A/N: Okay, another oneshot. What is it with me and weddings? Anyway, it's my longest oneshot yet, and may be pretty confusing at first, but hopefull you'll catch on.
Happy (belated) birthday Leah! This is for you.
I don't own One Tree Hill. Or Brucas. Or "Fallen" by Sarah McLachlan
Fallen
Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
A single tear falls onto the creamy pink of her satin gown. In ragged breaths, she roughly pulls her hand across her eyes to wipe them dry, forgetting the tears now pooling above her eyelids. She realizes now, sitting in the antechamber, that she told herself that she wouldn't do this. She told herself that she wouldn't cry. That all she had to do was make it down that aisle in one piece.
Because she owed that much to Peyton.
She stands from where she huddled in the corner, and crosses the room to the full length mirror. Her make-up is smudged, and she mutters a curse under her breath as she reaches for her mascara, applying it with a shaky hand.
What happened to you?
The tailor at the fitting had given her a disdainful look when Brooke's dress had to be taken considerably in. But Brooke's is telling everyone that she's not too thin. No matter how fragile she looks.
Her feet are somehow propelling her out of the room, and her heels clink against the church tile as she approaches the double doors at the end of the hallway. The organ is playing. That's her cue. She takes a deep breath before pushing open the oak doors.
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight
She knows that this shouldn't be happening, that this can't be happening, that it's much too risky, but he has her up against the wall of her hotel room, and it all feels too good.
He's silencing her moans with his lips, and only a fraction of her feels the consequences of the present situation. But he hadn't even been drunk when he came knocking on her door, telling her all these things that she told herself she didn't want to hear.
And then she had slapped him, hard across the cheek, tears welling in her eyes, screaming at him. 'Why was he telling her this?'
And then the kiss was inevitable, filled with the undeniable passion they'd both been trying to bottle up.
But now it's over. She's pushing him off of her, she's pulling up her skirt, she doesn't know what to say. She wishes she was strong enough to make up her mind. To kiss him again and tell him not to marry Peyton this weekend. To run away with her - Brooke.
She isn't even strong enough to let him go. And instead of forcing him out of her room to the one down the hall – the one that Peyton lies obliviously asleep in – she grabs onto his shirt in hiccupping sobs.
A long time ago, she promised herself she would never be that girl, but as she feels his lips once again collapse onto hers, and as they back up, knees hitting the bed and falling down into the fresh linens, her good judgment fades away.
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
He's standing up there at the altar now, staring straight at her with those baby blues, and he can't look away.
It's everything about her. It's the way her brown hair cascades in waves down to her ribcage. It's the way her skin acts as porcelain against the creamy silk of her dress. It's the way she glides down the aisle, her eyes glued to the floor. Because she won't look at him. Shecan't look at him.
When your best friends asks you to be her maid of honor, you can't really say no. And there was no excuse for rejecting the offer. Brooke and Lucas hadn't been a couple for years, had they?
Technically, no. But they were still very much together during those nights she'd cry herself to sleep because once again he'd called her drunk, repeating himself for the 10th or 11th or 12th that he was still in love with her. Or when she would stumble over his letters, his emails, his birthday cards. Or when he published his first book and left the dedication blank because she was the only person he wanted to dedicate the book to. Or when they'd slept together at the Christmas party after sophomore year when everyone was home for the holidays, and once again, Peyton and Lucas were on a break.
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear
And they were very much a couple that night in the hotel room, 3 days before his wedding to her best friend.
When Peyton had told Brooke they were engaged, Brooke thought Peyton was joking. So she'd called Lucas. And his silence on the end of the line had been enough for her.
So she hung up.
She called back the next week, and congratulated Peyton, and apologized to Lucas. She told him she was just surprised – that she didn't expect them to get married at 24. But Lucas told her that she didn't know anything about love.
She hung up on him again.
She didn't speak to him again until she flew home and saw him at the fitting for the dresses. When he spent a good half hour blatantly staring at her in the full-length mirror as the tailor fussed around her dress.
Brooke told him to stop staring – it was creepy. So he left.
And she didn't see him again until he came knocking on her hotel room door, professing his love once again for her. Only this time he was sober, and they both wanted each other so badly.
So she'd let it happen.
She's climbing the altar now, wishing he would stop watching her, because doesn't he know he's making it so much harder?
And then the oak doors open again, and everyone stands and turns. And the organ plays, and Peyton appears on the aisle, looking like an angel in her wedding dress.
Only Lucas isn't even watching her. He's watching his angel – the one with tears in her eyes.
Though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so
x
"Peyton, do you take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in holy matrimony? Do you promise to love him, to honor and cherish him, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to be to him in all things a good and faithful wife as long as you both shall live?"
"I do." Her eyes stay locked on his, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and he forces himself to smile back.
"Lucas…"
The priest is speaking now but Lucas is looking behind Peyton. To where she is, hands shaking with the wedding bouquet, trying desperately not to cry.
We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
"Do you take Peyton to be your lawfully wedded wife…"
His hand is traveling up the curve of her hip, coming to rest on the soft skin of her stomach.
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
" …To live together after God's ordinance in holy matrimony?"
His lips wander up her torso, gently gliding against hers, which still taste of strawberry lip gloss.
"…Do you promise to love her…"
He opens his eyes and realizes she's crying.
"…To honor and cherish her…"
The lonely light of morning
The wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I have held so dear.
He tries to silence her with his kisses, and with the way their lower bodies are gliding together, but the tears keep flowing.
"…in joy and in sorrow…"
And he knows this is wrong, but he's holding her waist in his hands, and he can't be bothered with anything but her presence under him.
"…in sickness and in health…"
Finally she kisses back, because they both know it's almost over.
"…and to be to her in all things a good and faithful husband…"
Her eyes are glazed over as she grabs his shoulders and arrives with a sigh. Letting all inhibitions go, he lets himself moan one last word into her auburn locks.
"…as long as you both shall live?"
"Brooke."
His has to tear his eyes away from his pretty girl to look at the priest.
"I do."
I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so
x
It's all over now. And the reception is loud and crowded, and all she wants is to be home in bed.
Only their first dance as a couple is over, and now Brooke has to give her speech. The one she bullshitted last night at 3 am, when she was drunk on half a bottle of vodka. She stands, clinks her glass with her fork, and clears her throat.
The reception draws quiet, and Brooke stares down at the scrap of paper in her hand. The writing is smudged, and there's a faint smell of alcohol on it. On the corner she'd drawn Lucas with devil horns, something she had found ridiculously funny last night when she was drinking alone in her room.
She closes her fist around the paper and takes a steady breath.
"I've known Peyton since we were seven, and I ambushed her black tricycle in the playground with my pink streamers. I've known Lucas since we were sixteen and I stripped naked in the backseat of his car." A laugh echoes through the crowd, and Brooke looks to Peyton who has a grin on her face. To Goldilocks, Brooke and Lucas were a high school fling. A thing of the past.
If only she knew.
Heaven bent to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
Brooke is speaking more now, and she's not even aware of what's coming out of her mouth. It's all crap anyway – it's not like she believes any of it. She just wants her speech to be over.
And then it is.
People are clapping and Peyton is rising with tears in her eyes to hug her best friend, so clearly Brooke must have said something right. Lucas stays riveted in his seat, fiddling with the napkin in his lap.
The music starts now, and people are gliding on to the dance floor, happily swaying to the soft tones echoing through the speakers.
Peyton coaxes Lucas out of his seat and he reluctantly follows her to the floor. Brooke spots Mouth and Rachel arguing over who gets to lead. Nathan is letting 3 year old Kaitlyn dance on his shoes – Haley and James watch from the table. And Brooke is left alone.
Not for long though. Lucas has handed Peyton off to Larry, and now he's standing looking foolishly alone in the center of the dance floor. He's got that boyish silly grin on his face. Brooke looks down at her plate, pretending she doesn't see him walking over to her.
But then he's standing in front of her seat, holding out his hand.
"May I have this dance?"
"Lucas," she breathes. "Don't."
But then she looks up at him and sees his broken eyes, the way he's staring at her, how unbelievably terrified he looks. So she lets him take her hand in his. And in this moment they're not 24, carrying regret, angst, secrets on their shoulders.
In this moment, they're 17 again.
And their song is playing.
"So, I guess we never finished that conversation." He has that boyish smile on his face, the one she has the hardest time resisting. She turns – he leans up against the table.
Boston is playing.
"Dance with me," she nearly whispers in that raspy voice of hers. He looks down to her outstretched arms, giving her a sad smile as he clasps her hands in his.
It feels so right.
She's letting her body fold, fall into his, and he's bringing his hand up to smooth the bare skin above the hem of her dress.
"Didn't you miss me while you were away?" To her, the words are childish, but he just looks hurt, broken, sorry at them.
"Everyday." She almost sees the formation of tears in his eyes, as he fights back the urge to cry over what he knows is almost over.
Something he can't let go of.
"I was just angry, and upset about Keith, and I just needed to be alone. But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you, Brooke. Because I did."
"I needed to hear your voice." She had needed to hear that he was okay, that he wasn't slipping away from her. "There's just so much stuff going on with me."
"What kind-of stuff." He stares into her eyes – he wants her to let himin this time. He wants to be able to fix her pain.
But she looks up with him, playing with the boutonniére on his jacket. And she lets her lips glide on to his.
It's not full of lust or want. It's a kiss full of two people loving each other so much that it's painful. Because neither of them know how to let go. And neither of them want to.
She pushes her lips harder against his, and his hand grazes along her bare skin. And when she pulls away (because it needs to be over sooner or later), she lets her face linger against his for a few more minutes, before dropping her head to lean against his sturdy form.
His hand is warm and calloused – hers is cool and smooth. He can feel the way she grips his hand tightly as they approach the dance floor. Peyton looks over Larry's shoulder and waves. To her, there is nothing special about Brooke and Lucas sharing a dance.
They're just friends – right?
For a few seconds she thinks it will be okay. That it will just be this dance – and then it will be over. But then the hand resting against the small of her back grips her tighter, and he's closing his eyes and whispering something into her ear.
"What happened to us?"
She's startled by the question – it seems like such a simple one to answer. Like there were so many ways to explain the way their relationship had just fallen to pieces in the blink of an eye.
Brooke changed. Lucas changed. They fell out of love. They were too different. He was dealing with too much crap. They didn't have time for each other. She wasn't the girl he thought he knew. He was too much of a hero. She was too self conscious. She didn't trust him.
She could tell him any of that. All of that. But it would just be an act. She doesn't want to admit that for once, she cant give him an answer.
He promised her he wouldn't hurt her again.
He hadn't. He had stayed faithful, he had stayed true. He hadn't told her about the kiss in the library only because he was afraid she would run.
And he was right. She had.
Now, 6 years later, she can't believe that she's still hung up on her high school sweetheart. That there is so much left unresolved.
He realizes that she hasn't responded. He realizes she doesn't have an answer. So he opens his eyes, he pulls his head away.
"I can't…" he's on the verge of telling her that he needs her. That he can't live without her. That he can't see her only once or twice a month. That he can't watch her get over him, meet someone else, get married, have children. He can't let himself stay with Peyton – not when he's in love with her best friend. But then he realizes that telling her all of that would make it all the much harder to let go.
So instead, he tells her something he's never told anyone else.
"She was pregnant." Brooke looks at him, startled. And even though they're at the side of the dance floor, and the reception is loud, he lowers his voice. "And so I proposed, because I thought it was the right thing to do." He pauses. "But then she rejected me. Told me that I was only proposing to her because of the baby. I lied to her, and told her that wasn't true."
He stops talking for a few seconds, letting Brooke digest this new information.
"And then she lost the baby."
The room begins to spin. Brooke lets go of his hands and steps back. All the guilt that's been bottling up, all of the anger at herself for letting her inhibitions go, it's all coming at her now. She fills sick – nauseous. And she needs to get out of the room.
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turned their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
You'll slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed
x
She barely makes it to the bathroom before she's retching into the toilet. He follows her, closing and locking the door behind him, kneeling down on the cool tile, and holding back her hair.
She flushes the toilet, and he fills a glass of water for her, wiping her face down as she drinks. She leans against the wall, and closes her eyes, fighting back the urge to once again, throw up.
"You did the right thing," she whispers, opening her eyes, and he looks pained at her words. "You stayed with her even after she lost the baby because you had told her it wasn't about that, and it was the right thing to do."
He nods, brushing his hand across her collarbone.
"It's never going to be over, is it?" he asks. "You and me?"
As much as she wants to hold enough strength to tell him that he was wrong – that it'sbeen over for years, she finds herself shaking her head.
Because it's never been over. And it's never going to be.
Though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so