Author's notes: I've seen very little of Everwood. The pilot, random eps from the first few seasons, and the last 3 or 4 from this season, so I know very little about Bright's character, so the beginning of this fic could be slightly inaccurate. Bear with me, please. Thanks.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within do not, and never will, belong to me.
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Bright doesn't think he's good at much. Not at school; at carrying on decent conversations; hell, he wasn't a good person altogether some of the time.
But he's good at being sneaky; subtle. He'd hidden porn on their family computer and gotten away with changing his grades on his report cards a million times back in elementary and middle school.
So sneaking into Amy's room at 3:00 in the morning should be easy.
Not that he really knows why he's doing it, except that Hannah's there and he needs to be close to her, because he needs to be close to someone.
He squints in the dim light from the hallway, sliding deftly between the partially opened door and the doorframe. He stands motionless just inside Amy's room, waiting for his eyes to adjust.
Cautiously, he creeps forward. Edges around Amy's bed and almost steps on Hanna's arm, or what he thinks is her arm, which is sprawled on the carpet. He sinks down beside it; beside her, and stares at the outline he knows is her. And though he can't really see her at all, he pictures her in his mind and listens to her breathe.
And that's enough. Somehow, that's enough and whatever restless emotion he's feeling calms. His yearning, his terror, his everything fades for these few moments, crouched here next to Hannah.
He reaches out to touch her, soft skin meeting Bright's clammy fingers. He sits there for what feels like forever, just touching her arm. And she doesn't stir or open her eyes or anything, really, she just stays Hannah and near and solid and strong.
And that's all he needs, all he wants, really.
Eventually, he'll pull his hand away. Go back to his room and pretend his pillow smells like Hanna does, is as soft as her skin.
But for now he sits, close to the only thing that's keeping him together right now, even though she doesn't seem to realize it.
Bright thinks he's good at being subtle; at being quiet, at hiding things from people.
But Hanna knows. She watches him too much not to. And feels him, even if she's not really awake.
Hannah always knows.