year one; romione

with the war ending, the only person Ron could talk to was me. with Fred's death, he found it hard to talk let alone do normal things, like tie his shoes.
he often woke up screaming, I tried to calm him often but night after night he pushed me away, saying he was fine, but only to later wake up screaming.
though one night, after many long months, as he often did, he woke up screeching I reached my hand over and brushed my fingers through his bright ginger hair. and he let me.
"shhhh, baby, shhh," I repeated rubbing his shoulders, it lasted all night longer than most, I kept saying "shhh, baby, shhh," as he turned and sobbed into my shoulders. I'd never seen him like this, so vulnerable. I tried my hardest not to let tears form in my eyes, as I held him close.
"shhh, baby, shhhh."
I think the memories often haunted him too much, I knew that he needed to grieve, but it had been long enough.
one day I decided to clean our flat, I emptied all of the half drunk bottles of liquor into the sink and threw them away. I vacuumed and hummed while I did it, I put on the radio and sung along. I opened the curtains, starting in the living room and ending in our room. I creaked open the darkened room where Ron lay, curled in a ball formation. I think he was finally asleep after the night terrors only a few hours before. "it's time to get up sweetheart," I whispered as I pulled opened the curtains, the sun poured in and you could see how filthy the room really was.
"come on, I'll run you a bath,"