"The truth is, I want all the same things you want, I do, and I want them with you"

"I'll wait forever if I have to"

"If I say I love you right now, will you hold it against me?"

"I want everything with you"

"I am so in love with you"

"I'm gonna love you forever, Lucas Scott"

Peyton looked down at the paperwork in front of her and tried to focus. God knows she needed to make a success of her career more than ever right now, but it was no use. Her own words of years past haunted her – taunted her. He was engaged, the man she given years of her life to, and a myriad of emotions fought for dominance in her mind, making concentration altogether impossible. Devastation, anger, disbelief, all present and correct… but above all, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment.

Peyton Sawyer, traditionally a closed book, found herself wishing, with no small amount of bitterness, that she'd been rather less forthcoming about her feelings for a certain boy in the past. Every word she'd ever said to him – what did it mean now?

Nothing.

That was the horrible, heartbreaking truth.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She propped her face up with her hand and stared diligently at the ink on the page in front of her. She felt her cheeks colouring of their own accord as she realised the place their memories would occupy in his mind now. A high school silliness of no real substance, just infatuated teenagers, something to laugh about with his wife in years to come. The thought made Peyton physically cringe.

She couldn't bear it. It was too much. To think of her previous passion, her openness, the absolute sureness with which she had uttered those proclamations… the current situation well and truly made a mockery of it all, and the fire of mortification burned through her like acid. All the little moments which once seemed vital to their epic love story now just made Peyton feel so, so stupid. She wished she could erase them from her memory altogether or, failing that, at least erase them from his. Although really, she thought dryly, it didn't appear that he was going to treasure them with any great care anyway.

Such were the agonies that had been circulating in Peyton's mind all morning, and most of the night too. Out of her torture, one thing had become abundantly clear: she and Lucas Scott were over – really, truly, definitely over – and so help her God, she would never ever beg him again. Her list of ridiculous proclamations was already quite long enough. Continually making the case for a relationship which, incidentally, had been non-existent for 3 years and, crucially, he seemed to find entirely insignificant, was simply too humiliating. And in all honesty, Peyton Sawyer felt quite embarrassed enough already.

It was understandable, therefore, that when the cause of all the trouble arrived on her doorstep, Peyton was less than thrilled.

"Brooke's not here," she said dully. "Although I told her your news already, sorry to ruin the surprise"

"I came to see you," he replied. "I went by Tric but you weren't there."

"Yeah, I decided to work from home this morning." Peyton was already walking away from him, back to her position on the couch beside a coffee table stacked with papers. He hovered uncertainly in the doorframe.

"Is it ok if I come in, or…?" he trailed off uncertainly

"Sure. Would've thought you'd have better things to do today though, Lucas," she answered, making sure to keep her tone light. Peyton was aware she wasn't exactly being the perfect hostess. He had come to see her, had spent all morning tracking her down, in fact, and was getting classic bitchy Peyton for his efforts. She couldn't help smirking inwardly. It was just like old times.

Lucas positioned himself awkwardly on the arm of a chair, facing diagonally from her. "Peyton," he began uneasily, "look, about last night, I'm so sorry-"

She cut him off sharply, barely glancing up from her work. "About which part, kissing me or proposing to her?"

Lucas winced. The magnitude of that question, if he chose to consider it, could change his whole life. But it made him uncomfortable, frankly, so he preferred to avoid it entirely. "I just… I wish you hadn't had to find out like that, it was horrible – I feel horrible," he emphasized, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I really am so s-"

Peyton looked him in the eyes for the first time, and she could see he was genuine. Too bad that wasn't enough. She held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Luke, I swear to God, if you apologise to me one more time…" Her tone was neutral, and she trailed off gently, holding his gaze for a moment. Her eyes softened briefly, before returning pointedly to the marketing strategy for Mia's next single.

"Alright," he sighed. "I … I guess I'll just go then."

His announcement prompted no discernable reaction from the girl sitting opposite, and so it was with some dejection that Lucas moved to leave. His fingers were on the door handle when he decided to give it one more shot.

"Come on Peyt," he almost pleaded, "this is not us. Please talk to me, I hate leaving like this"

He was speaking to the back of her head, and she stood up to turn around and face him. "Well, as you remind me daily, Lucas, we stopped being "us" three years ago," she replied, her voice emotionless and her armed folded across her chest. Classic signs of a Peyton Sawyer shut down.

"So forgive me," she continued breezily, "if I don't want to sit here and smile while you make yourself feel better"

"Peyton, that's not what this is about!" Lucas exclaimed immediately, genuinely shocked that she could believe that.

"Really, Luke?" she countered, arching an eyebrow and issuing the question sharply, like a challenge. "Well then what do you want from me, a congratulations? Cause I think I said that last night when your fiancée was shoving her ring in my face, inviting me in for champagne!"

"Hey!" he protested, slipping easily into defence mode, although he hardly knew why. At least this argument was comfortable, they'd had it several times by now. "Why do you always have to be so hostile about Lindsay? Can't you see that she's totally innocent here – she didn't ask to get dragged into our mess. She's a good person, Peyton!"

"Oh yeah," Peyton replied sarcastically, "she's awesome. Pity her fiancé is such a cheating asshole!" She enunciated every syllable caustically, appearing now to have embraced the idea of an all-out fight with him. It was something of a relief, actually.

Lucas had the decency to look ashamed. Her words, delivered in such blunt fashion, hit him like a slap and he was shocked to realise their truth. "I guess I deserved that," he replied eventually, his tone subdued.

Peyton ignored how confused and pained and sad he looked, she was on a roll. "Y'know, some would say that kissing another woman five minutes before you get engaged isn't really the best foundation for a marriage. But hey," she shrugged nonchalantly, "that's just a theory."

He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. He really didn't know how his life had come to this, but he supposed there was no point in wondering now. If he read about his current predicament in a magazine, or saw it in a film, it would seem so easy to resolve: either have some balls and do whatever it took to sort it out, or just plain get over it. Such a situation would, frankly, be pretty uninteresting to him in its melodrama. But, of course, this was not someone else's story – it was his. And therein lay the tragedy.

Lucas snapped out of his introspection with a jolt, recognising the harsh slam of closing cabinets from the kitchen. He looked over to see that Peyton, having obviously decided there was nothing to be gained from this conversation, was now banging around with a fury.

She felt his stare and looked up at him briefly. "I'd invite you to stay for coffee, but I'm sure you have somewhere to be." She slammed a single mug on the counter top. Never in her life had she had less desire for a mid-morning coffee break, but watching him standing there in silence, Peyton had felt the need for something to do with her hands. She wished to God he would just leave.

Instead, he ventured further into the room. Peyton couldn't help rolling her eyes. This was actually no surprise to her; she never had much luck with the Gods or, in recent months, with Lucas Scott, either.

"Look," he began, with renewed fervour, "you know what, last night, I screwed up – the last in a long line of screw ups. I know that, Peyt."

And he did. Lucas was painfully aware that he was falling so far short of the man his mother raised him to be. Through all the mist and complication, marrying Lindsay was the only way he could see of turning himself back into a decent person. He took a breath, and tried to explain it. "I know I've been a jackass, but I don't want to be. I don't even know how it happened. I'm just trying to get back on track here, you know?"

Peyton could see his eyes pleading with her, and felt herself softening a little. After all, she loved this man, and it was becoming clear to her just how lost he really was. His eyes had always been her weakness, and right now they made her want to help him, not hate him. The logical part of her knew that in the coming months, hatred would become very important in her attempt at self-preservation. Peyton moved away quickly to retrieve her freshly brewed coffee.

Lucas viewed her silence as a vast improvement upon her earlier hostility. It was not quite encouragement, perhaps, but was at least a willingness to hear him out.

"I love Lindsay," he stated baldly. It had become a familiar mantra. "And kissing you last night was wrong on so many levels. It wasn't fair to Lindsay or to you."

There was silence as Peyton poured steaming coffee from the pot to her mug. She deliberately drew the mug to her lips and swallowed slowly, wondering if the hot liquid had always been so bitter. He stood directly opposite her on the other side of the counter now, and she met his gaze calmly. "Then why'd you do it, Luke?"

"We both just got carried away, Peyt. I'm engaged now," he reminded her, ignoring the sudden shock he felt at hearing the fact aloud. "It didn't mean anything."

Peyton raised an eyebrow wryly. "Wow, I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before. Several times, in fact" she answered smoothly.

Lucas looked pained. "Look, I can't explain why it happened, ok? All I know is that it shouldn't have." He sighed. "Peyton, you and I just have so much history, and… I don't know, the way you were looking at me… when you kissed me it was like I literally, physically couldn't -"

"What?" she interrupted him brusquely, setting her mug down with such abruptness that some of the liquid slopped out onto the granite surface. "Couldn't stop yourself, Lucas? I'm just that irresistible, huh?" She spoke sarcastically and her words took on a somewhat interrogative tone. She obviously didn't realize that, actually, they were kind of true. She pointed a finger at him.

" Don't you dare put this all on me. If you came here looking for absolution then I can't help you. It takes two Luke"

"Well, you did kiss me first, Peyton," he fired back, unable to stop himself rising to her accusatory tone.

"And you kissed me second! What are we in the third grade now?" she raised her eyebrows scathingly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Lucas, but I'm pretty sure that was your tongue in my mouth."

The directness of her language shocked them both, and the tension hanging between them became immediately palpable. A different kind of tension, though, than that which had dominated their conversation thus far - not born of anger or confusion… something else, something that was so achingly intimate…

Lucas' gaze automatically went to her lips, and he found himself able to think of only one thing. Peyton, embarrassed at her own bluntness, could feel him looking at her and was fairly certain that she was thinking of that same one thing.

The urge to run, almost a reflex in her younger days, was still familiar enough to Peyton. She picked up her coffee mug and brought it to her lips, looking around the open plan living area awkwardly. There was nowhere to go, short of into a bedroom or bathroom. Neither option was very subtle and she really felt that, as a twenty something adult, she should not have to resort to such measures.

"Lucas," she looked up at him, still clutching her mug. "Please go," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

She could sense his reluctance.

"Come on, Luke," she continued. "You say you want to be a better man, then don't do this to me. Don't do it to yourself."

She was speaking more clearly now, willing herself not to be weak anymore. Hadn't that been her resolution only this morning?

"I mean, it's not like you're going to leave her, right?" she asked, although it wasn't really a question. "You proposed to her last night. So why even bother with all this drama anymore?"

At times such as this, when life got really messy and words weren't enough, Lucas had always found a sense of peace with Peyton in his arms. Once upon a time, that was all he needed to make sense of the world. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold her right now, but understood, perhaps for the first time, how counter-productive that would be. The realisation struck him as really fucking heartbreaking.

He looked at her and saw his own pain reflected in her eyes.

At this stage, he knew there was probably only one thing he could do to lessen her hurting. And maybe Lucas Scott hadn't changed all that much, because he was still willing to do whatever it took.

He left.

I wrote this a while back - it's not that interesting or original, and i never intended to post it, but tonight i just thought i may as well. If nothing else, it'll get me back into the swing of writing again. There is another part to it, or possibly two parts (in which things get happier!) if anyone is interested - i could just leave it as a one-shot though :)