poly_chromatic

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[ The feed turns on to flames in a patch of flowers, bright red in stark contrast to the healthy colour of the grass and roses about it, but they don't appear to be burning. Perhaps it's not a flame after all, but rather a particular head of hair - familiar to some, certainly - and then he begins to stir.

Up sits one Fred Weasley, bleary eyed and stretching with a yawn. He blinks a bit, taking in his surroundings curiously before noting the recording device and taking it with a vague sense of amusement. One more yawn and a lazy scratch of the back of his head, and then he speaks with a tired smile. ]

Not a bad place to kip, eh?

[ ooc; Fred returns to the City! He's just woken up in Xanadu, and he has no clue that he's been gone. This is completely open to 4th wall shenanigans of all sorts - only just don't tell him they're characters from a book, and anything from the age of the epilogue will be forgotten after the curse. I missed you all, and I love you. ;; ♥ ]

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[Dammit, why does he have to do that. George wants to be angry! Angry is so much easier to deal with than any of the other emotions that are spilling out. He shoves him - hard - probably enough to hit the shelves behind him.]

Why are you even here if you're just going to keep leaving us again?

[ And hit them, he does, sending more of their products onto the floor and Fred just takes it. The punches, the shoves, the accusations and the blame. It's his. He knows it. And he swallows hard. ]

I don't know, Georgie. I haven't got a clue.

[ None of it makes a lick of sense to him. Why's he here? Why'd he have to leave in the first place - why'd he have to die? It isn't fair and it doesn't make sense and he just doesn't know. ]

[George backs up until he hits the opposite wall and slumps there. He can't keep hitting him when he won't fight back like this. But he can't forgive him quite yet. His whole body slouches, exhausted to the core.]

I can't take it any more. Getting left behind.

[ If the assault's mostly over, then Fred's taking this opportunity to advance. He steps closer, warily, and stops just in front of him with a sad look. ]

I know.

[ A beat, and he grabs the front of George's shirt to pull him into a tight hug. Too tight, it might hurt even, but Fred doesn't care because fuck all, he's going to start crying. ]

I'm sorry.

[It takes a moment before George lets his body relax, and brings his arms around his brother, holding on tightly. Why is the universe so intent on separating them?]

I know, Fred.

[ Because J.K. Rowling is a whore they were the unfortunate victims of an unfortunate time, and all wars have casualties or some rubbish like that. Fred's proud of his death - an honourable one, fought beside people he loves for a cause he believed in - but the damage left in its wake is a mess he can't clean, and -- ]

It's not fair.

[No, it isn't. George doesn't know any way to respond to that other than to hold him a little tighter.]

[ He buries his face into his brother's shoulder. The same height, the same build, the same damn everything and yet worlds apart. Lifetimes apart, because someday they'll be in this same position all over again and he won't be there to hold him.

Fred inhales deeply, shakily and it's very clear that he's crying but he won't make any sign of it beyond that. They're together again - for now - and he isn't going to spoil it with tears. ]

[George's hands go in circles on his back. He's not sure when they swapped places - that it now him comforting his twin - but he feels familiar and he doesn't mind. This is what they do. Did. Do again. They look after each other.]

[ Honestly, it's a wonder the switch took this long. Fred spent so much time in denial, acting as though nothing was wrong and covering it up with anger and aggression that he never took a chance to actually feel, and now he's being crushed with the weight of it. He's mourning his own bloody death and there's something terribly cruel in that. It hurts and he's not sure what to do about it.

But pride can only permit so much, and not a few moments later, he's pulling away to turn his back to George and try to put himself back together. They are broken and falling apart and Fred is back and he just can't let that happen. He has to at least try. He turns back with a sigh, face blotchy and red and unflattering in every way but he smiles anyway. ]

Fancy some fresh air or would you like to have another go at me?

It's no fun when you don't fight back. Come on, we'll go home.

It'd be a shame to muck up that lovely face of yours.

[ He'll knuckle George's chin lightly just to show he's joking. ]

But sounds a good plan all the same. I think I'm due for a good cuppa.

oo1.

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