Title. Playing for Keeps. (1/1)
Series. Fate Intervenes series.
Author. Em2323
Disclaimer. I don't own any of the characters from One Tree Hill or Twilight; they belong to their respective owners. No profit intended.
Fandom. One Tree Hill/Twilight
Rating. T
Spoilers. OTH. S1. AU. | TWILIGHT. Pre-Twilight.
Category. AU, crossover, angst, drama, romance.
Summary. [First part of Fate Intervenes series.] "Oh, my God." Bevin whispers, her hand grasping yours in a tight grip. Her eyes glimt with a newfound curiousity, her eyes fixed on the beautiful creature a few feet away from you. "He's so hot."
Warnings. Strong language and implied sexual content.
Author's note. It's all G's fault . . . and my growing collection of crossover ships. Grammar and spelling errors are all mine. Thoughts are written in 'italic'.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You can't remember the last time you felt like this; used and broken. It has happened to you before, but somewhere along the way you grew accustom to the pain but that was until you fell in love with the broody boy that only could've meant trouble from the start. You knew this, you knew this when you let yourself fall so hard for him and perhaps, you should've known that he would end up in her arms – your best friend's arms, who were just waiting for him to come to her, because in the end you never mattered that much anyway.
Truth was that you didn't want to believe it – you wanted to believe that he would never hurt you that way and you wanted to believe that your friendship would mean more to her than a boy. Of course, he hadn't been any boy.
He was Lucas Scott.
It sounded silly and foolish to believe in happy endings, but when you had looked into his eyes you had seen a future (two boys and one girl) and for the first time in years, you felt like you were home.
Now he was happy with your best friend and that – if anything – killed you even more than you would like to admit to yourself and others.
You're Brooke Davis, and you're not a victim of love. You don't need love, you've lived so long without it that it doesn't matter anymore.
But that's a lie; you know that, but lies are all you have now.
- - - -
You can't believe your eyes when you see them together at one of Vegas' imfamous parties and you feel sick to your stomach as you watch them together. The pink plastic cup in your hand keep getting filled up by Vodka and tequila to drown your sorrows but the image of them together still haunt you.
You almost crash into Nathan on your way out, stumbling down the stairs in your twenty dollar high heels and you can feel his eyes on you, but you just shove past him and continue on, your hand grasping at the wooden railing until your knuckles turn white.
You can feel the bile rising in your throat as you see them together in your mind. You hardly realize you're on the ground until you feel the cold concret underneath your bare legs – it brings you a strange sense of comfort – as you empty your stomach onto Vegas' green lawn.
It's almost five minutes later when you finally pick yourself up from the ground and your legs tremble from your determination. You wipe your mouth with the back off your hand, and you stumble down the street, your mind still hazy and blurry from earlier.
When you go to sleep that night, they're all you dream of.
- - - -
It's a Saturday night in October when you see him for the first time – the face of an angel and the intense eyes that somehow manages to move you to your core. He reminds you of something perfect, something fragile and untouched, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like to taint something so beautiful and perfect.
"Oh, my God." Bevin whispers, her hand grasping yours in a tight grip. Her eyes glimt with a newfound curiousity, her eyes fixed on the beautiful creature a few feet away from you. "He's so hot."
You don't say anything, but you can't help but feel a bit jealous. He fascinates you, fascinates you in a way you have never experienced before. "Let's go." You say simply and wrap your jacket closer around you as you begin to walk down the street.
You almost smile when you feel his eyes on you, watching you.
- - - -
"Brooke!"
You stop abruptly and spin around. She looks at you and you can see the sadness in her brown eyes, but you don't care – you don't want to care. Still, seeing her standing there so close to you, you almost fool yourself that everything's like it was before.
But it's not, you know that.
"Brooke, please," Peyton says and she moves forward, closer to you. "I'm sorry . . . please forgive me, Brooke. It didn't mean anything."
If you hadn't been so upset, you probably would've snorted at her words; "It didn't mean anything." But you're not stupid, you know that's a lie and for some reason that makes you hate her even more. "Didn't mean anything?" you reply with a frown. "Don't you dare lie to me, Peyton! We both know it meant more to you - it meant everything."
She stares back at you surprised, but you can see the guilt in her eyes and you know your words hit home. "I . . . I never meant to hurt you." She answers and you can see the tears well up in her eyes. "I'm in love with him, Brooke."
Love.
You hate that word – love. It always reminds you of something you don't have, something you can never have. "Save it, Peyton," you say softly and you're too tired to argue, too tired to care anymore. "We're not friends anymore, so congratulations . . . he's all yours."
You walk away without another word, and in some strange way it feels like you got your closure.
- - - -
Sometimes it seems like he knows what your thinking, but you know that's just a foolish thought. He still fascinates you, though.
Perhaps it may be your own destruction, but you want him.
Edward Cullen.
You want him more than anyone you've ever met before and maybe that's the fasciantion of it all, because you know you can never have him.
But you still want him all the same.
- - - -
"Bram Stoker."
You look up in surprise, the thick book hanging loosely in your hands as you stare at him. He standing right beside you, a wry smile playing across his lips. You realize after a moment that you never noticed that his skin is pale, paler than most people's but he still looks as beautiful as when you first laid your eyes on him. "Yeah . . ." you whisper and suddenly you're not sure of what to say anymore.
"Does he facsinate you?" he asks after a moment. He takes a seat next to you by the table, and you feel a bit uncomfortable by the sudden turn of events. He stares at you, those topaz eyes burying themselves inside your hazel eyes. He's waiting for you to respond, but you can't seem to form any words.
You feel like you're trapped between your secret desires and his haunting gaze, and you want to nothing but to disappear. Leave me, you silently think to yourself. Please.
He looks at you and a moment passes between the two of you, an eerie and uncomfortable silence hanging thickly between you and then he slowly rises from his chair. You try to contain your confusion as he walks away from you, but something clicks in the back of your mind.
You don't read Bram Stoker's Dracula again.
- - - -
"Hey."
You don't have to turn around to see who it is, because you already know and maybe you had expected it. "Lucas," you reply coldly and turn around, your eyes meeting his. "Took you long enough."
"Peyton told me that you didn't want to see me," he answers and shifts his feet.
For a moment you can see the innocent and untouched broody boy that you fell in love with and you try to push those thoughts away, because that's the last thing you need right now. "Right," you say and roll your eyes with a grim look across your face. "Peyton."
"Brooke, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for hurting you." Lucas finally says with a sincere look in his eyes.
Please, leave me alone, you silently pray to yourself.
Lucas takes a step forward, but you recoil. "I just want you to forgive me, Brooke." He continues, and you feel sick to your stomach again.
"I . . . just go, Lucas." You whisper and you can feel the tears burning in your eyes. "Please."
"Brooke . . ." he reply with an uncertainty.
You can feel your entire body grow tense the moment his hand find its way to your cheek, stroking away the tears – the tears you shed because of him. "Don't you fucking touch me!" you spit out and pushes his hand away. "Stay the hell away from me."
Lucas blinks once, twice. His face is full of confusion and surprise. "I never wanted to hurt you," he says after a moment, but you can tell he feels uncomfortable under the gaze of the crowd around you. "You mean so much to me, Brooke."
"Fuck you." You hiss, your eyes cold as ice and you want to move, you want to run away but you can't, you can't bring yourself to leave.
You can hear Bevin and Theresa whispering behind you and try to ignore the small buzz among the crowd. Peyton stares at you with wide eyes and you try to hold back the tears from falling, because the last thing you want is for people to see the real Brooke Davis; the broken person you have become.
"She wants you to leave," you hear a familiar voice say and you lift your gaze to find him standing in front you, between you and Lucas.
Lucas tries to look at you, but you turn away. "Cullen, this is none of your business." He says harshly.
"Edward . . ." you whisper as you blink back your tears. "Leave it."
He turns to you, his eyes searching yours and after a moment he simply nods his head and you let him lead you back outside.
"Thank you." You say and look at him.
He smiles wryly and brushes his hand against your cheek, and you shiver but it's not his cold touch that causes it. You stare at him surprised and take a step forward but he moves away from you and then he's gone.
- - - -
"Brooklynn?" you father says and looks at you for the first time since they arrived. You barely lift you gaze to meet his and it's like every other time. "We - your mother and I - have decided to spend the holidays here, in Tree Hill, with you."
The tension between your parents and yourself is sufficating you and you keep thinking about how badly you want to leave this room, this house and just disappear into the quiet and calm place inside yourself.
"Brooke?" your mother replies and she's impatient, you can tell by the tone in her voice. You've learned to read her like the back of your hand, because you've been tired off being on the short end of Victoria Davis' wrath and so you tell what she wants to hear because to her you will always be a mistake and never the perfect and dutiful daughter.
You try to ignore the screaming in your mind and force a smile. "That's great," you say softly. "I'm looking forward to spending Christmas with you."
It's another lie, but it doesn't matter anymore. You flee the room and the house without waiting for your father to respond.
- - - -
You walk through the wilted grass, your eyes fixed on the beautiful sunset that takes place before you. You have always been amazed by the stark colours that are spread across the sky as the sun slowly descends from its place on the blue sky.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
You try not to jump out of your skin when you hear his voice behind you, because after all, it's become a ritual for the both of you; you seek comfort in the only place you know and he seems to find some comfort of being in your presence – but that's only what you tell yourself and it is what you want to believe.
"You're very quiet," Edward observes and it always surprises you how well he can read you.
You turn to look at him and you can feel your heart beating just a little bit faster as your hazel eyes meets his topaz eyes in the dim light from the sunset. "I don't have much to say," you tell him and you almost melt when he smiles back at you. "It's true." You continue and you can hear a low chuckle emerge from his throat.
"No." Edward replies and you frown for the first time. He seems to notice the confusion in your eyes, and moves forward. "You think a lot, Brooke. The things you are thinking are . . ." he pauses briefly. "Interesting to say, at least."
It doesn't surprise you like you thought it would because you have known it for a long time, or so you thought you did.
Can you read my mind?
"Yes."
How? I mean, how's that possible?
Edward looks a bit uncomfortable for a moment but he still looks straight at you, and you feel trapped once more under his intense stare, but it's not like last time -- this time, it feels different. "It's a long story," he answers and you're in awe that he even shared that much with you to begin with. "I know you have doubted, you've questioned things a lot – and you're right, Brooke, I'm not like you."
"What?" you whisper and you take a step back, watching him closely.
"You know. You've always known," he says simply and tilts his head slightly. "That's why I fascinate you so much."
You shake your head and a dry laugh slips past your lips. "You don't facsinate me, Cullen." You say, but you know it's a lie and so does he.
"I do . . . fascinate you," Edward tells you and takes a step forward. "You fascinate me, too. All those lies you tell yourself, all those half-truths and nothing more – you fascinate me more than anything I've ever experienced."
You don't say anything. You can't seem to form any words, not when he's looking at you like that and you wonder distantly what's going on inside his head. He's holding your gaze and you're completely lost in his golden depths. "Who are you?" you mumble gently.
Edward looks away and the spell between the two of you is suddenly broken. He doesn't look at you and keeps his eyes downcast, and a part of you is disappointed by it.
Tell me.
He does look at you then, and you know he heard what you had been thinking. "It doesn't matter." He finally says.
"It does matter." You argue and look back at him. "I need to know," you say softly. "Please, Edward . . . tell me."
Edward looks away. "If I tell you what I am . . ." he answers quietly and glances at you, his face serious. "I would never forgive myself."
"Why?" you ask and you hate how desperate you sound.
He looks away again and you nibble your lower lip, as you wait for him to respond. "No." He tells you.
"No?" you reply and you almost fall to the ground as Edward turns to you, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Why won't you tell me?! I have the right to--"
Edward moves forward and grabs your arm, thrusting you to him and you shiver as his face hovers only inches away from yours. "Don't push me," he growls, sending another shiver down your spine.
You stumble back a few steps when he releases you from his iron grip and you distantly rub your sore arm as you stare at him with wide eyes. He's moving away from you again, going around in circles as a hunter that stalks his prey and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck rising slightly as his dark eyes glimts in the dark.
"Why does it matter so much?" he says and you can feel his hand brushing against your warm skin. You almost recoil at the touch and you close your eyes as you feel your skin burning. "Do I fascinate you so much . . ." he whispers, his lips only inches away from your ear. "Brooklynn?"
Your eyes snap open and spin around, but he's no longer standing beside you and for a moment you wonder if you imagine the entire thing.
Why is he doing this to me?
"Because all you ever wanted was for someone to save you," Edward tells you and steps out of the shadows, a smile spread across his lips. "All those days I had to listen to you and how you only wished Lucas would save you instead of Peyton, and how you just wish things were different."
You look at him. "How did you know that?" you breathe, your eyes following his every movement as your heart begin to pound faster.
"You told me."
The sudden instinct to run away crosses your mind only briefly and you turn around to run, but Edward's cool hand grasps your wrist, pulling you to him. He wraps his strong arms around you and you can feel your body growing tense as he buries his face in your hair, his cold face presses against the nape of your neck. "I tried to save you, Brooke," he whispers and you can feel his chuckle throughout your entire body. "I still can . . . if you'll let me."
"Let go of me." You whimper and try to push him away, but Edward holds you tight and you can feel your heart pounding hard against your rib cage. Your breathing is becoming more and more labored as you exhale and inhale quickly, feeling his cold body pressed against your warm body.
"Shh . . ." he murmurs against your neck. Your mind is screaming at you to get away from him as quickly as possible and you freeze when you feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin. "Do I still fascinate you?" he says in a low voice, and suddenly you're falling backwards.
You glance up at him from the ground, your eyes wide as he looms above you before he crouches down in front of you. You try to kick your legs and get further away from him, but something is holding you back. Edward looks amused as he looks down at you, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Tell me, Brooke."
Your teeth bites down on your lower lip and you feel yourself melting under his intense gaze. "Yes," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Edward leans closer to you. "What was that?" he questions with a frown.
"Yes." You say more forcefully and you cover your mouth with your hand in shock.
He sighs softly and stands up. "That's your mistake." He answers cutly and looks down at you.
You can hear him walking past you and you try not to run after him, even though your entire body is screaming for you to follow while your mind tells you to get away from him as quickly as possible.
"Edward!" you call out and he turns around, looking just as surprised as you are yourself.
He doesn't move and you quickly scramble to your feet. "Don't." He says and raises his hand when you began to make your way over to him. "Stay away from me."
"Why?" you ask, surprised at your own desperate plea.
Edward looks away from you as you place a hand on his arm. The coldness of his skin brings you a strange sense of comfort and you find yourself wanting to touch more. You can feel Edward tensing at your touch and you slowly place your hands on his shoulders, your lips inches away from his.
"No," he mumbles and tilts his head a bit to the side.
You close your eyes. "Please."
Within seconds Edward's lips crushes into yours and you almost fall backwards at the sudden impact, but he pulls you closer as his hands finds they're way through your long locks. Feeling his lips pressed against yours, you're surprised at how well you fit together and you let yourself get lost in the kiss.
Suddenly, you're stumbling backwards again and Edward stares at you with wide eyes and wipes his mouth with his hand.
"Edward . . ." you begin, but he ignores you.
He looks appalled by his own actions as he takes a couple of more steps back. "No," he says and looks at you. "Don't makes this worse."
Surprised at his words, you frown. "Worse?" you ask angrily. "You kissed me!"
"Don't do this." Edward tells you. "Don't tempt fate, Brooke."
"Excuse me?" you reply with a scoff.
"Go home." He responds and glances at you. "Go home and forget this ever happened."
You fold your arms across your chest and stare at him. "Why?" you question. "Because you say so? I'm sorry, Edward, but I don't have to listen to you and I sure as hell don't need to stick around here."
"Good."
You almost slap him across the face. "Fuck you." You spit out like it's venom.
"Just go, Brooke." Edward replies and glances at you.
"Bite me, Cullen."
Edward's face suddenly turns into stone as he looks at you. "Don't tempt me," he murmurs and runs a hand through his bronze hair. He sighs heavily and stares at you. "What do I have to do to get you to understand?"
You glare at him hard.
"Go home before we both do something we'll both end up regretting." He says and you can't help but feel a bit hurt by his words.
You stand still. "Make me." You tell him, your eyes challening and taunting him.
"No."
"Coward."
It takes you a second to realize that you're not standing on the ground anymore, but pressed up against a tree and Edward's pinning you down.
"I told you--"
Your lips finds his and he kisses you back, almost bruising you. His cold hands pressed against your hips, holding you in place. You squirm against him and you can feel him growling lowly in the back of his throat.
Fuck me.
Edward pulls away, his breath coming out in uneven breaths as he stares at you. "Say it." He tells you, his fingers snarking their way through the strands of your hair.
"Say what--" you let out a yelp as Edward yanks your hair and stare at him surprised, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off his face as he looks down at you.
He leans closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe and you shiver. "Say it, Brooke." He whispers, his forehead pressed against the side of your face.
"Fuck me."
Edward laughs, a low rumble inside his chest.
You let yourself melt into him as he fucks you up against a tree – merciless and unforgivingly.
Fin.
- - - - - - - - - -