If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 30

THERE IS A MOMENT of uncertainty as they step into the room. She watches carefully as he keeps his back to her, unsure of who would be the first to speak, but she is hardly sure of what to say. Anything she wanted to say was circulating in her mind and seemed to get stuck in her throat when she thought of something that might be good enough.

"I hadn't thought this through." George finally speaks, letting out a half chuckle as he steps toward the bed, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

"How much did you drink?" She asks him, but he merely shrugs. "Why don't you sit down?"

Eleanor only ever knew George to be restless, to have this constant need to stand or pace... But he seemed uncertain of what to do with the space around them, or how to break the deafening silence that seemed to swamp the room.

"George, if we're just gonna stand here, we might as well go downstairs." She tells him, quickly losing her patience. It was intolerable; This tension between them, and she was unsure of how much longer she'd be able to withstand it.

"Truthfully, I don't know what to say to you anymore." He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. "And I hate that feeling."

Eleanor swallows, feeling her chest tighten at those words. She knew exactly how they wound up here, but she still could not convince herself that any of it was real; That they'd run out of things to say, that they'd resorted to avoiding eye contact with one another downstairs... It wasn't them, though she was hardly sure of what they even were when she came to think about it.

She folds her arms over her chest and takes a step closer to him, uncertain if she should sit him down or leave him be, but she decides that it is best to do nothing, and allow whatever thoughts were circulating in his head to find their way into his words.

"I feel like we've been going in circles, and it's... It's been driving me mad." He breathes, and finally takes a seat on the bed. The springs squeak beneath his weight.

Eleanor remains, a mere few inches from the door, a mere few inches from the bed where he sat, unable to speak or breathe without worrying that her next move would be the wrong one.

"I think I've made it clear how I feel for you, Eleanor. Merlin, I can't stop myself from thinking about you. Do you know what that's like? Feeling like I have you one moment and then like I don't the next?" He continues, finally looking at her with such intention, like he was hoping the words would pierce through her somehow.

"I knew what I was getting myself into that night in the creek. I knew what I wanted when we were in London, and that night downstairs in the living room. I know what I want now, and I... Fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."

George runs another hand in through his hair, that fiery red mess on his head that was slightly grown out from when she had cut it. Things seemed so much simpler then, and her heart aches looking at where they were at now; Him with his head hung low, staring at the scuffed, wooden floors beneath them, and her, unable to make her feet move to sit by his side.

He lifts his head to look at her, as if to ask if she was going to say something, as if to beckon the words from her throat... But her thoughts were running wild, and she had the slightest feeling that no matter what she would say, the outcome would remain the same, so she finally decides that none of it mattered anymore. Being truthful with herself, and with him, was no longer a worry to her. Losing him was.

"Do you want to know why I've been dodgy, and hot and cold?" Her words come out shaky. "It's because I do know what it's like. All I do is think about you, George. You are the very reason that I've been in this constant back and forth with myself, why I've considered calling Elijah to see about apartments in the city for when I do finish school. I've been driving myself mad because everything that's waiting for me in France doesn't have value to me when I'm with you, and I feel so guilty for it. I feel this obligation to go through with what's already been planned for me, but... It's you. You're the reason I can't picture myself leaving, and I feel stuck, and the worst part is that no matter what I decide to do in the future, I'll be disappointing someone. My parents, you—"