happy turkey day
american tragedy; future oneshot, possible twoshot.
The world is never silent.
Someone is always awake, or talking in their sleep, or snoring, or crying, or worrying.
Someone is always sickeningly happy, because fate got them everything they've ever wanted.
Today, in Tree Hill, North Carolina, that person is Peyton Sawyer. Because she doesn't know.
Blissful ignorance keeps her happy and she chooses it, because she knows if she focused on the bad things, nothing would be good. She chases perfection, and ignores the speed bumps and road blocks in her way, though one in particular keeps coming back.
Brooke Davis.
The shoulder to cry on, the stability, the support that kept Peyton sane.
Brooke to Peyton is like a bad Catholic to God, praying only when they need something.
Not to say that Peyton doesn't appreciate the help and support, God knows she needs something stable in her life. But she can't help but be suspicious.
Of the way Brooke used to eye her family. Her husband.
Of the way Lucas eyed her best friend. Like they had some inside secret, a joke for their ears only.
If I
had my own world
I'd love it for all that's inside it
There'd
be no more wars, death or riots
There'd be no more police, packed
parking lots,
Guns, bombs sounding off
"Hey Peyt." Lucas mumbles, shuffling tiredly into their kitchen
"Hey Pretty Boy!" She says, remaining upbeat and so un-like her old self. She dons his Keith Scott Body Shop sweatshirt and he frowns as he hugs her.
It smells like Brooke.
"I'm going back to bed." He mumbles again.
It doesn't matter anymore though, Peyton thinks, if there's sanity or stability, if Brooke had sex with Lucas while Peyton was married to him, if she looked and smelled better then Peyton when she popped up for and unexpected visit, if Brooke's raven-haired daughter's eyes look a little too much like Lucas's.
It just doesn't matter.
Because Brooke Davis died. And to Peyton, it's just another speed bump.
If
I had my own world
I'd build you an empire
From here to the
far lands
To spread love like violence
