Peyton Sawyer had fought with a lot of men in her life. Each one of them had been different but equally comparable to an album from her impressive collection of records that spanned nearly every musical genre. She could retrace too many of these arguments in those old vinyl discs, a sort of sick soundtrack to her past heartache. For a girl like Peyton, something like that tended to make sense.
Fighting with her dad was always like one of those old country songs, the kind filled with deep sorrow and heartfelt regret. She could pull out her favorite Johnny Cash record and slip it onto her turntable and be instantly taken back to a particularly dark night her sophomore year of high school when her father had finally bothered to come home from sea to find her wrapped around Nathan on their living room couch. It had been one of the few times they had actually been genuinely sleeping instead of something else, but that kind of logic failed to impress her father. After he had kicked Nathan out and she had worn her voice out from screaming over him, Peyton had slammed her door and listened to "You Win Again" at top volume.
Arguments with Jake had been more like jazz, with all these staccato notes followed by melodic breakdowns indicative of the inevitable comings and goings that marked their relationship. It had been too complex too quickly, but Peyton had cared for the young single father deeply. Whenever she would go, Brooke would often show up at the house and find her a sobbing mess in the middle of her bedroom floor, clutching the cover of a Mile Davis album. She could listen to "It Never Entered My Mind" at any point and get lost in that same bittersweet melancholy that had defined that period of her young life. She was far too nostalgic for a sixteen-year-old.
Much like Jake, fighting with Lucas had always been a somber affair. They had yelled at each other when they had first began all those years ago, but at some point a long the way, they quit being passionate enough to scream. Instead, they would do the adult, responsible and respectable thing and talk about it calmly over coffee. Peyton often wondered if this was a bad omen – if it meant that they were so comfortable together that they'd let the fire burn out. She preferred to listen to Joni Mitchell after she fought with Luke, whether it was blaring from her iPod or replaying Clouds for the millionth time. With one press of a button, she'd let "Both Sides Now" overtake her and forget that anything other than that harmony, those lyrics, this song existed. It was a sort of lifeline.
Her arguments with Julian were a little more heated, most likely because she was so angry with the world when they were together. They were dark and somber, like the undertones that dominated much of the hard rock genre. She likened him to AC/DC, where it was the same three chords over and over. While it worked, it wasn't ever really that great and everyone always recognized it exactly for what it was. She'd hear "Back in Black" in a stadium or on the car radio or randomly at the gym and instantly think about fighting with him during that lost year before she came home again.
But with Nathan, well, Nathan had kind of defied genre specifics. There were times when he could be purely hip hop, full of angry curses and putdowns that made Jay-Z an all-too-frequent guest in her music collection. And there were times when it was classic Scott, which meant that she'd blare something more timeless like Jefferson Airplane until she got lost in Grace Slick and "Somebody to Love." He could also be incredibly and strangely sweet when they'd had a falling out, convincing her to pull something like the Carpenters out. They even bickered in an almost-cute way that made her play actual bubblegum pop music as she danced around her red bedroom to the Go-Gos. And of course, there were the long, dragged out rights that they were famous for, the ones that made him call her emo and led her to play Dashboard Confessional until Brooke threatened her if she had to hear "Screaming Infidelities" one more time.
And sometimes it's this mishmash of music and mishmash of fights and mishmash of emotions that has had her holding on for so long, many years after their relationship and their friendship began. It's what makes her think that maybe they had both made too many mistakes and maybe they should be together now. Her life doesn't have much else in it other than him and Brooke and a fledgling record label. He has her and basketball and his son. They were both divorced before they had turned 30. They were both living in New York to keep from facing the realities that haunted them back in Tree Hill. They were pretty much living the same life, and much to Peyton's chagrin, they were living it apart.
She couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had changed. When Nathan had first signed to the Knicks, she had been thrilled to have someone else with her in New York. Brooke tried to come to the city as often as she could, but she was stationed on the West Coast now that the label had gone big time. Peyton had been divorced from Luke for a year at that point. When they had stopped fighting and stopped saying "I love you," she had pretty much thrown in the towel and didn't put up a fight when he had slid the legal papers across the table from her one night at dinner. Two weeks later, she had set up an office in Manhattan and moved into a cute loft, leaving Tree Hill and most of what went with it behind. Having Nathan here meant she had the only part of her hometown that she really still wanted with her.
For his part, Nathan had been thrilled to see her. He was glad to have a familiar face in the city and even happier to have someone in the stands rooting for him at all the home games. He took to New York and the Knicks like nothing Peyton had ever seen, instantly earning a slot in the starting lineup and a legion of faithful fans who waited for his autograph outside the locker room every night. He'd always scribble his name a few times before finding her green eyes among the crowd just a moment before she'd launch herself into his arms. She would be ecstatic and congratulatory if they'd won or he'd played well. She'd be sympathetic and genuinely downtrodden if he'd had a bad game or things hadn't worked out for the team. There were rumors in the local press that they were something of an item, but Nathan's agent always commented to the contrary. Both in the media spotlight and privately, Peyton and Nathan were, for all intents and purposes, only friends.
It didn't keep either of them for feeling more. However, neither of them was observant or confident enough to notice it. Peyton missed the way Nathan's face would light up when he saw her there every night or how proud he was when she'd stand up and cheer at MSG, wearing his bright blue jersey. It reminded him so much of when she'd cheer for him in high school and how gorgeous she'd been in his cobalt lettermen jacket. From the first time he'd seen her back at Tree Hill High School, she had hooked him in with those damn eyes. They were what kept him coming back time and time again. He was an addict, and every time she looked at him beneath her long lashes, it was just another fix.
Peyton's friendship had been irreplaceable for him after his divorce with Haley. After nearly a decade of marriage, little of it actually good, they had finally decided to stop fighting and start living. For them, that meant being apart. The only part that was hard for him was not seeing his son every day, but once he had been signed to the Knicks, he knew it was pretty much inevitable. He flew down to North Carolina on his days off and spoke to Jamie every day, whether it was on Skype from the comfort of his couch or by cell phone in a bustling airport. Peyton helped make those times between calls better, saving his soul by just her mere proximity. She made him stop, look at the stars, demanded that he live his life in this crazy wonderful city without feeling sorry for himself or having any regrets.
It is on those nights, when they would find themselves with a couple of beers on his apartment rooftop, that he missed the way she would watch him with all the love in the world shining in those eyes he loved so much. Peyton felt safe on that roof, like they were the only two in the world and all their past transgressions didn't matter. It was easy to forget about Lucas and Haley and the life they were building together – without Peyton and Nathan – back in Tree Hill. The gentle slide of his arm around her shoulders, her resting her head against his chest – every moment brought her a greater clarity. Staying like that, with him, was all she would ever need.
And for the most part, they had been content to let it go on like that until Haley had called in the middle of a Saturday afternoon and Lucas had dialed Peyton a few minutes after when she was still at her apartment getting ready to go to Nathan's game against the Hawks. "We're getting married," each had told their former spouses, sending Nathan's fist through a wall in his living room and Peyton's phone clattering to the wooden floor. Both had been met with dial tone a moment later. Nathan cursed and considered downing a fifth of vodka before remembering he had to be at the Garden in less than an hour. Peyton pulled out Joni Mitchell and cried on the floor of her closet as she held onto her stupid wedding dress. Their little world had just imploded and everything was pretty much a disaster.
Nathan wasn't surprised when Peyton didn't show up for his game. He hadn't played all that well, only barely putting up double digits and fouling out halfway through the fourth quarter. He had bypassed his fans and headed straight for the nearest dive bar where they kept people away from him so that he could just lose himself in the thick amber alcohol. After four scotches, he was feeling pretty good about the world and could have cared less about his ex-wife or his traitorous brother. After a couple more, he was angry again, and the eighth glass had Mickey, the bartender, on the phone with Peyton as he told her that she probably ought to come down there.
He was slumped over the bar, nearly passed out, when she showed up in her jeans and leather jacket. Her hair was wild and curly like it used to be back in high school, and her eyes were red and puffy, just as they too-often were back then. She had taken Nathan's wallet out of his pocket and handed over a credit card to pay his tab while rubbing soothing circles on his back. Once Mickey had handed her a receipt, she slipped it all into her purse and then reached for his hand to help him off his stool.
"Come on, I'm going to take you home," she whispered softly as she led him out into the darkness of night to where a cab was idling at the curb. After giving the driver his address, she wrapped her arm around him and let him bury his face in her shoulder to cry or sleep or whatever it that needed to do.
When they finally pulled up to the building, she paid the cabbie silently and dragged Nathan out of the taxi after her. He held onto her arm as they made their way through the front door. "Evening, Raul," Peyton called out to his doorman. He smiled and nodded politely to the blonde, recognizing her as a regular fixture at Mr. Scott's penthouse. Peyton managed to get him in the elevator and slid her key into take them up to the private floor that Nathan took up. Once they were off the lift and in the safe confines of his apartment, she collapsed along side him in the entryway and just started to sob. Nathan was so drunk that he didn't notice for fifteen minutes.
Once her sobs had subsided into muffled cries, Nathan shook himself awake enough to wrap her in his arms and kiss the top of her head messily. Peyton only started to cry harder as she buried her face in his chest. Nathan stroked her hair soothingly and lifted her up to carry her in the direction of the living room. Before either of them knew what was happening, they were falling onto the plush sofa in a tangle of arms and legs. Lips sought lips as hands found hands beneath the dark blanket of night. There would be ramifications to deal with later, but for now, this is what they needed. This was all they wanted.
Soundtrack for this chapter: "Words and Music" by Sondre Lerche; "Rooftops and Invitations" by Dashboard Confessional; and "Solsbury Hill" by Peter Gabriel.