Somewhere I Belong: Chapter 1: Maybe the Poet
“This night just got a lot more interesting.”
Disclaimer: I don’t own “Everwood” or any of its characters.
Rating: PG-13 for language, innuendo, and gratuitous digs at our "neighbour" to the North (but only in an attempt at "humour")
Warning: contains OC (original characters). Not responsible for any reactions caused by OC sensitivity.
Chapter 1: Maybe the Poet
You and he may not agree,
but he can teach you new ways to see.
Pay attention to the poet.
You need him and you know it.
-- from “Maybe the Poet” by Bruce Cockburn
Colin Hart used to hate trips to Denver. His parents had to bribe him with those giant stacks of pancakes at the Mile High Diner. When he was little, he’d get carsick. Then he got sick of his little sister, Laynie, arguing with his parents where he didn’t have a room to escape to. Then there were all those doctor and hospital visits after the crash, made worse by the fact that he had no memories to escape to at the time, which was why he was even there. He wished he could forget those now the way he forgot his whole past at the time. Damn.
So. Only half-hating this trip was progress. Ephram Brown had talked him into it in one of their now-regular emails, and Colin needed a break from Fort Collins (and the lame jokes about that name, thank you very much) as much as Ephram needed a break from Everwood, Colin’s hometown (which had become Ephram’s, despite the latter’s best efforts to fight it). Sure, Colin was enjoying freshman year at State, but school was school, and he never got that Division I full ride he’d dreamed about before the crash, and even intramural hoops hadn’t started yet.
Ephram was still dating Colin’s ex, Amy Abbott, and as seniors at Peak County High, they seemed happier than ever, despite their almost weekly arguments about some stupid crap. Amy always was the drama queen, even in fourth grade, when Colin and her brother, Bright, became friends. And Ephram … well, he once told Colin, during Colin’s insane senior year, “Dude, I’m way more of a drama queen than you’ll ever be, and you’re the one with the drama.” They both got a long laugh out of that one.
More to the point, they all survived it. Colin survived it. And now here he was, standing on the floor of some club in Denver, drinking a $3 Coke because he didn’t have a bar wristband like half the people around him, listening to some Canadian guy with crooked teeth, grayer hair than his dad’s, and more piercings than Jake, the dorm buddy he’d brought along for moral support. And for navigation. And because Jake was even more into obscure, arty, left-wing music than Ephram, if that was possible. As far as Colin was concerned, Central America meant Kansas, but Jake knew that the guy’s name was pronounced differently than it was spelled, which convinced Colin even more that this wasn’t going to be his night. “South Park” anyone?
Anyway, “CO-burn” was well into his third song and had the crowd in the palm of his hand, maybe because he had the balls to play solo (and so far unplugged) with no opener.
“When you’re lovers in a dangerous time,
you can be made to feel your love’s a crime.”
OK, Colin thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Ha! If Graybeard only knew …
“But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.
Got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.”
“WOOO!” Jake erupted in a yell that nearly burst Colin’s eardrum, punching his fist in the air. Music was Jake’s basketball, minus the giant foam hand things. Yeah, this was going to be a long night. At least Ephram was grinning - a real smile, not his usual Mona Lisa smirk - and Amy was, well happy that Ephram was happy, and more amused than Colin. A little too amused, actually.
“Bruuuuuce!” the crowd cheered at the end of the song. Several times.
“You remember that one, eh?” the singer asked, smirking like Ephram. Figures. He chuckled and launched into a quirky, off-kilter guitar riff, much folkier than the rockers before it, and kept playing while he talked over it.
“Here’s another bit of ’80s nostalgia for those of you who don’t get enough of it on CNN or the Panic Channel these days,” he said with a dry chuckle that drew full laughs from Ephram and Jake.
Uh, whatever, Colin thought.
Then “CO-burn” sang: “Maybe the poet is gay, but he’ll be heard anyway.”
That got Colin’s attention, even if it was followed by a line about “a woman who can touch you where you’re human.” Hmm. Maybe the old guy did understand a few things after all.
Colin looked at Jake, but this time he didn’t see past Jake to Ephram and then Amy. He just saw Jake’s grin, and Jake’s eyes looking right into his … and he felt Jake’s hand reach for his and take it. Colin felt a half-second of fear before Jake gave him a laugh and a shrug, as if to say, Chill, dude, nobody cares here.
Colin relaxed … and remembered the words of some ad he must have heard a zillion times without caring what it was for: “This night just got a lot more interesting.”
And he remembered that night, two weeks ago, when he first met Jake.
Next: Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don’t own “Everwood” or any of its characters.
Rating: PG-13 for language, innuendo, and gratuitous digs at our "neighbour" to the North (but only in an attempt at "humour")
Warning: contains OC (original characters). Not responsible for any reactions caused by OC sensitivity.
Chapter 1: Maybe the Poet
You and he may not agree,
but he can teach you new ways to see.
Pay attention to the poet.
You need him and you know it.
-- from “Maybe the Poet” by Bruce Cockburn
Colin Hart used to hate trips to Denver. His parents had to bribe him with those giant stacks of pancakes at the Mile High Diner. When he was little, he’d get carsick. Then he got sick of his little sister, Laynie, arguing with his parents where he didn’t have a room to escape to. Then there were all those doctor and hospital visits after the crash, made worse by the fact that he had no memories to escape to at the time, which was why he was even there. He wished he could forget those now the way he forgot his whole past at the time. Damn.
So. Only half-hating this trip was progress. Ephram Brown had talked him into it in one of their now-regular emails, and Colin needed a break from Fort Collins (and the lame jokes about that name, thank you very much) as much as Ephram needed a break from Everwood, Colin’s hometown (which had become Ephram’s, despite the latter’s best efforts to fight it). Sure, Colin was enjoying freshman year at State, but school was school, and he never got that Division I full ride he’d dreamed about before the crash, and even intramural hoops hadn’t started yet.
Ephram was still dating Colin’s ex, Amy Abbott, and as seniors at Peak County High, they seemed happier than ever, despite their almost weekly arguments about some stupid crap. Amy always was the drama queen, even in fourth grade, when Colin and her brother, Bright, became friends. And Ephram … well, he once told Colin, during Colin’s insane senior year, “Dude, I’m way more of a drama queen than you’ll ever be, and you’re the one with the drama.” They both got a long laugh out of that one.
More to the point, they all survived it. Colin survived it. And now here he was, standing on the floor of some club in Denver, drinking a $3 Coke because he didn’t have a bar wristband like half the people around him, listening to some Canadian guy with crooked teeth, grayer hair than his dad’s, and more piercings than Jake, the dorm buddy he’d brought along for moral support. And for navigation. And because Jake was even more into obscure, arty, left-wing music than Ephram, if that was possible. As far as Colin was concerned, Central America meant Kansas, but Jake knew that the guy’s name was pronounced differently than it was spelled, which convinced Colin even more that this wasn’t going to be his night. “South Park” anyone?
Anyway, “CO-burn” was well into his third song and had the crowd in the palm of his hand, maybe because he had the balls to play solo (and so far unplugged) with no opener.
“When you’re lovers in a dangerous time,
you can be made to feel your love’s a crime.”
OK, Colin thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Ha! If Graybeard only knew …
“But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.
Got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.”
“WOOO!” Jake erupted in a yell that nearly burst Colin’s eardrum, punching his fist in the air. Music was Jake’s basketball, minus the giant foam hand things. Yeah, this was going to be a long night. At least Ephram was grinning - a real smile, not his usual Mona Lisa smirk - and Amy was, well happy that Ephram was happy, and more amused than Colin. A little too amused, actually.
“Bruuuuuce!” the crowd cheered at the end of the song. Several times.
“You remember that one, eh?” the singer asked, smirking like Ephram. Figures. He chuckled and launched into a quirky, off-kilter guitar riff, much folkier than the rockers before it, and kept playing while he talked over it.
“Here’s another bit of ’80s nostalgia for those of you who don’t get enough of it on CNN or the Panic Channel these days,” he said with a dry chuckle that drew full laughs from Ephram and Jake.
Uh, whatever, Colin thought.
Then “CO-burn” sang: “Maybe the poet is gay, but he’ll be heard anyway.”
That got Colin’s attention, even if it was followed by a line about “a woman who can touch you where you’re human.” Hmm. Maybe the old guy did understand a few things after all.
Colin looked at Jake, but this time he didn’t see past Jake to Ephram and then Amy. He just saw Jake’s grin, and Jake’s eyes looking right into his … and he felt Jake’s hand reach for his and take it. Colin felt a half-second of fear before Jake gave him a laugh and a shrug, as if to say, Chill, dude, nobody cares here.
Colin relaxed … and remembered the words of some ad he must have heard a zillion times without caring what it was for: “This night just got a lot more interesting.”
And he remembered that night, two weeks ago, when he first met Jake.
Next: Chapter 2