When Doves Cry

Sometimes there is nothing worse than having your faults pointed out to you. Especially when you're really not in the mood to hear them.

I sighed and shifted slightly, feeling the complaint in my back from sitting hunched up as I was for so long. I pulled my knees up, hugging them to me and resting my chin on top. Staring out of the window next to me, but seeing nothing, I continued musing.

I didn't know if it made it better or worse that he knew me so well. Of course that then meant that he was right, something which in my current frame of mind, I would never admit. I wondered if this was pretty much because I was such an open book, my emotions ran very close to the surface and were never something I could hide very well. The other possibility was that when you've known someone for as long as we had, it's just automatic: you know instantly what the other person is thinking or feeling without them having to say a thing. Of course, added to that was the connection that we had and it all added up to someone who knew my inner most thoughts and feelings seemingly before I did.

I knew that he only did it because he cared but stupid male pride prevented me from backing down and telling him so. I studied the toes of my shoes, focusing on the scuff on the left one in a vain attempt to stop my mind from working.

Instinctively, I knew that he was coming into the room and a second later, heard the door open. I didn't turn my head to look at him, continuing my assessment of the view out of the window beside me instead.

He cleared his throat and I hid a little smile to myself.

"I - er - "

"I know," I replied softly.

That was all it took. There was a brief pause in which I turned to look up at the face I knew so well, the face I saw reflected back at me everywhere I went. An awkward grin flashed over it and I returned it.

"You know, I think I figured out where we were going wrong," I said to him as though nothing out of the ordinary occured.

"Really? Was it the - "

" - burdock, indeed." I completed his sentence as we always did. Two people, two bodies, one shared consciousness.

I sensed his eagerness to go test out this new theory and unfolded myself from the windowseat, stretching leisurely as I did so. He glanced over at me before pelting out of the door and clattering down the stairs and I followed him, prompting a cry from Mum.

"Fred! George!"

I grinned as we charged through the kitchen, stopping only to give her a quick hug which put an end to whatever it was she'd been going to say. Rapidly I ran through the garden after my twin. Sometimes I was glad he knew me so well.