Here it is. Thought up before the finale and finalized after watching it, I present to you an alternative ending, an alternative episode really. As squicky as the paring--trinity, really--may sound, I assure you, its not what you expect. I hope you enjoy, this was painstaking...and rewarding beyond believe. Enjoy. I know I have.
Title: It's Easy As Life
Rating: PG-13 (Intense situations and emotions)
Pairing: Amy/Ephram/Bright (You read right.)
Summary: Remember them failing Spanish? No better way to spend their last night together then rectifying past mistakes...to the extreme.
Misc: The main inspiration came from here, here and here. The first opened the door, the second set the ambiance and the last hints at what's to come. Excuse my Spanish, it's rusty and for the purposes of this little piece, the Brown's couch is black.
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All I have to do is forget how much I love him,
All I have to do is put my longing to one side...
"You call this a party?"
The mirthful chuckle escaped his lips with ease, throwing himself on the couch with equal abandon. Softened jade hues glanced fruitlessly around the house, knowing that no one else would come. And somewhere in the core of his current train of thought, he wanted it that way. Ephram Brown, the new boy, the freak, the geek, the loser, had become something of a stalwart. His cool demeanor and calculating wit complimented and completed Bright's effervescent personality and spontaneous behavior. It was the age old yin to the equally old yang.
"I guess I can lay claim to all the Raisinets, then."
The plastic wrapping was torn off the package hastily, proof of a chocolate addiction that was secret to no one. Flaxen locks of aurum split down her shoulders as she leaned against the windowsill, finding no comfort in the dry caloric breeze. There would be no salvation by aqua potente; nary a cloud in the firmament. Verdant maple leaves sang their ballad in the scorching spring zephyr.
Tell myself that love's an ever changing situation,
Passion would've cooled and all the magic would have died...
"What did the Raisinets ever do to you?"
The adolescent voice drifted from the kitchen, carrying over the repetitive din of stainless steel hitting solid oak. Forgoing the usual dual-shirt ensemble, the brunette decided it was time to put to use that ridiculously expensive DKNY shirt that Bright had cajoled him into buying. With the raised hibiscus print trailing down the right side of the immaculately white silk shirt, Ephram felt extraordinarily out of context with his surroundings. Of course, the avacado he just finished dicing lent itself to the faux tropicale ambiance...but it was ridiculously expensive nonetheless.
"I thought Mom and Dad taught you better then to eat junk food before dinner."
The blond twisted his head toward his sister's position at the windowsill, engaging in the playful banter that had become commonplace with Amy's return into the household. Noisily slurping from his Coke can, he burrowed further into the cool leather, knowing in mere minutes it would absorb his body heat and amplify it ten fold. With a neurosurgeon for a father, you'd think Ephram would be able to keep the A.C. working.
I try to forget how much I want him here,
Let my dreams slowly disappeared...
The knifework was slow and meticulous, especially with such a novice at the helm. There was no Iron Chef in the house; simply three teenagers sharing their final night together. Fate could lay claim to Andrew Brown's Denver neurology conference. Destiny could take credit for Delia spending the night at Brittany's. Ephram simply didn't know, and to him, it was the end that mattered, not the means. Gouging the firey seeds from the jalapeno, a run through with the blade sent it to join the avacado in the food processor. A matter of infinite significance; showing his two best friends that they deserved an offering of appreciation and gratitude. Even at the risk of a finger or eye.
"I didn't say I was going to eat them all right now dork," came the retort from the younger sister, cocking her head to wafting fragrance of surprisingly authentic quesadillas.
"Ephram's shockingly adept cooking skills have me growing impatient."
Juilliard would have him leave tomorrow evening, robbing the Abbott kin of their source of empowerment and focus. Ephram Brown had become an integral and irreplacable piece of Everwood's circuitry; his departure would shut down their power source and leave them facing drama that was neither welcome nor needed. Ruby, emerald, and gold tortilla chips were glazed with amber strips of cheddar; monterey, habicules y carne de rez filled the crisp tortilla wedges. Spooning the guacamole into a serving dish, the cullinary-inept teen surveyed his work with pride.
I cannot forget that my emotions died,
Oh I, I dont even want to try...
"Dude, I'm with her. Are you done? I'm freaking starving!"
As he predicted, the couch was now obsidian lava and the overheated teen headed for the relative coolness of the kitchen. True to her word, Amy had only eaten three or four chocolate raisins; content to silently watch the still life that was Everwood at night. The brunette searched dilligently for the corkscrew that would open his vintage rioja; Bright surveyed the banquete with stunned rapture. Somewhere between the thoughts of "No way did he do all this" and "All your food belong to us," his feet moved him within striking range of placing a hearty and congratulatory slap on the younger teen's back.
"Dude, we are so moving in together. I will vacumn and do dishes as long as you cook."
Ephram and Amy's concordant laughter set the mood as a grinning Bright set the table, carefully moving the invaluable edibles to their final resting place. The soft pop signified the surrender of the rioja, while Oye Como Va glided across the heated atmosphere of the house. A night of pure Spanish revelry; a significance escaping none of them, with a music collection that would keep the ambiance--and evening--alive and well.
"You'd eat us out of house and home."
Such a vibrant claret, spilling into crystal-clear goblets against the sienna mahogany. The siblings flanked him on either side of the table, graciously plating their share of the meal with heartfelt statements of "Buen Apetito!" Quesadilla met guacamole, tortilla chip met queso, and rioja swpet the palatte and set their souls soaring. It would be extraordinarily trite for any of them to utter anything close to the phrase "The fact that you cooked it adds that untangible flavor to it," and yet, it didn't change the fact that there was no truer statement.
All I have to do is pretend I never knew you,
On those very rare occasions...
Brother and sister gazed down at their empty plates, searching for the words to express their gratitude for the meal while simultaneously divulging their fury for his departure. Ephram cast his thoughts to the now wordless Latin beat pumping through his home, avoiding the harsh silence now placed before them. The smoldering heat and welcomed intensity of the wine gave the brunette the slightest hint of euphoria, teasing him in the recesses of his mind. Shocked out of his revelry by the sound of rustling fabric, the siblings simply nodded with broad and encompassing smiles, taking his plate out of his hand and putting into process the end of the meal.
"Briscas, right E?"
Bright's voice injected brevity into the atmosphere once again, as the brunette rummaged through the den, looking for the foreign deck of cards. Printing instructions and memorizing them heaped on the gravitas of this evening; flawless in every elemental aspect. The hum of the dishwasher and the intro to Laura no Esta ended the cena. Cartas secured in nimble fingers, crisp white linen spread as their base, licor pilfered from its storage.
"You went all out."
Jose Cuervo Reserva de la Familia. The pride and joy of the Cuervo family, the reserva de la Familia is their longest aged tequila and cost an obscene amount that rivaled the ridiculously expensive shirt. But the reviews and opinions of tequila aficionados assured him if he was to do this once and only once...do it right, and do it with the bottle on the table before him. Languid motions performed in a dream-like state; Amy moving lime wedges and salt, Bright procuring three shot glasses. With the setup complete, there was only one thing left to do.
Play.
When you steal in to my heart,
Better to have lost you...
Caramel crossed citrine as Bright poured the first shot for his "baby" sister. The fluid shattered the room's soft lighting into shards of iridescent chromatics; entrancing to watch, enveloping to smell. Hand grasping around the vessel, it moved almost of its own volition, paying reverence to liquid history. Like magma coarsing down a mountainside, spreading fire in languid strokes through her interior; not a grimace in sight. Her previous alcoholic experiences were absolute injustices compared to her current feelings; hints of coffee and dark chocolate spread along her sensory nerves. Forest-green hues opened to two pairs of inquisitive orbs.
"Perfecto."
Manha de Caraval. Palm trees kissed the ocean breeze, sand caressed their feet, starlight drenched their skin. Bright squeezed by Ephram with one point, casting the precious amber for a second time. The siblings trained their gazes on the brunette, waiting for his reaction. Head tipped back as concentrated emotion streamed down his throat; history, feeling and purpose concerting into an experience that gave the overheated teen a pleasurable shiver that ran the length of his body.
"Irreal."
El caballo followed la sota, el rey followed el caballo, briscas after rey, as after briscas. Bright's invincibility shattered like ephemereal dreams, the last lone vessel given purpose and existance. Russian-tainted Jello and watered-down escapism vanished from his repitiore; caustic bitterness spread like wildfire, catching hints of agave as they broke through. As he opened his eyes, the faintest timbre of sweetness lingered in his mind, sensations leading to an instant comprehension of Ephram's decision to purchase this specific enhancer.
"Intocable."
When the ties were barely binding,
Better the contempt of the familiar cannot start...
Las Ventanas al Paraíso. Through the twin portals of rioja y tequlia, the world simplified to calor, sonido y color. Alabaster skin ingrained vermilion, tangerine light painting Ephram copper under his ashen silk shirt and beige khakis. Gold morphed topaz under the same conditions, obsidian and navy fingered the rim of his goblet. Solidified sunbeams flirted with her, argent and faded denim the epitomy of haute couture.
"Yo se."
His voice had dropped an octave, inflected with power, purpose and perseverence. Watching Bright slowly drain his fifth shot, the brunette's thoughts flowed flawlessly. Shifting onto his arms, the sleek body resembled a predatory cat shifting through its terrain. The siblings watched iridescence glaze over his silken attire, turning their friend into a play on words and trick on their eyes. His movements halted in front of the blondes, sitting Indian style with graceful dignity. Amy wondered why Laynie and Tommy lacked this motion during her inebriation. Bright wondered how he could have ever imagined the brunette a lanky freak.
"What can you do about it?"
The jade orbs hardened from their previous hue, focused and enhanced. Humidity battled relentlessly with sheer volcanic intensity; perhaps Santa Ana had vacationed in Everwood. The blond could feel his fingers moving, watching them brush against Ephram's shimmering silk. If ever Bright had made a right decision, it was forcing the younger to purchase this attire. It took him out of that collage we call adolescence and transported him to a point where identity, confidence and appeal were never separate entities to begin with.
There's something about you, when I wanna touch you,
And how it would've been if you were here with me today...
"Vivo."
Six glorious, glorious shots and two glasses of wine imbued Amy Abbott with such a startling sense of lucidity that she couldn't fathom being in any other state of mind. Her fingers matched her brother's in quest and deed; mind knowing it was touching solid material, but eyes absolutely sure she was stroking liquid starlight. It was a sensation that defied description, a perception that stymied depiction, a revelation that fought delineation. Agile fingers caught both wrists, silence pervading the house sans the whisper of Ana's breathing.
"I will. Prometo."
The world began to blur for Bright Abbott, color and sound melding into streaks that seemed beyond his comprehension. With a grace unlike Ephram's, the eldest teen stood with intrepidation, watching light and perception move at warp speed, giving the sensation of movement sans locomotion. Sibling intuition brought Amy besides her kin, steadying him despite her matching symptoms. And Ephram, Innocence personifed, could only stare from the floor, afraid the world would explode into something that he couldn't fathom.
"Gracias. Para el todo."
Their voices correlated in sync, swaying to Bem, Bem, Bem, Maria, so overwhelmed with reality, focus could only be brought to memories. Friendship linked on a graceful dance floor. Words tinged with optimistic pride. Assurances granted despite overwhelming odds. The obsidian lava beckoned once more, calling in a sing-song voice of sweet oblivion. Fireworks incinerating before their eyes, the Abbott kin collapsed on the couch, skin ablaze and mouths on fire.
Oh, those very rare occasions,
They keep on coming...
They were cascading behind his eyelids; drowning in raven abysses did nothing against the total lack of control. Freedom from choice, under total control of chaos, it was more a meander then anything else. From somewhere across the street, as the CD switched songs, the whisper of copper and steel beat against each other; metallic, cold, grounded. And just as fast, it dissapeared, Ephram giving into the obsidian lava, splayed across the siblings.
"Pienso te quiero."
In vino veritas, said to both, for one without the other is none at all. No, this wasn't a nubile need to experience an unknown world, a world of unimaginable double-edged swords and lighting-quick shifts. Nor was it a relapse to an era of conjoining, of necessity born from identity and proximity, ending with a withdrawal of epic proportions. This was a statment that needed no affirmation, no provacation, not even ennunciation. For those who need to work to create what should be there to begin with are building on nothing at all.
"La distancia no cambiará eso."
Extravagance's caress burnt him, sliding up a navy and raven inferno. Any moment now, every pore in his body would shatter catastrophically, taking the young teenager to what would have to be Nirvana, for things could not get far much better then this. Silver slivered as she slithered toward them, rationality nothing more now then a unknown variable in a world that had ceased to exist.
All I ever wanted,
I'm throwing it away...
"Por favor."
A cry more to himself then anything, the only medium here that stood some chance of regaining self-control. Digits grasped into the infused darkness; better puncturing replacable epidermii then actual. Like pillars of stone in a storm, wrapping themselves around his richly-adorned torso, a modicum of denial and need hidden--so poorly--in the bastion of security. Bodies squirmed and flesh frictioned for nothing more then some knowledge of fusion.
"Siempre."
She towered above him, cascading falls of now-burnt sunbeams vaporizing his flesh until air had become an optionality to his survival. Gazing from the purest nexii of the most flawless emeralds, lips descended and engulfed him, sparking some primordial reaction that if for not Bright's insatiable grip, the brunette would have surely shattered. Enfevered digits now grasped forcefully into that pool of blinding solar rays, promoting power and urgency over precision and nuances.
The added pressure sealed Bright's fate, chin coming to rest against a silken shoulder, wondering and simultaneously hoping that he'd never have to move again. Eyes wide shut, ever inch of caloric space between him and the boy on top of him screamed with fidelty and devotion. Moments flittered through his conscious like the dry wind kissing the chimes, leaving nothing short of an irrevocably changed man.
I cannot forget how much I want him here,
Yet my dreams slowly disappeared...
Writhing flesh arched and crashed against their leather foundation, soaring on a hyperthermic high that absolved barriers of cloth and society. Mouths dipped on blazing coronas, searing passions and sealing promises. Rid of the annoyance of free space, Eprham found himself completely devoid of temporal and spatial thought. Every impulse, utterance, motion, of his body began and ended within the confines of the moment.
"Nadie más."
It was a definitive that neither of them had spoken it; how could they? The concept of such a wordless bond between them shook the brunette to his very fabric, with one trembling hand each on two halves of the same whole, afraid they'd vanish like an ephemerial sunspot. Smatterings of coffee and cacao teased his lips; drinking from a source of liquid ambrosia without cessation.
Somewhere in the depths of their consciousness did they hear the musical selection change again. Chitarra glided across drums and castinets, giving an already-established lyrical rhythm to their movements. Timeless words had impact on the only psychological medium currently not overwhelmed: their subconscious. Usted ha tocado el corazón y alterado cada plan que he hecho. Defying all expectations, from the beginning to the present. Ahora yo me siento que yo no tengo miedo. Never again.
I cannot forget that my emotions died,
Oh I, I didn't want to try...
Focus flailed against famine of the flesh, three driving souls threw their bodies to the scorching winds, rocking with and against each other to carry their ill-for-words demonstration. Tempo of song and beat raised the bar, impact of time and atmosphere heightened the resolve. Remnants of las ventanas shimmered and shone in the different sources of light. The aroma carried off their now-glistening epidermi, throwing fuel onto the now furious pyre.
Pleading for a way to freeze it, praying for a way to save it, begging for a manner to never let it in. Lit with sparks of literal brimstone did windows into the world shoot open with unmitigated shock, defined teenage forms snapping, smashing and soaring. A trinity of lips opened to release sounds that could not be produced and were not worth the deference from the unfaltering force.
Somewhere back in the world bound by reason, rationality and realism, three collapsed adolescents shook and shivered in the defining moment enshrined within calor, sonido y color. Why return, however, to such a regulated arena of decisions and impacts? For three best friends--now, indelibly more--the road from absolute fusion to absolute freedom was no task at all.
Nothing in life is ever easy,
Nothing in love will never come true...
He sat in the recliner, carry-on in his lap, foolishly attempting to process what he was looking at. The enhancer did not absolve him of the current memories; that would have been counter-productive. Despite the balmy temperature of seventy-four degrees, Ephram felt strikingly chilled. And he supposed he would be no matter the climate. Heat would no longer suffice in its purpose.
They slept with facades of completion, of tasks ended and moments stored. The CD player had long finished its ambience, but the conjoined and overlapping pieces continued to flow within the youth's consciousness. The first beams hit their exhausted brethren, turning the room into shards of priceless gold. If there was a point never to forget, it would be this: forever entombed with the power of photographic precision.
Reverent steps placed him before the quarter-full bottle; the medium that had given him an adolescent milestone for the ages. The citrine fluid still shattered tangerine when poured, still effused dark chocolate and coffee when smelt, and, of course, brought a flood of reminescence that threatened to overtake him once more. For the beginning of a summer and the end of an era, Ephram Brown took the final shot of his childhood and shut the door behind him.
My heart will never stop believing,
I still believe in what love can do...
As a plane departed from the lofty heights of the Rocky Mountains, Everwood began its entrance into the picturesque months of summer. Two siblings would have eight weeks to savor, to remember, to tide them over. Lives had been irrevocably changed. And there was no greater proof then the single word that greeted twin sets of emeralds when they re-entered their world, emblazoned in amber-sprawled text:
Prometo.
It's easy as life...