George Weasley (bl_george) wrote in bloodlines_rp, @ 2009-08-12 12:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | george weasley, katie bell, loc: private residence (hogsmeade), loc: three broomsticks, oct 2002, type: rp |
How much firewhiskey does it take to change a light bulb?
Date & Time: 12 October, 2002 |after-work-ish
Post Type: RP
Status: Closed: Complete
Character(s): George Weasley, Katie Bell
Location: The Three Broomsticks
Summary: George gets a letter. And needs a friend. Although maybe another drink will do... Or not.
Warning for sexuality.
George stared down at the letter in his hand, shaking his head, absolutely hating the knot it had created. Right in the gut. Icy and sharp. Like a knife. Bastard...
He blinked, then read the letter again.
George,
I know it's been a while, but I was just thinking how much I hate how we left things before. I wish we'd have had a chance to talk or something, but stuff happened so fast.
Anyway, I'm back in London, and I'd love to see you. Think we could hook up sometime? I miss you.
Matt
George gritted his teeth, crumpling the letter in one hand. Hate how we left things? Stuff happened so fast? He stood without moving for a very long time, counting breaths and heartbeats and the number of times his mind inserted the word motherfucker into any thought it had...
Seventeen.
His next thought was Angelina. She'd be home... But that thought was dismissed just as quickly. She'd be logical. He didn't want to be logical. He wanted to be...
Numb.
George shrugged out of bright magenta robes and left them lying on the floor, Apparating directly beside the front door of the Three Broomsticks and walking inside. A word. A coin. He took the bottle of Ogden's and the glass, then headed for an empty table. There were plenty.
He downed one glassful, then poured it full again, looking into the amber liquid for a moment. "To a big fuck you," he said, lifting the tumbler, then draining it again. He considered other options for people to drink with, and realised that it didn't matter, really. Drinking alone would do, if he didn't have a friend to drink with. Be with. Mourn and be furious with. He splashed the glass full again, taking a deep drink, then let out a ragged breath. Never stopped burning, no matter how much you drank...
Fuckin'-A.