George had always been good at keeping secrets, especially his own. He was the twin that people felt they could talk to without Fred hearing all about it. After all, Fred did have a mouth like a torn pocket; you put something in there, and it spills all over the place.But it did pain him to keep secrets about himself from his Fred.
There were little secrets, like how George loved it when Fred had nightmares, despite how tired and guilty he looked, because Fred would always ask to crawl into bed with him. Under the pretense of comforting him, George could wrap around his brother, stroke his back, and hide his pleased grin against his brother's neck; noting how he smelled so different from himself. To George, Fred smelled like springtime, only more so, if that were possible. He smelled like fresh dew, and newly cut grass, just begging to be raked through by eager fingers, and George relished in the few times he was given the opportunity to breathe it in.
There were also the bigger secrets, the ones that had him searching helplessly for excuses when questioned about them by Fred. After all, he highly doubted that "because I think you're bloody gorgeous" would sound like an appropriate response to Fred, or the classroom full of people surrounding them, when asked why he was staring at his twin with such an odd expression. But Fred WAS beautiful, and how could something so truthful ever be wrong to say?
And finally there were the secrets that George just couldn't find a way to define. The secrets that made him feel like, if he tried to give them titles and classifications, would make his head explode. Secrets like how, after Fred had fallen asleep in his bed several times after nightmares, he'd lain awake, and imagined kissing him, loving him, and never letting him leave the bed ever again.
George Weasley had his secrets, but he would always wish they could be shared.