AN: This isn't my first fan fic, how ever it is my first time posting one, I do truly hope you enjoy it C:

Disclaimer: I do not own Ed, Edd n Eddy

He sat there quietly, backside numb from sitting in the rather uncomfortable chair for the past hour and a half. His elbows dug into his knees whilst there was an imprint of his fingers against his forehead. With each inhale, he trembled, his breath catching in his throat, nostrils flaring, and with each exhale he sighed heavily, trying his best to calm himself; to stop the quivering of his foot, and the shaking of his knee. There was a possibility that if anyone where to sit next to him, they would be able to hear the sounds of heart thrusting itself against his breastbone, beating wildly, quickly, as if he had just come from running; but in fact, he had been sitting there, in that terribly uncomfortable chair for just shy of two hours. Lone droplets of salty tears hung from his flaring nostrils as he kept his head down, forearms blocking the view of his broken face from any passerby; though truth be told, he cared not if anyone saw him, for he blocked them all out. He lost himself in the darkness of his mind, alienated himself from the population of patients, doctors and visitors all alike.

Without his conscious knowledge, lines of tears had begun to trek down his fleshed, heated cheeks. His eyes closed tightly and the unsteady beating of his heel to the ground grew in a harsh, unrhythmic pace. The young man was quickly growing uneasy, impatient and anxious, more so than he had been an hour ago. He didn't know how much longer he could sit there and wait, sit there and just do…nothing. Less than four hours ago two rather large doctors had to strap him down some random wheelchair because he had been loud, rough and rather uncouth. He needed to be by his boyfriend's side; couldn't they see the desperation, the strain on his face? Did they not understand that he had been there during the entire ordeal; he had been in the fucking car too! Being told to calm down, that everything would be alright while being strapped to a wheelchair wasn't the least bit reliving, but he had gotten himself under control, enough for the doctors to allow him to sit in the waiting room.

The young man had paced from one end of the spacious, white walled room, to the other for at least an hour; there was a slight limp to his walking, but he didn't care much to pay attention to it. In fact, it seemed the doctors cared more than he did and had bugged him about it for a good five minutes before he sat down to wait as patiently as he could. But all of that had been at least three to four hours ago, and with each passing minute, the young man found himself growing more and more apprehensive, restless and edgy. No one was giving him any information; instead they watched him from behind the receptionist desk, doing their jobs of answering useless phone calls, paging stupid, impractical doctors and doing unnecessary paperwork. All the while he sat there, letting the darkness of his thoughts get the best of him, his eyes wet from the tears that had long since fell, nose running and yet he cared so little that he didn't wipe his face.

He had been in the accident, right next to his boyfriend, watching him laugh, listening to him talk and go on about this and that; he had been there, had heard the initial screeching of the car that collided with the passenger seat's door. Nothing else could be heard other than the meshing of metal against metal, the screeching of tires against the asphalt; though he was sure his ears had begun to ring when his car flipped. It pained him to remember, though it flashed in his mind so clearly, how his car had fallen so hard on its roof, leaving him upside down, strapped in by his seat belt, but his boyfriend…that had been another story; he was nowhere to be found.

With a long, drawn out, shuddered sigh, he finally made a move to wipe his wet eyes and use his dirty shirt to rub at his nose. Rough, calloused hands pulled his hat from his head, and without care, he let it drop from his fingers, tired, burning eyes staring at it, glaring at the accessory.

Fuck.

Why wasn't anyone coming to talk to him! To reassure him that everything was going to be at least remotely okay! All the doctors that entered the waiting room simply walked past him to other visitors and those who waited to be checked up on, walked past him as if he wasn't even there, as if he wasn't waiting for someone who was in the ER in critical condition. Balled up fists were slammed down into shaking knees, a sigh of frustration was forced from his nostrils as he finally stood; his knees buckled for a brief moment, but he was quick to limp towards the receptionist's desk, leaning heavily against it, his palms flat to its glossy surface.

"Can't you tell me what's going on back there?" He spat angrily, the anxiety that he had felt inwardly suddenly boiling over as he lashed out at the three women that sat behind the circular desk. "I mean for fuck's sake how many hours has it been since we've gotten here! I don't know anything that's going on with him!" His voice was loud, hoarse from the silent crying, hoarse still from the copious amounts of screaming and shouting during the car crash. However, the brunette that sat before him simply eyed him with a sympathetic gaze behind her spectacles before turning her brown eyes to the woman beside her, a pudgy blond who, in all honestly, didn't look to know shit.

"I'm sorry sir, but Dr. Carlson strictly told us to keep you here; you aren't allowed in the emergency room." Her voice was shrill and pierced his ears just as the grinding of the hood of the car had against the asphalt. The young man gritted his teeth as he glared down at her, his face red, cheeks splotchy as they heated with anger; and yet he said nothing, he simply stared at her, breathing heavily. "You're just going to have to wait here like everyone else, so please, for the third time, have a seat." Her voice was sharp and unkind though her eyes were rather clear and understanding, yet he found that he hated her, loathed her for keeping him away from his most important person.

But he did as she asked him to and slowly made his way back to the chair he had been occupying for the past few hours, sitting with a heavy, long-winded sigh. However, it seemed he didn't need to sit for too long, as there was a doctor, male, of average height looking to be well into his mid-forties, who pushed passed the large double doors, a chart within his hands and a forlorn look upon his long, unshaven face. His eyes, shrouded by spectacles, looked worn and aged, wrinkled and rather unattractive, and yet, as they landed upon the young man, he was quick to perk up, sitting up properly from his prior slouched position.

"Alright Kevin." Dr. Carlson started, just as the young man stood, moving closer to the aged professional. "When you and Eddward entered the hospital, do you remember if he was speaking?" Came his first question, followed by, "Was he awake and conscious of his surroundings?". His voice was grim, quiet, as he watched the fidgeting youth before him.

Kevin stood there for just a moment, his breathing heavy as he did his best to recall the rushed moments from when he and Eddward had been taken to the hospital. He was silent for a moment or two before his deep forest green eyes met the doctor's worn brown orbs. "No…no…" The young man whispered quietly, his inhale of breath shuddered as he ran a hand through his cropped, copper colored hair. "No…he was unconscious, I-I tried talking to him, but he wouldn't respond." He whispered still, though he had cleared his throat in order to sound stronger than he felt. With a fallen facial expression, Kevin looked from the doctor and his charts, and instead drew a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping as he recalled trying to get Eddward to respond to him, trying to get the dork to open his eyes by insulting him, by calling him out of his name, by shaking his shoulder; though after short moments of trying, the EMT's had pulled him away and set him into a stretcher with a neck brace; he had fought them the entire time, kicking and screaming, calling out for his boyfriend to answer him back, lest he break up with him.

Usually the beanie clad boy would respond with a joke of his own, but not this time; there was nothing more than silence, a cold, uncomfortable silence.

"—lack of blood supply to the brain after traumatic crushing of the frontal lobe, we believe his prefrontal cortex took the blunt of the damage." Kevin looked to the doctor, his eyes wide, damp with newly formed tears, and yet he tried his best not to let them fall. "W-what?" He stammered quietly, sighing heavily as he flipped through Eddward's charts, shaking his head quietly. "He is still too unstable, we need to see if the excess swelling of his brain will go down on its own before having to release the pressure by hand." That aged, smoking voice broke though Kevin's ears, and the young man stayed silent, his eyes falling to the ground, finding it hard to look at the doctor. "We need to allow him time to try and repair himself, but if time dr—!"

"How much time?" Kevin interrupted, finally turning his eyes up to meet the doctors. An uncomfortable silence passed between the two, and just before Kevin opened his mouth to speak again, the doctor was answering him. "We don't know."

Nothing seemed to make sense to Kevin, he wasn't a fucking doctor, and some of what Dr. Carlson had said, truly didn't make a lick of sense to him, and yet, knowing that it would take an unaccounted amount of time for Eddward to… "Will he wake up soon?" His voice came out as small as he felt, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides. "Please tell me he'll at least…open his eyes…" The young man sounded drained and lost, his shoulders slumped heavily whilst his eyes had begun to feel dry and blurry from the sheer weight of the day.

Kevin watched as Dr. Carlson eyed him, the much older man having gone silent at his questions, his hands falling to his sides, the chart clasped in his grip. "It's undetermined when he will wake up, but as soon as he does, I personally will inform you." His aged voice had taken on a kinder, more understanding tone, almost as if he were trying to sooth the distraught young man. "But you must understand, this is a delicate situation. Because there is such great damage to his prefrontal cortex, there is a possibility that he will not recognize you when he wakes up." The doctor's words had Kevin feeling as if he were walking across a floor covered in broken glass. "

He felt cold for a moment, though the moment seemed to draw itself out into an eternity, even as the doctor reached out to grasp his shoulder. "We will try our best, Kevin." His voice was still warm, but even then Kevin felt cold, even then he backed away from the touch, shaking his head, bringing his hands to his face, hiding away his wet eyes.

"It wasn't my fault…" He whispered quietly.

"Pardon?" Dr. Carlson spoke up, the man raising a brow as he watched Kevin, watched the way the boy caved in on himself, his broad shoulders shaking, trembling violently beneath his leather jacket.

"I-I didn't see the other car…I s-swear!" Kevin's voice by now had broken down as he moaned into his hands, his eyes closed tightly, though all he could see then was the horrified expression riddled upon Eddward's face as the younger male finally noticed that there was a car mere moments from colliding with his side of the vehicle.

"—it isn't your fault." The doctor had been speaking, but for the second time, Kevin hadn't caught most of what he had said, and instead of asking for the older man to repeat himself, the young man simply moved to sit back down, his elbows to his knees, hands gripping his short hair, eyes blurry as he tried his best to compose himself. He sat there in a tense silence and it was only moments later did he realize that Dr. Carlson had returned to wherever he had come from. With a deep groan, he beat the ball of his hand to his forehead, his foot thumping upon the floor; he felt so close to losing Eddward, it frightened him to live a life without the gap-toothed brunette.

But it wasn't his fault right?

Right, Dr. Carlson had said so himself, but why did he continue to feel as if he could have saved Eddward from all of this? He could have taken a different route, paid more attention to the streets than to his boyfriend's laughter. He should have had his eyes on the road, both hands on the steering wheel; he should have had the music playing lower, maybe the car that had collided with them was honking, but he hadn't heard it.

He should have protected Eddward…but he hadn't.

The very thought of having his boyfriend slip through his fingers, all because he wasn't paying attention caused the young man great pain, so much so that he trembled visibly, his eyes were blurred with tears that fell down the slope of his nose to his the white tiled floor.

Kevin wasn't the sort to pray to God, and he certainly didn't attend church, however he found himself then, his fingers clasping together, silently begging to whoever was listening, that Eddward pull through, that he somehow wake up with his memories. He pleaded silently that the swelling of the boy's brain go down, that he wouldn't change…he needed Eddward to live.

Please...don't slip away from me…

Now, that was the first installment/chapter to Evermore, I'm hoping to make it at least 10 chapters strong!

I do hope to update once a week or once every other week!

I've been thinking about writing this ever since I returned home from San Francisco, so...I hope it was worth it (haha~) .

Now, I'm not a doctor, and I only know so much, if there are mistakes in my medical knowledge, please inform me!

Questions, Comments, Concerns, Reviews! It is all, all greatly appreciated, be it praise, neutrality, or even flames.

-Potu