Weasley Twins Oneshots & Imagines

Break Me Like a Promise (F.W.)

*angst

Just how many times had he heard the words, "Best friends always fall for one another"?

He'd very much like to tell the people that had told him that to kindly piss off, thank you very much.

He'd been hurt many times before. Of course he had. Fred was used to it at this point, he reckoned his body had adapted easily to the constant blows to the shins or knees and things. As a brother, he was always getting ragged on and wrestled with by his other siblings. He'd ended up with black eyes, split lips, knees to the stomach more times than he could count on two hands. As an athlete, he'd taken countless bludgers to the body, either on the Quidditch pitch or in the comfort of his own backyard. George had been prone to getting hurt, too. Of course, Fred had always jumped at the chance to help George feel better, whenever he needed it. Fred loved being the older of the two. He always took his job as "big brother" very seriously, and it only got stronger one Ron and Ginny were born. He wanted to be somebody they could need.

But there was something different about this type of hurt. He couldn't control it. He couldn't make sense of it, and nobody could fix it, not even his own twin.

On the outside, Fred had always put forth an aura of confidence. Nothing could get him down, could it? He'd be dammed if he ever let anyone see him with nothing but a huge grin on his face, that usual mischievous glint in his eye. But on the inside, he was just like everyone else.

As a hoarse cry escaped him, he clamped his hand over his mouth, desperate to not let the sounds of his broken heart echo their way down into the common room, to where his friends were indulging in hot cups of butterbeer, cheering for Harry's tumultuous win versus the others in the tournament, all the while unaware of Fred, unable to control his emotions and crumpling to the ground like a pit of scrap parchment thrown into the bin.

It was his own fault really. He shouldn't have been so bloody stupid in the first place. He had this coming from the start. He felt a painful, unfamiliar burn in the back of his throat before his vision turned blurry yet again. He didn't want to replay the sound of you saying I'm so sorry over and over in his head, like a broken record. He muffled some sort of expletive under his breath, and though he'd never admit it, all he yearned for was nothing more than a tight embrace from his brother.

He shouldn't have let himself say yes.

He could have said no,

but he would've hated himself if he had.

"D'you reckon I'd be able to punch that smirk right off of his ugly little rat face?" you'd asked one day, brows threaded together in annoyance. The two of you were sitting in the middle of a Charms lesson, and you were glancing over toward a Ravenclaw who was busy charming his way through every single female student surrounding him with nothing but the batting of his eyelashes.

You turned back toward Fred and your features twisted into a grin. "I mean, just look at him, would you? What an arrogant little git. Thinks he can just woo his way through a lesson. Ridiculous."

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Fred asked you. Playfully, he elbowed you in the ribs, causing you to recoil a bit, and he continued, "wasn't it just a few weeks ago that he'd been wooing you? Besides, Y/N, pretty sure I'd heard you ramble on about how he's the best looking bloke in school," he flipped his long hair dramatically in an attempt to make fun of you and earned himself a nice punch to the arm.

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Sneering a bit, you said, "Yeah, that is until he opened his mouth," You huffed and narrowed your eyes, "He really is a git, you know."