Author's Note: I don't have any idea where this came from, but I do know that it's really kind of dark, and was pretty interesting to write. I swear, the inspiration came from walking into my room and dropping a magazine on my bed. What that says about this, I don't really know. I will say though, that I obviously love Brooke and Lucas. You could probably guess that, but I just thought I'd say it.
Spoilers: Up until season two, I guess. It's kind of alternate universe, too. Just go with it, and hopefully it'll make sense. Hopefully.
Also: Sorry about the whole not updating any of my stories thing. I'm working on it, but I just can't find inspiration for anything these days. I have not given up yet!
Warning: Did I mention that this is kind of dark?
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Little Fury Bugs
You'll discover that casual friends kept notes in their pockets to remember your name.
And all these places we went to see sights just gave them excuses to get into the game.
There's a look in the faces tonight that's untrustable as the hope that you'll never return in a while.
But you're always on time, so...
Sleeping soundly... the back of the car felt more like a home than i would ever have thought.
And through the evening the engine kept on until we hit chicago and decided to stop.
There's a look in the faces tonight that's untrustable as the hope that you'll never return in a while.
But you're always on time so...
The wind picks up from outside, pushing the branches of trees up against the window, and forcing little fury bugs to fly backwards so that they are struggling in the current of air forcefully.
It is strange weather for summer, but nice, also, because the wind is only slightly cool, and it makes the day seem less hot and humid.
Her tank top sticks to her skin, and Lucas pretends he does not notice. He also pretends he does not see the glistening her shoulders give off, and the way a solitary bead of sweat is slowly making its way down her neck.
She is sitting on her window sill, the back of her small left hand pressed to the glass. She sighs.
"I can't breathe in here," she tells him. He wonders if it is because of the heat or because he's there, but he's too afraid to ask. He's not really sure what answer he would prefer to hear.
They are seventeen and it is their last summer in Tree Hill, and if you'd told him he'd be here a year ago, he'd have called you crazy.
Brooke swings her legs off the wooden ledge and places them on the floor so gingerly, he is reminded of some sort of delicate doll.
"Let's do something. Go swimming or something."
He's not here to go swimming with her, or do something with her. They're supposed to be talking. They're supposed to be talking about how so much has changed, how they've grown apart, how nothing can ever be the same again. He finds that him and Brooke always get into this pattern. They are so comfortable around each other that they can effortlessly forget their problems for hours at a time. They cover them with the sand they kick up as they run on the beach, or they float away in the waves as he pulls her underneath for a salty kiss.
But things are different this time.
"Brooke," he says slowly, and she forces herself to meet his eyes. "What am I doing here?"
She does not know, she says, and he presses his palms to his forehead, damp with perspiration.
"Maybe," she pauses, and he knows that what she says next will shape their entire day, regardless of what their plans had been earlier. "Luke, it's a beautiful day. Summer is almost over."
He shakes his head. "Let's go swimming then."
In her pool, she wiggles out of her shorts and then her bathing suit top, and he presses her against the rough edges of the pool, and they forget that it has been almost one year since Peyton has died, and when she whispers in his ear that she still loves him, he pulls her under the water for a kiss.
--
"Brooke," he growls. "Brooke."
She can barely lift her head she is so drunk, and so he is forced to pick her up off the ground.
She is crying now, apologizing. He can't make out her words very clearly, but it doesn't matter, because he's heard this same apology a million times over.
People don't even glance in their direction as they leave the party, and he vaguely wonders if she's hooked up with anyone that night. There is a dull ache in his heart when he remembers what they were like before all this, but he pretends he can not feel it and it kind of works.
When they reach her house, he stares coldly at the big red door, and when she does not stir from the passenger seat, he carries her into the house through the back door.
He remembers sneaking into her room through this door at all hours of the night, sometimes just to lay beside her. They would talk until sunrise and hold hands and watch movies with the volume turned all the way down. It feels like so long ago now. He thinks maybe he's been here for a thousand years, because when he places her down on the bed, he does not feel that same feeling he felt when he used to sneak in here.
He feels some mild form of disgust, and he doesn't understand how she's let it get like this.
--
"Thanks for the ride," she says as she looks out the window somberly. The winter air looks frosty and she shivers, never having been a fan of the cold.
Lucas nods, both hands on the steering wheel, eyes straight forward. He will not, he tells himself, will not look at her.
Get out, Brooke, he thinks to himself. Please get out of my truck.
He can hear the tears in her voice when she speaks. "I'm sorry for the past few months. I guess I just haven't been handling--"
"Don't." He shakes his head. "Don't even act like you're the only one going through this. It's been a year and a fucking half, Brooke."
"You've never understood."
A surge of rage fills him and he pounds the steering wheel with all his strength. He is so, so mad at her, and he has been for a long time. Before he can control himself he is swearing and yelling at her and blaming her for what's happened between them. For turning him into this person.
She can't control herself either, and soon she is sobbing.
They must look like some odd couple, he thinks, and he starts to laugh at the thought of it.
For a moment she stops crying and stares at him in repulsion, thinking his cruelty towards her cannot possibly be palpable. And then maybe his thoughts transfer themselves into her brain, because soon she is thinking the same thing as him and laughing too.
Soon they are both crying, and after an hour, his truck is still parked in front of her house, and she asks him to come inside.
He knows he should say no, and for a moment he hesitates. The old Lucas Scott would not take advantage of her when she's so vulnerable. But he wants her.
She leads him into the house by the hand, and when they fall onto her bed, they are a tangle of arms and legs and lips and tongues.
He holds her arms down with one large hand, and tugs at her pants harshly. He enters her with a gruff grunt, and he can tell from the look in her eyes that she does not like his forcefulness, but he can't bring himself to care.
This is your fault, he thinks, as he thrusts into her.
--
Spring comes upon them gently, and as the leaves fall from the trees, Brooke tells him it reminds her of new beginnings.
She links their hands together as they lay in the hammock in his backyard.
"I love holding hands with you," she says.
"I know." He smiles and he presses a kiss to her forehead.
She lifts her head to look him in the eyes, and he inhales as she presses the softest of kisses to his lips.
"I've always loved you." He whispers into her hair, dark and long.
The last two years flash before his eyes. Peyton's skin as the paramedics carried her out of the house, pale and translucent. He can remember feeling cold as he watched her. Cocaine overdose, one had shouted to the other almost casually; Brooke's eyes for months afterwards. Empty and glassy, like she was never really there. They were always circled by dark shadows, somehow even larger and more hazel than they were before. So, so sad. He had cried just looking at her, his heart had broken just thinking about her; Nathan's gradual descent into the depths of darkness upon Haley leaving. He had walked around town looking to fight, hoping and praying for someone to bump into him just so he could beat the fuck out of them; his own coldness. It had taken over him slowly, freezing over his body so that he was rigid from his brain to his heart. Gone was his sensitivity, replaced with a resentment so present he often scared himself. His one weakness was Brooke, and sometimes he could overcome even her.
And then something had bent inside him. He had suddenly understood Brooke's brokenness, had comprehended Nathan's sorrow. He could feel again.
He will never understand his trip to the dark side and then his return, and he'll never understand Brooke's, either, but he thinks maybe they came from the same place, somehow.
A little fury bug lands on Brooke's thigh, and he swats it away.
"I can feel again," he says so quietly he thinks she does not hear it.
Minutes later -- he can hardly hear it, and he'll debate whether or not he actually does for hours -- she says, "Me too."
--
Graduation caps sail through the air, falling back down in a gust of wind, and he can hear Brooke's laugh above everyone else's, so distinct and special.
Even Nathan is laughing, though he hasn't quite been the same since last year. Haley never came back, and is currently releasing her second album. Lucas thinks his brother is handling it very well, considering.
After the ceremony, Brooke runs through the crowd in search of him. When she finds him, she throws herself into his arms.
He sees hair and then nothing as her lips press firmly to his and he swings her around as they kiss.
"We did it, broody."
His heart tugs. "I know we did, cheery."
She smiles sadly at the nickname, and he realizes it doesn't really suit her anymore. This past year has been a whirlwind for them. They have gone through the stages of grief more than once, and they've handled it separately. He can't even say he understands what she's been through, and he's sure she thinks the same for him.
The question of what they'll be after this summer hangs in the air, and he wants to believe they'll stay together for forever, but the odds are against them.
He wants to believe in them, but too much has happened for him to really be sure.
--
The last traces of summer are the heat and the girls still walking around town in tiny shorts and tank tops tied up in the back.
Brooke climbs into his bed the morning his flight is scheduled, and says semi-teasingly, "I'm kidnapping you."
She drives because he is still groggy from her rude, but sweet, awakening and when they end up at the beach, he marvels at how empty it is. She reminds him that it is barely seven, and tugs him down the sandy path until they are right on the shore, almost.
"I don't want you to leave," she says honestly.
"If you want me to stay, I'll stay." he's not sure he really means it, and he feels that she feels this too. This prompts him to realize that he knows Brooke Davis better than anyone else, and she knows him better than anyone else. He wants this to always be the truth, no matter what. He decides now that he won't let anyone get this close to him for the rest of his life.
She sniffles. "You have to go to school. I just wish you weren't going to New York. It's so far."
"I'll be back." he says with uncertainty.
"I'll wait for you," she replies with the same amount of assurance.
He'll love her for the rest of his life. This, he knows.
He's just not sure what that means.
--
The summer breeze floats through the house lightly, and the little fury bugs outside seem to swim through it with comfortable ease.
Her tank top sticks to her skin, and Lucas pretends he does not notice. He also pretends he doesn't notice the swell of her stomach, the large breasts that she has developed, the glinting ring on her finger.
He is back now, but it is too late.
Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, which is how he always liked it best.
There is a faint sadness in her eyes, but he can see the happiness there too, overshadowing it.
He tugs on his tie, and it loosens.
For once he feels truly uncomfortable around her.
"You're pregnant." He notices dumbly, and she nods with a slight smile.
"Six months."
"I should have-" he stutters. "I should have come back sooner."
They are twenty-four now, and it has been many summers since they've seen each other, and so much has happened that he wishes he could tell her. He knows he should apologize. The last time they saw each other, she had seen in his eyes that he would not return for a long time, but he had promised her he would, so she had waited.
And he had broken his promise. He had let her down.
He remembers the first few months after Peyton died. He had let her down then too. He had let them drift apart. Could they have even be considered together then? He doesn't remember if he introduced her to people as his girlfriend at all during his senior year of high school.
He wants to kiss her, and he can tell that she recognizes this. She parts her lips as if she is waiting, but when he takes a step forward, she bites her lip.
"Summer's almost over." She says slowly.
"What does your husband do?"
"Doctor."
Of course. The one type of person that could actually fix her. "Did you see the E! True Hollywood story on Haley?"
"Yeah," she nods. "I felt wrong watching it. The way they talked about Nathan.."
"Like it was his fault she left."
"Yeah," she stares into his eyes. "But he's moved on now."
"Sarah's pregnant again."
"They've got quite a brood already."
He takes a step backwards. "I think maybe I should go."
"Don't feel bad, Lucas." she says, and he turns to look at her. "I didn't really think you'd keep your promise."
"I don't really understand what happened to us."
She smiles her sad smile. "Goodbye, Lucas."
--
A little fury bug lands on his arm and he swats it away.
He tugs at his tie until he has pulled it completely off.
He sits on a Tree Hill Public Transportation bench and he sighs.
The summer is almost over, and he thinks perhaps he'll go swimming later.