[Fred's not quite so composed. He tries to be, inhaling stiffly out of frustration, but it only lasts a minute before the blue tinge to the wall starts to make sense and it all boils over. He turns and grabs a chain from the dining table - and throws it against the wall. It splinters apart, but it's easily Repared, not that Fred cares right now. He braces both hands against the table, keeping his back to George, and just. Breathes. Tries not to let the anger and guilt and irritation and guilt and depression and ungodly amounts of fucking guilt take over.
But he fails. Again.
One more chair gets thrown to the floor in his haste to leave the kitchen, to leave his brother's mess of glass and water, those cruel and unfair tears biting at his twin's eyes. He can't stand it, can't take it, and much as he knows George needs this, he just can't. There isn't a thing in the world that'd get him to abandon George, so he won't Apparate away. Fred just needs to get outside and find fresh air - more useless, unnecessary and hurtful air - so he stalks from the house without even closing the door and stops just before reaching the woods. Be a man about this, Freddie. Don't cry. Don't fall to pieces here. Not now, not when you've been trying so hard to keep it together.]
a cup full of nothing for him to indulge - he feels alone;
But he fails. Again.
One more chair gets thrown to the floor in his haste to leave the kitchen, to leave his brother's mess of glass and water, those cruel and unfair tears biting at his twin's eyes. He can't stand it, can't take it, and much as he knows George needs this, he just can't. There isn't a thing in the world that'd get him to abandon George, so he won't Apparate away. Fred just needs to get outside and find fresh air - more useless, unnecessary and hurtful air - so he stalks from the house without even closing the door and stops just before reaching the woods. Be a man about this, Freddie. Don't cry. Don't fall to pieces here. Not now, not when you've been trying so hard to keep it together.]