[Well, that's just it, isn't it? The hug says it all. For the first few moments, Fred's arms hang limp at his sides as George hugs him, because he is never more self conscious of his lack of heartbeat than the moments when his brother is so close to him - but he's always close to him. Always there beside him, in every waking and sleeping moment when Fred's lying awake at night, staring into the depths of the ceiling as George breaths evenly, worlds away and peaceful and whole and every bloody breath is just one more stab at the fact this won't last forever.
He's here and they're together and everything should be brilliant but it isn't and that hurts.
So Fred doesn't hug him back, not right away. He's too busy trying to swallow down his anger, trying to stop the guilt from tearing them both apart, but it only lasts just a few seconds before an overwhelming grief takes control and he's clinging right back. Grief, because he's lost, been lost, lost to the universe save for this one pin-prick in time and space where two brothers, two halves of a whole, one perfectly imperfect soul, have only this moment to hold on to. Fred doesn't know what's happened to him, how things got so horrendously mussed up, but he does know that this single point in time means all the world and more.
So he clings. And he doesn't say a word beyond an unintelligible whisper and an audible weep. What else is there to say?]
a cup full of nothing for him to indulge - he feels alone;
He's here and they're together and everything should be brilliant but it isn't and that hurts.
So Fred doesn't hug him back, not right away. He's too busy trying to swallow down his anger, trying to stop the guilt from tearing them both apart, but it only lasts just a few seconds before an overwhelming grief takes control and he's clinging right back. Grief, because he's lost, been lost, lost to the universe save for this one pin-prick in time and space where two brothers, two halves of a whole, one perfectly imperfect soul, have only this moment to hold on to. Fred doesn't know what's happened to him, how things got so horrendously mussed up, but he does know that this single point in time means all the world and more.
So he clings. And he doesn't say a word beyond an unintelligible whisper and an audible weep. What else is there to say?]