Unfair by syl

Everwood is owned by The WB.


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It wasn't fair.

He watched through the glass window, saw her kneel down beside him. The florescent light cast a sheen around the crown of her head. Idly, he imagined her as an angel, wings outspread from her shoulder blades, feathers trailing in a brilliant flash of white.

But she wasn't his angel and the still figure on the bed reminded him of that. He jerked his gaze away from the window. Bitterly, he wondered what it would be like if he was Colin. It was always Colin.

Can you ask your dad to take a look at Colin?
Last year I asked Colin...
My first crush...
Meet Colin Hart.

His eyes went back to the stationary figure and anger flushed his face, tightened his jaw muscles. It's your fault. His fault that Amy had gotten like this, his fault for all the time she had spent, on him, seeing him, talking to him, reading to him, thinking of him --

Instantly he felt a sharp pain in his chest, half-guilt and half-shame. But he felt anger, too -- maybe at Colin, maybe at God, maybe at himself. He didn't know anymore.

It wasn't fair.

He didn't know what he wanted. For Colin to wake up so he wouldn't see the pain in her eyes, a sadness he recognized, a wistfulness that he felt. For Colin to stay asleep, so he'd be the only one to hear her laughter, see her smile.

He felt a dull pain and half-closed his eyes.

He thought of his mother, the memories bittersweet and aching. Jokes they had shared, smiles, laughter. Suddenly he felt tired. His eyes drifted to the floor. He shifted his position and dragged the sole of his shoe across the square tiles, the reflection of the lights glaring off of them. It's not fair, he said silently to the tiles. They didn't answer, only squeaked in protest as he dragged his other shoe across the surface.

He lifted his head. He saw Amy stand. Again he imagined the wings, quivering at her back, the tips of her hair brushing against soft feathers.

She was beautiful.

And she would never be his.