𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 | 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

The Three Stages of Grief

George didn't have a shirt on, but he was wearing black dress pants and a black tie. It was a rather odd attire, but somehow made sense on George. He was sitting on the drum throne, head bobbing up and down with the rhythm.

Elodie sat on his bed. "You okay?"

He might've nodded his head; she couldn't tell. There were a couple pieces of paper scattered around his bed, Elodie recognized them as the lyric sheets that sometimes came in the back of records. Some of them had messy scribbles in the margins, or underlined passages.

Elodie picked one up gingerly.

Truth covered insecurity
I can't let you smother me
I'd like to but it couldn't work
Trading off and taking turns
I don't regret a thing

I've got this friend, you see, who makes me feel
And I wanted more than I could steal
I'll arrest myself I'll wear a shield
I'll go out of my way to prove I still
Smell her on you

Don't tell me what I wanna hear
Afraid of never knowing fear
Experience anything you need
I'll keep fighting jealousy
Until it's fucking gone.

And another.

I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame.

"Georgie."

"You shouldn't read those."

"Maybe you could talk to me." She put a soft hand on his shoulder.

George looked at her like she had just suggested they go hunt wild sphinxes.

Elodie rolled her eyes. "No, right. I forgot that the only way boys can show emotion is by hitting things."

"I show emotions!" George insisted.

"Prove it." She coaxed. "Please, talk to me."

George got up from his drumset tiredly, and sat across from her. He leaned against the headboard, eyes closed.

Elodie was well aware she would have to initiate most of this conversation. "Those lyrics..." she began. "Were they about Lee, and Fred?"

George didn't open his eyes. "...No."

"Georgie..."

"Maybe."

"What's going on there, then?" Elodie put a hand on his knee. "Y'know, since you and him talked."

"It was stupid." George shook his head. "He told me that there was 'no hard feelings'."

Elodie gaped. "No hard feelings?!"

George nodded sourly.

"But I was so sure that-"

"That what, Elodie?! That Lee would fancy me back and we would live happily ever after? It doesn't work that way." George snapped. "Not for me."

Elodie looked at the quilt, chewing on the inside of her lip. He was right. She had it easy with Forrest. There would be no questions, or jeers, or dirty looks in the hall if she held his hand or kissed him. Elodie's insides burned thinking about someone making fun of George. Or hurting him?! No one would, not here... right?

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"It is what it is." George shrugged. "I was just holding out for Kurt Cobain to show up at Hogwarts and ask for my hand in marriage."