[It's all because he can't let it go. Not when he's kept up at night with the thought of it, kept conscious of the fact every time he's made aware his heart still isn't beating. He's hurt himself working a few times - he just heals right up as though nothing's happened. He can't just let it go because it won't bloody let him. The red spreads out to the tips of his hair, giving him back his Weasley flare and Merlin, does he wish there was more to break than just a chair.
Instead he inhales deeply at his brother's presence, feels him at his back like fire running along his spine, like cold air nipping at his neck, like that blasted wall coming apart before he's even got a chance to blink-.
Against all logic, Fred turns to face him, grey eyes brimming with colorless tears, just as biting and bitter and painful as the rest of it.]
What in the Hell am I supposed to say, Georgie? You said it yourself - I've died. What more is there?
a cup full of nothing for him to indulge - he feels alone;
Instead he inhales deeply at his brother's presence, feels him at his back like fire running along his spine, like cold air nipping at his neck, like that blasted wall coming apart before he's even got a chance to blink-.
Against all logic, Fred turns to face him, grey eyes brimming with colorless tears, just as biting and bitter and painful as the rest of it.]
What in the Hell am I supposed to say, Georgie? You said it yourself - I've died. What more is there?