:One:
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The smell assaulted him even before slipping the key into the lock. Lucas paused, hand froze in mid air, as the door swung open to greet him.
"Hey, home early. I appreciate it, Luke."
He could barely eek out a response, the book bag falling limply to lie on damp cement.
"Watch out."
Keith bent to retrieve it, the smile plastered across his face too bright. Too big.
A spiraling sensation overtook Lucas' stomach. The sinking feeling was so real he latched onto the door frame, fingers digging into pulpy wood. He was afraid he might drown altogether.
"Come on in." Keith slung the school supplies onto the carpet and swiveled about.
"You look sick. What's the problem? You not feeling very well?"
"I-I'm okay." Luke's fingers started to ache. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong?" His dad was sniffing something ladled out of a battered pot.
"Yes." Drawing the word out.
"Nothing's wrong, Luke. I decided to make dinner. Didn't I mention it to you this morning?"
The blond just stared back, unwilling to state the obvious, no less perturbed.
Keith was tempted to reach over, wipe the frown from Lucas' forehead, tousle his hair. Just like he used to.
Once upon a time.
But there it was, staring him in the face. Once upon a time.
"I know, but I came through. I don't want your only memories of me to be sitting on that couch with a can of booze."
Short laugh.
"It's not the only thing I remember." His son's voice was both wary and gentle. A high-strung animal, close to bolting.
"Well, sure is anymore."
Luke sucked in his lower lip.
"Um, why did you say memories? You're not-not sick, or anything?"
"No! No. I'm fine. Sit down." Keith gestured toward the nearest chair.
The soup was good; a thick, salty stew that stuck in Luke's throat, nonetheless. Keith kept glancing at him, staring so intently it made his son uncomfortable.
Clearing his throat, Lucas traced the familiar patterns of chips and scarring on the table top.
"I want to know what's going on here, dad. I have a right to know." Focusing on the little knot that looked like a rabbit.
"I suppose you do. I know I'm the parent, but you take charge most of the time. Which makes what I have to say even harder. You're not going to like this, Luke. Not at all."
Keith steepled his fingers.
"There are a lot of things I haven't-told you about your past. I'm not going to start now. But you deserve better. I've always known it. I just tried to fool myself into thinking this could all work out."
"What are you saying?" The tremble in Lucas' voice wasn't entirely anticipation.
"That, as much as I've enjoyed it, your time with me is almost finished."
If Keith expected an answer to that statement, none was forthcoming. Luke refused to meet his eyes, the drone of the wall clock ticking on in silence. Counting seconds. The precious few Keith had left.
"What I mean is, you can't stay here with me. It's time you got by on your own."
"You're throwing me out?"
"No, no, it's not like that. Luke. Lucas! Look at me. You weren't meant for this. You could be anything you choose. It's not fair to you, taking care of an old drunk... when you should be thinking about your future."
"This is my future. You are."
"No, I'm not. This is your past, only as important as you make it...and it's a dang better life looked back on. I don't care-"
Keith's grip bit into Lucas' wrist, keeping him there.
"I don't care how much you hate it. I care if you hate me, but it's time I stopped thinking about what I want."
"I'm not leaving. I'm not."
"You have to!"
Bright blue eyes, swimming with unshed tears. The crushed look settling over Lucas' features almost broke his father's heart. He couldn't remember when the boy had last cried. At least, in front of him.
"I already arranged everything. You're going to stay with-family, in Tree Hill."
Keith laid his last card on the table. He knew there was no possible way he could pack Lucas off without it.
"Where your mother came from."
X
He thought he was going to be sick. In fact, he still might. The cold edge of the sink bit into Lucas' skin, hard and unyielding. Keith called to him again, softly through the bolted door.
He thought he'd been tough. Street kid. He could handle anything. Oh, he'd been so wrong.
For the first time in months, there was actually a dinner waiting. Keith, sober, allowing his tightly buried feelings above ground. And this was why.
The bathroom was chilly, compared to the rest of the house. Luke curled into a miserable ball, scrunching onto the flattened throw rug.
There'd been no time. It was like being punched in the stomach, but by the person closest to you. Luke drew in ragged mouthfuls, holding his breath. Too long. Even if he'd had the desire, his lungs gasped for air instinctively. Kicked the wall. Even his own body betrayed him.
X
"Yes, it's me. Listen-" Keith held the phone close to his cheek, keeping watch on the bathroom door. "Listen. I know, but you have to listen to me. Promise. Promise me I won't regret this."
The hard answer, bitten out. "You don't have much of a choice."
X
Dan Scott pulled up to the shabby building. 4321 staggered across the front in flaking, wooden numbers. Briefly consulting the card in his hand, he laughed. So, this was it. The place his brother called home.
Sneer of distaste. No wonder big brother kept himself buried all these years. Keith was living in shame. Dan had barely thrown his leg out the car door when the object of his thoughts stepped outside.
"Dan."
"Keith."
There were touches of silver in the brown hair. Deep lines under heavily lidded eyes. Keith looked like he hadn't slept well for weeks. Perhaps he hadn't. Guilt was gnawing at him like a disease. And the way big brother squinted in the sunlight-it was almost hysterical. If he hadn't been a reflection on all of the Scott's; stigma to be avoided.
"Where's the kid? I've got a meeting to make."
"Don't-don't you want to know anything?"
"I'm not sure, Keith. What should I know? Beside the fact you ran off with the woman I loved and let her-"
Luke's abrupt arrival on the scene broke the accusation, mid stride.
"So, that's him."
"This is Lucas." Keith tried to smooth things over. He touched the blond's arm reassuringly.
"So. Karen's kid. Big boy now, all grown up. You know what a favor I'm doing you, Keith? Taking your brat after all these years. Without one word. Not a single message."
"Take care of him." It was more than a plea.
"I'd do it for Karen, no matter what you've done to this family." Dan slid his sunglasses on. "Just remember our agreement-it can't be undone."
"He's all yours." No belying the huskiness in that tone. Lucas felt himself gripped in a hug that threatened to split him apart.
"I'm coming back, dad."
"Get in the car, Luke. Call me sometimes-I'd like to hear your voice...boring around here without it."
"I'll call every day."
"You'll be busy. Doing important things." Keith raised his hand in a salute of farewell.
"I promise." Lucas' gaze was clear, unwavering. Pinning Keith with it's intensity. "You be awake to pick up."
"I'll sure try."
The darker haired Scott stuck his head out the window. "See you," impatiently.
Luke woodenly walked around the vehicle, slipped into the passenger seat. He twisted about, hoping for a last glimpse, but Keith had disappeared inside.
Loneliness welled up, a dull ache in his chest. The unfamiliar smell of his uncle's car. Creased business suit. Red leather pressing into Lucas' back.
Dan cast a single look across the console, then started a lengthy conversation with some woman on his cell.
Lucas' strained features were already emblazoned in his mind. Karen's son. The long fingers gripping the seat rest, stiff and white knuckled.
X
Not good at events; will straighten out now that I've established the plot.
Goodnight! ( :