𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

18. you know why

I never thought I'd find myself in such a predicament as this. I never once believed that my best friend would confess his feelings for me, or that I'd ever even take a second to consider whatever it is I'm currently considering. I love him. I love George Weasley. So why is it so damn hard for me to reach a decision? I know what it is I want, so what is there to be doubtful about?

Well, first of all, there's the possibility of all of this just being a big misunderstanding. Or a joke, a prank pulled on me by friends. George might not care for me that way at all, and so might just be my thinking about this all wrong.

Then there's the fact that I don't know if things would even work out between us. Because what if he's really telling the truth, what if everything he just said—what if it's all real and he does love me like that? What then? How am I supposed to trust that we'll even work out? What if we end up breaking up? What if we end up resenting one another because of it? I couldn't take that, it would break my heart even more to know what I would have had the chance to love him freely, without restraint, only to have that taken away in an instant.

So what am I to do?

"Just tell him already. We're all growing moss just watching you two tip toe around each other."

"Yeah. You love him, he loves you. Why are you stalling?"

I take a deep breath, contemplating my own way of thinking.

I'm sat with the boys, except for one obvious ginger twin, in the Gryffindor common room. The boys are all wildly engaged in a violent game of Exploding Snap, while I'm reading—well more like attempting to read—a book by a muggle author. I can barely focus on the page, but I keep trying.

"I don't know. It's just—what if—"

"—You're scared he doesn't feel the same way. Well, we're telling you that he does. He loves you. Anyone would be blind not to see the way he looks at you." Alfie says all the while keeping his focus on the cards on the table.

"Yeah. My knobhead for a twin may be a tosser at times, but he sure loves you. You won't believe the times I've caught him staring at you when you don't see."

My cheeks flame and my heart starts beating out of my chest. I feel like I'm falling out of an airplane, with my parachute or safety net to catch me. My stomach swarm with butterflies, and I find myself at a loss for words.

George loves me.

"I've got to go", I say, heaving myself off the couch in an abrupt motion. In all my hurry, I don't even spare a second to make sure I've dog eared the page I stopped reading at, instead leaving the book shut.

"Mia—"

I find myself on the first of many steps up to the boys dormitories when Fred speaks up, making me turn around.

"Astronomy Tower." He sends me a subtle wink, before getting back to the game. I find myself smiling, a nervous wreck for what I'm about to do, but all the more smiling.

(...)

It doesn't take long for me to end up a panting mess at the top of the Astronomy tower, heaving for air. I've run all the way up, not sparing more than a few seconds to catch my breath, I don't want to waste another moment doing anything else but tell George what I'm about to. We've wasted some much time already, that I feel a second more, and I'll surely explode.

"George".

I find the butterflies in my stomach multiplying by thousands just by the look of his tall, dark silhouette standing there. He's by the edge, his strong and lean arms leaning against the railing, his flaming red hair blowing in the evening wind.

He doesn't say anything at first, in fact he barely acknowledges my presence. I feel a tug at my chest by the fact, and I can't help but feel like I've blown my chance. By confessing his feelings for me, he was simultaneously asking to know mine back, and so, when I left—fuck, I'm such an idiot—I gave him my answer, albeit unknowingly. He must have mistaken my confusion for something else entirely, he must've thought I didn't care, that I didn't feel the same way at all, and thus, thought it best to leave.

Merlins beard, I really am an idiot.

"George", I repeat, my voice pleading and desperate for his attention. "Please look at me."

Finally, he turns around to face me, revealing that breathtakingly handsome face of his. He's frowning, that mischievous twinkle usually in his eye completely gone. He looks sad, heartbroken even, and I can tell by the slight puffiness of his eyes that he's been crying.

He was always the one of the twins to show more emotion. That's one of the things that made me fall for him in the first place.

"You've been avoiding me."

He huffs, as if its obvious, which it is. Whenever I caught his eye in class or saw him in the corridor, he'd quickly find an excuse to turn elsewhere. The boys caught on with his odd behaviour, even, which is saying a lot.

"Why?" I ask, although I know for a fact why he's been ignoring me.

"You know why", he mumbles, his eyes not quite looking into mine. It's as if he's scared that if he does, he'll do or say something he'll regret.

I take a few carefully calculated steps forward, until I'm only a few inches from touching him. I reach out my hand, practically begging to touch him, but he dismisses me by pushing me away. Figuratively and physically.

"Don't. I can't." He speaks with a tone of voice that makes it sound as if he's in pain, and it breaks my heart even more to know he doesn't even want to look at me properly,

"Please", I find myself begging once more. "Please talk to me."