Luke returned the embrace, lifting George to take the weight off her ankle. He breathed in deep, rocking her slightly, and in spite of himself pressed a kiss onto the top of her dark head.
Just have to wait.
"I hate waiting," he told her, brow furrowed. "I just... I hate this. I hate it."
It was difficult, being faced with how much you really loved someone when there was a chance they might leave you -- that they might never be the same. Luke had never given much thought to how important his Uncle really was; he'd taken it for granted that they'd never be without eachother, now that they'd been reunited. But the world was cruel, right?
When George squeezed his hand, Luke squeezed back, frowning. Is that true? "Same. You're my... best friend."
Of course, she was more than that, too. Definitely more. He hoped she realized that he'd been serious, even if the truth had come out at a horrible time.