not afraid to keep on living
âyou okay freddie?â âyeah.â âme too.â
famous last words.
and haunting george weasley since that very day until today. the last thing he said to his brother before the battle, and therefore, the last words he said to him before he died, were âme tooâ.
bloody hell, there was a million things he could have said instead, if only he had known.
much more  hilarious things. memories of pranks, and jokes and the hogwarts corridors echoing with their laughter after yet another mischief managed. or embarrassing ones, he could have teased freddie about that time he caught him snogging with lee jordan after a quidditch match, when both of their faces were as dark red as the colours of fred's sweater.
and fred could have teased back, you know? he so would have. fred would have mentioned that time at the yule ball when angelina appeared wearing that long and sheer blue dress, that made george speechless ('that only time you ran out of something to say, georgie, it was brilliant!') and then he would fake a stupid besotted face expression and george would have punched him in the arm, the both of them doubling with laughter.
he could have said a million things but 'me too', but that's all what he said. such a simple, stupid, casual and trivial conversation, unaware of the fact it was going to be the last words they were going to say to each other, ever.
and it just left him with a lot of silence instead. of all the things left unsaid, the pranks unfold, the jokes untold, the gadgets undeveloped. losing freddie was worse than losing a limb, for george had lived all his life with words and laughter, with a companion, a mirror, a supporter, a friend, a brother.
time helped, but the wounds ran too deep, and just a simple glance of himself in the mirror was enough for george to be assaulted with unwelcoming memories and heart breaking flashbacks.
but he knew he wasn't the only one in pain, either, that his looks and his physical appearance weren't only saddening to him, when he saw the mist in his mother's eyes after a kiss on his cheek, and the solemnity of his father's expression when his voice faltered to call his name. when lee was so tense, so awfully nervous when angelina and him met to catch up with him.
and he wasn't the only one struggling with mourning, either. with percy overworking, same with bill. when charlie travelled more than he used to. when ron tried to come with bright and useful ideas, when ginny practiced harder, and longer than ever. when he felt angelina's warm hands running down his spine after a nightmare, her lips mouthing soothing words on his freckled shoulder, her lashes damp with unshed tears.
because he knew better than everyone, that there was so much of fred in him, in the same way there was a lot of him in freddie.
dying his hair was a whim, maybe, a palliative, a placebo. but when he stood in front of the mirror with darker hair and looked at himself, it was the first time in years he wasn't automatically attacked with reminders of what was lost, and a grin made it to george weasley's mouth.
âi am okay, freddie.â âand i hope you're okay too.â
