Hello, yeah I know, other shit to update. Yes. Working on it, promise. I just had to write down this awesome one-shot idea I had. It's extremely painful, and If you are still in denial about Fred's tragic, TRAGIC, demise, I suggest you leave. This is just a brother fic, and George is hurt by Fred's death. Very much so. Read on with the risk of the tears.

"I'm listening, Freddie. I'm always gonna be here."

Fred sniffed. "Yeah, Georgie." He wiped his eyes. "Just like I'm always gonna be here for you." He said, stopping the tears at last. "It's what twins do. Stick together, just like glue. Right?" He asked.

"Right. Just like glue." George whispered back.

~~)(~~

George woke up sweating. That dream, again. Well, it was a memory, really. It was a scenario that had happened often back when they were kids, but that particular one happened when they were around seven, or eight.

But it didn't matter. It was gone now. He was gone now.

Emotionally, George had always been the stronger twin. He could take it, the Weasley shaming, the poor shaming. Fred sometimes cried about it, and when he did, George was there. And nobody else really had to know. Nobody else really cared enough to ask. It was them against the world. Nobody had ever seen either of them cry.

So when George's ear got blown off, it was a surprise to everyone that Fred freaked out as much as he did. George had smiled at Fred's lame joke, an attempt to get away from the anger and hurt that he was feeling. Anger, and hurt directed at the person who did this to his precious twin, his best friend. He cried more than George did, and it was his ear.

"Fred, really I'm fine. It's just an ear. I'm not… I'm fine."

Fred looked angry.

"George, that was your ear. Do you even realize, that means your ear is dead? And whenever I think about that, I think about you being d-. I need you to listen to me, Georgie," He said, intensely, bringing back George's old nickname, "but now you can only listen with one half. I don't even know why it bothers me so much."

George had smiled.

Emotionally, George was always the strong twin. So when Fred cried, George held him. When he was sad, he never said anything. Fred often brought this up in conversation, usually after he had calmed down.

"How come you never cry, George?"

"Because you can't cry when you're protecting someone."

Emotionally, George was always the stronger twin. So when Ginny was in the chamber of secrets, all those times Ron got hurt, when their friend Harry was in the hospital wing, when Dumbledore died, and all the times alike, George never cried. It wasn't healthy.

Most people who don't cry in front of others find time to comfort themselves, alone. Fred always knew that wasn't true for George. He worried about George all the time, because he knew for a fact that George hadn't cried since before they entered Hogwarts.

"George, are you sad? At all?" Fred asked the question again. It was different today though, because Fred hadn't been sad, at all. He had seemed a little off today though, and now George knew it was just worry, for which he was relieved.

"No, Not at all Fred." He threw a smile at Fred. It was fake, but they had been for years, so George assumed he didn't see the difference.

He did.

It wasn't like Fred cried a lot, it was just that he was more emotional.

And as much as George was there for Fred, openly, Fred was there for George, discreetly. Grabbing his hand and squeezing it when he was sad, giving him hugs more than needed, and sticking to him - like glue - for his whole life. His prescence was always there.

Emotionally, George had always been the stronger one. So when George saw his twin, his best friend, his glue, his hugger, his body, his presence, his FRED lying there, lifeless, cold, dead, and utterly gone, he broke.

He broke like glass that had fallen from a 50 story building.

He broke hard.

He was screaming. He could feel it. He didn't know what he had screamed. He didn't know, and he would never remember. Because whenever he thought about it, he remembered other things.

He remembered the initial anger. The want to kill the one who did this.

The one who ripped away his twin, his other person, his brother, his world.

He remembered, guiltily, how sometimes he wished they'd never met Harry, but he knew this probably would have happened eventually.

He remembered the feeling of utter loss.

He remembered crying, for the first time in seven years.

And he remembered Fred's face, frozen in horror and realization, of his impending doom, the face of fear.

He saw that face everywhere. In his dreams, in movies, in strangers.

But most of all, he saw that face in the mirror, and thats what scared him, angered him, most.

He spent his days locked in his room, just remembering.

He kept hearing Fred's voice inside his head, and it made him sad.

"You never cry George, I'm worried." Don't worry Fred, I'm crying now. All those tears are here now, I'm glad you can't see them. Sadness finally caught up with me, I guess I ran to fast and got tired.

"Get it, George, Holy!" I giggled through my tears a little. That was a good joke.

"George, don't be daft." I'm not DUMB, Fred, but thanks (inner eyeroll)

"Georgie, I love you. You know so, right? And you love me? Promise to never leave?" Sorry Fred, I can't go with you this time.

George felt the worst during the day. At night, Fred was in his dreams - and, more often, his nightmares - so he could see him, talk to him, even if it wasn't real.

During the day, there was no longer a person next to him. No longer someone at his side. No longer someone who was stuck to him like glue. That person was gone. Forever.

No more corny inside jokes. No more laughing with your best friend. No more birthdays planned entirely to ruin the lame parties mum threw. George didn't celebrate his birthday after that. He never wanted to hear a "happy birthday" again. He wasn't happy, and he didn't want to be told how to feel when his brother should be here now, aging along with him.

Instead, he was dead. Cold, uncaring, unfeeling, dead. Dead Fred.

George hated thinking about it, but it was all he ever thought about. He often touched where his ear used to be. He remember the conversation they had again, as he did often.

"George, that was your ear. Do you even realize, that means your ear is dead. And whenever I think about that, I think about you being d-. I need you to listen to me, Georgie," He said, intensely, bringing back George's old nickname, "but now you can only listen with one half."

And in this moment, George realized something he hadn't before. The realization caused him to voice his thoughts aloud, and standing on the bridge, looking at the sun setting, in that perfect color that is almost but not quite the Weasley hair color, he whispered a thought into the wind.

A thought that made George sad, but also relieved. If Fred had gone to heaven, where dead things go, and if George's ear really was dead, then Fred wasn't alone. He may have entirely lost Fred, but Fred still had some of him.

And a small part of George was dying to just say, "It's just an ear George, it has no connection to Fred." Maybe if that thought had surfaced earlier, he would have believed that instead. But nothing could convince him after he spoke those four simple words.

"I'm still listening, Fred."

He knew there was no way that he could or would ever know, and that it didn't matter, but sometimes he wondered that if he was still listening, was Fred still talking?

He shrugged it off most of the time. Of course he wasn't that was ridiculous.

He was.

So I'm not too entirely sorry about ripping out your hearts and souls over some brotherly twin sadness. but I am a little, so I aplogize. Sort of. I just got this idea, and I had to write it down. I liked writing it even if I cried.

Also, I'd like to point out that "that means your ear is dead" is such a stupid line that I can't even. Thank you for your time, I'll go write real stuff now.