𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

25. distance

For the past few days, I've been trying hard to distance myself from George.

It's not that I particularly want to—Godric knows I've never wanted anything less in my life—but I've come to the painful conclusion that, in order for me to be able to focus on the actual task at hand, (*cough* the looming war *cough*) I have to do something about my feelings for him.

It's gotten to a point where I can barely breathe around him because he makes me so ridiculously nervous, and on the now rare occasion that we are— I find that it's impossible to focus on anything other than how badly I want to run my hands through his hair, to feel his skin against mine, and to kiss him.

But I can't. I know I can't.

And so I've made up my mind, although it's bound to be the most difficult thing I've ever done before;

I have to pretend.

I have to pretend as if I'm not irrevocably and mercifully in love with my best friend, and the person I'm currently sharing a flat with.

Should be easy enough, right?

"Helloooo. Earth to Rune."

I've been staring into nothingness for the past four minutes, and it takes me a second to realise that it's the one person I'm desperately trying to ignore standing before me, his ginger eyebrows raised in curiosity. He's trying to catch my attention by waving a hand in front of my face and repeating my name. (God the way my name sounds when he's the one saying it).

"Hmm?" I ask, still somewhat dazed. I can feel that all-too-familiar blush creep up when my eyes fixate on him. He's smiling cheekily, as if he knows just that I spent the last four minutes thinking about him and only him.

God, Mia. You're really whipped aren't you?

Concentrate. You were supposed to keep your distance.

"You look like you went to another place for a moment there. You alright?" he asks.

If only you knew.

"Yeah. M' just tired."

George takes my hand and starts to rub circles across the back of it. It feels nice to have him touch me, and even though I know he's just trying his best to reassure me and comfort me, I can't help but feel so stupid. I mean, here he is, being so sweet to me, holding my hand and checking in to see if I'm alright, and here I've been completely ignoring him the last few days?

"Mia..." he starts, and I find myself getting lost in his dark brown eyes. Those eyes that have me wishing I could spend the rest of my life gazing into them. If I did nothing else, I'd be the happiest woman alive. "You can talk to me. You know what right? You don't have to pretend with me."

Hah. Oh the irony.

I let out a deep sigh, focusing on his eyes and the feeling of his fingers tracing circles on my hand. It tingles and leaves me a stuttering mess. Only George Weasley has that power over me, and Merlin knows I don't ever want him to stop what he's doing.

"It's—it's just...-" I start, relieved to know that we've closed the shop for today, meaning I don't have to put up the act of being all cheerful and welcoming or having to pretend to be alright when it's clear I'm not in fact—alright. "I've been thinking a lot. About—well, everything. And I guess what I'm trying to say is I've only just recently realised just how frightened I really am. I'm scared, George. What if we don't make it out of this alive? What if one of us ends up hurt, or worse—dead?" I let my shoulders fall back, but I'm still shaking somewhat, my knees nearly giving away form under me. I'm terrified, scared that what I'm saying will come off as weak and pathetic. That I'm being irrational in my fear.

Then again, I should know by now that that's not how George Weasley would ever see me.

My eyes pool with tears, and I feel my bottom lip start to shiver. In an attempt to hide myself, I pull my hand from underneath his, covering my face. "What if I lost you?" I sob.

"Don't." he reprimands. "Don't hide from me." He places a wet kiss to my temple, bringing me close to his chest where I feel his heart pumping loudly. "You never have to hide from or pretend with me."

Despite the fact that I'm still a crying mess, I find that I'm incapable of not smiling at his words of reassurance.

"I really fucking love you, George" I let out in between whimpers.

Fuck, Mia. This was so not the plan.

What happened to keeping your distance?

He chuckles.

"I really fucking love you too."

And man, do I wish he still means it the way I do.

(...)

I spend the next few days helping the boys out in the shop as usual, tending to costumers, stocking items and placing new orders. During the evenings I spend my time up in our flat, either watching muggle tv or reading, and whenever Alfie and Lee comes over to hang, I find that I start to feel just a little bit happier.

I truly have the most remarkable of friends.

I just wish things could stay this way forever.