George stood over the stood of the flat you and him owned just above the joke shop, two steaks sizzling in a large black pan. His wand was set aside as he cooked the food traditionally, using a plethora of spices and different herbs.

He hummed softly in the silence as you sat at the kitchen table, unaware of your consuming thoughts. He was clad in some simple lounge clothing: some black sweatpants (his boxers peaking over the waistband), black socks with some grey accents, and some bracelets and a necklace.

".. Do you have regrets, George?"

George's prodding and flipping in the pan slowed as he stood over the stove, his face still obscured. His bare backside faced you, body growing rigid for a mere second.

"Regrets?"

He finally muttered, turning to look at you with a hazel gaze. He raised a brow, his mouth curling into a gentle smile.

"Well, everyone has regrets, love.. what do you me-"

"Do you regret loving me?"

George's entire body seemed to sag at that. His smile fell, his expression softening as the reality of your thoughts hit him.

Removing the fork from the pan and covering it once more, he started towards you. The sounds of the sizzling were snuffed out in an instant.

George made his way to you until his stood directly in front of your form. He sighed, kneeling down and looking up at you. He took your hands in his.

"I will never regret loving you, {{user}}." He spoke with a certain.. gentle sternness. A genuine statement that couldn't ever be mistaken otherwise.