I Want to Touch You
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
4,337
Reviews:
86
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
4,337
Reviews:
86
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Kill Half of Me
I Want to Touch You: Chapter 6
George identified the predominant emotion he\'d been harboring for the past few days as guilt. He was standing in the Griffindor bathroom now and Fred, to his knowledge, was still seated in the same position on the couch.
George thought of sitting down on the cool tile or leaning against the white wall, but decided that would be too comforting. He also considered just standing there, but for some indescribable reason he didn\'t want to. In fact, he felt a distinct loathing for any possible form of action or lack thereof. He didn\'t want to stand or sit or lay, and felt that each position was unbearable. He didn\'t want to exist.
He thought of taking out his wand and cutting. He thought of crying. But he had no motivation to do either of these things, so he stood there breathing, despising every breath. No form of relief could reach his hopeless depression.
George hated himself for not being able to control his reactions to his brother. And he hated the world for making things so difficult. And he hated God for making him this way and then telling him he was wrong and dirty. He didn’t even believe in a god, but he was angry with him nonetheless.
He stood in a blank stupor, feeling completely out of control. This was insane, this was crazy. It was the fact that George could see the whole dirty thing, as if from a distance, that made him want to escape his crippled mind. Escape, escape, but there was no way out but death.
George had never really wanted to kill himself before. He had always thought that suicide was self-indulgent crap. It would never touch him, he thought.
He made light cuts on his wrist, over the vein. Deeper, deeper, it barely even stung and George was mesmerized by the trickle of blood. He hadn\'t hit it yet. Maybe the next cut?
No.
The next? Yes, perhaps this one...
Fred walked into the bathroom and froze when he saw George pointing his wand at his bleeding wrist. Fred wanted to cry.
George heard a faint whimper and looked up to the frightened eyes of his brother. His perfect brother. He saw the pain in Fred\'s eyes and felt ashamed and selfish. He brought his hands to his chest and lowered his head.
Arms encircled him and he began to sob haltingly into Fred\'s chest. Fred rubbed his brother\'s back soothingly. They were together again, alone without any judges. Their relationship couldn\'t be placed in a specific category and the world despised them for that. But here, within the white, silent walls, no one was their judge and they were each other\'s saviors.
After a few moments Fred took George\'s palm in his hand. Bloodstains stood out boldly against both of their shirts. George reached out and touched the blood on Fred\'s clothing.
Fred inspected the wrist and was relieved to find that George hadn\'t reached the vein. He hugged his brother again and wept into his shoulder.
They pulled apart and Fred tucked some nonexistent hair behind George\'s ear.
\"You can never leave me, George. I can\'t live without you. Please, promise.\" His voice was urgent. \"If you kill yourself, you kill half of me. Do you understand?\"
George reached out and pulled his brother close. \"We\'re not supposed to need each other so desperately,\" he whispered.
\"I know,\" said Fred. \"But no one has to know. No one has to know I\'ll die without you. I can\'t help it, George.\"
George didn\'t know if they were talking about their physical or emotional need for each other. He didn\'t know if Fred really needed him in a sexual way. But he tried not to think of that right now. He was just happy to be in his brother\'s arms. The past discomfort still hung heavy in the air. It was wedded with that ever-present mix of confusion, lust and guilt. But the difference now was that George felt he had returned to the consuming force that was his brother. Fred\'s arms offered no relief; he had simply returned to that point that had connected them at birth. They were two magnets desperate for each other, but even their embrace couldn\'t destroy the impending storm.
George identified the predominant emotion he\'d been harboring for the past few days as guilt. He was standing in the Griffindor bathroom now and Fred, to his knowledge, was still seated in the same position on the couch.
George thought of sitting down on the cool tile or leaning against the white wall, but decided that would be too comforting. He also considered just standing there, but for some indescribable reason he didn\'t want to. In fact, he felt a distinct loathing for any possible form of action or lack thereof. He didn\'t want to stand or sit or lay, and felt that each position was unbearable. He didn\'t want to exist.
He thought of taking out his wand and cutting. He thought of crying. But he had no motivation to do either of these things, so he stood there breathing, despising every breath. No form of relief could reach his hopeless depression.
George hated himself for not being able to control his reactions to his brother. And he hated the world for making things so difficult. And he hated God for making him this way and then telling him he was wrong and dirty. He didn’t even believe in a god, but he was angry with him nonetheless.
He stood in a blank stupor, feeling completely out of control. This was insane, this was crazy. It was the fact that George could see the whole dirty thing, as if from a distance, that made him want to escape his crippled mind. Escape, escape, but there was no way out but death.
George had never really wanted to kill himself before. He had always thought that suicide was self-indulgent crap. It would never touch him, he thought.
He made light cuts on his wrist, over the vein. Deeper, deeper, it barely even stung and George was mesmerized by the trickle of blood. He hadn\'t hit it yet. Maybe the next cut?
No.
The next? Yes, perhaps this one...
Fred walked into the bathroom and froze when he saw George pointing his wand at his bleeding wrist. Fred wanted to cry.
George heard a faint whimper and looked up to the frightened eyes of his brother. His perfect brother. He saw the pain in Fred\'s eyes and felt ashamed and selfish. He brought his hands to his chest and lowered his head.
Arms encircled him and he began to sob haltingly into Fred\'s chest. Fred rubbed his brother\'s back soothingly. They were together again, alone without any judges. Their relationship couldn\'t be placed in a specific category and the world despised them for that. But here, within the white, silent walls, no one was their judge and they were each other\'s saviors.
After a few moments Fred took George\'s palm in his hand. Bloodstains stood out boldly against both of their shirts. George reached out and touched the blood on Fred\'s clothing.
Fred inspected the wrist and was relieved to find that George hadn\'t reached the vein. He hugged his brother again and wept into his shoulder.
They pulled apart and Fred tucked some nonexistent hair behind George\'s ear.
\"You can never leave me, George. I can\'t live without you. Please, promise.\" His voice was urgent. \"If you kill yourself, you kill half of me. Do you understand?\"
George reached out and pulled his brother close. \"We\'re not supposed to need each other so desperately,\" he whispered.
\"I know,\" said Fred. \"But no one has to know. No one has to know I\'ll die without you. I can\'t help it, George.\"
George didn\'t know if they were talking about their physical or emotional need for each other. He didn\'t know if Fred really needed him in a sexual way. But he tried not to think of that right now. He was just happy to be in his brother\'s arms. The past discomfort still hung heavy in the air. It was wedded with that ever-present mix of confusion, lust and guilt. But the difference now was that George felt he had returned to the consuming force that was his brother. Fred\'s arms offered no relief; he had simply returned to that point that had connected them at birth. They were two magnets desperate for each other, but even their embrace couldn\'t destroy the impending storm.