Weasley Twin Imagines

His Place // F.W.

Warnings: angst, grief, loss, death, feelings of sadness, mentions of depression, mentions of nightmares. Yeah, not going to lie to you all, this is a load of angst tied up in a neat bow. I totally get if this is not your thing.

Word count: 2k

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The first thing you do when you wake is sigh.

This is the routine; you sigh then you look to the right side of the bed.

The side of the bed that would always remain empty. The side of the bed that still smells of him; the side of the bed that you swear you can still feel the warmth emanating from his body.

The first thing you do when you wake is sigh; you look to the right side of the bed and then you stretch your arm out towards as it as if that one movement will have the power to reverse the last year of your life. As if the movement of your arm will have the power to bring it all back.

You want to rage; you want to scream.

You have magic running through your veins; you have the ability to craft starlight and create potions that can heal an array of wounds, yet you cannot being this one person back.

You cannot find it within you to find him on the other side and bring him back to his place.

His place beside you.

His rightful place; where he should be today instead of buried six feet under in a graveyard in Devon.

The first thing you do when you wake is sigh, and then you think back to the first months after his death.

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They say grief is different for everyone, and they would be right. No one person experiences the loss of another the same. There are those who eat their grief; making their way through plates of food before sleeping off their feast. There are those who throw themselves into their work; any excuse to keep their mind busy and their emotions stable.

Then there are those who sink into their grief; who lets their grief consume them, drowning them until all they can feel and all they can see is nothing.

After Fred was gone, you sank into the grief. Letting yourself feeling nothing but the gaping void in your heart where Fred's love would usually be. Letting yourself do nothing but think of your time with the redhead – so full of laughter; so full of love.

Torturing yourself constantly; thinking back to that moment where the wall exploded, and his life was no more. His string cut by the cruel fates; taking him before his time was truly up. Ripping him from you before he even got the chance to live.

The days went by slowly in the beginning; consumed completely by the nothingness of your heart. You would wander your home aimlessly; dawdling from room to room like a ghost from a Shirley Jackson novel. You would haunt your own home, unable to comprehend the loss you were going through.

It was made much harder three months in when rifling through Fred's drawers, hoping to find one more shirt that still held his smell, you found a small, black velvet ring box. That day, you sank to the floor with a hand covering your mouth to keep the sobs in as your tears fell without stopping.

Shaking hands opened the box; shaking hands pulled out the ring. The diamond glinted delicately in the light. However, by the time you slide the ring onto your left hand, your vision was so blurred by the fresh wave of tears that you couldn't tell whether the ring was silver or gold.

All that mattered to you was that somewhere in the cosmos where his spirit resided, he knew that you would have said yes. You would have said yes countless times.