𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

15. you love her

"I'm just saying, she's playing you, George. She likes Fred, she told me so herself."

"I don't understand why this is any of your business or why you're trying to ruin this for me. I like her."

"I know you do—Merlin—I'm just trying to protect you. Can't you see that? I don't want to see you get hurt."

This whole thing with George and Angelina finally struck a nerve with me and that's the whole reason why I—not an half hour ago—decided to tell George that I don't see the whole thing working out. In hindsight, I probably should've handled it differently, and by the look in his face, I'd say he's more pissed at me than anything else.

"I can take care of myself, Mia. You don't have to worry about me", he snarls, frowning.

"But I do! I worry all the time", I croak out, afraid that the tears will start leaking from my eyes any second now. "I worry about Alfie getting his heart broken by his parents. I worry that Fred is going to do something that will get him killed someday. I worry that my parents might not love each other anymore. I worry about what I'm going to do after school, and I worry about you. I worry that you don't love me the same way I love you."

I mutter those last few words under my breath, and thankfully, George doesn't seem to have heard my blunt confession.

"Why?", he asks, his honey eyes glistening with tears that he doesn't actually let fall.

"What?"

"Why do you care?"

"I—what do you mean 'why do I care'? I love you, George. I'm always going to care about you, wether you like it or not. So you best get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere."

Silence takes over, and I can't help but take my eyes off him, looking anywhere but directly in his face. I'm scared that if I do, I'll start talking again, and I'll say something stupid.

"I know", he whispers, wrapping his arms around my tiny frame. "I'm sorry. I love you too."

He presses a wet kiss to my forehead, and I breathe in that familiar scent of gunpowder and candy.

"You're an ass", I snicker.

"I know", he smiles and I melt into him. Man, has he got me feeling some type of way just now. "Let's go join the others."

The following days I notice George spending less time with Angelina and more time with the gang. I'm so incredibly happy to have my best mate back, yet I can't help but feel like this was merely one of many fights he and I will have. I don't know what it is exactly, but it's almost as if this was just the start of something much more complicated. As if it's not complicated enough as it is.

One thing that seems to soothe my troubled mind for a split second however, is when I'm in the corridor in between two of my classes and I hear the familiar voices of George and Angelina. They seem to be in some kind of argument, and the tone of both their voices invites me to keep listening in. I know I probably shouldn't be eavesdropping in on such a private conversation, yet I can't help but be intrigued by whatever's going on.

"Don't take me for a fool! Anyone can see that you love her!"

"What do you want me to say?! Of course I love her, she's my best friend! I can't just not spend time with them anymore. I shouldn't have to choose between you and her."

"I'm not asking you to—Godric—I just don't like feeling like someone's second choice.

"You're not! I chose you remember? Hell, I've been defending you to my friends all week!"

"Well, I'm sorry for making it so hard on you."

"What are you on about?"

By breath gets caught in my throat. Is this what I think it is? Are they breaking up?

"Maybe I should just make it easy on you then?"

"Ange—"

"Don't 'Ange' me. You want to spend less time with me and more with your friends? Fine. Done." She takes an exasperated breath. "We're over."

I can't help but let a smile tug at my lips upon hearing their conversation. I never liked Angelina and no matter how good she treats George, she's never going to be good enough for him. He deserves the world, and I can't see her giving that to him.

But then there's the other part of me; the part that feels bad for ever thinking like that.

He seemed happy with her, perhaps happier than I've ever seen him before, and I hate myself for ever wishing for them to break up. Because I might not be the one for him, and he might not love me as so do him, so who am I to take joy in their heartbreak?

"Fine", I hear George's voice echo off the stone walls of the hallway, his eyes turned in a deep frown. He's clearly disappointed, and what I wouldn't give to make myself known and throw my arms around him. I want to be the one to comfort him, however, I don't want to add fuel to the fire by making clear that I've been listening in on their private conversation, so I tip toe away quietly to my next lesson before either one of them starts moving from the spot their in.