[The tackle comes as a surprise, and hitting the ground knocks the breath he doesn't need out of him. He's reminded of Ginny's tackling in the fountain, though that had been in the middle of a hug instead of the middle of a row, but that isn't what bothers him. Fred is suddenly terribly self conscious of his lack of heartbeat and warmth, of the fact that their sister noticed both when they were in the exact same position. George knows he's dead, he's had to deal with it for apparently months now, but that doesn't mean Fred wants the fact shoved right back in his face. Using the hand still balled in George's shirt and snaking a leg behind him, he rolls them over to pin his twin down to the concrete, pursing his lips tight and trying not to grind his teeth.
Fred's always been the more hot-headed one, the quicker to anger and the one to charge in head first when instinct tells him to. But he's so conflicted, so torn and twisted in a million different ways that he doesn't know how he's supposed to react anymore. He's so bloody angry, but a rather large part of him is fairly certain that rage is directed at himself.]
Must be, to count on a git like you to figure it out. Suppose next time I'll have to hold your hand, hm?
[He's the leader, he's supposed to guide them both. He's not supposed to up and die and leave Georgie behind. He's not supposed to be sent to some mystical dimension where there's no way for George to follow. He's supposed to stay with him, always and forever, and this is all his ruddy fault, isn't it? It's all too much, he can't control it or stop it and he gives in, keeping one hand firmly clinging to his shirt and resting his forehead on his brother's chest as he tries his best not to shake. If he does, it's only because his body aches from the brawling, certainly not because he's on the verge of exploding.]
i had to find you, had to let you know that you aren't alone;
Fred's always been the more hot-headed one, the quicker to anger and the one to charge in head first when instinct tells him to. But he's so conflicted, so torn and twisted in a million different ways that he doesn't know how he's supposed to react anymore. He's so bloody angry, but a rather large part of him is fairly certain that rage is directed at himself.]
Must be, to count on a git like you to figure it out. Suppose next time I'll have to hold your hand, hm?
[He's the leader, he's supposed to guide them both. He's not supposed to up and die and leave Georgie behind. He's not supposed to be sent to some mystical dimension where there's no way for George to follow. He's supposed to stay with him, always and forever, and this is all his ruddy fault, isn't it? It's all too much, he can't control it or stop it and he gives in, keeping one hand firmly clinging to his shirt and resting his forehead on his brother's chest as he tries his best not to shake. If he does, it's only because his body aches from the brawling, certainly not because he's on the verge of exploding.]