ron and Ginny, and finally their parents.
Never once did anyone speak. They didn't need too.
The bench was sturdier than George thought. Perhaps… perhaps he was, too.
Written for:
Hogwarts Olympics - Ice Hockey / Gold - Contains no dialogue / 5. Nighttime
Galleon - 4. The Burrow
365 - 161. Soak