Title: Unanswered
Pairing: Lucas/Peyton (OTH)
Summary: But his e-mails went unanswered and he doubted she was ever going to click back in response to the only words that came to his otherwise cluttered mind. It was almost as disconcerting as the phone calls she ended abruptly, the worn excuse of "I'm busy" didn't have the sharp edge it used to.
Word Count: 836
Warnings: Spoilers up to the end of season four and takes place sometime after.
A/N: I based the actions of Lucas and Peyton based on personality traits and situations that have occurred on the show. So if you have any questions about why they did what they did feel free to ask. I plan on writing a series of post season four fics that take place in that time leap that tie together in some way, whether it's an alternate to what could have happened in this particular piece or an elaboration on it. With that said this can stand alone as well as the others to come. Please leave feedback, it's a writers' crack and it will help motivate me to post more of these.
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I love you.
I miss you.
There's nothing more to say.
The words blink red on the screen. A stark contrast against the snow-white page they're sprawled across. The only change is the blinking black line of her cursor at the end.
A sigh and a bite of paper thin lips. Before the e-mail is deleted, lost in a pile of invisible trash that can only be felt in the dull thudding of her heart against her rib cage.
-
The words burn across his screen, the same three lines he has been sending her for the past two months. He had tried to forget them, but they were imbedded into his brain now.
Sometimes he woke up from a dreamless sleep, his mouth dry from the mumbling of the words that pounded at the inside of his skull. Insistent.
But his e-mails went unanswered and he doubted she was ever going to click back in response to the only words that came to his otherwise cluttered mind. It was almost as disconcerting as the phone calls she ended abruptly, the worn excuse of "I'm busy" didn't have the sharp edge it used to.
-
Hi…
The word is so small she has to squint to recognize the italicized letters split across her screen. She knows the username; there is no mistaking the plain LEScott3. First and middle initial. Last name. High School jersey number. Normally she'd smile and tease him about how boring and unimaginative he is. Was that the best the great Scott could come up with? But they had passed comfortable and familiar months ago, when she extended her summer internship in L.A. into something more permanent.
The word flashes at her, beating against the side of her heart. She quickly signs off, the screen goes black.
She knows that she's the only one who judges her for pushing him back out as quickly as she had held him in.
-
InsideMyHeadNOFX has just signed off.
He remembers her crooked smile amidst the broody red lipstick painted across it. The way her laughter had tinkled across the space between them, not as harsh and grinding as he expected it'd be. The hot metal of the truck door he leaned against as he told her things he had never told another soul. The words escaping his mouth just as easily as she stole his heart.
He wonders if she'll ever remember to give it back.
-
She spins a silver ring around the knuckle of her thumb, the worn edges getting caught in the ridges. The metal blurring together into something that shines almost golden.
It's a promise Peyton, he had whispered into the curls that always tickle over the edges of her ears. The band slipped easily over her knuckle, the flimsy metal conforming to the dents and flaws of her finger.
Of what? Her breath had fluttered into the still summer air, thick and heavy with the syrupy heat that only existed in the Carolinas.
That I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. His words from long ago had filtered into her hair, the weight and double meanings not lost in the moment. Silence spread between them as her fingerprint pressed into his, like an oath of blood without the red liquid.
Her finger stills as the memory fleets from the recesses of her mind, a lump replacing the exterior of her heart.
-
Last time she built roadblocks across her heart he knew he deserved it. Even if it had radiated pain across his soul, he had taken the brunt.
He was doing it again, but this time he didn't know why. Their hurried, quiet, shallow conversations only chipped along his resolve. Distance between them was longer then the space between his thumb and forefinger.
One more try. That's what he always tells himself every time he picks up his phone.
-
STOP IGNORING ME, Peyton.
The letters shape like blocks across the screen of her phone, the tone only gentling at her name. It only grates along her nerves along with another disappointment from her time in this town. Every day ended and she never felt like she was living the dream. The one he had pushed her towards had only lead to more grief. Her heart was sore and sick of it all.
Her phone snaps shut with a loud and final click.
-
He doesn't call anymore. He doesn't e-mail. He doesn't IM.
It's nothing. Hollow, wide, and empty. His life before her and his life after her feels the same.
They both were paradoxes of unhappiness and he hadn't known the illness existed until…
Three decisive clicks against his door and she's there, curls as golden and long as he remembers. Her face more drawn and haggard.
"I love you and I miss you," but her voice was the same, the same false bravado to hide the shaking insecurity, "There's nothing else to say."
His lips crush into hers and he forgets to answer.