A/N: Since 507 ended so... cliffhanger-y in a bad way, I decided to write this for my own peace of mind. How many episodes is it going to take for Leyton to realize that they belong together and that Lindsay is just another useless rock on the road? Seriously.

Disclaimer: One Tree Hill is a property of Mark Schwann and The CW. The plot, though, is mine.

Gravel Tainted Memories

Peyton Sawyer sat down, cross legged, on the grass. She stared thoughtfully into the marble tombstone, trying to figure out how to wrap her mind into everything that has happened, and at the same time wanting to avoid it altogether. Brooke dropped her off here after screaming at her, and cheerfully said that she'd pick her up again after she'd pretended that Lindsay was one of the stumps.

"Oh mom," Peyton sighed, "I'm an idiot."

The wind blew reassuringly, and Peyton lay down, closing her eyes and relishing the silence. After a few moments, she heard some rough footsteps. Somehow, she knew he would come, though unsure how he found her. Her eyes remained closed.

"Take a drive with me."

His voice was sure and calm, unwavering and comforting. Without any words she stood up and looked at him, almost too exhausted to argue, and together they walked towards his car. He turned the ignition on and drove as far away from Tree Hill as he can. A few miles into the journey, he broke the silence.

"I'm halfway done with my manuscript."

She remained silent, opting to focus on the road signs than to listen to him. He tried to turn on the radio but she protested, turning the knob as soon as she heard the first notes filter through the speakers.

"Let's just pretend we're in high school again." Peyton said, finally, looking at him. "Just for this afternoon."

"Okay." He answered softly.

As they drove further away, they talked as if they were teenagers again. First a few words, yes, maybe, okay, then longer sentences, laughs, then playful slaps and meaningful stares. They talked like they haven't in ages, they talked of music, of petty gossip, of their dreams and aspirations. He started holding her hand, and she started leaning into him as he parked the car near a deserted field where the sunset was visibly seen, the colors melting into each other and betraying their emotions.

Then, Peyton was crying. And Lucas understood.

As the moon showed its faint traces they drove back to Tree Hill, ignoring the frantic phone calls from Brooke and Lindsay and Haley, even Nathan, listening to the sound of the tire against the gravel and the unspoken understanding between them. Upon seeing the familiar lights of the small town, Lucas slowed down, not wanting the trip to end.

"It's always gonna be here, isn't it? Us?"

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Peyton joked.

"I just have to try first, Peyton."

"I know you do." Her heart was breaking with every word. "I just want to know why."

"Because I'd be less of a man in your eyes if I don't."

Peyton quickly wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "Let me down," she said, "I can walk. Brooke's store is just two blocks from here."

"Don't be ridiculous. I can bring you home."

"I know you can, but I can't say the same for you." Lucas had to admit to himself that she was right, and it took all of his willpower to step on the break pedal. "If anyone asks, it was just a drive. It doesn't have to mean anything. I wouldn't want to wreck any homes tonight."

"Peyton—"

"Tell me it doesn't mean anything," Peyton said, "right?"

Lucas looked at her serenely, taking in every shadow of the moonlight on her face, every cascading curl on her shoulder, as if tonight were the night that she'd left him four years ago. He was berating himself, for every thought of her meant another less thought for Lindsay.

"Of course it means something."

Peyton managed a smile as she got out of his car, pretending that she didn't hear the words that had just come from his mouth. "I'll see you around, Luke."

He replied with a curt nod, the thought of her lips on his playing on his mind. "Take care of yourself, Peyt."

He drove off, seeing her disappear around the corner, fighting a strong urge to turn the car around and whisk her away. His hands were heavy as he held the steering wheel. The moon shone brightly as he passed by the Rivercourt, the light playing with the water, the metal and the faint traces of a flaming heart with a number three written inside of it. He remembered that it was his uncle Keith who took him there for his first basketball lesson, and he smiled fondly at the memory. He looked up at the stars.

"Oh Keith," Lucas sighed, "I'm an idiot."

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