A/N: What if there was no Nina to work out the mess when Ephram decided he was leaving? What if Andy let Ephram slip through his fingers? Would Amy *finally* care?
Pairing: Ephram/Amy implied
Rating: G
Last Ep Seen Before Writing: Turf Wars
Legalities: Do not own WB or Everwood, or Ephram would already be paying a small visit to my hometown..
Muse: "Like A Stone"- Audioslave, and Depression, the Muse of torture and adieus
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Ephram was just about finished with his packing. He has won, because as always, he was right. He would go back to where he really belonged. New York, where there were no 'Little Bunny' streets but classy fifth avenues. New York, where art meant more than ice sculptures, culture was more than road trips to a ski resort. New York, where no one knew each other and were perfectly content on it staying that way.
Stuffing his black concert shirts and baggy jeans into the suitcase was easy enough. It was the other things to bring or not to bring that caused the internal struggle.
The invitation. Even if Amy wasn't the one who invited him, and the memory of the elaborate prank her neanderthal brother pulled made him cringe, it was sentimental. The aged paper tied neatly in a red ribbon with feminine calligraphy scrolling 'To Ephram' on the front. It was part of his life. But would it be a part of his life in New York?
And the pictures. There were hundreds of them cast in wooden frames around his room. There was one the first they moved into the house, Andy and Delia smiling brightly, and Ephram with his crossed arm and an angry scowl, positioned at the front yard. Another one of him playing the piano, a candid shot taken by his father. Scenic ones, the tops of the mountains, overlooking the quaint town below.
And the large, framed picture in the middle of his dresser. Amy in her beautiful ballet gown and Ephram at her recital, both smiling genuinely at the camera. Her arms were swept to the side, elegant and graceful, while her head rested on Ephram's shoulder. The picture didn't show it, but Ephram knew he must not have been breathing with her so close to him.
Amy's song. The worn-out, folded composition sheet of paper lay on his dresser as well, blotted with tears he would not admit were his own. He remembered when he had finished that piece, that last note. He knew it was the most beautiful thing he had ever written. He had childishly believed it was because he had the most beautiful muse that he had created it for. Once began to play it, from the first to the last key, the music posessed him. It was almost a trance, he couldn't set his thoughts straight. Only one thing came to mind when playing it. Amy.
Ephram shook his head, clearing his mind of her haunting face and focusing at the task at hand. He quickly shoved a few more things into the bag, closing the clasp firmly. From now on, it was just him and that bag, out there on their own in good old New York. Their new lives together. One devoid of 'enemy' doctors concealing something deeper, or tortuous, sadistic monsters he called classmates, or sickeningly spontaneous fathers, manipulative on-and-off friends and their crazy coma boyfriends. He was ready for his old and new life in New York.
He hauled the bag out the door, screaming a reply to his impatient father. Everything he needed was already there for him, and he was eager to forget about his preceeding life in a hell called Everwood. Taking a hlance back at his old room, he saw to it that everything had been cleared out except for a smal pile at the corner, the discard pile ready to be disposed of. On the top of the pile were torn-up pictures, glyers, a rolled up scroll of antique paper, and on the very top, an sheet of music with the words, 'Amy's Song' enscribed at the top.
He put down the paper disgustedly, trying to cast the tune from his head. The repetetive, ethereal tune with a life on its own. The melody plagued him as he left the house with his posessions. The tune faded off as the passed the 'Welcome to Everwood' sign for the last time, and Ephram was thankful. But when the music died, something else inside of him did too. If he ever needed to find it, it would be right where he left it. In a town called Everwood.
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Amy didn't exactly blame Ephram for leaving Everwood so quickly. She knew things were tough for him. Everyday she heard of how crazy his father was, how much he hated him and the entire stupid town. He was an outcast, that Amy knew. She wished she could change it, but no one seemed to like the idea very much. For one thing, her clique was way too pre-occupied in his clothes to understand the kind soul inside of him, and for another, Ephram wouldn't like County High's letterman jacket very much.
Well, maybe she didn't have much to say for herself, because she would admit, her first motive in seeking Ephram's friendship was to get Colin's operation done. But she knew there was more to him than that as the days went by, and she found herself..
..becoming very good friends, is the way she usually ended it. Their indescribable friendship meant so much to her, that it had been the root of many fights within her group. It got to the point where it seemed like Ephram was the only one that was always by her. She wished she could be there for him too, be as much to him as he was to her.
She always showed her appreciation for him so eloquently.
How many times had she wished to take back those eight words. "Maybe it's time for you to move on." But she had never realized how much of an affect she had on Epham. Now she did.
She had vowed, the next time she'd see Ephram, she'd take it all back. Everything ever said, done to him that had hurt him in any way. And she'd tell him how much he really meant to her, the one true friend she could always depend upon.
She finally tell him, that she was starting to fall for him.
Too bad that he left before she could ever see him again.
A/N: Please review! I appreciate them all *so* much!
Pairing: Ephram/Amy implied
Rating: G
Last Ep Seen Before Writing: Turf Wars
Legalities: Do not own WB or Everwood, or Ephram would already be paying a small visit to my hometown..
Muse: "Like A Stone"- Audioslave, and Depression, the Muse of torture and adieus
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ephram was just about finished with his packing. He has won, because as always, he was right. He would go back to where he really belonged. New York, where there were no 'Little Bunny' streets but classy fifth avenues. New York, where art meant more than ice sculptures, culture was more than road trips to a ski resort. New York, where no one knew each other and were perfectly content on it staying that way.
Stuffing his black concert shirts and baggy jeans into the suitcase was easy enough. It was the other things to bring or not to bring that caused the internal struggle.
The invitation. Even if Amy wasn't the one who invited him, and the memory of the elaborate prank her neanderthal brother pulled made him cringe, it was sentimental. The aged paper tied neatly in a red ribbon with feminine calligraphy scrolling 'To Ephram' on the front. It was part of his life. But would it be a part of his life in New York?
And the pictures. There were hundreds of them cast in wooden frames around his room. There was one the first they moved into the house, Andy and Delia smiling brightly, and Ephram with his crossed arm and an angry scowl, positioned at the front yard. Another one of him playing the piano, a candid shot taken by his father. Scenic ones, the tops of the mountains, overlooking the quaint town below.
And the large, framed picture in the middle of his dresser. Amy in her beautiful ballet gown and Ephram at her recital, both smiling genuinely at the camera. Her arms were swept to the side, elegant and graceful, while her head rested on Ephram's shoulder. The picture didn't show it, but Ephram knew he must not have been breathing with her so close to him.
Amy's song. The worn-out, folded composition sheet of paper lay on his dresser as well, blotted with tears he would not admit were his own. He remembered when he had finished that piece, that last note. He knew it was the most beautiful thing he had ever written. He had childishly believed it was because he had the most beautiful muse that he had created it for. Once began to play it, from the first to the last key, the music posessed him. It was almost a trance, he couldn't set his thoughts straight. Only one thing came to mind when playing it. Amy.
Ephram shook his head, clearing his mind of her haunting face and focusing at the task at hand. He quickly shoved a few more things into the bag, closing the clasp firmly. From now on, it was just him and that bag, out there on their own in good old New York. Their new lives together. One devoid of 'enemy' doctors concealing something deeper, or tortuous, sadistic monsters he called classmates, or sickeningly spontaneous fathers, manipulative on-and-off friends and their crazy coma boyfriends. He was ready for his old and new life in New York.
He hauled the bag out the door, screaming a reply to his impatient father. Everything he needed was already there for him, and he was eager to forget about his preceeding life in a hell called Everwood. Taking a hlance back at his old room, he saw to it that everything had been cleared out except for a smal pile at the corner, the discard pile ready to be disposed of. On the top of the pile were torn-up pictures, glyers, a rolled up scroll of antique paper, and on the very top, an sheet of music with the words, 'Amy's Song' enscribed at the top.
He put down the paper disgustedly, trying to cast the tune from his head. The repetetive, ethereal tune with a life on its own. The melody plagued him as he left the house with his posessions. The tune faded off as the passed the 'Welcome to Everwood' sign for the last time, and Ephram was thankful. But when the music died, something else inside of him did too. If he ever needed to find it, it would be right where he left it. In a town called Everwood.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amy didn't exactly blame Ephram for leaving Everwood so quickly. She knew things were tough for him. Everyday she heard of how crazy his father was, how much he hated him and the entire stupid town. He was an outcast, that Amy knew. She wished she could change it, but no one seemed to like the idea very much. For one thing, her clique was way too pre-occupied in his clothes to understand the kind soul inside of him, and for another, Ephram wouldn't like County High's letterman jacket very much.
Well, maybe she didn't have much to say for herself, because she would admit, her first motive in seeking Ephram's friendship was to get Colin's operation done. But she knew there was more to him than that as the days went by, and she found herself..
..becoming very good friends, is the way she usually ended it. Their indescribable friendship meant so much to her, that it had been the root of many fights within her group. It got to the point where it seemed like Ephram was the only one that was always by her. She wished she could be there for him too, be as much to him as he was to her.
She always showed her appreciation for him so eloquently.
How many times had she wished to take back those eight words. "Maybe it's time for you to move on." But she had never realized how much of an affect she had on Epham. Now she did.
She had vowed, the next time she'd see Ephram, she'd take it all back. Everything ever said, done to him that had hurt him in any way. And she'd tell him how much he really meant to her, the one true friend she could always depend upon.
She finally tell him, that she was starting to fall for him.
Too bad that he left before she could ever see him again.
A/N: Please review! I appreciate them all *so* much!