Hey everyone! It's been forever since the last time I wrote something, so forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. To be honest, I'm still exploring my options with this story. I've got some ideas for which direction I'm going to take this in, but if any of you have any suggestions, I'll be glad to take them. I had the worst case of writer's block when I wrote this first chapter, so any help would be much appreciated. Please review and let me know what you think, good, bad, or somewhere in between! I'm not sure yet how long it will be, but bare with me, because I promise I'll figure it out soon enough! Thanks!
Disclaimer: Don't own OTH, characters, names, or story-lines.
Queen of Hearts
When he was a child, no older than his nephew's age, his mother used to take him to the carnival whenever it visited Tree Hill. The bright lights, the sounds of the rides and the laughter of those who rode upon them, the bitter yet sweet taste of the blue cotton candy that always stuck to the sides of his mouth- he can remember all of it as clearly as if it were yesterday. It was a time in his life when everything was simple. Easy. Now, he's not so sure what easy is.
The sound of an airline attendant announcing flight times echoes throughout the airport, but the words are lost in the drift of the constantly moving crowd. Voices, sounds, people. A man is tapping him on the shoulder, asking if he can move his suitcase off the chair next to him so his wife can sit down. But he doesn't feel it, and he doesn't hear the question.
He thinks of the carousel, his favorite carnival ride. He always rode the black horse with the golden reins every year, and as the ride gained momentum, the people and sounds and surrounding objects all became a blur. That part of the ride reminds him of how his life is now.
The music would play, and the black horse would slowly swivel up and down the pole, carrying him on the ride of his life. For the two minutes and 30 seconds that he rode that carousel, the rest of the world vanished. Nothing else mattered.
At the moment, he'd give anything to have that feeling again.
He blinks, and the thoughts of the carousel dissapear as he comes back to reality. Someone is shaking him.
"Hey, do you think you can wake up for a moment to move your suitcase?" an angry voice asks.
Lucas looks up into the face of a random stranger, and he wonders why he'd spent so much time thinking about a carousel. That was probably why it took him so long to write his second book. He was always daydreaming.
With a quick look at the suitcase sitting on the chair next to him, Lucas quickly shakes his head.
"No, I'm saving that chair for someone. Sorry."
The man narrows his eyes, but seconds later he's gone, leaving Lucas alone once again. He glances at the chair next to him, and then looks at the two tickets placed firmly within his left hand. He's got an empty seat next to him, and an extra ticket to a flight leaving for Las Vegas in less than an hour. He's ready to get out of this place, to escape the drama that always seems to follow him around in Tree Hill.
His only problem is that he doesn't know who to take with him.
It's strange, he thinks, how the past always finds a route back to the present. The situation he's in right now is all too familiar to him. The only change is that a different girl is thrown into the mix.
It always used to be Peyton and Brooke. He was never able to choose between the two girls. After what seemed like a lifetime of heartbreak and confusion, he finally chose. He can still see the rainfall of confetti, hear the generous applause from the crowd, and feel the hope of a state championship finally secured. He had never been so sure of his love for another person. For the first time in his life, he felt that the answer was right in front of him, and he was positive that he knew what he wanted.
Two years later, he found himself bending on one knee, proposing to a girl that wasn't ready to accept him. Peyton Sawyer was supposed to be the one.
And now, another two years later, the situation is still the same, except he's found a new person to drag into the mess that has become his life. He'd gone down on one knee once again. This time, the one he proposed to had said yes. He had even made it to the alter. But history had repeated itself, because the girl he loved wasn't ready to accept him. Once again, like so many times in the past, Lucas Scott didn't know what he wanted, and Lindsay understood that now more than anyone.
It was never his intention to hurt anyone, but it seemed to be a trend for him to break hearts. Peyton, Lindsay, and even Brooke. All girls he had at one point, sometimes even at the same time, fallen in love with.
After all was said and done, after the proposals, the "I love you's," and the almost marriages, Lucas Scott was left alone. He didn't know who or what he wanted anymore. He was a grown man, and instead of moving forward, he was standing knee deep in the same situation he'd been in during high school. The only answer he had left was to leave.
A distant memory of the last time he'd planned to leave Tree Hill surfaces in the back of his mind, and for a moment the sounds of the bustling crowd become nothing more than a whisper, and he can faintly visualize his teenage self sitting on a bed next to his mother, preparing to run away. Because that's what Lucas Scott does when things get tough. He runs away.
"You all set?"
Lucas lifted his head to see his mother standing in his doorway, a sad smile gracing her face. He felt a sharp pang of guilt as he stared at her, because she was just another person added on to the long list of people he had hurt in the past few months.
"Yeah, almost," he replied as he folded a worn grey shirt and placed it into his duffel.
He quickly eyed his room, the place he had lived in since he was born. It looked completely different. The walls were bare except for a fading shade of chipped blue paint, and all of his drawers were empty. The only thing left was a small picture laying on his desk. Three people stood in the picture, smiling and laughing. In his arms was a brunette with a dimpled smiled, and next to them stood a curly haired blonde.
It was just another thing he planned to leave behind.
He couldn't stand to live in the only place he'd ever known any longer. Less than a year ago, if someone were to tell him that he would soon cheat on his girlfriend with none other than her best friend, he would have laughed at them. Lucas Scott was a man of virtue and honesty. He was, by no means, a cheater. At least that's what he would have told himself in the past.
The faces of those he'd hurt haunted him every day, and he couldn't bare to see that he was the cause of their pain any longer. So he was doing the only thing left to do.
He was leaving Tree Hill, hopefully for good.
"Come here, I wanna talk to you for a minute," his mom said, and she gently settled herself onto his bed.
He noticed that her eyes were already beginning to fill with tears as he slowly lowered himself next to her.
"I know you're searching for things, Lucas," she said, her face an image of sincerity and love, and he knew she was trying her hardest not to beg him to stay. "And I hope with all my heart that you find the answers to your questions. But the answers that you're looking for are closer than you think. They're in your heart, and in the hearts of those who love you, and that is right here, at home," she continued, nodding her head as if to convince him of what she was saying.
He couldn't look her in the eye, because everything in him was saying that she was wrong. He didn't deserve anyone's love. He had hurt the ones that he cared for the very most. Brooke and Peyton, his mother, even Haley. He didn't deserve to stay here and be with them after all that he had done.
"In your life, you're going to go to some great places and do some wonderful things, but no matter where you go or who you become, this place will always be with you."
He nodded his head, and prayed that the tears forming in his eyes would go away. His mother moved closer to him and took him in his arms, her hands gently caressing his back, and he hoped that she could forgive him for the mistakes he had made. Life was so easy at the rivercourt, before he had known of the two girls whose friendship he would eventually destroy, the brother he would come to love, and the team he'd become a part of.
His mother set her gaze upon him, and as he stared into the blue eyes so alike his own, she said, "There is only one Tree Hill... and it's your home."
The first tear rolled down his cheek, followed swiftly by the second, and as his mother drew him into a deep embrace, he took one last look over her shoulder of the place he was escaping.
He sighs bitterly at the memory. Part of him felt like a coward for running away all the time, never able to face his problems head on. Even if he were to stay, the situation was beyond fixing. He loved Lindsay. He also loved Peyton, but he didn't know if he was still in love with Peyton. Lindsay didn't trust him now, and Lucas didn't blame her. He couldn't even trust himself. After all these years, he still couldn't make up his mind about who he wanted to be with.
He checks his watch, then glances behind him at the flight times. He had a little over a half hour left before his flight was due to leave. He reaches into his pocket and fingers his cell phone, wondering if he should take the trip alone or make the leap and invite someone to share in his misery.
He searches through his contacts, going back and fourth between Peyton and Lindsay. He took a deep breath and dialed Lindsay's number, knowing that it would go straight to voicemail. She hadn't answered any of his calls in weeks, and the only contact she'd make with him was to tell him that there was someone else.
"Hey Linds, it's me. Lucas. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything that happened. I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I know that this apology is a little too late...that it's all just too late, but I wanted you to know that I never once doubted that my feelings for you were true. I'm sorry that other things got in the way of that."
He flips his phone shut and sits in silence for a few moments, agravated that the only thing he could give to the girl he loved was an apology. He stretches his legs out as his flight time flickered on the screen overhead. There wasn't much time left.
His toes touch against the side of his duffel bag. He'd only packed the bare essentials, not caring that there probably wasn't enough in there to last him for more than a week. Out of the corner of his eye, a small purple hand protruded from an unzippered part of his bag. A smile tugs at his lips as he bent to pull it free.
It was a small purple monkey, probably strange looking to anyone who didn't know the story behind it. His fingers caressed the soft fur that lined its stuffed body, and he thought of the girl who had given it to him.
He knew, in that moment, that there was only one person left that he could call.
-
She never expected to be alone in her life. There's that inescapable question, the one that the teachers in school ask you at least once every year. Where do you see yourself when you get older? Who will be with you? What will you be doing? Who will you be?
She never thought that her answer would be that she was alone. Brooke Davis, smart, beautiful, famous, and alone.
Her house is silent, and she waits and waits for the sound of a crying baby to fill the empty rooms, knowing that it will never come. In her hands is a picture of the little girl she'd grown to love in such a short period of time. It's creased and smeared in the places her tears had fallen, and she silently cursed herself for crying.
Her time spent with Angie had filled the void in her heart, but with the young girl gone just hours before, Brooke felt more alone than she had previously. She didn't want to believe in that depressing cliched line that Peyton always used. People always leave. But parts of her were beginning to think that her best friend's phrase was true.
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her, and without even looking to see who was calling, she flipped it open and pressed it to her ear.
"Do you want to get out of here?" a muffled voice asked.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat, but she knew that she shouldn't care how she sounded to him. He knew her already. He knew that she was broken, that she was lonely and pathetic. He knows more than anyone else that she's vulnerable.
"I don't like you guys to see me like this...vulnerable," she whispered, slowly drawing her eyes up to meet his own.
There was a smile hidden in his eyes as he threw his arm over the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers briefly touching her shoulder.
"That's how I always see you, Brooke...and I think it's kinda beauitful," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice brought truth to his words.
"Luke, is that you?" she said, her voice cracking the slightest bit.
There was a long silence, and then finally, "Look, I know this is short notice, but I have two tickets to Las Vegas. The flight leaves in less that an hour."
She narrowed her eyes and waited to see if he would say anything else, but the silence only continued.
"Are you asking me to come with you?" she asked, reducing her voice to a whisper.
"The flights leaving soon. I'm...I'm by the boarding area. You don't have to come...I just, I had an extra ticket and I...I don't know. I'll wait for you if you're coming."
The line went dead, and for several seconds Brooke listened to the dial tone, confused over what had just happened. Had he called the right girl? She blinked several times, and checked the clock. His flight was now leaving in 20 minutes. She glanced at the worn picture in her lap, and a last tear found it's way down her cheek.
Suddenly, the prospect of leaving Tree Hill had never been more appealing.
-
She's running through the airport, hauling behind her the largest suitcase she could find in the short time she had to pack. It's filled with odds and ends, and although she can't actually recall if she packed the necessary things, she's happy that she managed to pack anything at all. In her mind, she can see all of those scenes from the movies, the ones where people are racing through an airport in a grand romantic gesture to catch the one's they love before they leave. There's nothing romantic about what she's doing right now. Her hairs a mess, her mascara is trailed down her cheeks in lines of black from crying for hours on end, and she's still wearing the wrinkled dress she had on hours earlier. But she doesn't care, because in spite of her spur of the moment decision making, and the fact that she hadn't taken more than a minute to think this all through, what she's doing right now feels right.
And currently, that's all that matters.
He's the first person she sees when she finally reaches the boarding area. Even from far away, his haggard appearance is more than apparent. His eyes are bloodshot, and his outfit consists of a pair of old grey sweats and a slightly torn wife beater. He looks like a mess, and she wonders how he had managed to bring himself to this point from the short amount of time she had seen him last.
When Angie left, he had shown up at the airport, her knight in shining armor. He had seemed so pulled together then, but the distorted appearance of the man before her is nothing like what she's used to seeing.
He's fiddling nervously with something, and it takes her a minute to figure out what it is as she slowly walks up to him. In his hands is the purple monkey that she had bought for Angie, and he's holding on to it as if his life depended on it.
When she finally reaches him, there's 5 minutes to spare, and she marvels at her quickness in getting to the airport. He doesn't say a word when she approaches. He stares off into the distance, his eyes slightly glazed over, and she got the feeling that he wasn't really looking at anything.
She wordlessly drops down into the seat next to him, and he still doesn't show any signs of life.
"This is the last boarding call for flight 144, to Las Vegas, Nevada," an announcer calls.
"You shouldn't have come," he says, breaking the silence, and he casts his eyes down to stare at the purple stuffed animal sitting in his lap.
"Why?" she asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer. What if he had called the wrong person? What if this seat was intended for Lindsay, or Peyton, or some other girl in Lucas Scott's life that Brooke had yet to find out about?
"Because I hurt you, Brooke. I hurt you, and I hurt Peyton, and I hurt Lindsay. That's what I do. I hurt people," he answers. His voice is empty and monotonous, and as she stares at him, she knows that what he's saying is true. He did hurt her, but that was behind them. Far behind them.
"That's in the past, Luke," she says, his nickname easily rolling off her tongue.
He finally turned to look at her, and she sees the first hint of emotion in his broken eyes. "Are you coming with me?" he asks, and if she had any second thoughts before, she knew that they didn't matter. She couldn't say no to him, at least not in the state he was in now.
"Yeah," she whispers.
She gently pries the purple monkey from his grip and takes one of his hands into her own, giving it a soft squeeze.
He stands up then, pulling her up with him, and in one swift move he lifts her bag and his own and throws them over his shoulder. He sets off toward the plane hangar, and when she doesn't follow, he looks over his shoulder expectantly.
"Just one question, Lucas," she says.
He nods his head and waits, but she doesn't know what to say. She wants to ask him so many questions. She wants to know why it's her standing here with him right now. Her, a girl who was now no more than a friend to him, and not Peyton or Lindsay.
"Why me?" she whispers, and she knows the moment she's said it that she shouldn't have, because there's no way that she can block the memory she's having right now from entering her mind.
The rain was pounding against the blacktop as she tore down the street, anger propelling her further and further away from the boy she loved. It was cold, and the constant rainfall didn't help matters, but she was numb at this point. All she wanted were answers from him.
She whirled around and stared at him, her green eyes ignited with anger and emotion.
"Just tell me, why me?" she screamed, her hands flailing around her and the rain mixing with her tears, "Why me, this time, why not Peyton?"
"I can't say anything bad about Peyton," he answered helplessly. "She's my friend, and she's your best friend!"
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't the answer she was looking for.
"That's ok, you can say bad things about her," she cried, not caring how stupid or cruel she sounded.
"Oh Brooke..." he said, shaking his head and staring up at the sky, searching for the right words to say. "The truth is, I care about Peyton."
"Then what is the difference!" she pleaded, hoping that he would say something, anything, to make this all okay again.
"The difference?" he asked incredulously, as if she should have already known his answer.
"The difference is I love you Brooke! I want to be with you, not Peyton."
"But why? I need to know why!" she shouted, her words filled with desparation.
"Because...because you kink your eyebrow when you're trying to be cute. Because you quote Keimoo, even though I've never actually seen you read. And because you miss your parents, but you'll never, ever admit that! And because I've given exactly two of these embarassing speeches in my entire life, and they've both been with you. That's gotta mean something, right?" he shouted about the rainfall. "And because we're both going to get pneumonia," he continued, staring up into the rainy sky, "but if you need to hear why I love you, I can go on all night."
She feels like their confrontation in the rain was just yesterday, but she knew that he probably had completely forgotten the entire conversation. It was in the past, where it belonged. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them, like they had both turned to a blank page and were starting over. Their past was a different chapter, a different story. But she needed to know why, at this time, he had turned to her in his time of need.
He looks confused at her question, and as the people rush around him to get to their flights, he squints his eyes in that familiar way and shakes his head.
"I don't know, Brooke. I have no answers..." he says, and she nods her head. She understands, because she feels the same exact way. The only thing she was sure of right now was that she needed to leave Tree Hill.
She follows him down a hallway, and through a window she see's their plane in the airfield. He stops in his tracks and turns around so quickly that she almost bumps into him.
He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, and then closes it again, and his eyes search her face intently. For a writer, Lucas Scott sure had trouble finding the right words.
"You save people, Brooke. It's what you do...and I think it's time that someone saves you for a change," he says, and then he raises the purple monkey that's still nestled between his fingers and hands it to her with a small smile.
"Okay," she answers, and without another word or a second thought, she follows him onto the plane.
To be continued...