Idk about y'all but I'm sooooooooo proud of myself lmao. I spent all day at work - since it was literally four hours of doing nothing - to get this chapter finished. Here is part 2!
The first night had not been so bad.
Nobody had wanted to be alone. Peyton couldn't look at her bedroom, though, so she and Brooke had grabbed childhood blankets stowed away in one of the hallway closets for guest use, and squeezed themselves on one of the couches because Peyton felt safer when she had Brooke. Even though Peyton's long legs wound up twining with Brooke's uncomfortably, and one of her feet dug into Brooke's ribcage, and Peyton couldn't really lay on the couch the way she would have wanted to. It was fine because Peyton felt safe - Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, safe, safe - and Brooke was warm and there. If they happened to also feel safer with Lucas sleeping on the other couch, a kitchen knife in arms' reach should so much as a gust of wind graze the house, nobody said anything.
Nobody really slept either.
The whole town knew and Brooke thought she had hated it when everyone thought she was pregnant, hated their watchful gazes and whispers. Now, she really hated their watchful gazes and whispers, their blatant curiosity - their concern. That was probably the part that irked her the most. Peyton was the one who had been attacked and stalked, whose privacy and safety had been violated, who was made vulnerable and preyed on. She needed to be the one everyone pretended to care about, not Brooke. Because Brooke was fine, absolutely fine and she was dressed in one of her best, hair purposefully curled with a pretty headband she hadn't been able to ignore at the mall, and her makeup was flawless and she was fine. Just. Fine.
Brooke's grip on the steering wheel tightened, hands fastened so surely on it that her nails reached her palm and they were digging in her own flesh.
She could not do it again. The first night had been a fluke. She had only stayed with Peyton out of concern for her, out of understanding that the girl's home had once been safe and now it was not and that she couldn't be there alone - because Peyton had needed her. And Lucas was right. Brooke could tell herself the same thing a thousand times over, but the truth of the matter was that Brooke did not hate Peyton and could not hate her, despite wanting to. However, despite knowing that, Brooke could not stay at that house. She looked at it and her feet were no longer touching the ground and she was being dragged and not-Derek was bound to pull her hair from her scalp, and Brooke could not breathe.
Her heart thudded.
Brooke's breath came in short huffs and her heart was too loud, and it was beating beating beating...and she couldn't breathe. Her hands clenched even harder on the steering wheel and she couldn't do it again. She needed to turn. She needed to put the key back in the ignition and she needed to drive away, away, away...she couldn't do it again. The edges of her vision went blurry and fear gripped her chest, made her stomach flip and flop this way and that, made the bile rise to the back of her throat and then her eyes were stinging. Blood pounded in her ears and it took Brooke longer than she thought it should have for her to realize that it wasn't an earthquake making her hands tremble - no, her body was shaking and she needed to breathe, breathe, breathe…
The engine came to life. Its sound made her breath hitch in her throat, made her flinch before she came to the startling realization that she had turned the key. She glanced at the house, at the boarded up window she had sat by so many times as a child munching on slices of pizza and giggling over boys, and she drove away. She was away, driving driving driving, and Peyton didn't know that she was there. Peyton wouldn't have to know that she was there because Brooke had never been there. She didn't need another night of tangled limbs and flapping arms, or shared breaths and a crick in her neck. Because Brooke Davis was fine.
She just needed to not go to that house. Not unless Peyton needed her, of course.
It wasn't until she got to the school yard that Brooke's hands stopped shaking.
Peyton had not gone to school that first day.
Nobody had blamed her, least of all Lucas. Hell, Lucas probably would have decked someone if they even said anything remotely insulting about her lack of a presence. Then again, neither did Lucas show up for school that next day. Brooke had went, though. He had told her she didn't have to and even Karen would have vouched for her, he knew. But despite both of their reassurances and honest to God pleas that Brooke just take the day off, she was sidling off to Rachel's to change her clothes long before Peyton had rose - they had each drifted off far too late into the night to even be functioning humans, let alone students - with a kiss to Lucas' lips and a soft look at Peyton's sleeping form. Lucas didn't trust her bravado.
It was easy to say that they could be better than they were before, that they needed to not shut each other out and communicate. Addressing the problem is the first step to making a change. But putting it into practice when they're used to doing the very thing that broke them up in the first place - aside from the cheating, which was never happening again, ever - is a completely different story. But Lucas was going to try - he did try, even if it resulted in Brooke damn near threatening him with death if he didn't go see Peyton, which he was going to learn to not be afraid of one of these days - he really was.
Just after he did what Brooke said and avoided that murderous green - and yes, her eyes went green, dark and so so green, when angry.
The second night could have been better. Brooke swore she was fine once the morning light had come and she had eventually drifted into some light sleep at some point...but that was after she had whimpered into his chest, all stuttering breaths with her shut eyes, tears dripping past long dark lashes. He'd tried to gently coax her awake, tried not to wish not-Derek was around because there were a few things Lucas' fists really wanted to say to the bastard's face, but he had had his girlfriend in his arms and she needed him more. So, he had whispered that he was there and that no one was hurting her and he had honestly touched the top of her head to pet at her hair, to provide comfort.
That was probably a horrible move.
Lucas had realized that belatedly as Brooke had damn near leapt out of his bed with a shriek that made his heart medication feel useless because his heart ached so badly; she'd practically raced to the backdoor and pressed herself against it, sliding onto the floor and whimpering and stuttering out apologies and Lucas wanted to punch something. Lucas was slow to a true rage, but it was there - simmering under his skin, pounding so hard and so loudly in his veins and that he was surprised he'd managed to scramble to his knees so that he could be smaller for Brooke, so she could remember that it was him and that she was safe. He hadn't been able to rest after that, even though he'd been grateful she had.
"I'm fine, Luke," Brooke had said, and she had taken a long deep breath, swinging her bag over her shoulder before fixing her scarf in the mirror. Brooke wore scarves now and Lucas knew why, knew that it made him want to scream and rage and give his heart a real reason to attempt to fail him. But she never addressed it and the first day, when he had seen her after school, hazel eyes met him defiantly, defensively - as if she dared Lucas to question her decision, to bring attention to a thing she very much did not want any attention to.
Brooke Davis did not want any attention and that spoke more than she knew.
"No, you're not," he had replied, staring at her and watching her do everything but meet his gaze.
"Yes, I am, and you would know that if you were paying attention." Brooke didn't think he saw it but her hand trembled when she turned, but then it was grabbing a semi sheer sweater and Lucas sighed. "Peyton's not answering Nathan or Haley's calls and they're worried. She's the one you need to be worried about. I can take care of myself."
"But the truth of the matter is that I am paying attention, Brooke, and you're not okay," he told her and took two steps towards her. Her shoulders tensed and Brooke clutched at her sweater and bag, and it made Lucas stop. His eyes narrowed and she swallowed hard, eyes falling closed for a moment before opening again. Dread dropped like lead in his stomach. "Brooke…"
"It's not you." She declared, but it wasn't enough. It didn't not make the backs of his eyes sting in shock and hurt, didn't not make his hands clench in anger and despair.
"I can't even come near you without you being the one to initiate it."
"That's not true," Brooke swore and Lucas snorted bitterly. "It's not, Lucas." Lucas eyed her warily and several heartbeats passed between them, seconds ticking by, before he took two more steps. She did not flinch this time and her breath was even. Her eyes, however, watched his every movement and Lucas cursed not-Derek. He had never cursed his own blonde hair and blue eyes, but he cursed them and he cursed not-Derek for making him curse them because the son-of-a-bitch ruined everything.
When Lucas reached Brooke, they were toe to toe and she was looking up at him with eyes he was sure she'd deny were watery. He made sure she could see his hand when he reached for her, let his knuckles graze the soft skin of a soft high cheekbone, let his thumb swipe away a stray tear he'd let her pretend wasn't there. She released a shuddering breath and her eyes fell closed, eyelashes brushing against the thumb still under her eye and she leaned into his touch. Lucas dare not move another body part.
"Brooke…" He spoke softly, tenderly. She was like a small animal in the woods; he couldn't move too swiftly lest it frighten her, couldn't make too loud of a noise - make her feel too loud of a thing - without making her run. "...pretty girl...it's okay to not be okay." That clearly was the wrong move.
Brooke sucked in a sharp breath and was out of his space before Lucas could so much as utter another soft-spoken reassurance, and he clutched at the air she'd just occupied. "Which is exactly what you need to tell Peyton because knowing her, she's locked herself in that room and she's not okay."
"Brooke - "
"But I'm fine, Lucas, so just go," she told him and Lucas found himself grinding his teeth together, jaw tense and he wanted to snatch her up in his arms and lock them away in his bedroom for the rest of the school year.
"No, you're n - "
"Just go!" Brooke snapped and Lucas froze.
They both did, she at having lashed out at him - she clearly had not meant to - and he - not just because of the demand in her eyes that bespoke her wrath should he not do as she asked - but because...because there was a shrill sound that had come from the back of her throat at her shout and it reminded him of that night, of the way he had crawled to his hands and knees once the breath had returned to his lungs. He was never going to forget the way Brooke sounded when not-Derek had grabbed her, this shrill painful sound that Lucas heard in the shower, when he was on a run, when she was finally asleep in his arms, finally limp and sleep-soft and safe. She was scared, so so so scared, and Lucas wanted to kill not-Derek.
"I'm okay," she had assured him and hurried out the door, a smile that could only be painted on her face and Lucas knew for a fact - knew it in his soul - that Brooke was not okay.
Peyton wasn't either.
The brand new white of her bedroom had been jarring when he had seen it. The throwing the key out the window and the assortment of locks on her bedroom door were also jarring, but not seeing the red and black nor her bookshelf - or much of anything resembling Peyton Sawyer's bedroom - was startling. It was worse when, after finally convincing her to come to school, she emerged from the house with a black hood pulled over a black hat, hands shoved in her pocket and her eyes - so much like Brooke's - daring him to say one word.
Lucas didn't say anything, not until they were in the school hallway.
"Are we expecting an outbreak of stalkerazzis and photographers, or are you just ashamed to be seen with me?" Lucas inquired, trying to break the tension in the air, trying not to let the fire in his veins and in his chest out on inconsiderate teenagers who would not stop looking at them.
"No," Peyton replied after a beat and eyed a male student as he eyed her, the asshole's eyes watching her mouth as if he could catch some hint of her distress so that he could share it with another asshole and spread it to the rest of the drama-hungry student population. "I guess bad news travels fast." Lucas grimaced and frowned at a pair of girls.
"You're going to be okay." He offered the reassurance with a hand on Peyton's back and she seemed to shudder under his touch, shutting her eyes to avoid another classmate's watchful gaze.
"Everytime I close my eyes, I see him there - watching me - and now I've gotta come to school and see all of them watching me?" There was a tremor in her voice as they made it to her locker and Lucas leaned against the one beside hers, sighing.
"Did you try calling your dad?"
"No," she replied, incredulous. Peyton must have seen the surprise on his face because she added, softening her voice, "Look, I know that he would come home the minute I called, but what's the point, okay? It's over."
It didn't feel over, Lucas wanted to say. Not when his girlfriend couldn't stand his touch unless she was too tired to remember that she was supposed to flinch or he was too pliable to be seen as anything but harmless. It wasn't over when Peyton clearly had not slept - there was darkness under her eyes and she was paler than normal, and Lucas wasn't much of a betting man but he'd bet every penny in his pocket that she wasn't eating much either - and both girls were still afraid.
"And there's probably, like, a hundred police officers out there looking for Psycho Derek...so...what's my Dad gonna do?" Peyton continued, unaware of Lucas' inner turmoil, at his...helplessness. He had not been able to do much of anything that night. Psycho Derek - and wasn't that a term? - had overpowered him. Lucas had been thrown off the guy and tased, still had the sensitive mark to prove his failure on his side. He had been unable to do anything, couldn't fight the guy without help, couldn't -
"Protect you?"
"I can take care of myself," Peyton deadpanned and Lucas winced, taking a deep breath and looking away from the sharp green eyes as if the brunette could be conjured up just by the blonde having uttered that phrase.
"Trust me, I know that," Lucas told her, eyes trained on glassy green and still remembering vibrant hazel, still remembering the trembling state of a square jaw and a teardrop on fair skin. "You both can." Something clouded over Peyton's gaze. Lucas watched her swallow.
"H-how is she?" Lucas took another breath and blew it out with puffed cheeks, heart clenching at how he had let Brooke walk out the door. He really needed to stop letting that happen.
"Being Brooke...being you…" He told her, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he added, playful almost, "... being stubborn as all hell." Peyton huffed out a small laugh and Lucas thought it a win - a small win, but a win, nonetheless. "Listen, I know that you can take of yourself - that you both can - but it's okay to be a little afraid from time to time." Peyton snorted gracelessly.
"Really?" She asked, disbelieving. "What are you afraid of?"
Being useless, he thought but the words were never going to leave his mouth. Weak. Not doing anything when the people I love need me. When my girlfriend is screaming at the top of her lungs and one of my best friends is scared out of her mind and Keith is dead and I -
But the words were not going to leave his mouth.
"This morning I asked Whitey if I could play again," was what he said instead and the words tasted acrid and pathetic. Lucas bitterly blinked back his frustration. Peyton smiled.
"That's great, Luke."
"Yeah," the light laugh felt false, felt wrong - so wrong wrong wrong - but Lucas kept going because Peyton didn't need him weak. Brooke didn't need him weak. They needed him tall and sure, unaffected and fearless. Not weak. "But with my heart condition...it doesn't stop it from being a little bit scary." Peyton mulled over his words, frowning.
"Then why are you playing?"
"Because it's who I am." It was the only thing that didn't feel wrong wrong wrong, didn't make Lucas wonder if false bravado was the thing that made him and Brooke compatible. "And you," he yanked the hat off of Peyton's head, smirked at her pout, "need to be who you are."
Leave it to a trio of nosy ass juniors to make it all for nothing.
Peyton had snatched the hat back, dismissed him, and Lucas grimaced and hated every student at Tree Hill that didn't know what being considerate meant - and hated hated hated Psycho Derek with a ferocity he had never known.
"Peyton, wait!" He called and she took her time to face him again, already half down the hall and Lucas sighed deeply. He was back in his bedroom, back staring at Brooke's determined face and blatant denial. "If you let this change you, then he wins." He wished Brooke could hear him.
"So, he wins," Peyton declared and Lucas swore the girls' voices twined, both their voices sounding out their surrender, and his failure.
He also swore when he kicked the locker.
Brooke had a bruise from ear to ear along her throat.
It was a deep purple, marring perfect porcelain skin, and Haley watched it and the girl it belonged to when they were in the bathroom, watched how Brooke took out her concealer and dabbed over it with ivory powder. It was still sensitive. Haley could see that from the way her friend winced the first time before gingerly grazing her skin, her throat so pale beneath the bathroom lights.
Lucas was on his way; the boys were supposed to be doing drills, warming themselves up for the game Haley was still anxious about Lucas playing - Brooke was too, but she had prattled on about stubborn boyfriends that were so hot when they were being stubborn and all the other cheerleaders tittered but Haley was not convinced, could not unsee Brooke's pause amidst their giggling. But fifteen minutes were what Whitey was giving him and Haley appreciated it, even if she'd spend the entire fifteen minutes clutching her pom poms like her life depended on it and exchanging worried smiles with Brooke, who would just beam a dimpled beam and scream for her man.
Lucas was coming and Brooke did not know because Haley had not told her because Brooke was mad at Rachel and Brooke was tapping her foot on the tiled floor. Rachel had apparently used Brooke's name on a dating website - tap tap tap tap - and had slept with the man - tap tap tap tap - and he just so happened to be one of their new teachers - and Brooke was livid. She'd snapped at Rachel and Rachel had cowed, but Haley had also seen something - a flicker of more in the daggers of Brooke's bright hazel, the shakiness of her chest - and she had told Bevin to take the other girls out of the bathroom and to tell Lucas to bring himself as quickly as he could.
"Tigger…"
"I'm fine," Brooke snapped and Haley watched her wince in the mirror, setting down her applicator and the cosmetic itself before softening. "I'm fine...just...just - after I strangle Rachel in her sleep - "
"You're not strangling anyone in their sleep." Haley said softly and Brooke rolled her eyes, stamping her feet petulantly.
"Fiiiiine," she whined and a brief smile crossed Haley's face even as she worried a honey blonde curl between her thumb and forefinger. Brooke used her hands to rub in the concealer better and Haley could see that she was being a touch too rough because the discomfort shone in her eyes, but Lucas was not the only stubborn person in their relationship, Haley surmised.
"Brooke…"
"I'm fine." Was her curt response. Haley watched Brooke glimpse her concern and the other girl clutched the counter. "I am. Peyton - "
" - is not the only one everyone's worried about," Haley told her, voice low and tender, so so comforting and Brooke loved her with every fiber of her being - she would move mountains and fuck up every single uppity adult in their small town with their small town judgements, combat any one person who had the audacity to look at Haley wrong for being eighteen and pregnant when she was the kindest, bestest, most amazing soul -
and why was her chest tightening?
"And I love you all for that, Haley, I do but I'm fine, okay?" Brooke grew weary of having to reiterate that. And of everyone trying to make her out a liar. "I am. If you guys want to be worried about someone, P. Sawyer could really use some of that - "
"So could you."
"Why?" Brooke's voice rang out clearly, sharply, in the empty bathroom. Haley did not flinch, but Brooke seemed just as startled by her own conviction as she was incensed. "I am fine, okay? I'm fine and I'm here. I'm here and...and I'm not just gonna curl up in a ball somewhere, Tutor Girl, if that's what you're all thinking. He didn't hurt me. I am here and Peyton's not and you should all just go be with her because sh-she's...she's not...and I….and...a-and - "
and Brooke could not breathe.
Haley's hands rose to placate her, shoulder length apart as she approached the girl and why was Haley getting taller - or was that Brooke getting lower? All Brooke knew was that one minute she was on her feet and the next, Haley was no longer visible, made blurry and unrecognizable and her lungs weren't getting enough oxygen - why could she not breathe? - and Peyton was not here. Brooke didn't need to go to that house, but Peyton was there and Peyton was supposed to be safe safe safe but how could she when everyone was so worried about Brooke and -
Her name sounded warped coming from Lucas' mouth. Brooke tilted her head - she thought she tilted her head, she honestly couldn't make out anything past the tears she never saw coming - and watched his mouth, wondered why she couldn't recognize him but she knew it was him. And he was there - her heart beat hard, fast against her ribcage - but Peyton wasn't - Peyton wasn't safe safe safe - and...and…
"But it's all her fault," not-Derek spat, yanking Brooke's head back so hard that the brunette, trying to pry his fingers out of her hair, cried out again, clawing at him as best as she could and choking at her own ill efforts. "This bitch - " He yanked at Brooke's hair again and pain behind her eyelids, and Brooke cried and felt the tears splatter onto her cheeks but wasn't sure if she was crying because she couldn't breathe breathe breathe " - this bitch...she hurt you, Peyton."
It was her fault.
Haley had asked her when she was going to let the bitterness end with Peyton so that they could be there for each other and Brooke had blamed Peyton when it was her - her that Peyton needed and Brooke didn't need anyone, but everyone was there for her. They were there for Brooke, but Peyton had no one - how could she be safe safe safe, legs wrapped up in Brooke's and uncomfortable but there and warm and so so safe, if no one was there with her? - and that was Brooke's fault. Brooke left her alone. It was her fault - all her fault because she was weak and she couldn't go back to that house - and the back of her head ached and her throat felt constricted and...and…
...why was Lucas apologizing?
Sound came back to her slowly, surely, and her vision didn't swim anymore and Haley wasn't there. It was just Lucas - Lucas who cradled her head against his chest and she breathed in the light sweat he'd accumulated from the earlier exertion, the clean soap and detergent that Karen supplied in the house, breathed in him - and Brooke sighed wetly into the dip of his collarbone, falling limp in his arms...and he was still apologizing.
"...I'm here…'m sorry…'s my fault…" He murmured against her hair and Brooke blinked slowly, feeling spent, drained. The bathroom door opened; Rachel and Whitey lingered outside, concern marring their faces while Haley entered with a water bottle. It looked cold and Brooke's mouth was...it was dry and hot and cold water sounded so good. But Lucas was still cradling her like she was something precious and uttering apologies and Brooke pulled back enough to stare up at sad blue - true blue, all ocean blue and pure and deep and so so sad.
"...why? What're you sad for, boyfriend?" She inquired, voice rough, weak.
"You're not okay," he told her and Brooke was going to tell him how wrong he was, she really was, but she found that she had no strength in her for that. "You're not - don't...don't look at me like that - you're not okay and I couldn't do anything." The space between her eyebrows dipped in confusion and Brooke clutched at his jersey, trying to move onto her knees but Lucas would not budge.
"Wait - what?"
"Lucas…"
Both Haley and Brooke seemed to speak at the same time, but Lucas focused only on Brooke and he looked so defeated, so sad and Brooke hated that look. That look didn't belong on his face. He was supposed to be beaming and playing basketball and sweaty, ecstatic and wrung out and needing so very badly to sit the hell down before Brooke's heart exploded out of her chest. Surprisingly, her heart wasn't playing the rumba against her ribcage anymore. It wasn't fully calm either.
"You screamed, Brooke. You screamed and you were crying and I couldn't even get up," Lucas exclaimed. Brooke's frown deepened and she was pretty sure that was a teary breath Haley took, but all Brooke could see was Lucas. All blonde hair and deep ocean eyes - all Lucas - and it broke her heart. "Peyton was so scared and I could see your feet off the floor and I-I-I couldn't...I couldn't - I didn't - do anything and...and…"
"Oh, boyfriend…"
"...and y-you're not okay."
"You're not either," she whispered and Lucas shuddered, eyes falling shut and his forehead pressing down on hers. They sat there, sharing breaths, for what felt like a lifetime and Brooke heard the bathroom door open and close, but dared not move. A lifetime later, and Haley spoke up again.
"Whitey said you don't have to do this." Brooke's eyes flung open. "You don't have to play and Karen can come and - "
"No." The word rang out in the space between the lovers and Lucas' eyes finally opened, pleading.
"Tell me not to play," he begged her and if Brooke could, she'd bottle up all of the love she had in her chest - in her soul - and she'd let him drink from it every day if it could get the desperation out of his eyes, if it could relinquish him from whatever hold guilt had on him. That unnecessary and unfounded and honestly insulting piece of shit called guilt that she'd personally claw out of existence if it took a physical form. "Tell me you want to leave and I'll pack up and we can go home and we - " Brooke shook her head.
"I can't let you do that."
"Why not?" Brooke took a few steadying breaths, grateful that her lungs still worked, that the bathroom - oh god, who let her bare legs touch the floor? - was clear and fully visible, that the cold that had sunk into her core was dissipating.
"He wins," she told him and Lucas sighed. "If you don't play and we go home and I don't do this, then he wins and I-I can't...I can't let him do that to me. To us. I won't." Lucas blinked once, twice, and took another deep breath. Brooke reached up to run a hand over his hair, pushing it back from his eye. "You're supposed to play - I want to see you play and I want to see you do the thing that you love...and I-I want - need - to do this because I did not spend ten years of my life tumbling and breaking a leg and cheering and living just to let some creepy stalker creep make me not okay - "
"It's okay to not be okay, Tigger - "
" - I know that," Brooke snapped. She turned hard green eyes to Haley, square jaw set and clumped lashes still wet with anxious tears. Lucas wondered if he'd ever see anything more beautiful. Her eyes softened as she added, gaze returning to his, "but I wanna be okay and I won't if I'm stuck in the house wondering if he's going to come back." Her hand trailed from Lucas' hair to the side of his face and Brooke stared into his eyes. She stared and she watched, wondering if she'd see him truly want to go home and leave the game that he loved behind, loving him when she didn't, when she saw the same fire in him that was burning in her veins. "We're not okay and I know that and I know that it's not okay. But I wanna be right now...okay?"
Lucas swept her mouth up into a deep kiss, all bruising force and apologies and thank you's that hurt, but it hurt so good - hurt so good and so long until she almost tasted copper - and she kissed him back just as hard. Brooke whimpered when Lucas pulled back, only parting their lips, still close - so close and so here and hers - and pressed his forehead against hers, gaze never leaving her own.
"Okay."
"Hey…"
"Hi."
Brooke stared at Peyton staring at her and the room fell silent. Brooke had started at the sound of the back door lock being turned, tensed under Lucas' Ravens sweatshirt and remembered that she could be fast - his bedroom door was not far and all she had to do was leap - but it opened and...and...and Peyton looked worse for wear.
Peyton shut the door behind her slowly. Brooke learned to pry her fingers from the pillow they'd dug themselves in, willing her body to relax. Her heart still raced. Neither spoke a word for a moment. All they could hear was the sound of their individual breaths and Brooke wanted to scream about how unfair that was that it comforted her, that just the sound of Peyton breathing - Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe safe safe - made the rest of her muscles slink back into relaxation.
"I tried," Peyton admitted and held up the familiar set of keys. Her voice trembled. "I-I didn't...I wanted to - Lucas gave me a key - "
"I know." Brooke said it softly and she hoped Peyton didn't hear an accusation in her tone because the blonde flinched like she did, and there was none. "I told him to." Peyton's green eyes were shiny under the moonlight and she looked pale dressed in black.
"Why?"
Brooke didn't answer that.
"Did you talk to your brother?" She asked instead. Peyton huffed - Brooke couldn't tell if it was a laugh or her trying to smile bitterly - but she felt the contempt.
"Yeah," Peyton said lowly and made her way over to the bed, sinking into a perch. Brooke didn't see how she could be comfortable like that, on the corner of the bed where it was uncomfortable and she was not fully on the mattress. In another life - in a life not too distant from the one they were in - Brooke would have joked that Peyton was enough bone for that to probably hurt and Peyton would have tried to smother her with the pillow. "He wouldn't call me back."
"What a dick."
Brooke wished they both didn't sound so pathetic when they laughed.
Peyton's breath hitched in her throat, but she did not pull away when Brooke reached out to her, when she wrapped a hand around her wrist - and Peyton did need to pull away because she was here and Brooke was too and they were so so safe - and tugged. The blonde came willingly and before she knew it, Peyton was on her side facing Brooke and they were staring at each other in silence again.
"I'm sorry." It took Brooke a few breaths too long to realize that she had spoken the words, not Peyton. But spoke them she did and then she kept on speaking, wondering why she was doing it in the first place. "I wanted...I was going to come back - "
"...I saw your car," Peyton told her, eyes still so wet and they were leaking onto the pillow beneath her head. "You were across the street. I thought you'd come, but you didn't - "
" - I couldn't...I couldn't go back in there…"
"...and I know I don't deserve it - "
" - you don't," Brooke said. She was such a bitch, she thought. She had not needed to say that. This wasn't about before. This was about Peyton and about what Psycho Derek did and they weren't okay - none of them were okay, not even her brother - and Brooke wasn't being fair. She wasn't even mad at the other girl at the moment. Peyton's breath stuttered out of her chest.
"...I still needed you." Brooke wondered what it said about her - about them - that she could find pleasure in Peyton needing her, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty. Peyton needed her, not Lucas - not Brooke's boyfriend. Peyton needed her, needed Brooke - needed Brooke to feel safe safe safe and -
"I know," Brooke said softly, voice small like a child's. She could see her child hand reach out to Peyton - or was that her teenage hand? - and Peyton did the same, and they weren't fixed - not at all, but they were here and so so safe - and then they were holding hands and Brooke remembered a really bad story that Nathan had told them during a summer camp and they had laid down together, facing one another, holding hands and swearing that nothing would happen as long as they were together. "I guess I kinda needed you too."
Lucas found them like that, fifteen minutes later, sleeping.
