Chapter 4
♦♦♦ "You sound so angry, just calm down, you found me" ♦♦♦
The bell at the front door jingles.
"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wh-" Fred emerges, "Bill!
Bill looks around, tightening his hold on the flowers he had.
"Aww," Fred places a hand on his chest, "you didn't have to."
Bill pulls the flowers away before his brother can get it. He raises his brows, "they're obviously not for you."
"I beg to differ," he smirks and crosses his arms, "if they weren't, you'd be next door at Sweets & Sweeties havin' a cuppa with your sweetie."
He merely stares at Fred.
"And George," the younger Weasley motions with his head.
"George?" Bill frowns.
Fred nods, "George."
"What's he doing there?" the elder Weasley turns to the wall, as if he could see through it.
"I hate to break it to you, brother, but brother's gone off to steal your girl," Fred walks off, leaving Bill to follow. He knew better than to believe George would ever do such a thing, but it still got him high-strung, just as Fred intended. The latter continues, "he's helping your sweetheart with the wallpaper you were supposed to be helping with while you're too busy being jealous."
"Why'd you think I brought flowers?" Bill snaps.
Fred turns, "for me!" and tries to snatch the flowers.
Bill dodges and pushes him back with a glare.
The younger recoils then clears his throat, "right. So..." he shrugs looking back at Bill, "why are you here then?"
"Because she's not there, Fred!"
"I just told you she's there!"
"WHY WOULD I BE HERE IF I SAW HER-"
"YOU OBVIOUSLY NEED GLASSES, OLD MAN!"
For a moment, the Weasley brothers stare at each other. He gives Fred a searing gaze, but his resolve remains. He knows then he's not lying.
"Unbelievable!" Bill huffs, storming out.
Fred presses his lips together then waves, "come back soon!"
The bell rings again as Bill leaves. He walks over to the shop next door, finding the store to be, indeed, empty. He debates going back in, but he didn't want to be blindsided if in case the twins were in fact playing a trick on him.
He quickly realizes there were no tricks upon hearing the sound of laughter coming from the end of the street.
You and George each had a paper bag clutched to your chest as you walked with your arms linked. He thinks of Fred's words: George was going to steal you. He clenches his jaw, feeling irrational at what was clearly an offhanded teasing remark from his idiot brother.
And yet... there it was, the same impatience he felt just yesterday with Don and Bart. He turns to his feet, crushing the stems of his flowers with how frequently he squeezed them.
"Bill!" he hears his brother call.
He looks up, finding George grinning at him. You merely stared.
"We were just talking about you- aw!" George winces, turning to you, "what? It's true."
Bill stays put as you both walk over. You avoid his gaze, even going as far as hiding behind George. His brother is quick to shimmy out of the way though, "interested in the back of my jumper much?"
You don't have a moment to respond as George takes the paper bag from you, lurching forward in faux struggle, "wow," he exaggeratedly grunts, "this is heavy! I'll go put them inside."
Neither of you speak as George walks into your shop. The bell rings as the door opens and closes. You lick your lips and turn to your feet.
"For you," he offers the flowers.
You slowly look up. You can see he looks like he didn't sleep very well and yet you can't help the words itching inside your mouth, "aren't you worried George is talking me up?"
Bill's nostrils flare.
You clench your teeth.
"I don't like it when we fight," he mutters.
"I'm not fighting," you shrug, "I'm telling you what you told me."
He lowers the flowers. A line forms between his brows, "what do you want me to say?"
Your lips part and your heart drops. Your brows furrow, "wh-" you shake your head, "what did you come here to say?"
"I came here to make peace."
"Oh, but you're not going to apologize?"
He scratches his nose, that was the thing, "I can't help the way I feel."
"What? You shake your head, "what about how I feel?" you quip, "how you made me feel?"
Bill lowers his gaze.
"No, you can't help the way you feel, but you can help the way you react. It's not my fault you think Don and Bart like me."
"I know it isn't but I-" he cuts himself off with a laugh. He brushes his hair back, frustrated by what was happening. He speaks slowly, as if it would help you understand, "I can't help the way I feel."
You look at him in silence.
Bill looks everywhere else but at you.
You cross your arms, feeling your eyes water, "fine," you huff through your nostrils, "I'm sorry talking to my old friends made you feel a way you can't help."
He drops his head then finally turns to you. His stomach drops to see your eyes were now pink and glassy. He speaks your name and steps forward. You pull away when he tries to touch you.
"I-" he whispers, "please don't cry."
You furrow your brows, "that's all you have to say to me?"
"APOLOGIZE YOU IDIOT!" two separate voices call in unison behind two different windows.
You both flinch, then Bill glares at his brothers, pointing the bouquet of flowers at them, "shut it. This is none of your business!"
"Only it is though!" Fred blurts from the inside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Bill is about to respond, but then he notices you're about to walk away. He grabs your shoulders, "No— I'm sorry."
You look at him, tears now streaming your cheeks.
"Merlin, I-"
It was too late now. It took him too long to say it. He releases you and you immediately retreat into your shop.
George calls out to you as you go to the back of your store. He then turns to his brother and motions with his head, "what are you waiting for?!"
Guilt bites at Bill, and it's why he figures he shouldn't push you anymore than he already has, "I shouldn't."
"Shouldn't?!" George runs out your shop, "you should be the one helping her with her wallpaper, you absolute buff-"
Bill cuts him off by shoving the flowers into his chest.
He bristles as he watches his older brother walk away, "coward!"
Fred marches to his twin, joining in, "yellow-belly!"
"Ugly!"
"Red head!"
George slaps the flowers on Fred's chest, "we're red heads, idiot."
"No, I'm not," Fred takes the flowers, combing through his bangs, "I've always had an orange undertone in my mane."
George rolls his eyes.
"What? You're just jealous."