Explanation: I'm Bored… it is what it is.
Length: I don't know, but not too long.
Credit: The King Sunkist Peddler himself, the Schwahn.
Rating: T-M cause I like Tame and Wild! LOL, Who knew?
Christmas was his bitter Blessing & loving Curse: Fore Chestnuts still reminded him of her scent, Caroling of her laugh, Gifts of her Smile, Snow of her Death & his Pretty Girl… she proved he still have a heart. BL
Weakened Ride
Ramblings of An Anticlimactic Antagonist on Christmas
~-&-~
(P) Scrooge You, Apathy
Lift me up on my honor
Take me over this spell
Get this weight off my shoulders
I've carried it well
Loose these shackles of pressure
Shake me out of these chains
Lead me not to temptation
-x-
"Daddy! Daddy! Pwease!" Her pleads- little broken phrases of incorrect grammar- would haunt him for the rest of his days. "I can't see, Daddy! Hewp me!"
Crrrk! He could barely hear his daughter's pleas over the loud crackling fire smothering the atmosphere. Sharp wooden splinters exploded from once white walls, spraying burning ashes into the air. The once festively decorated townhouse was now filled with black, rancid smoke. Every other second a vision of the golden flames encasing the infrastructure would fill blinded eyes with a flash. Only Panic, fear, and utter adrenaline enabled the blonde male to see through the sizzling mist.
Twenty-five year old, Lucas Scott raced up the crumbling staircase towards his toddler's nursery. Strong jean clad legs tightened every muscle, flailing towards the never ending steps. Phufffff-Dancing flames hummed with the air currents movements. Moreover, with every current the fire released an even deadlier scented toxin. Imaginary hands clung to the Brooder's neck, slowly choking the life out of him. His lungs seemed to shrink and painfully tear apart with each breath he took.
"DADDDDY!" Toddler cries were damn near lost amongst the clouds of black smog rising overhead. The beautiful little girl's cries filled the home with an eerie sense of death. "Pwease!"
Round and round, the world spun as if to bring him to nausea but the Author wouldn't allow it. He was only half way up the steps. Feet lifting, he could barely find his balance. Lean legs wobbled once drowsiness settled over his body. He had to save his little girl. Life without her was impossible to think of; fore he'd rather die. Tears streamed down his face only to instantly dry by the heat. So Hot! Too Hot!
"Baby, I'm coming! Hold on!" Crrrk! Splinters rained down from above meaning only on thing- The Roof was caving in. "NO! Please GOD," Tiny fragments of fire landed on the blonde's soft tresses. Heat began to nestle against his scalp and immediately firm hands patted out the flames. Head tilting to the sky, blue eyes blurred. "Let me get to h-"
BOOM! Before he could even finish his request, the entire ceiling ruptured. A last minute reflex sent the blonde diving down on the staircase. Muscular arms protected the back of his head in a sort of vice. Sharp edges sliced into his ribs and chin but he had no time to worry. With the force of a crashing car, fiery debris plowed harshly into his back.
Fire overtook him.
Drop.
An oval shaped tear slipped down the curve of his right cheek, salty liquid framing the rugged fuzz of his jaw line. Chiseled features clenched as cerulean irises stared blankly ahead. His pupils filled with hills upon hills of silver tombstones covered in thin sheets of ice. At that moment, standing in a cemetery, beautiful snow flakes drifted onto his ominous form. Piles of pale snow gathered around at the base of the stones in the form of cotton puffs. Dying flowers seemed to come to life for a brief moment in the snow.
His little girl loved the snow. Oh, to see her dance in the frozen rain once more would have been the greatest Christmas gift ever. Nevertheless, it would never be so, and Lucas Scott didn't celebrate Christmas anymore. Masculine hands squeezed into both fists together in an attempt relieve the stress in his heart. The Brooder pulled his arm up from his side, blue trench coat bunching at his biceps.
Sniff, Lucas sniffled back the reminder of his heartbreak. Blue suede wiped the lone tear away from his handsome brow quickly. The first tear was always the last when he thought of her. The baby girl her failed to save. Third Degree burns on his back would always be a reminder of his failure, his mortality.
"Well Saw," Thin lips parted in thought. "Once again, another holiday season without you. What am I gonna do beautiful?" Thoughts of last Christmas with his mother, Andy, and his sister Lily seemed to discourage all hope. "Maybe, I'll go back to Tree Hill."
Good luck with that.
The last time the Tree Hill Gang was in the same room was after Sawyer's funeral. He hadn't visited Nathan, Haley, or Jamie in the two years since Sawyer's death. In fact, the only person he even talked to anymore was Brooke Davis. She had been Sawyer's favorite aunt upon her after return to New York fours ago. The "mini-break" between she and Julian lead the brunette seeking out her P. Sawyer and becoming on of the family.
Moreover, somewhere along the way, he had fallen back in love with her.
"I'm so screwed up, Baby Girl." A spot of snow came to rest on the bridge of his nose. It reminded him of her little touch on the first day of winter after her birth. Flaxen lashes closed shortly before opening them again. "But she wouldn't want me. She never wanted me before; I doubt she'd want a burnt freak like me now."
Sawyer Brooke Scott
Loving Daughter & Angel on Earth
Dark eyes glared at the image of his daughter's name engraved in sheetrock. The meaning made him ill, literally ill. So much so, that he couldn't bear to look at it anymore. Dark snow boots lifted from the ground and began to make backwards tracks from the gravesite. Even after two years, he couldn't bare to think of her. The Author turned away from the gravesite, racing towards the jet-black exit gate.
Flaxen curls bounced in the snowy weather with every jog towards the gate. His coat hem fluttered in the wind past more tombstones. From a distance, blue irises witnessed warmly dressed pedestrians skipping Merrily down the sidewalk. Colorful shopping bags swung left and right filled with wrapping paper. The smell of cinnamon and coffee reached for miles beyond its location. Lucas shot out of the gate, instantly greeted by one of his best friends and high school sweetheart…
Brooke Davis. Fashionista. Clothes Over Bro's Founder. Multimillionaire. Current Roommate.
Bubbly as ever, the woman was nothing short of gorgeous. Diamond eyes glistened with hazel sparkles whilst a gorgeous smile exposed dimples. Pouted lips were always slightly parted as if waiting to be kissed. Lucas could barely keep his eyes off her mouth before s flash of dark strands and a yellow tweed jacket sudden leapt at him. Tiny claws clamped onto the Brooder's arms before he could escape.
"HIYA BROODY!" The small vixen nearly yanked him backwards with ungodly force. He couldn't help the yelp that rung from his throat, "Ugh fuck, Brooke! You can't just do that!"
"Do what?" Brooke lifted her head towards the blonde male just as he glanced down at her. Sexy features wore an expression of complete innocence. The tip of her nose crinkled into that cute little button he loved so much. Bright blue irises captured hazel sunrises in a loving stare. If only she really knew.
"Nothing, Brooke." Lucas tugged her closer to him playfully. "By the way, Happy Thanksgiving."
"Ditto Broody. Ditto."
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