Okay, so this is the first full-length fic I have attempted to write in a long time. And, we'll see how it goes, I really am determined to finish this one, so little pushes are always helpful :D. This is pretty much a little prologue- type chapter, others should be longer.

The whole story is AU, and details should be explained as we go along, but any questions, feel free to ask. :D

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own a thing.

Storybook of our Lives

'Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.'

It's not an easy relationship we have, nor is it one that people are able to understand. Yet somehow throughout all the years, our not so common bond has never seemed to sever. That's just the way it is, always has been and will more than likely, always continue to be. Sometimes even I myself struggle to comprehend just how it is our friendship has managed to pull through over the years. After all, how could I forget the constant ringing in my ears back then, forever keeping me on my toes.

'Mom, Lucas won't play dress up with me, tell him he has to play with me.'

'It wasn't me who broke the window, it was Lucas and that stupid basketball of his.'

'Lucas, I forgot to do my chem homework, mind if I borrow yours?'

She called it cute; I at the time seem to remember it being somewhat annoying. But no matter how hard I tried to hold a grudge against her, no matter how hard I tried to avoid her signature 'pouting' face, even I have to admit she always had this way of reeling me in, hook line and sinker.

She after all is Brooke Davis, the girl that can do anything she puts her mind to. That's just one of the reasons why I think she's one of a kind. She's amazingly determined in a way that I've seen no one else to be. I guess that it's because of that fiery spirit inside of her that we share the connection we do today.

I've never had it quite so well off as her, well, not in the money aspect of things anyway. Yet that never seemed to put a stop to our constantly growing friendship. Sometimes I know I'm a hindrance and that she could be potentially better off without Lucas Scott dragging down her queen bee status. But looking back on the countless times we've shared a milkshake, shared a ride to the school dance, shared the feeling of being in one another's arms, seeking solace in the one person who can affirm that everything's going to be okay…looking back on all those times, I wouldn't change a thing. If only for my own selfish reasons.

Broody and Cheery, best friends we'll always be. Broody- a name I've become accustomed to being called, ever since Brooke noticed me absent mindedly spacing out on occasion, she never let it go after that. I'd only have to rethink about what it was I had for dinner the previous night for her to say I was 'brooding'. So, in retaliation, immature I know, she became known as my Cheery. For obvious reasons, one of them being that her perfectly dimpled smile is always on public display. And it's only the loud calling of my nickname that brings me back to my current conversation with Brooke.

"Broody!" I shift my eyes down from gazing upwards into the sky, they meet hers and in a vague attempt to show I've been listening, I smile and nod, even though she knows I haven't been listening.

"Did you even catch a word I just said? Half a sentence, maybe?" she asks, half whining and half smiling at the same time. She's used to it by now, the fact that I feel the need to constantly mull over my many different thoughts in my head. Nevertheless, each and every single time, she still uses her mock hurt expression. I effortlessly apologize and we continue on.

"Umm, something about shoes?" I suggest, dumbfounded, although it's not a bad guess. She's always talking about shoes. Smiling, I break, letting out a small laugh as she does the same. Those dimples once again parading her signature mark on her glowing face.

She taps me lightly on the shoulder; sending slight unnerving chills up along my spine, before continuing.

"Sadly no, I wish I was. However, I was stressing my point to you that I'm failing math." Once again she curves her lips over and her smile is soon replaced by that grueling pout that somehow gets me to do anything, along with her puppy dog eyes, I'm like a man that's been encaged with hungry lions. I'm completely at her mercy.

"Please will you be my study buddy, Lucas?" she tugs on my arm, resembling a gesture of a two year old. As busy as I know I am, I'm the poor defenseless man, fighting a pointless battle against those hungry lions. Again I cave. With a roll of my eyes, I nod, completely at her mercy.

"Fine," I let out a drawn in breath, faking annoyance of course. "Tonight, say around eight-ish. You can stay and I could make my classic phone call to the pizza place."

I can see in her eyes that she is anything but happy with the night I have suggested. It happens to be pure coincidence that I've asked her round on game night….or more to her concern, the game night after-party. I guess you could say that I was being cruel and I'll admit to myself that any Friday night when Brooke finds an excuse not to go to one of those things, I'm glad. I may not go to those parties, but I have no need. Especially not after hearing the events and latest news that travels round on Monday morning, usually carrying the details of the latest one- night stands or 'manly' fights that had broken out.

For Brooke however, they've become part of this necessary ritual she feels the need to maintain. I suppose she's never known anything different and I've never felt the need to judge her. I've never wanted to judge her and I never intend to. Our friendship is still stronger than any other relationship I have with others. Brooke Davis is still that one individual who I reserve a special place for. I can deal with the slight infuriating feeling that emerges at times. After all, at least I have the peace of mind that our bond is true. Not like those of her other 'friends' whom she'll spend hours constantly ranting about. Yet this is another thing I love about Brooke. She'll maintain what she needs to, meet and greet the people she has to keep up her general popular standing. But it doesn't mean she enjoys it. The differences in her smiles and gestures are blatantly obvious to anyone who truly knows her. It's clear to see that when she's with her cheerleading crowd, she's never really listening. When she's laughing with the basketball jocks, the high pitched shrill she lets out is no match for her own genuine, soft giggle.

I could try to tell her that she doesn't need to keep up with the a-list crowd; I could try to tell her to keep true to herself all the time. I could try to tell her that people who actually give a damn about keeping up appearances aren't worth it. I could try to tell her all those things, but she's independent and stubborn in her own mind and in most respects….I love her for it.

I've found myself doing that a lot as of late. No matter how much I try to pick out the most obscene off putting qualities, I find myself turning them around, showing how they make her the truly amazing person that she is, along with her natural virtues….she's a goddess in her own way.

"Saturday night is my shift at the café and Sunday's I help Keith down at the auto shop," I assure her. "You know that…." She's pulling that face again, if I didn't know her so well I'd probably consider it somewhat childish, for me, the expression is adorable in its own way. "And you also know that you have a calculus test on Monday. One that you need to pass or at least improve in."

"But Lucas it's game night, please is there any other time you could possibly do? Please, I'll be your best friend."

"You already are my best friend, Brooke." my eyes roll, back in my playful mode.

"What's your point?" She asks, equally teasing.

"My point…" I begin, trying to think of a good response, but fail miserably, "is that no, I can't actually do any other time this weekend." Her shoulders slump down and she goes into complete sulk mode.

"Brooke," I nudge her in the shoulder and she turns away from me. "Come on, it'll be fun. We'll study a little first and-"

"Oooh really? Wow studying, that's gotta be the best Friday night ever." Her tone is beyond sarcastic, she's still not really pissed at me, but I can tell she's not exactly jumping for joy. Can I really expect her to be now that I've just burst her little Friday night bubble?

"And.." I continue, choosing to ignore her, "we could make a night of it, movies and all. Come on, we could make it fun. When have we ever not had fun together?"

She contemplates for a while, trying to remember if she could pin point an exact time when we haven't had fun. But she knows just as well as I do that somehow, it's almost an incapability that we have when we're together. We're not able to not have fun. That doesn't mean to say we don't have our hard times together, but I guess you could say we're optimists. Brooke more so than me.

"As long as you ask for extra anchovies on the pizza." She mutters quietly, giving in but not without adding in her final piece. I hate anchovies. And Brooke knows it.

"I'll ask for extra anchovies on the pizza." I conclude, rubbing her arm gently.

Her stubbornness, dizziness and often idleness are just a few of the things that I think define Brooke as being the one of a kind person that she is. Her beauty, kindness, happy go lucky self give me this warmth inside that I only ever feel when I'm around her. And it wasn't until recently that this 'warmth' within me has been rising further and further each time I find myself in the presence of my best friend. I'm now facing a constant heat.

Only upon noticing this did I begin to question myself. Do I see Brooke in a sisterly way as many other guys in my position possibly could? Do I really only want a friendship with Brooke? Could we possibly be anything more?

She's left our lunch table to empty her tray and it's then that I see her rubbing down one of the basketball chests. It's then I hear her use the fake laugh she always does whenever she's around them. It's then I see her becoming consumed within a false happiness.

It's then I know the answer to all of my above questions.

No.

But as she makes her way back over to me, I bury all my inner infuriation. Brooke Davis is my bestfriend, anything that threatens to come between us, whether it be the guys I see her with, or my suppressed jealousy, are simply not worth putting our friendship of the past, present and future at risk.

With an exchange of smiles, we continue to be Broody and Cheery, the indefinable friendship.

That's just how our story goes

T.B.C