Could Have, Should Have, Didn't - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Four: Worthy Of Love

Using his pointer finger as a ruler, Edmund drew a line to insinuate a pole in the background, smudging at it with another finger to give it some depth.

Then he put his pencil back over the face he was drawing.

Sly, selfish.

His lead broke as he scribbled it out and he growled, sharpening it, his muscles sore from sleeping in a new bed. Ugh. Flipping the sketchpad, and steadying his pencil, he began sketching once more.

Finding the woman's features. Sparkling eyes, shapely lips, blonde waves...

Sly, selfish.

His pencil halted and he scratched out the drawing again, turning his gaze to the wall of his bedroom. It stared back at him blankly.

The paint color was cream, like the light sand on the beaches of Cair Paravel, like cookie dough; like the color of the hat Rita had worn when she'd visited earlier today.

Ed's pencil began moving before he could stop it, his hand quickly defined a face on the paper, one that cohesively came together.

Happy, steady. Auburn curls bouncing by her shoulders, plump lips, dull eyes, freckles if you got close enough.

Rita.

She came so naturally to him when he drew. Like he barely had to think about it. Because he didn't. Her features just came alive on the page, he saw her eyes brighten, her smile widen.

Why did he always come back to her?

He flipped back in his sketchpad and stared hard at the abandoned sketches. There was a face beneath the scribbles, a smile in all of the wonky lines. A pretty face.

But she didn't come alive.

Ivy Ferris seemed dead and dark, dull and shadowy. Secretive and alluring. Anger rose quickly.

So he scratched out a face again with his pencil, this one purely made up, dark hair, a square jaw, thinner lips. Again, a pretty face.

Again, it stayed still.

He clenched his jaw; he needed to make the drawing come alive when he stared at it- like it did when he drew Rita. Yet it didn't move. He knew what that meant, hated it; but, knew.

Edmund loved Rita, all of her. Her. Couldn't forget her, how had he ever thought he could? Why was he still trying to like anyone else? He'd known earlier that he couldn't, but he still tried. Still wanted to try, still had foolishly thought it would work.

Yes, to be happy in life, he should've fallen in love with another girl, and should still be trying to find someone else.

But he knew it would be a pointless endeavor. His mind always circled back around. No matter how hard he tried, he always thought of Rita. Whether he'd be happy or not, he would always love who he loved.

He dropped his pencil and shut his sketchpad. No more trying to like someone else. It wasn't him, it wasn't in him, he didn't think it was possible to look at another girl, to think of another girl, like he did Rita. It wasn't possible.

Could've. Should've. Didn't.

And that had been the right thing to do.

જ⁀➴

A house- not his home.

No. It was too tidy. It didn't have memories of when he was nine and laughing with Peter over a prank they'd planned on Susan. No memories, just new things.

New realizations. Maybe his parents didn't care about him or Lucy. They were the youngest, not the oldest, not nearing the age of marriage or getting a good start in life.