She watches as he thumps the leather basketball against the sidewalk in a gentle easy rhythm. It seems a simple motion, as though he's well practised and familiar with the dribbling of the ball, and she supposes he is. She knows in fact, deep in her heart.
In his ears she notes white buds, linked together by a snaking wire that runs down his shirt and disappears into the pocket of his shorts. She aches to know what music he's listening to, it seems important somehow, although she can't quite put her finger on why.
On his back hangs an unzipped grey hooded jacket that she recognises from the logo embellished in blue. It makes a smile catch over her lips momentarily, before it blows away into the night.
He's tall and broad across the shoulders, as she expected him to be, if she's honest. He has dirty blond hair which is long and messy. It hangs over his eyes at times and curls over the tops of his ears. His nose flat and slightly upturned sits above rose plump lips that hold a constant kind of easy half smirk.
And his eyes. Gorgeous narrow eyes that squint into the breaking day. They're of the deepest, darkest blue; like pooling oceans that hold secrets beneath their surface.
Her breath stops for a moment, she's sure, as he jogs by her car and continues on past her, like a stranger. Because that's simply what they are. And it kills her already broken heart, the tiny fractures finally splitting into a thousand scattered pieces at her feet. It looks beyond hope and beyond repair, almost. There's only one glue she knows can fix the pieces back together again. It will probably cause a hellish wildfire of heartache in it's wake, but there's the possibility of something so beautiful at the end of it all. And that will make the journey worth the pain.
…
Lucas Scott awakes to the feel of warm breath over his lips and his wife's laughter in his ears. In his opinion it's the best way to wake up, it beats coffee and alarm clocks any day. He smiles and rolls over to greet his wife.
"Over here," She laughs again, from somewhere behind him.
He frowns and slowly blinks his eyes open into the morning. To his left there's a bare pillow and a tangle of sheets. It's the place that his girl should be occupying right now. He loves their mornings together; some days it's the only time that they truly have alone. And God, she's beautiful in the mornings. She always is, but there's something special about sharing time together before the rest of the world gets at them.
Clumsily he turns back onto his other side to where she's stood, already dressed. She's wearing a navy coloured dress that stops at the perfect point right above her knees and a pair of high strapped heels. He vaguely remembers something about a meeting now, and he's a bit put out that she didn't wake him earlier. He doesn't like missing out on any time with his wife.
"Morning, Blondie." He husks in a dry tone.
Her eyes are shining and there's the whisper of a smile across her soft lips. "Hey, sleepy eyes."
Lucas pouts a little as he sits up and runs a hand through his hair absently as she watches on amused. She could watch him all day; squinting and brooding his way into the day. Picking up his watch from the bedside table, Lucas chuckles, "It's not even 6am..are you sick?"
"Hilarious." Peyton says straight faced as she takes her rings from the dresser and slips them over her fingers. He knows that she rescheduled her meeting in Raleigh from 9pm in a bar with awesome music to 9am in a coffee house with elevator music.
Lucas stands groggily and lays his hands on her hips, "Thank you for moving your meeting. I know how much you hate early mornings."
She smiles and shrugs her shoulders a little, "Happy Midnight Madness Day, Luke."
He moves one hand to caress her face softly and leans in for a soft morning kiss. Peyton closes her eyes and slips her hands around his neck, losing her fingers in his hair.
"I have to go," She whispers into his ear and reluctantly pulls away. "I'll call you when I get to Raleigh."
"Okay," He nods, "Drive safe,"
At the door she stops and turns back to him, "Unless you want to tell me who you've chosen to captain the Ravens?"
He smirks, knowing that everyone's waiting on him and Nathan as the coaches of the Ravens to reveal who the captain is, "Not a chance. You'll find out tonight, like everyone else."
"You suck, you know that?" She says through a narrowed glare and quickly debates whether to use her legs as leverage. It works every time.
"You wanted something?" Lucas smirks as she lingers.
She shakes her head, no. If she stays at home much longer, she'll miss her meeting all together. "Just, I love you."
A lop-sided smirk flies to his lips, "Love you too, Peyt."
She hurries down the stairs and he hears her keys drag across the kitchen counter and then the door clicking closed as she leaves the house. Knowing that he won't be able sleep any more now, Lucas pulls a t-shirt over his bare chest and jogs downstairs.
Ignoring the wine glasses in the sink, he moves to the refrigerator in search of something decent for breakfast. He finds eggs, which is kind of remarkable considering the fact that it had been Peyton's turn to run to the grocery store last. They alternate trips because they both hate the damn place with its coupons, snaking lines and wayward carts. Usually when it's her turn, she returns with an adorably apologetic expression and a random assortment of things she was able to pick up from the gas station. He's impressed to see eggs.
He gets the pan ready and refills the coffee pot. From the cupboard he pulls down his favourite mug. It's old and tired; there's a chip in the handle that one day he's sure will bring about its fatal end, and the porcelain glaze has faded over the years. But he swears coffee tastes best when drunk from its lip. The Daddy embellishment is kind of the crowning glory, in painted Raven blue.
Smiling, he pours himself a black coffee and yawns away his tiredness. He returns to the pan and begins cracking eggs, the smell of breakfast dancing into the air. Out of habit he flicks on the radio, used to having music filling every room of the house.
He's just about to serve himself a plate when the thumping of sneakers on the stairs interrupts him. He inclines his head curiously when his daughter shuffles into the room a moment later.
"Coffee." The sixteen year old mumbles almost inaudibly. Her eyes are still bleary and her hair is nothing less than an unruly mess of blonde tangles. She slumps into a seat at the counter and rests her chin on her hands, her elbows propped on the work surface. She's already dressed for school in her Ravens cheerleading uniform and beloved black Chuck Taylors, and there's an all too familiar leather jacket slung over the back of her seat. She's every inch her mother.
"You shouldn't be drinking coffee, Sawy," Lucas says, pointlessly. She's been drinking the stuff for years. At first it was in secret, because she knew her parents wouldn't like it - and truthfully she didn't much like the bitter taste either - but they grew to accept the inevitability, somewhat. Lucas pours a cup for her, in a Hard Rock Café mug that she's never let anyone else drink out of. She hugs the cup with her hands and smiles when her Dad pours a few heaped spoonfuls of sugar in for her.
Lucas inclines his head at his daughter curiously, "You're up early,"
"Don't remind me." Sawyer says and her whole body seems to groan. "We're having an emergency cheer practise."
Lucas chuckles at his daughter, "This isn't really your best hour for cheeriness."
Sawyer only glares back at him and sips at her coffee, ironically proving his point.
Knowing that goading Sawyer early in the morning can be like prodding a sleeping bear, Lucas leaves her be and pushes four slices of bread into the toaster. He taps his fingertips in time to the song playing on the radio and smiles when he hears Sawyer tapping her foot too.
When the toast pops up he serves up two plates, one for himself and one for Sawyer. He takes a seat beside his almost grown up daughter and watches as she twists her fork around through the air as she drinks from her coffee cup. And the way that her curls always fall free form behind her ears, no matter how often she pushes them back. And the way that her eyes glaze over when a song she likes comes on.
"What?" She questions, when she catches him looking; a mouth full of food when she speaks.
Instinctively he shakes his head. Her whole life she's been compared to her mother, it wouldn't exactly be news to tell Sawyer that she's the picture of Peyton right now. "Nothing."
Her eyes interrogate him carefully and he thinks she's beginning to warm up to the morning.
"You remind me of your Mom, that' s all." Lucas admits with a shrug of his shoulders.
Sawyer rolls her eyes but there's the shyest of smiles over her lips.
Lucas can't help from smile too, he loves that Sawyer is just like Peyton. Since the day that she was born, he's seen Peyton in almost every facial expression and mannerism she makes. Only on the absolute rarest of occasions will he see any hint of himself in his little girl. He doesn't mind in the slightest though. For the first four days of Sawyer's life it was just her and him. And he would have felt completely alone, were it not for all the pieces of Peyton he could see in that tiny little miracle baby.
…
Peyton smiles as the sun begins to show from between the clouds. It's October and the weather's cooling considerably but she's driving with the top down anyway because road trips are always better with the roof down. That and she's killer tired so the fresh air is also acting as a caffeine replacement.
She drives alongside the river, the Foo Fighters blaring from the speakers. It's a slightly longer route this way, but she likes the scenery, the nostalgia. As she nears the rivercourt she can't help but glance across.
When she does, she sees a sight she wasn't expecting.
Slowly she pulls her car to a stop, checking her watch before slipping out of the car and crossing the grass to the basketball court that's as familiar to her as her home. If she looks hard enough, she's sure that she can make out the faded Cure lyrics she painted on there so many years ago now. Her lips twitch at the corners as she watches the ball sail perfectly through the hoop. She lets it bounce once before catching it in her hands.
She arches her brow to the blonde haired, blue eyed boy squinting back at her, "Kid, you had better have a great explanation as to why you're not at home right now."
He drops his hands to his side and sighs largely, "I don't know if I'm good enough, Mom."
Seeing the look in his eye, so solemn and afraid about the impending Ravens Captain announcement, Peyton drops the ball and strides across asphalt to gather her baby boy up in her arms. She feels his hands snake around her back and clutch onto her freshly ironed dress, creasing it in his fists like always.
"Okay," Peyton pulls back in his hold slightly, "Let me make one quick phone call and then I am going to tell you why you have no reason to be worried."
He shakes his head, "You'll be late,"
"Elliot, I'm not going." Peyton says, cupping his chin with her hand. "You and I are going to get a rootbeer float."
He goes to argue but she holds out her hand to silence him as she dials her business partner, Max. She wearing an expression that says he'd never be able to talk her out of it, even if he tried. He listens to her coyly coax Max into the idea of leaving his bed and hauling up to Raleigh for her business meet.
Max, or Uncle Max, as he was known as for all of about a year when Elliot was younger, is one of the partners at Red Bedroom Records. After having kids, Peyton let go of some of her responsibilities and begged her old friend Max to help her out. He begrudgingly agreed, stating limitations to his workload which of course Peyton has continuously neglected to adhere to. Max though, being the kind of soul who can't say no, least of all when good music is involved, always steps up.
"He said yes." Peyton smiles as she hangs up the phone.
"Of course he did." Elliot says. He and Sawyer actually have a theory that Max is completely in love with their Mom – in a Severus Snape/Lily Potter messed up kind of way – hence all of the self-sacrifice. Peyton though insists the guy just loves music and would gladly leave Red Bedroom if any bands were to let him be their groupie.
After Elliot slings his kit bag and ball onto the backseat, Peyton fires up the Comet and takes them back in the direction she came, towards Main Street. The closer they get, the more blue and white the town becomes; everyone gets pretty excited about basketball season in this town.
"Can we not go to the café, Ma?" Elliot requests quietly. He doesn't feel like running into his Aunt Haley or any of his cousins that might be working the dreaded breakfast shift.
"Sure," Peyton nods and then smiles knowingly, "I know a place."
…
Sawyer stands from her seat and drops her plate in the sink with a clatter. She grabs the leather jacket from the back her seat – a leather jacket that has now been passed through three generations – and sighs at the thought of going to school so early.
She crosses back to Lucas and presses a quick to his cheek, "Bye, Daddy."
The term of endearment causes a smile to flash to Lucas' lips, "Have a good day."
She smiles a little too sweetly for his liking and he shakes his head, not wanting to know what may or may not be going on in her head. Of his two kids Sawyer is the one that's going to give him grey hairs.
The door slams loudly, something Sawyer has a knack for, causing Lucas to jolt and spill a little of his coffee. He hears Sawyer's car roar to life ferociously and he's reminded of a teenage Peyton roaring though red lights. Lucas winces slightly at the sound of her tyres screeching as she swings out of the driveway and into the street. He's warned her about that before, jesting that her old man has a weaker heart than most and she'd do well to remember that when driving so damn haphazardly. But taming Sawyer Scott is a near impossible feat.
"Hey, Old Man."
Lucas jumps again and cusses. From across the room his brother laughs.
"Sorry, Luke, didn't realise I was walking in on my Grandmother." Nathan teases, smirking the same smile he wore as a teenager.
The blond haired brother shakes his head, "How did you get in here?"
"Sawyer," Nathan supplies, as he delves into the fridge and helps himself to a snack. Lucas knows that Haley keeps a fully stocked kitchen so he has no idea why Nathan feels the need to take his food. He watches as Nathan frowns and pokes his head back out of the fridge, "Hey, where's the Toaster Strudel?"
Lucas snorts, "I live with Peyton and Sawyer."
Nothing of the sugary sweet variety lasts long around their house, especially if it's of the easy-to-prepare variety.
"Right." Nathan nods, deflated and closes the fridge again. "So, ready for Midnight Madness?"
"Are we ever?" Lucas asks through a chuckle, recalling the events of previous years.
"Big year this year." Nathan notes, taking an apple from the fruit bowl."Another Scott up in the ranks."
Lucas sets down his fork,"I'm nervous for him."
Nathan frowns, chewing on the apple, "Why? Elliot's great. He must get it from me."
"Haha." Lucas says flatly as he rolls his shoulders. "It's just that I know how he gets, he's like me. I don't want him to feel all this pressure and then...you know,"
Nathan nods and gulps down his mouthful, "Choke."
"Right." Lucas swallows thickly.
Nathan punches him lightly on the arm, "I told you, he takes after me. Kid will be fine."
Lucas scoffs into his drink. Elliot is a great basketball player like Nathan but that's about where the similarities end.
Nathan shakes his head, "Anyway, I came over here to tell you that Haley's closing the café early and cooking for everyone tonight before Midnight Madness. Get there for six."
"We'll be there." Lucas commits easily.
"Okay, I'll see you later, Man." Nathan throws his apple core in the trash before letting himself back out of the house.
...
Peyton slips behind the bar at Tric and helps herself to all the necessary ingredients for the perfect rootbeer float. She then clicks her way back to her office where Elliot is stood by the pool table, spinning the 8 ball expertly in his hand.
As she prepares the drink, Peyton watches him carefully out of the corner of her eye. Tonight is the start of the basketball season; Midnight Madness. And it's also Elliot's last year as a Tree Hill Raven. As if that wasn't enough, the Scott family have an almost tradition of breaking the all time scoring record in their senior year.
"Talk to me, El," Peyton requests, setting his glass down on the corner of the table.
He looks up at her, through a conflicted brow that is so perfectly Lucas that she almost smiles. He's all blonde hair, knotted brow, scoop turned nose and pressed lips. It's a brooding face if ever she saw one.
"It's just," He licks his lips and keeps his eyes focused on the wall in front of him, "there are all these names on the wall of that gym, and you know what they all say?"
Peyton nods slowly, "Scott."
"Right." Elliot pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, "And it's not even that people expect me to play like Dad or Nathan or Jamie, or even Dan. They think I'm going to be better."
"You love the game." Peyton tells her son, stroking his hair with her fingers. "And it would break my heart to see anything or anyone get in the way of that."
She watches the struggle in the eyes of her little boy; the little boy who is now six feet tall and a senior in high school. She wishes that she could take away his terrors in the same way she could when he was six years old. Back then she could hug him tight to her chest, press a kiss into his hair and sing him stories, and everything would be okay.
Elliot takes a sip of his rootbeer float and glances around his Mom's office. He grew up here, in a way, although he's never quite felt as at home here as his little sister who retreats here whenever she needs a little solace. For Elliot, the rivercourt has always been his sanctuary. Until now. Now that basketball has become so much more than game.
"You put too much pressure on yourself." Peyton tells him, curling her fingers lightly between his wavy hair.
Elliot flicks his gaze back up at her, "Isn't that a family trait?"
"Yes." She rolls her eyes, thinking back to when Lucas first joined the Ravens. "Your Dad had the same thing happen to him, you know. He had Dan's face in the crowd and everyone watching and waiting for the showdown between Dad and Nathan."
Elliot sighs, "Yeah, and then he played great and the rest is history."
"Not without struggle." Peyton points out. "Your Dad had to find the motivation from somewhere and it wasn't easy. Even Nathan didn't always light it up, if he let his head into the game."
Elliot's eyes roam the walls, falling over the artwork that his Dad insisted to be put up on display. He knows that those pictures are in fact the motivation that his Dad used for his game. He's read An Unkindness of Ravens enough times to know all about the line Your art matters, it's what got me here.
He feels an itch at his fingertips, the need to halt his spinning thoughts; he needs a book to read. He likes the voices of authors filling his mind, whether it's with wise words or nonsense, he doesn't mind much. He likes to fall into other worlds when the real one becomes a little suffocating. He flicks his glance back to his Mom, "Are there any books in your office?"
She smiles back at him. Elliot, even more so than Lucas, loves to read. She can recall his desperation to read when he was little, not satisfied with having to wait for an adult to sit down and read a book to him. "I think I probably have something…" She frowns and goes to find a box that lives under her desk. There's definitely a few copies of Lucas' books in there, for when she's needing inspiration but it's likely there are a few other paperbacks there too.
"Ah," Peyton pulls out a book and holds it aloft, her eyes scrunched shut as she recalls a quote, as best she can from memory, "The thing is - fear can't hurt you anymore than a dream. Lord of the Flies. Did you ever read it?"
Elliot frowns, knowing the title, "No, I haven't."
Peyton lifts her eyebrows as she opens the front cover, "Must have been your sister then. Best you read it and sneak it back into the school library since it says Property of Tree Hill High School in the cover."
She passes the book over as Elliot rolls his eyes at his sister. She's never quite mastered a respect for books, not like she has records and music in any case. More often than not when she borrows one of his titles it will come back to him with a tear in a page or nail varnish on the cover.
Pushing his sister's chaotic nature to the back of his mind, Elliot skims his eyes over the blurb of Lord of the Flies. Peyton watches as his expression transforms into a light smile.
"Any good?" She asks.
He nods, "Perfect."
...
Peyton jogs up to the house after dropping Elliot off at school, she pushes down the handle and groans when the door doesn't budge. While she continuously leaves the front door unlocked - a terrible habit - her husband continually locks it behind her. She shrugs her handbag open with one hand and fishes inside for her keys. Just as her hand curls around the Mom keychain she's had for at least a decade, the front door clicks open.
Lucas is dressed in his Ravens polo and most likely about to head out to school. He narrows his eyes at her, since she's supposed to be at Raleigh by now. "Hey," He steps back to let her in and frowns, "Not that I'm complaining but I wasn't expecting to see you until tonight."
"Change of plan." She says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I found Elliot at the rivercourt, completely inside his head. Max has gone to the meeting for me."
"Of course he has." Lucas almost laughs. "How's the boy?"
Peyton slips her heels off in the hall and tosses them into a pile made up solely of her and Sawyer's shoes. Lucas sighs but doesn't comment. "He'll be fine. I sent him off with Lord of the Flies. He's just nervous about all those Scott jerseys hanging in that gym."
Lucas nods, having known already really. He follows her upstairs despite the time. Honestly, he's just making up for the fact that he barely got the chance to see her at all this morning. He takes a seat on the edge of their bed and watches lazily as she unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. It takes everything in him not to do anything about his wife stood before him in her underwear.
She glances over her shoulder and smirks, "You want to let me know who the Captain is yet?"
"Nice try, Blondie." He says in a low tone as her legs disappear into a pair of ripped jeans. "So, what are you doing today if you're not needed in Raleigh?"
Slipping a white button down around her shoulder she laughs, "Organising the ever-expanding benefit concert."
He smiles, knowing how proud she is that the now annual benefit concert she organises every year for Breast Cancer Awareness is growing almost out of her control. It began as a small venue event at TRIC and is now about to become an open air gig with a host of incredible acts, most of them calling Peyton volunteering to appear without her so much as having to ask.
"I can meet you for lunch though?" Peyton leans up on her toes, reaching around in the top of her wardrobe, wondering if she left her leather jacket there after wearing it last. Usually it hangs on the back of the bedroom door but today it's missing. Her fingertips graze something else, a curved box that she recognises solely by touch; Sawyer's baby box. She made it back when she was expecting, not knowing if she'd get to meet her baby girl. Inside there's a video message, an iPod with a carefully constructed playlist and every picture she'd ever sketched depicting her and Lucas' relationship.
Her fingers linger a moment, and then move across to find another box, this one hexagonal, also pushed to the back of the wardrobe. It's as though she's checking it's still there. This one belongs to Elliot, with a wholly different story encased safely in it's walls. Yet despite the boxes belonging to her kids, they've never even laid eyes on them.
Dropping back to her usual height she steps back and closes the closet, "Have you seen my jacket, Luke? Ellie's jacket."
"Yeah, on Sawyer's back this morning." He reveals through a gruff chuckle before noticing the look in her eye. He stands and wraps an arm around her waist, "You okay?"
"Sometimes something just reminds you how lucky you are." She says.
…