Lucas was sat at his desk in his bedroom, staring at the flashing cursor on his computer screen, trying to will a new story into existence. The few lines he had written had almost instantly been deleted, and because of it his editor was now on his case, which was killing the final sliver of inspiration. The truth was that his inspiration had set off in search of its own dreams, leaving him behind with just a pain in his chest and a memory of the type of writing he was once capable of.

The sun had set a few hours ago, but he had yet to turn any lights on, so it was just the dull glow of the computer cutting through the gloom. At the edge of his desk he was able to make out the title of his first novel 'An Unkindness Of Ravens' with his name in bold black text underneath. It was three years since he heard that it was going to get published, and his life was turned up-side down in more ways than one. On that night he had taken Brooke's advice, to become the best person possible, and then she would come back to him. So following that night he poured his heart and soul into his novel, making it the best possible piece of work he was capable of, before inviting her to his book signing a year later, but she didn't show up, and since then he couldn't write another sentence.

Slamming his fist against the wood, he refused to have a trip down memory lane. He had move on since then; moved forwards. So if he decided he couldn't write another word, he would just pay back the money the publishing company had given him, which would be easy considering it was just sat in a savings account doing nothing. Standing up and stretching, he had to get out of this room and away from his computer. Crossing his bedroom quickly, Lucas grabbed his keys and well worn basketball before slamming the door behind him.

His feet automatically tread the familiar path to the Rivercourt, and he jogged down the sidewalk bouncing the ball rhythmically. Slowing down as his feet hit the grass, his memory decided the play a trick on him, and he could almost see her as she drove past in her convertible car with her hair streaming out behind her in the wind. Blinking quickly, the image dissolved into nothing, and the pain in his chest spiked for a moment when he had to tell himself once again she wasn't coming home. She was never coming home.

Raking his hands through his short blonde hair, causing it to stick up in random spikes; he felt around in the dark to find the switch for the floodlights, flicking it quickly, and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness of the lights. Once again his memory decided to conjure up the image of her again, this time stood in the centre of the court looking at the spot where they had spray painted their names at the end of senior year. 'God she is still as beautiful as ever' he thought for a moment, before banishing that thought and he realized that she looked slightly different. Her hair was a shade darker than the last time he has seen her, and her curls had formed into soft waves. The bright lights caused her to glance up quickly, almost guilty, as she looked for the source of the light, and then their eyes locked.

"Oh god," Lucas whispered out, not loud enough for her to hear as he realized she was really stood in front of him and was not just an illusion.

"Lucas?" she questions, looking like a deer caught it headlights with her deep green eyes flashing, searching for a way out without her defences caving.

"Peyton... it's been a long time," he mumbles, accidently dropping the basketball and his eyes follow its path across the court, but he doesn't make a move to retrieve it.

"Two years," she whispers in reply, causing Lucas' eyes to flash to her face.

"It's been longer than that," he corrects, and her eyes lock onto his. He automatically starts pushing past her walls, trying to decipher what she is feeling, even though he knows his heart can't take it.

"Lucas I've missed you," she eventually breaks, crossing the distance between them and touching the front of his shirt gently. Lucas wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, and welcome her home proper, but he couldn't.

"Peyton, I can't..." he gently pushes her hands away, protecting his heart but in the process breaking hers. "I have somebody... I'm with somebody." He watches silently as her jaw drops open slightly, before she recovers and steps away from him, moving to sit on the benches at one side of the court. Snagging his ball from where it came to rest against the grass, Lucas followed her hesitantly. "So how long are you back for?"

"Er... a while," she answers vaguely, playing with the hem on her dress. "Brooke is back tomorrow as well. I'm supposed to be picking her up if I ever get my car to work."

Lucas immediately grabbed at the new topic, hoping desperately to remove some of the tension between them. "I could have a look at it if you want," he offers.

"No Luke, you don't need to do that," she replies almost instantly, her eyes snapping to his for a split second when she accidently used his nickname. "I'm going to go," she mumbles eventually after a moment of silence, getting up from the bench and disappearing into the darkness.

"I'll be seeing you," Lucas whispered to nobody, twisting around to shoot a three pointer before heading back home.