(no subject)
Date: Monday Morning.
Time: 1am.
Location: Bill's house.
Characters Involved: Bill Weasley and Charlie Weasley.
Rating: PG-13? For Language?
Bill hated those few awkward moments when asleep slowly became awake, because they always went the same way. He'd roll over and reach for the warmth of someone else beside him and panic when it wasn't there, then slowly it all came back to him. It was from habit and loneliness, not because he wanted her there. Which isn't to say he didn't miss her, he did, every day. But it got to a point where he had to admit he didn't love her anymore and hadn't since before she'd left.
He lay there for a while, watching the shadows play across the walls before he couldn't stay there anymore and worked his way out from the tangle of sheets.
The house was quiet, so Bill made sure not to be noisy in an effort to make sure he didn't wake Charlie as he headed towards the kitchen. There wasn't much in the fridge but Bill took the bottle of juice with him as he unlocked the back door. One of the reasons they'd chosen this house was the porch that stretched around the outside and Bill settled himself down beside the ashtray. This was his favourite spot to sit and think, looking over the overgrown garden and the trees beyond. He'd sat here in anger and in sadness and now in some kind of final acceptance of all that had happened.
He'd pulled on his jacket over his shirt and shorts and dug his cigarettes out from the pocket, the perfect partner to contemplation.
Time: 1am.
Location: Bill's house.
Characters Involved: Bill Weasley and Charlie Weasley.
Rating: PG-13? For Language?
Bill hated those few awkward moments when asleep slowly became awake, because they always went the same way. He'd roll over and reach for the warmth of someone else beside him and panic when it wasn't there, then slowly it all came back to him. It was from habit and loneliness, not because he wanted her there. Which isn't to say he didn't miss her, he did, every day. But it got to a point where he had to admit he didn't love her anymore and hadn't since before she'd left.
He lay there for a while, watching the shadows play across the walls before he couldn't stay there anymore and worked his way out from the tangle of sheets.
The house was quiet, so Bill made sure not to be noisy in an effort to make sure he didn't wake Charlie as he headed towards the kitchen. There wasn't much in the fridge but Bill took the bottle of juice with him as he unlocked the back door. One of the reasons they'd chosen this house was the porch that stretched around the outside and Bill settled himself down beside the ashtray. This was his favourite spot to sit and think, looking over the overgrown garden and the trees beyond. He'd sat here in anger and in sadness and now in some kind of final acceptance of all that had happened.
He'd pulled on his jacket over his shirt and shorts and dug his cigarettes out from the pocket, the perfect partner to contemplation.