The Twins read about Fred’s death for the very first time.
.
‘No—no—no!’ someone was shouting. ‘No! Fred! No!’
And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh etched upon his face.
~
The book dropped out of Ethan’s hands, landed heavily on the sheets, and two pairs of ice-blue eyes widened as they stared at it in pure incredulity. Their lips parted as the feeling of breathlessness started to take over. Rough, ragged gasps ripped violently from their chests—so harsh and thick that it hurt their throats, chests, hearts…
Under the sheets of the bed they were sitting in, their hands clasped together tightly, fingers entangling firmly, squeezing hard in absolute despair and disbelief. Evan pulled his brother closer, so that they were touching from shoulder to toe, so that they were absolutely positive the other was still here, would always be here.
Pain, grief, and utter desolation tore through their bodies, slamming into them with a power that rivaled the heaviest of storms. And as always, they could feel every emotion radiate from the other, making it worse, making it even harder to breathe.
Twin grief. Twin hurt.
They looked up at each other simultaneously, and both read and understood the devastatingly clear emotion in each other’s icy eyes immediately.
Fear.
Blinding, agonizing, white-hot, torturous fear. So forceful and so vicious, it yanked and ate at both of their hearts with the power of lions.
“Evan…”
“Ethan…”
Their hair blended together perfectly when Ethan laid his head on his twin’s shoulder, Evan tilting his own head to the side to let it rest on his brother’s.
“I…”
“Me, too.”
“Don’t ever…”
“You too.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
Ethan turned his head, burying his face in the hollow between Evan’s shoulder and neck—just as Evan buried his face in Ethan’s hair. Ever in unison—they let their tears escape at the exact same time, the drops sliding over pallid cheeks and pale lips with the exact same speed.
Their lips moved at precisely the same time—Evan feeling the air of the words ghost over his throat, and Ethan feeling the brush of breath tickle in his hair—
“Don’t leave me.”
O.O If either of them had died on hell night… I don’t think I’d have been able to control myself.
This makes me sob uncontrollably every single time.
Oh, hey, look, there’s my heart. It just exploded out of my chest with sadness.
I know. Be back soon. Eating.
My eternal creys.
ZOMFG MY CREYS
ohgodohgodohgodohgod
OH GOOD LORD! This isn’t helping me freaking out about The tweedles in the future chapters of Dalton AT ALL! Why am I...
*creys*