Friends Forever? GeorgeWeasleyXReader

Chapter 77

*December 2005

   My hands wrap around the warm cup of tea as I stare out the kitchen window of my second home. The giggles and joyful conversations from the other room are drowned out by my own thoughts. A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my dreary mind.

   "Honey," the sweet voice of Miss Molly whispers, "what is wrong?"

   I sigh, looking up at her, "George is being distant again."

   She purses her lips, settling in beside me, "What about the therapist you were going to? Did that help at all?"

   "He went once, then stopped." I shake my head, "I still go every two weeks."

   Her delicate hand, full of wrinkles now, squeezes mine. The clock on the wall sits where it always has, just now it is missing one hand. A tear falls from my face, splashing onto the table.

    "Oh, honey," Miss Molly runs a finger across my cheek, "Maybe I can get Arthur to talk to him?"

    "I can't ask him to do that. George has made it clear he doesn't want to talk to anyone about anything. He won't even talk about Fred anymore!" I croak out the last of the words. "He just does so well with Freddie, and I know he still loves me, but he just gets so-"

   "Hey Mummy! Freddie here is getting hungry," George's voice impedes on our conversation.

   I quickly rub my eyes, plastering on a smile as I look at my husband and my sweet baby boy. "Freddie, do you want something to eat?" A giggle and nod erupt from the little red head.

*Dinner

   I tucked Freddie upstairs in the makeshift cot in George's old room. I slip back down the stairs to the smells of roast chicken and the sounds of the Weasley clan. I sit down next to Ginny, who is in a deep conversation about Quidditch with Bill. These family dinners always make me realize how lucky we are to be here still. The darkness from the War is over and we are the lucky ones. 

   My mind wonders while I scoop potatoes onto my plate. I catch George's eyes darting between Miss Molly and I. There's no way he could have heard what I was saying to her. I bite down on my lip before shoveling a mouth full of food in.

    Mr. Arthur clears his throat, "I just want to say I am so happy we can still get together for holidays like this. Now, if you all will enjoy dinner and get to bed so we can do our presents in the morning, that would be wonderful!"

   A small cheer goes out as everyone digs in, eating to their hearts content. I avoid the eyes of my husband, which I can feel boring into my skull. Not only was George staring at me, but Miss Molly kept looking at me as she whispered to Mr. Arthur. 

*Later that night

   "So what were you and Mum talking about earlier?" George stands in the doorway of his old bedroom, a towel wrapped around his middle.

   I look up, my breath hitching at the sight of him, memories of our teenage years flooding into my mind. I gulp before answering, "We were just talking about how Freddie moved into his own room and I miss him." I can taste the lie on my tongue, rancid.

   He shakes his head, the droplets of water tossed by his hair. He stalks over to the bed, checking to see if Freddie is asleep in his cot before he continues over to me. I slide up on the bed so my back is against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest. 

   He grabs his boxers, pulling them on. He crawls onto the bed, slowly moving on top of me. He sits so I'm between his knees. I can feel my pulse quicken as he gently pulls my chin up to meet his face.

   His eyes look into my soul, "Now, Y/n. I've known you for way too long for you to lie to me. I know it was something serious, because you acted off the rest of the night." The palm of his head nestles against my cheek, his eyes pleading, "Please tell me what made you so upset."

   My fingers wrap around the comforter as I try to gather my thoughts. I bite my lip and the words rush out, "I was talking about therapy and how you stopped going and I want you to go again." 

    George's eyes widen and he sinks back into the bed, leaving his position above me. His long fingers run through his hair and over his face. A groan escapes his lips, "Y/n, we have talked about this. It just doesn't work for me. I don't want to go. I never have stopped you from going, but I can't have you push me to go."

   I twist my fingers around each other, "George, there are nights when you won't come to bed and you just stay on the couch or in the shop. Some days I don't even know where you are! You leave for days at a time without a word and I have no idea how to reach you or if you are in a ditch somewhere!" I lower my voice as I see Freddie stir, "I worry about you."

   His face scrunches up, his eyes lock onto mine. George's voice comes out in a growl, "I do not need you or anyone else worrying about me. I take care of you and Freddie. If I need time alone then I need time alone, regardless of how long it lasts. Don't act like I'm not taking care of myself!"

   "Stop raising your voice at me. Freddie is trying to sleep!" I hiss back at him, "I never said you don't take care of us, just that I worry about your mental health! We went through hell and I think anyone would want to talk to someone about it!"

   My eyes start to trickle and I throw my hands over my face, not daring to look at him and face the anger I know is going to follow. I feel his weight shift off the bed and peak through my fingers. The fleeting glance of him throwing a shirt on and opening the door leaves me empty.