twenty-nine

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"George?" Willa softly called out

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"George?" Willa softly called out. "Will you please come down for dinner? You don't have to talk. Just please eat something."

George didn't respond. He never did as of late. Ever since Fred's death, he wasn't the same. Fred was merely two minutes older than him, but they did everything together. They shared a room, a dorm, a business, and essentially their minds. His family wasn't the same either, but George took it hardest. He honestly thought he would get to live with Fred, Marisol, and Willa with their children running around their house.

Willa couldn't blame George, and she never would. She understood why he was depressed and perhaps a little angry at Fate who had done that to him. Willa was feeling sad about their deaths as well, but she knew it would never come close to what he was feeling. She had to be strong for George, in order to help him move out of his depressed stage.

George slowly walked to the kitchen. His eyes were dark and there were bags under his eyes. He sat down on a chair at the dining table, then miserably slurped the soup Willa prepared. She prepared other things to eat, but he only drank the soup. She was only glad he was putting something into his system.

When he was done, Willa cleaned his dishes before going back to Fred's bedroom in their flat. George was choosing to sleep in Fred's bed instead of the bed they shared. She didn't mind because she understood he needed his space.

After making sure George was tucked into bed, she went back to their old room and slipped into bed after brushing her teeth and changing. She laid in bed with the blankets up to her chin.

"Good night, George," she whispered. "I love you. Please get better soon."

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