A/N: I've had this idea for awhile and I couldn't resist the urge to write it. I apologize to everyone who's been following my other fic, "Suddenly Everything is Clear," but that's on indefinite hiatus. I didn't really plan it out and I sort of lost my inspiration. Maybe one day I'll go back and finish it, but right now I really need to move on to other things.
Anyway, I'm not sure how long this is going to be but definitely more than ten chapters. It's highly Lucas-centric but it will also be heavily Leyton later on.
Reviews are appreciated.^-^
Chapter One: Late at Night
Lucas awoke from a familiar dream into semi-darkness. The only illumination in his bedroom came from the residual ambience of the street lights outside and the sapphire hue of the night sky that seeped through the windows. There was also the red glow of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand which currently read 3:02 a.m.
As he peered at the clock, Lucas blew out a sigh. This had become a regular occurrence, waking up at odd intervals during the middle of the night. He'd been plagued with insomnia for so long now he could barely remember what it was like to get a full night's sleep. Sitting up, he tossed the comforter aside and swung his feet over the side of the bed until they came to rest on the carpet below.
For the next few minutes, Lucas simply sat in the darkness, his gaze resting on nothing in particular. It could be that he was just nervous about tomorrow, though he had no reason to be. He would be going down to Wilmington to celebrate the début of his brother's shoe, the NS 23. Since his triumphs playing for Gilmore College and the University of Maryland, Nathan had now become the tenth draft pick for the Seattle Sonics, and he had become so popular that he'd been offered a contract for his own line of custom shoes by Reebok. The profits the NS 23 were projected to generate would leave Nathan very well off, and if he made the Sonics' draft pick, he'd be a millionaire. All of his brother's dreams were coming true and Lucas was nothing but happy for him. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was that at some point Nathan and Haley would begin to lecture him as they always tended to do whenever they spent any time together, and Lucas had had enough of being lectured. They would ride him about the fact that he'd dropped out of college, or that he was working a menial job he was overqualified for, or about how he'd become such a recluse lately. He'd give them that one.
Bottom line was, though he loved his brother and sister-in-law/best friend and knew they meant well, he just didn't want to have to endure another third degree about when he was going to get his act together and actually do something with his life. He hadn't really seen much of Nathan and Haley for the past two years since they'd been away at the University of Maryland, and he had to admit that part of that was due to him being distant, but he hated that he couldn't just enjoy the company of his family without being raked over the coals.
On the plus side, he'd probably get to see Jamie, his nephew. He loved that kid to death.
Running a hand through his short, unkempt hair, Lucas stood and padded out of his bedroom. Navigating through the darkened house, he made his way to the kitchen. Flipping the light that overlooked the sink on, he retrieved a bottle of beer from the fridge and took a seat at the kitchen table.
Drinking alone in the middle of the night; not a good sign.
It wasn't something Lucas did often. Most nights when he found himself unable to sleep he would usually just sit in the living room or in the kitchen like he was now while he nursed a cup of tea or a bottle of water. And on those occasions when he felt suffocated by the confines of his home he would go down to the Rivercourt or simply wander around town, absorbing the stillness and the quiet. This particular night his nerves demanded something to loosen them up, so here he was, sipping on a beer.
The venue and the circumstances might've been ideal for an author to write something effusive and angst-ridden, but Lucas hadn't produced so much as a sentence of prose in years. He had no right to even call himself an author seeing as how he'd never had any of his work published. He'd had the opportunity to have the only novel he'd ever written, "An Unkindness of Ravens," published but he'd flushed that opportunity down the toilet along with any chance of a meaningful career.
At twenty-two, Lucas Scott's life had not turned out as he'd planned it, and he had no one to blame but himself.
So where had it all gone wrong? It all began three years ago, back when he'd still been attending classes at Gilmore College and been living with Nathan and Haley to help them take care of Jamie. He'd also been assistant coach to Whitey Durham who'd been the head coach of the Gilmore Cobras. The Cobras had been the punch line of college basketball for years until Whitey's coaching and Nathan's playing had turned things around, and before long, the team had made it to the Division II state championship.
After a fast-paced and well-played game, the Cobras took the championship and Lucas experienced for the first time what it was like to coach a team to victory after Whitey had walked off the court and left things in his hands. As confetti had snowed down upon him, and as the crowd had roared in jubilation and stormed the court, Lucas had tried to muster up the elation he knew he should've felt at the Cobras' accomplishment, but he hadn't been able to. Something had been missing; something more important than any state championship.
That something had been Peyton Sawyer, his girlfriend and the love of his life.
She was supposed to have been at the game, but wasn't able to get away from her job in Los Angeles where she lived. Lucas had been crushed, but he'd understood. However, as he'd watched his brother and his best friend, husband and wife, embrace and kiss and lift their son into their arms, he'd felt a longing so poignant it had almost brought him to tears.
He'd wanted what they had, wanted it so bad, a wife and a family, and he'd wanted it with Peyton. It was at that moment that he'd decided that he didn't want to wait anymore. He'd wanted Peyton to be his wife, he'd wanted forever with her.
So, with his mother's engagement ring, the one Keith had given her, in hand, he'd taken the first flight to L.A. with the intention of surprising Peyton. She was surprised, alright, and he'd never forget the look of pure, unadulterated joy and love on her face as she'd ran to embrace him. Afterwards, he'd planned to propose to her at the upscale downtown restaurant they'd had dinner at, but a call from her employer had cut that short. So he would do it at the room he'd reserved at the Beverly Hilton instead.
Her work kept her longer than she'd thought, though, and Lucas had accidentally dozed off while waiting for her, with the ring-box in his hand. He'd been studying it while he passed the time, picturing the future he'd thought he was destined to have with the girl of his dreams. He'd been so cocky and so arrogant, just assuming that everything would go his way. It almost made Lucas sick when he thought about it.
Lucas had eventually awoken to find Peyton sitting in the chair across from the bed, the ring-box in her hand. He'd taken a moment to just bask in the beauty that was Peyton Sawyer. Her soft blonde curls, her impossibly green eyes, her lithe and shapely frame, all decked out in torn hip-hugging jeans and a black band-t over a white long-sleeved t-shirt. The elegance and the passion that she radiated, all of it reminded Lucas of why this girl was like no other and why he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
"Luke, what is this?" she'd asked tentatively. "I was afraid to open it."
It was then that Lucas had awkwardly proposed. He'd never once doubted himself, or that the answer would be anything other than 'yes.'
Idiot.
He got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. She said no.
Well technically, she'd said "someday," but what was "someday" supposed to mean? Someday was an ambiguous term that had no real definition. It might as well have been a straight-out no. As Peyton had calmly explained to him all the reasons it was too early for marriage, all Lucas had been able to feel was the scorpion-sting of rejection. He argued all the reasons they could and should get married but she shot down every one of his arguments.
Later, after things had quelled down, Lucas had laid next to her on the bed, wide awake while she slept. He could remember the way she'd smelled, a combination of her shampoo and the more intimate scent that was uniquely Peyton. He could remember the way she'd felt, pressed up against him, her soft curls tickling his face, her warmth infusing his every pore. And he could remember doubting her, and her love for him, and everything they were supposed to be. He could also remember coming to the gut-wrenching realization that it would probably be the last time he'd ever get to breathe in her scent or feel her that way.
As morning approached, Lucas had disentangled himself from Peyton and went to sit in the chair she'd occupied earlier. He sat there turning the ring-box over and over in his hands until the rays of the morning sun had penetrated the room. He was sitting there when she woke up.
With everything in him, Lucas had pleaded his case one last time hoping to convince her to marry him. It didn't work. They began to argue, and then arguing had turned to yelling, and finally yelling had turned to near screaming. It was the worst fight they'd ever had since they'd known each other. Words were exchanged that could never be taken back and feelings had been hurt that couldn't be unhurt.
And then the proverbial Sword of Damocles fell and everything ended.
"I don't know what to say to you anymore, Lucas!" she practically yelled. "I can't do this! You're making this all or nothing and I can't deal with that! Not when I have so much going on in my life. So I think it would be best if you just go. I'm sorry Lucas."
Stricken, he stared at her for a full fifteen seconds. "Fine," he finally replied. "I'll go." He could barely keep from choking up.
And so he'd left. He'd tossed the mix she'd made him on to the bed next to her and then he'd gathered up his luggage and walked out of that hotel room. And when he'd heard an agonized wail rise up from within the room he'd just left a part of him died.
It all went downhill from there.
Lucas hadn't even realized he'd finished his beer until he lifted the now empty bottle to his lips. For an unbelievable moment, it seemed to him that the shadows that lurked in the hallway and in the corners of the kitchen the sink light couldn't reach had suddenly come to life and were glaring at him. Must've been the beer, he could already feel the effects of it.
However, he knew the lightheadedness that he felt and the coil of anxiety that had nested within his stomach had nothing to do with the alcohol. He got like this whenever he thought about her. Lucas felt as though the gravitational field of the entire planet had suddenly focused into a single point directly beneath his heart. Peyton was gone. She was in the city of angels conquering the world and probably dating someone, someone who was better looking and more successful than Lucas and who was smart enough to be patient with her and not ambush her with a proposal.
No more lazy evenings listening to classic records.
No more late night marathons of old black-and-white horror movies.
No more walks on the beach or days at their favorite spots just sitting and basking in a comfortable silence as he read and she drew.
No more spontaneous road trips to concerts or leisurely drives down the back roads of Tree Hill.
No more nights with her in his arms, her chin resting on top of his chest and legs entwined with his.
No more saving her.
No more Peyton.
It had been three years, and Lucas still hadn't come to terms with that. Maybe he ought to see a shrink or something because clearly that couldn't be healthy.
He stood up and pushed the chair back under the table. Disposing of his beer bottle and turning off the sink light, Lucas stumbled back to his bedroom through the gloom, slightly unsteady from fatigue and the beer he'd had. Might do to try and get a couple of hours of sleep before morning came and he had to rendezvous with Nathan and Haley.
He couldn't remember the dream that had woken him earlier. Something to do with jagged fragments of shattered glass and blood on pavement. It was now just garbled nonsense in his subconscious, but it had seemed like a dream he'd had a few times throughout the past week. There'd been a disturbing sense of familiarity about it that he couldn't quite pinpoint.
In his bedroom now, Lucas got into bed and pulled the covers up about halfway. As he tried to settle himself into sleep, nervous anticipation of the next day's events still buzzing within him, Lucas put the dream out of his mind.
He had no way of knowing at the time that the dream had been an omen.
~Chapter One End