Notes, disclaimers, etc.: Proper nouns are JKR's. About the last chapter, and the "are you going to marry her?" thing.. all will be revealed. *attempts to be mysterious* *fails* Anyway… so this isn't the end. Nope nope. And I love all of you for your reviews, especially black no. 1, Klee, Draco's Fetish, and Granitite: my regulars. I heart you guys. Did ya'll notice this didn't take so long to get out?
This chapter contains: twincest, slash, angst, running, and a happy ending. The only one you'll get. Just kidding.
Chapter 17: As We Lose Ourselves"George!" My ribcage is thrashing open like wings. "Christ, George." I'm screaming now, and running hard, and I think I'm going to trip and fall and lose you.
You keep running and I don't know where you get the endurance. Always ahead of me. And never faltering. The prospect of getting far enough away making you run faster.
"Bloody HELL, George!" You don't know where you're going and neither do I and all I can hear is your footsteps and mine, for the first time in seventeen years, not in rhythm.
You never turn. We'd both be fucked if you veered left or right and I couldn't find you, and you know it. I think maybe a teacher is pursuing us as well, maybe Hagrid hard on our heels, but we've been through this so many times that we lose them easily even as we lose ourselves.
I don't know if I can do it, George. Don't know if I can run hard enough or fast enough. We used to lay awake and listen to each other's breath. I can't even hear you now.
You stop running. You can feel my pain if you can't feel yours. I collapse against a trunk and my whole body is wracked with breath and I'm trying to steady myself.
When I look up you are gone.
The trees start to look the same. Without you with me I'm not sure I can find anything in this godforesaken forest. But I know it is here somewhere, the hollow tree with a crawlspace just big enough to fit two people who were meant to be one.
I reach out to you, try to feel your surroundings as well as mine. They said it wasn't possible but didn't I used to feel it when you walked by a bush and got scraped by a thorn? Didn't you always complain about the rock in your shoe when there was only one in mine?
But yours are so similar to mine now, dank air and green blurs and wet dirt and the perfume of rain. Is it your air I'm breathing? Or mine.
I make the last turn and I am hoping it's the right one because I might faint if I'm lost here in the forest. Without you.
"Christ—" Breath. "How did you—get into—such good—shape?" I lean against the trunk. Too personal now to crawl into the gaping hole in the tree with you.
You shrug. Calmly: "Why are you here?"
I could answer this. I have a million answers to this question and all I can manage is, "Felt like coming out here."
Accusing: "You followed me."
I try to say no. I try to tell you that I didn't follow you—that I found you. And that that makes all the difference.
Your voice cracks. "What the fuck do you want, Fred?" And I can feel your muscles tensing.
"Don't—don't run." I plead, my legs still shaky. "Let me—can I just—breathe."
You settle for glaring at me, all scared and hurt and furious at the same time. In your mind you're running circles, you're screaming, you're curling into a ball and sobbing. But you hold eye contact and I have no idea how you got so strong.
I close my eyes. No longer struggling for air but aching-empty all the same. "What you said—this morning—"
"Fuck." You're on you knees.
"No. Listen. What you—when you—what you meant. What you said." Can feel myself slumping. Giving into the words, needing the support I used to draw from you like blood. Now I know that you have always been strong.
You're waiting but I know it's not for long.
Quietly: "I hate that we don't talk. I hate going to bed at night and knowing that you won't ever wake me up and make me sneak out with you. I hate that we're fighting and I hate that my mind's not yours and I hate going to sleep without you there and I hate that this is all my fault." Sliding down the trunk, the dirt getting all over my pants and I don't care anymore. "It wasn't supposed to be this way, George. I'm not supposed to stare at you. I'm not supposed to need you. I'm not supposed to want more. Fuck, George. We weren't supposed to be like this."
Everything in you crumples. Gives way. You close your eyes and I can't tell if you're trying not to hear me or trying to memorize every word, every silence.
I crawl into the space beside you, my final gesture. We fold to fit in the small space. Legs crisscrossed and your heart thumping against my ear.
We sit in silence and inhale the essence. Right now we are brothers. Lovers. Twins. Enemies. Together. Separate. Fred. George.
One mind. Soul. Pulse.