Notes, disclaimers, etc: it's called fanfiction for a reason, folks. And I'm not sure whether JKR approves of me twisting her lovely twinsies in such a way, but too bad for her. So. Thanks once again to everyone who reviewed. I just realized there's been a distinct lack of Voldie in this story. If anyone has a good idea that will explain Voldie's absence without having a big showdown between Harry and him, would you mind suggesting it? Because I haven't the slightest. Thankee eversomuch.

Okay so this chapter contains much angst, much foul language, much slash, and much crying.

Chapter 13: Missing You In Black and White

        You know that I am here.

        You know that I am pacing around your bed, grinding my teeth together and you know that Lee is giving me worried glances every five seconds and you know that I am waiting, goddamnit, waiting for you to get the fuck up.

        You're awake; I saw your eyes flash open, saw your muscles flex slightly as you tumbled harshly into the world of reality. You're pretending to be asleep.

        Daniel and Emmett are playing chess and Lee is pretending to be studying but his eyes flutter nervously from me to you and back again and anyway, it's Lee. Lee doesn't study.

        I feel, rather than see, your decision to just face the bloody music and get it over with. Your stretching and yawning is exaggerated but you've never had to pretend to wake up. Or to sleep. You never had to pretend with me and I never had to pretend with you, but we've done nothing but pretend all year long and it grates on my nerves, a constant ache, like seeing in black and white when you know there should be color.

        I stop my pacing and our three roommates look up expectantly, tensing their muscles, waiting for their cue to leave.

        You offer me a wide, forced, shit-eating grin. "Good morning!" You say.

        I take a deep breath, force my face into what I hope is some kind of a nonchalant expression. "Morning." I say evenly.

        Daniel and Emmett beat a hasty retreat, Daniel clutching the chess board, Emmett the pieces.

        "Where were you last night?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level. I know where you were.

        The smile, so much like mine, drops off your face and I can almost hear it shatter on the floor. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?" You sneer and I wince at your tone. Bloody hell, you sound more like Malfoy than you ever have.

        "Fine." I can, will match your disdain.

        Your eyes bored, your voice amused. "Lee was fucking me in the showers." You raise your eyebrows. "But you already knew that."

        Lee gathers his books. "Okay, I am officially leaving you two to murder each other in peace." He announces, and as he is nearly out the door he turns and says, very clearly and very slowly and very sternly, "Leave. Me. Out. Of. This."

        "Kiss my ass, Lee." We say in unison, then glare at eachother.

        Once he is gone, you say, "What the hell were you doing, spying on us?"

        Indignant: "I wasn't spying on you! I was splashing water on my face, for Christ sakes. You were the ones shagging in the showers. The bloody showers!"

        "Yes. In the showers. I believe that's already been stated.  Anyway, why do you care?"

        A thousand answers spring to my mind: because you always tell me everything, because he's our best friend, because it was just a shock to hear you, because it ended your childhood, because you're mine. But even though I open my mouth I can't bring myself to say them, the last one in particular. So a long silence follows your question and your eyes narrow and oh Jesus, you know, of course you know, how could I block you out, how could I keep secret how beautiful you are, how much I need you now that you're lost to me.

        "You're in love with him, aren't you." You say, and there's a weird chord in your voice, a desperate rising and falling that vanishes as soon as it calls attention to itself.

        I gape at you. And choke back hysteria. And nearly slap you.

        "You're in love with him." You repeat wearily, almost to yourself.

        "I-"

        You suddenly get very angry and yell, "You're in love with Lee, aren't you, you selfish git, and you're angry because he chose me, me over you-" your voice rising, getting a decibel louder, with every word.

        I want to beg you to understand, I want to make you stop saying it, to stop defining us so thoroughly and separately. Because through all of this I have believed that even if we are not Fred and George, we are still you and me. One entity.

        You are still going. "-you pathetic bastard-"

        No more. "Stop. Stop!" My voice is shaky and high and screeching.

        Surprisingly, you obey and the room is silent and the air is harsh and our breathing, ragged. My heart batters at my ribcage, crying for a way out, screaming for an escape.

        "You don't understand." I manage, and to my dismay I can feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. I don't want to cry here, now, in front of you, while you revel in my weakness, in my defeat. "You never understand."

        "What." You say and your voice is nearly civil. "What don't I understand? You're in love with Lee, that's easy to-"

        "I'm not in love with Lee." I say quietly, slumping to the floor and pressing my palms against my eyes.

        "You're crying."

        "Bloody brilliant observation, Sherlock."

        "If you're not in love with Lee, then why-"

        "I don't want to talk about it."

        "But it doesn't-"

        "Fred, I said I don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It."

        After a moment of silence, I say weakly, my voice small and feeble, "Fuck."

        You stare down at me for a moment, your mouth twisted in indecision.

        "Why the fuck were you shagging Lee, anyway." I sniffle.

        You're as cold as if you've choked on an iceberg when you say, "Why the hell do you care, George? If you're not in love with Lee."

        Infuriated, exasperated, and tired of lying I hurl myself to my feet and scream, "Are you fucking blind? And deaf as well? I'm in love with you, you bleeding idiot, I'm in love with-" I realize what I am saying. "With you." I finish softly.

        One minute of ear-drum bursting silence. Two. Five. And you still haven't moved. You still haven't said a word. You're still gaping at me, mouth wide open, eyelids fluttering in astonishment.

        Finally you stir and croak, "George…" reaching towards me, as if to console me, and there is pity and something more in your eyes but I refuse to read it.

        "Don't touch me." I hiss, jerking out of your reach. "Don't touch me."

        Without another word you turn to go.

        When you are gone, I sit down once more and wrap my arms around my knees and cry so hard I can't breathe.