Weasley Twin Imagines

Pick Me, Choose Me, Want Me // G.W.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, unrequited love? A CHEESY ENDING - SO CHEESY.

Word count: 1.8k

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It was friendship, wasn't it, if you sometimes dreamed of the other?

It was friendship, wasn't it, if you wondered what it would like to taste them; to take them in your arms and kiss them senseless?

It was friendship, wasn't it, if you loved them beyond all capacity; wholly and irrevocably loved them without a trace of doubt within your body, mind or soul?

He's loved you silently for years now. He wouldn't tell you; he couldn't tell you – your friendship being one of the few things he cherished with his whole being.

For so long, you've featured in his daydreams – smiling at him as you wake up in the morning, kissing him goodnight, being there in the middle of the night for him to reach out and hold. For so long, he's admired you afar – looking away when his heart races too fast or wiping his hands on his trousers when a smile from you makes his palms sweat.

He simply never expected to lose you so quickly.

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It started with a passing mention; dropping his name in a meaningless conversation about plans for the weekend. George didn't think much of it, truthfully. You had been friends with Benjamin through school; helping him with his grades, laughing with him in class. George had never been bothered because, at the end of the day, you always came back to him.

George reels back when you mention your plans, "A date?"

You roll your eyes, "To some, George, I am attractive."

"With Benjamin? From Hogwarts?"

You look at George as if he's grown three heads, "Yes, the very same Benjamin. Why does that matter?"

George sniffs; averting his eyes, "It doesn't. I just didn't know he was still in the country, I thought he moved away for work."

You nod, "He did, but he's moved back. We ran into each other a couple of weeks ago."

George nods along as you regale him with the story; how you had ran into Benjamin in Diagon Alley, barely recognising him at first when he called out your name. You had to laugh when you eventually recognised him; five years really does make a difference to one's looks. From there, you started to catch up – it was nice speaking to him. He didn't ask you out until two days ago when he sent a bouquet of flowers to your work. You had to accept; the flowers were gorgeous, after all.

After some time, George zones out, and it isn't because your story is boring him. It's because he feels as if he's going into survival mode; protecting his heart by not listening to that which could hurt it.

Briefly, George wonders how long he has until he loses you completely.

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A month later, George has his answer.

You rush to the flat George shares with Fred; barely knocking before letting yourself in and slumping on his couch with a long groan.

George can't help the chuckle that leaves him as he adjusts your legs; sitting down next to you. "What's wrong, love?" He asks; concerned at the dramatic way you entered his home.

"Benjamin told me he loves me."

George moves away; not wanting you to see the hurt in his eyes, "Do you love him?"

You fiddle with your fingers; mouth opening and closing as you try to think of an answer. George nods; smiling humourlessly – he has his answer.