Hey guys. This is a rather long one shot, a continuation of 6x17, and I hope this hasn't been done before. It's angsty, romantic and very Brulian. I was in a bit of a catch 22 with the ending, as I didn't want it happily resolved, as I think it won't be dealt with that quickly on the show either, I was so close to ending it in a way I wouldn't like to see on screen. But enough rambling, and please leave me a review of your thoughts, on the ending or whatever you want. Enjoy!
It's been two days. Forty eight hours, maybe even more. Brooke Davis isn't surprised that he didn't call like he told her he would, he didn't show up at the house, and he definitely isn't here right now, lying on the bed beside her, at 3 something am.
She ran, all her defenses shot straight up when those little words came out of his mouth. She would never tell anyone, but the sincerity in his eyes terrified her. Her past, present and future suddenly morphed together, and she didn't know how to do anything else but hide. It's easy to give amountless of love to a baby, to a teenager and her friends, but with him, her constant doubts and insecurities just keep pulling her back. When he stood in front of her, with determined eyes, questioning her love for Lucas Scott, she was suddenly transported back to when she stood in the same position, daring the blonde to proclaim his feelings for her best friend, so that she could find an excuse to run as far as she can. Julian took the prolonged silence as a weak 'yes', and even when she denied it, the rejection seemed rather feeble, even to her.
She knows it was a low blow to say that she 'cares about him, so much'. She's cringing even now, as the digital clock changes to 3:45 am, signalling the near arrival of a new day, probably without him again. She wanted to say it, she really did. But the words refused to deliver and she froze, she's always wanted someone to understand her subtleties, her hidden feelings and for someone to strip off her mask of confidence, but when he arrived, presented in a near perfect package, it scared her, and her first instinct was to push him as far away as possible. It was her nature to do so, and she inwardly cursed Richard and Victoria Davis for the commitment phobia.
She knows it's her own doing, that she ends up at tric with all her best friends, everyone coupled up. Her clothes scream confidence, but the vulnerability behind the thick lashes whispers something else completely. She can deny it all she wants, and say that she'll give up anything to stay in Tree Hill with her friends, but tonight, as she hears Nathan and Haley discuss their dreams of touring around on a bus, and the broody blondes' baby plans, she realises she's the only one who's putting her life on hold.
She's the only person to blame for those quiet, lonely, insomniac nights, fueled by coffee and reruns of 'Dawson's Creek', if only she said those words, but she knows, and denies, again, that it's never that simple.
They're all gathered at Lucas's now. The guys are esembling some sort of crib, and the girls are sitting around the spacious living room, Haley teasing Nathan about his aches and pains. She's just sitting there, eyes unconsciously glued to her phone.
'Just call him, Brooke. You both deserve that much.'
She never thought they'd understand, any of them, but the looks in their eyes makes her remember every roadblock, every sacrifice that was made between their group of friends.
She was never going to call, and somehow staying away and numbing her insecurities with glasses of wine and sketches seemed like a safer, more predictable alternative.
But somewhere between the contemplation and constant denial, the movie got shut down and she finds him standing in her living room, fists clenched, eyes worn. He's even wearing a crisp, pale blue shirt and those faded black jeans that she adores so much. She knows that his luggage is outside, and the plane ticket is tucked safely between a thick manuscript. That's Julian, she muses, a man who never wallows in self pity, a movie fails and all it means is that he'll push his insecurities and his father's demeaning glares to the back of his head, and focus on a sharp, gritty new film.
' I was thinking about what to say, I was going to call you'.
His disappointed glance suddenly reminds her too much of her conversation with Lucas, back in senior year.
'I was trying to call you.'
'Oh, you mean when you weren't too busy hanging out with Peyton?
'Come on Brooke, you never call me back.'
'Now you know how I feel.'
The comparison disgusted her, because he knows that she didn't really mean it. And she hates empty words and misplaced promises.
'I'm leaving, Brooke.. There's nothing here for me, not anymore.' She knows what he's doing, he knows her so well that he's testing her, with every fiber of his being and every shred of his dignity. She knows this is the time to tell him everything, and let him have all of her, in every way, but again, she just can't.
Although she's already halfway in love with him, she's falling so quickly in all sorts of ways and she's never felt more alone, somehow. His testing eyes remind her of her own, back when she and Lucas were doing their ill planned 'non exclusive dating', every push towards Rachel and other girls was yet another test, and everytime the blonde boy kept coming back to her, the further he pushed into her heart.
' I wanted you to fight for me, I wanted you to say there was no one else that you could ever be with, and that you'd rather be alone, than without me.'
Julian Baker reminds her of herself, and that terrifies her in every way possible.
She can tell that he's tired, tired of second guessing himself and comparing himself to the quieter, thoughtful brooder. He's tired of pushing her, tired of fighting.
And she's tired of being stuck in a crossroad.
'You told me that you're tired of being a footnote in someone else's love story', and she's not really sure why he's suddenly referring to the conversation that tore them down in the first place.
'Normally it's the guy that pushes away, but Brooke Davis, you're so ful off contradicting cliches I'm not even surprised anymore'.
She takes a tentative step towards him, feebly placing her right hand in his. It's a pathetic attempt at comfort, but it's all she has the courage to give. She's frustrated at herself for being such an emotional wreck, an ice queen who only takes takes and takes, a woman who only begs to hear pretty words and knightly actions but is always unable to return the gesture.
'Brooke, you were never a footnote in my book, and I keep myself up at night, wondering why then, I'm not enough. But I'm making a final attempt here, I know I'm pressuring you again and catching you off guard again, but I'm here. I need all of you, or nothing at all.'
She knows that this is her second, hell, third or possibly hundredth chance at making things right, to finally allow herself to be shamelessly happy that it hurts. But she can't seem to stop herself from kissing his slightly dry lips, and softly pulling away after a lingering moment. She can almost feel his sigh of disappointment and hurt.
He lets go of their intwined hands and runs a finger through his longer hair.
'That's not enough.'
He's given up, she can tell, and she's too hopeless and ashamed to attempt a weak apology that she doesn't mean, she doesn't even know what to feel sorry for, there's so many things.
' I'm trying Julian, I care about you so much, I just can't. I don't know why'.
She doesn't look at him as the door closes, he's gone, and she thinks she's going crazy as she closes her eyes, trying to remember every trace of his grin, his wit, and his musk that is still lingering in the air.
There's a crashing sound of breaking tiers and the front door opens. His messy hair and now crumpled shirt gives away his inner struggle of coming back to her. But he's here now, and she can only wonder why her life resembles such a tragic romantic comedy where 'the couple' always ends up together a few minutes before the end credits.
He's handing her yet another chance, but she's too busy attempting to conceal her tears to see his.
It's a matter of time before he steps closer to the door.
'At least I tried,' his voice wasn't resentful or bitter, it was soft and understanding, and that makes her regret each silent second more than ever.
'If you're ever in LA, give me a call, we'll go to lunch, go shopping, catch an arty movie, whatever you want. Okay Brooke? And tell Sam to email me about her plans, I'm sure I can set up some kind of interview with a film school, if you're okay with that.'
She nods.
'Right, take care Brooke Davis. I'll see you someday, I hope.'
To her, the word 'someday' sounded like a dare, a temporary resignation. She takes comfort in the fact they've left it open ended. But as the discomfort of the night creeps in again, she realised that it was just false comfort, and as the digital clock turns 4am, she can only hope that there's still an empty seat on the next flight out to LA tomorrow.