
And with every burst of memory, George realized just how short the span of nineteen years had really been. The sudden know of that knowledge to his head burned like fiendfyre. His heart hammered sickly against the cage of his ribs, and he wanted to claw back every single bone and offer the palpatating thing to someone, something, in return for Fred. Because he surely didn’t want half-a-heart. It wasn’t right; it didn’t work properly without its twin.
Just like him.
(please do not remove above sdgfhgjh)
(via we-reidentical)
I sort of had to edit this.