Authors note: So, this is my new brucas fic! It's a request from Amanda, so the idea is not mine! A huge thanks to Elliemo, iamloved16 and jojogirl for reading and betaing this! You girls rock:)

The fic is set to the song "Write me a list" by Rodney Atkins. The lyrics will appear in this story from the next chapter!

Please leave reviews to tell me if you like this or not!

Disowner: I do not own anything related to one tree hill!

Write Me a List

Summary: At the age of thirty, with two boys at 6 and 4 years old, and a marriage colder than the morgues freezer room, Brooke Davis Scott knew she was living a lie. 'You're ready for this?' He asked, his voice was challenging, daring her to say no. 'Yes,' she cleared her throat, 'this is what I want!'

Prologue

Brooke Davis Scott flicked her wrist to check her watch. 2:15 pm. She still had another 15 minutes before the meeting. She walked with a steady rhythm, her high heels echoing through the corridors. There once had been a time when she had loved that sound; it meant that everyone's eyes would lie on her, and she loved the attention that was given to her when she wore those kinds of shoes.

Now it was different. She didn't need for anyone to know now that she had arrived. She didn't want anyone to know that she was a failure, that her life was a failure. That she wasn't happy.

She had had the perfect life, or so it seemed. She had married her high school sweetheart, Lucas Scott, in their 3rd year of college. He had gone to the University of North Carolina to study literature. She had wanted to go to California to study fashion design, but since grades counted as much as talent, she didn't get in. Therefore, she had gone with Lucas to UNC, and been happy to at least be with him. But somehow, she still had the thought of not being good enough in the back of her head. She was only second best when it came to both school and Lucas. She was sure of it. He had gotten his dream job after college, and she had gotten an office job she really didn't like or was particularly good at.

She wanted to believe that she was independent, believe that being with Lucas wouldn't change her, that it wouldn't change him.

She had fooled herself once again. She had found herself to be increasingly dependent on him as the time went by, without noticing it herself.

Always the last to know.

So she had agreed to marry him. It was the right thing to do. She had been excited of course, but there was still this little voice inside her head telling her not to marry him. Not just yet.

She had ignored the voice, and somewhere down the line, it had been silenced to just a whisper. It wasn't until the last few years it had spoken up again, and now it spoke louder and clearer than ever.

But it wasn't just her life. She had someone else to consider, too, and that was why she had found herself once again ignoring the voice. Ignoring it for two more years.

Then, not too long after their 3rd anniversary she had stumbled across this ad in 'Cosmopolitan'. 'Opportunity of a lifetime' had stood there in big, promising letters. It as a competition and Brooke had entered.

She had won, and the prize was to move to New York to work alongside some of America's most talented designers.

She had been ecstatic, while Lucas had been rather cold about it.

"That's great, dear, " was all he had said, and continued to watch the basketball game on TV.

She had been hurt by his lack of support and enthusiasm. She had expected more of him.

But her luck did not seem to last. She had been in the process of changing the brand of her pill. The old one was giving her headaches. She had only been off of birth control one day, two at tops. But since they were still a cheesy couple that everyone loudly hated, but silently adored, she got pregnant.

When she had told him the news, he had been so happy.

She knew it was because now she wouldn't be able to leave. Now she would have to be there, for the rest of her life, with him. The thought alone made her run to the bathroom to hug the toilet.

He had laughed it off as early morning sickness, but she knew it was because of him.

She began to hold a grudge towards him. After all, he was partially the reason for why she was stuck in this suck fest. For the second time in a life, her lifetime, the thing she wanted most in the world was slipping away.

Any animosity towards the baby was gone the first time she laid eyes on him.

Little Bryan. She knew she had made the right decision about having him. She spent all of her time with him, and less and less time with Lucas. She kept on telling herself that he deserved it, he deserved her neglecting him.

He began to work late, and she began to have suspicions about him cheating on her again. He was constantly coming home having the infamous lipstick mark on his collar, red wine colored teeth and a perfume scent that definitely was not hers. She never brought it up though, and that was when she realized that everything had changed. She had changed. Old Brooke would never have put up with this; the old Brooke would never have kept silent.

But deep down she knew why she did it. She could tell he was in love with this other woman, but she didn't want him to get out. If she wasn't allowed to, then why should he? She wanted him to stay miserable in this marriage like she had was. After all, he had tied her down with a leash. It was only fair that she returned the favor.

He had come home from work one day and had just told her everything. He said he was feeling guilty for everything, and that he wanted for them to be a family again. He had cried, while she had kept still. She could tell he was taken aback by her lack of surprise and her simple 'I know' response. He had promised that he would never do it again, and she could not help but wonder if he only did this because his girlfriend had broken things off. She wanted to know who it was, but his answer was as simple as hers, 'Not Peyton'. Somehow, she found that a bit comforting.

She had agreed, and once again suppressed the feeling in her gut. He had showered her with compliments and gifts, and she had put on her brightest of the fake smiles to greet him every time he came home. Everything seemed perfect again, but it was far from it. Everything became a routine; the way he emotionlessly told her he loved her each morning, the way she never said it back, the way she silently cried herself to sleep every night, and the way he did the same next to her. There were days where she felt loved, when he did little things like he used to before. When he called her by her favorite nickname, Pretty girl. Those days were good, and everything felt normal. But there were other days that were horrible; where all they said to one another was 'hello' and 'goodbye'. Those days had become too many to count; still, she lived for the good days.

Even their sex had become a routine. They tried to make time for it once a week, just so they wouldn't feel like failures anymore than they already did. He came home with flowers, or sometimes more expensive gifts, but never jewelry. She felt like she owed him something, and caved almost every time. After a while he even stopped making an effort, and simply asked, sometimes begged for it. Way to make a girl feel loved. That had been all she ever wanted; to feel loved, to feel desired. What she did not want was to feel like a piece of meat, with her legs spread whilst he was down there doing his thing.

And if things weren't bad enough, she became pregnant again. She was scared that she would have to relive the last two years, that he would once again find comfort in another woman. But surprisingly he didn't.

Now, at the age of thirty, with two boys, 6 and 4 years old, and a marriage colder than the morgues freezer room, she knew she was living a lie.

Brooke slowed down as she neared the desk that housed the secretary. She straightened her purple top and her plain black pants that were both bought in one of those places that people with high standards would not even look through the window.

There had been a time when it had been unthinkable for her to even buy something so much as a scrunchy in there, but she had learned to settle for less over the years. Right now she was worried if she could manage to make the outfit look like as if it had been hundreds of dollars more expensive than it really was.

She tapped her fingers on the counter in a nervous motion, and cleared her throat loudly, making the secretary look up from her notes.

"May I help you?" She asked blankly. Brooke knew that voice well, she used it too.

"Um, could you tell Mr. Davidson that Brooke Scott is here to see him, please?" The secretary looked a little annoyed, but did as she was told. Brooke looked around the room while she waited. She took in the dull grey walls, and the dull brownish curtains to go with it. She would never get used to being here. The more she looked around the room, the more confident she became that she would have killed herself if she ever had to work here. At least she had added a little color to her office.

"He's ready to see you now. You know where his office is, right?"

"Yes, I do." Brooke replied. She turned on her heels, and they once again filled the hollow corridors with noise.

She knocked on his door most carefully; her shy presence she had developed during the years was taking the best of her. She heard a muffled 'come in', and opened the door just a little so she could squeeze herself through. She had been there enough to know at just what point the door would make a noise. He didn't say anything until she was settled in the leather chair in front of his desk; her hands tightly folded in her lap.

"You're ready for this?" He asked. She thought his voice was a little challenging, daring her to say no. She therefore nodded her head with determination, making her long dark curls bounce around her shoulders. One tendril landed on her nose, and she quickly wiped it away with her perfectly manicured finger. Well, as perfect as it could be when it was home-done.

"And you're sure this is what you want?" His voice had taken on a more caring tone, a tone Brooke liked better on him.

"Yes," she cleared her throat, "this is what I want."

"Okay. Everything has been taken care of; all you need to do now is sign the divorce papers."

She slowly grabbed the pen that was offered to her, and with shaking hands, she signed the papers perfectly, even making little hearts on top of her i's.

The easy part was done. The hard part had yet to come.