𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 | f. w

xxii. wrong place, wrong time

chapter twenty-two
WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME

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A/N: Prepare the handkerchiefs...

» » "WHAT ARE YOU doing here, Weasley? It's the middle of the night, and not to mention pouring outside". Edith didn't dare touch him, but grabbed a towel from the bathroom for him to dry off. He was shivering, freezing cold from the rain.

Fred hesitated, not really sure of how to explain himself, seemingly doubting the reason for coming there in the first place. They hadn't spoken or been in contact in any way for weeks at that point—except for the letter reaching the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that very morning—and it felt strange for the both of them to have him show up like that, never mind coming in from the thunderstorm rending the air outside.

"I talked to that Ravi kid the other day. He didn't lay much on me, but I just felt like I had to come here. I've been worried about you". He paused to let out a deep and concurring sigh. "I don't like how we ended things".

The brunette watched as Fred dried his ginger locks as he spoke, a notable frown on his face.

"Well, the last thing I remember was you telling me you didn't want this—whatever this is—before slamming the door in my face and leaving me stunned. So excuse me for not leaping from joy". She spat, growing increasingly irritated.

Edith was happy to see him—she was, of course she was—but it didn't shy away from the fact that he hurt her. He hurt her badly, and she wasn't about to just forgive and forget. She didn't take too kindly to that sort of thing, especially since her father left and her mother grew vicious, and forgiving wasn't an easy thing for her to do.

"I know. I'm sorry", Fred said quietly under his breath, massaging his temples. "I really am. I just—it's hard for me, this whole relationship thing—and I guess I grew scared when things evolved between the two us, you know, and I don't really know what I'm supposed to do here. You're my best friend, and I don't want to lose that if it doesn't work out between us".

"You're not supposed to do anything, Fred", she cried, using her hands to gesticulate as she spoke. She tended to do that when she was upset about something—or in this case—someone. "I just wanted us to be able to take about this sort of thing, the same way we always have. I mean—what happened? When did we become the sort of people who just ignore each other? When did we stop being friends?

Fred sighed, placing a hand on Edith's thigh as they sat down on the sofa in the living room/small kitchen area.

"I don't know...".

The forthcoming silence spoke volumes. They were both growing increasingly anxious, praying to Godric they'd be able to salvage their relationship. Whatever it was.

Then Edith spoke again.

"So—what do we do now? I mean—I never wanted to be the 'other girl', and I don't think I can be just friends any more either. I care about you too much, Fred".

Fred put an arm around Edith's shoulder, pulling her close into his warm embrace and pressing a small kiss on her hair.

"You were never just "the other girl", he whispered. "I've always loved you, and I don't think I can ever stop".

Edith sat up, facing him.

"But...?"

"But... You were my best friend before all of this—and I'm terrified we'll lose that if we try to be something more".

She knew exactly where he was coming from. He was right. He was her best friend before anything, and she was just as scared of losing him as he was her. However, that didn't mean that she didn't love him as she did. Her feelings towards him weren't the same anymore—they'd become something else, something more—and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to make them go away.

So that's why it was all so hard. Why it hurt so badly. Why her heart seemed to break just a little bit more each time her eyes looked into his.

Edith felt the tears start to glide down her now reddened cheeks, doing a terrible job at catching them as they fell. She sniffled, laying her head in his shoulder and a hand on his.

Neither one of them could believe how they ended up where they did. How they went from being best friends, to strangers, to lovers and back to strangers. Nothing about it made sense, and that only made it harder to move on from.

"It hurts, Freddie", she cried, her eyes bloodshot from the salty tears that covered her face. "It hurts so bad".

Fred sighed, his heart breaking upon hearing her words. He couldn't—for the life of him—figure out why it all had to be so god damn difficult. Why couldn't they just be happy? Why did they have to go through all of this, and why did they have to do it all on their own?

Ever since George died, Fred had become more and more closed off. He didn't dare go into his twin brother's room because it stood untouched; as if he'd left and expected to come back, he couldn't get himself to visit his family at the Burrow because it reminded him too much of what he'd lost, and he would break down just from seeing his own reflection in the mirror, because he looked too much like George. Everything had changed, and something as small as getting out of bed in the morning, seemed near impossible.

But that all changed when Edith came home from Romania. At first, he was angry—furious even—with her for leaving in the first place, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to find a way to forgive her. To move past it.

He was heartbroken. Not only had he lost his twin, his best friend and closest confidant, but he'd also lost his other best friend, the girl he'd trust with anything, the girl he'd loved since he was eleven. It would take some time for him to even accept that she was back, and when he did, well, that's when they seemed to move two steps back. It was good for awhile, he was happy, ecstatic to have her back in his life, but at the same time, his old feelings wouldn't seem to go away. They'd resurfaced again, and it was no use trying to push them back down.

That's why he had to distance himself. That's why he couldn't let it go on any longer—because he was scared. Scared that if they'd grow closer, if they tried to figure it out together, she'd just up and leave again. That she'd become a recluse, pack her bags in the middle of the night, and leave, and he couldn't handle that. Not again. His heart wouldn't be able to make it through that again. He'd just started to try and piece it back together again.

"Why does it have to be so hard?", Edith choked on a sob.

"I don't know. I guess we're just two people in the wrong place, at the wrong time". His eyes stung, tears falling from his eyes and onto his shirt.

⬩ word count: 1238

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A/N: Ouch, my poor heart. Sorry for that...:'(