Three A.M.
by Grace (purplemud)
Summary: Lucas is suffering from a severe writer's block.
Rating: T/4
Pairing: Bit of Leyton and Brucas, hints of Laley and Naley
Disclaimers: Standard disclaimers apply. Me don't own.
Author's Note: I'm still in Georgia and still quite busy with work, but I happen to unearth this little scribble and to make up for the late updates of How To and 23, here's a little something from me. I have like tons of OTH scribbles so maybe I can put them all in here.
Spoilers: Seasons 1 to 5.
Lucas
It's mocking him. The blank page. It's invisible accusing eyes is staring right back at him. You've lost it, it tells him silently and he has no reply to that. He can't even shake his head in denial. He's paralyzed by the realization that had come too little, too late.
There was a time when words wouldn't stop coming to him, wouldn't stop flowing and he was able to write a novella of a love poem. An extended chorus of a love song for the girl that had stolen his heart.
If only he knows who that girls is.
His heart does not know or does not care to share with him that particular information – maybe because he had betrayed it so many times, his own heart no longer trusts him.
His uncle Keith would be disappointed in him.
Frustrated, angry, lost, hopeless, he places his finger on the keyboard, stroking them gently, as though trying to coax the story out, letter by letter.
It's the girl behind the red door.
He types this slowly, his eyes following every space. He pauses, thinks about it and shakes his head. It can't be. It's a false claim. The girl behind the red door – if he had paid any attention during his teenage years, it wasn't even Brooke. It was Haley. He can still see it now: the Jameses front porch, the red door and Haley standing just behind it, giggling as she asks for the password.
"Mac and Cheese."
The door swings open and she smiles up at him, her brown eyes bright and innocent. She was seven. He was eight. She was everything he wanted. And he loved her as his sister. The only time he had briefly fallen in love with her was the night he had given her away to Nathan – that one second when he wished she could be his. But she belonged to Nathan and there was no way that he'd stand in the way of true love. So he told his new-found brother to take care of her and even though Nathan and Haley had experienced the agony of heartbreaks and betrayals, they never once faltered in their love for each other. He had been right to let go of her. That didn't mean that sometimes, he'd wonder about it once in a blue moon, when he gets so dangerously, utterly lonely and alone.
Lucas highlights the words and hits the delete key. No point dwelling on that. Besides, given the history of the Scott brothers, one brother deserves his happy ending. Nathan got it. No need to be envious about it.
Lucas sighs softly.
Well, hello, blank page. We meet again.
He lets out a derisive snort which is promptly echoed back by the same blank page that has been mocking him since seven in the morning. It's now three a.m. He had already lost one day. He's stinking. He hasn't eaten yet. He has been drinking coffee non-stop. His eyes are blurry and hot. His answering machine is pulsating with red light: his editors, most likely, wanting to know if there are any updates on his latest novel. There's no update. Except if he wants to report that he's been hallucinating, the blank page of his screen giving him pitiful looks and the occasional mocking stares. They wouldn't want to hear that.
Maybe his problem isn't that he didn't know how to tell the story. Maybe there isn't a story to tell. But that's depressing as hell. So he starts again. This time, he describes the bright comet of his life.
Comets, they're not the most romantic thing. It's nothing but a brief flash of light in the darkness. If you miss it, it's gone. Until it comes back again after a hundred years.
Lucas leans back, squints his eyes. Lindsey had been right. Peyton is his comet. The first time she came into his life, he let her go. He'd have to wait again for another hundred of years to finally catch her. The wait is not an issue. For Peyton, he'd wait forever. But Lindsey still got it all wrong. He hadn't meant the car – how silly of him to have attributed his feelings for Peyton to a car – when he wrote the story. The car had been the symbol of Peyton's rebellion and he hadn't been attracted to that. What he had been attracted to was the fact that Peyton was something that he longed for, from a distance.
When he wrote about his comet, he was envisioning the real deal. And the problem with comets is that they aren't meant to stay in one place. If they do, they'd crash and burn. Peyton is exactly like that. Which is why he has come to accept that fact that he'll forever be looking up the sky, waiting for her, but he'd never, ever have her. Never.
That's the tragedy of his life. And Lucas is really tired of writing about tragedies. He wants to write something that is filled with light. Something that is precious. Something that is real. Something that isn't dark or brooding. Something that did not belong to him. Something that's a part of him.
He sadly erases the entry and starts all over again.
Her favorite color is blue...