the gentle moon / george weasley

phoenix

I miss the way he used to kiss my shoulder whenever it was bare and he was nearby. I miss how he cleared his throat before he took a sip of water and scratched his left arm with his right hand when he was nervous. I miss when those hands rubbed my back as I fell asleep. I miss how he tucked my hair behind my ear when it came loose or I tried to hide behind it. I just want to go back home to him. I wonder if he even misses me, it's been months. We're closer to the year mark than to the day I left. He probably hates me, hates my guts for leaving him. He's probably changed so much.

I'm still here, nothings changed much. The pack seems sorry, but it's still weird. Arc has been oddly nice to me. I feel like they're waiting for me to run.

"You're kind of annoying." Arc came up behind me, taking the wood from my arms that I had been collecting for the fire.

"Where did you come from?" I yelped.

"I was watching you." He told me,

"That's fucking weird."

"I still don't like you out here on your own."

"I'm not going to run away," I pulled the wood away from him, storming back to camp, "And I'm pretty sure those blokes are scared you'll kill them too if they touch me. So you are unfortunately stuck with my annoying self."

"You're also stubborn," He scoffed, "give me the damn wood, before you drop it on the ground."

"I am much stronger than you think," I said just as tripped over a surfaced root.

"Sure, but you are also clumsy." He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me towards him and grabbing the wood, "I'd rather not have a bunch of damp wood to start the fire tonight."

"You're kind of annoying..." I mocked in a whisper behind him. Arc looked back at me and I swear to god he was smiling when he turned away.

"You're doing it wrong." Arc was hovering over me as I tried to build the fire tonight.

"Shut the hell up."

Arc laughed, truly laughed. I had never heard him laugh like this before, but it sounded so familiar. Maybe because I hadn't heard real laughter in months my brain was playing tricks on me, but it sounded so familiar.

"That's not going to work." He sighed, watching me try to light the bottom of one of the logs. I think I put a damp log at the bottom... "You need kindling, here," he grabbed a handful of dry leaves and pushed it under the pile of logs I propped up against each other, "now try."

I gave him dirty look, when that actually worked and finally got a fire going, "You'll want to feed the fire until the logs get caught, I'll be back in a few."

"Where are you going?

"You already miss me, Moon?"

"My name is Moony..." I reminded him.

"Right..." He chuckled, "Keep the fire going or you'll have to cuddle with Pug tonight."

It's almost April. Their birthday is coming up soon, I wish I was home for it. I miss watching him take Sunday afternoon naps on the couch, with the newspaper resting on his stomach like a blanket. How his hands stayed clasped, fingers intertwined, while he slept. I miss the cadence of his voice and the stupidity of his puns. I miss his touch. I miss it so damn much.

I don't sleep at camp anymore. I sleep out by the lake under the stars. I remember sitting behind him in potions, and looking at the back of his neck when his hair was short. The stars look like his freckles. I miss him so much, it hurts. It honestly aches to miss him this much.