Forget All We Used To Know
Author's note: The title is a lyric from "the Arcade Fire", this is a leyton written at the request of Ange for writers911 purposes. If you're a brucaser, stop right now. Please.
This is bullshit.
Does anyone else even notice? Has anyone else ever sat down and seriously thought about how unbelievable it all is? It's not her fault. It's his. He decided that Brooke was his soulmate before she even considered Jake.
You don't decide someone is your soulmate. You just know.
And he did know. Everyone had known. Hadn't she known, as much as she'd denied it? Who hadn't seen it, felt it, believed it, the first time they'd met eyes? The first time Lucas had let his eyes fall on her. Whenever it had been.
She was ashamed that she didn't know.
Poor Jake. Poor Brooke. It would happen again. It would never, ever, ever stop happening. They were perfect. They were one.
Like Nathan and Haley. Like Noah and Allie.
Peyton tries not to make lame references like this. But she can't help it. Someone she has to be a girl. His girl. That ellusive thing that she never stopped being.
Someone doesn't just go away for two days, come back and stop wanting someone. Brooke wasn't his someone. She was a distraction. Like an annoying guest star who comes back to keep Ryan and Marissa from getting back together, even though you know they will. Because they have to. Brooke was like Anna, or like Felix, or like Jake.
Poor Jake. He was the only decent person out of all of them.
After letting her angst stream out in a long string of consciousness, Peyton feels relieved. It doesn't exactly help, but it does (for the most part) prevent her from going after her best friend's boyfriend.
So does that. Remind herself, every minute of every hour, that that's what he is. Her friend's boyfriend. Like Nathan. Nothing more, nothing less. How is it possible that all of her guys have ended up with her best friends?
She's wanted to forget it so many times. Run after him on the street, leave rose petals in his bed, kiss him seneless. Yelling, "LUCAS, I LOVE YOU." She won't. Ever. But it's true. It'll always be true.
Teenagers should never think of life in terms of "always". Always ends badly.
Doesn't Brooke remember how Lucas cheated on her? Shouldn't Peyton care more about how he's a notorious player?
Hoes over Bros. Brooke doesn't remember.
And Peyton can't remind her. Because if she did, she'd have to show how painfully she's doing it herself. Keeping away from her love is the hardest thing she's ever had to do.
She wishes she had a webcam. He'd understand that staring at him forever could somehow make it less painful, make staying away a remote possibility.
Jake would hold her in his arms forever. But it's not his arms she wants to be in.
She can pretend she does. She has before.
"PEYTON!" comes a voice. Peyton sat up in surprise, amazed that her angst had bled into her sleep. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and realized with annoyance how painfully obvious it was that she'd slept in her clothes.
Brooke arrives in her bedroom while the heavy, slow footsteps on the stairs were still coming toward them. Was it a sign, that he walked at half her speed? Does it tell you something?
Brooke's excited. Peyton tries to decipher why, and discovers that she cannot.
Lucas enters, and Peyton offers him a casual, friendly smile. He glances at her bed and tries desperately not to remember all the nights of the summer he spent sleeping in it. Brooke doesn't have to block out memories. She knows nothing.
Lucas joins her on the bed. She can figure out the reasoning behind it. It's like declaring loudly to his love, his soulmate, and his other soulmate, that the past doesn't matter, and that he can be close to her without feeling the heat.
Testing this theory, Peyton rests her head on her shoulder and lets her hand fall to his thigh.
No. There's still heat.
Saying it was a long day would be an understatement. They were all long.
Very few were tortorous.
Today had been torturous.
Was Brooke intentionally torturing them both by bringing Lucas to see Peyton, or was she just trying to prove that they were all okay to be around each other again?
He forces himself to admire her as she waltzes into his bedroom clad only in a black negligee, cleavage bursting, smooth legs flaunted. Peyton's breasts are smaller, but her legs are better.
He doesn't need them to torture him. He does it all by himself just fine.
Instead of having sex, he proves that there's than just that to it by gathering her in his arms, inhaling her scent and attempting to fall asleep.
He sleeps.
"Brooke can't ever find out about this," said Peyton tearfully.
"Don't worry. She won't." Lucas moved toward her. He tries to remind himself that this is all because they miss other people, but it's impossible. It's because she's his and always will be.
They don't fumble. They think about this enough that it comes to them with ease. But not too much ease. Not to much that it's boring. No, it's definitely always interesting.
Why is it that Brooke has dibs? Peyton wants her dibs back.
Suddenly he's reached her. Her brown eyes stare up at him, now empty of tears and full of lust. They slide closed as they kiss. Slowly, treasuring it. Up until this summer, kissing is all they've ever had. But not now.
Shedding her shirt, eager to feel all of him against her, Peyton's kisses hungrily slide down his neck. She tastes his sweat, and he feels pleasurable twinges of pain every time her teeth graze his skin.
Eager to feel her lips against his, her body in his arms, Lucas pulls her back up again and lifts her into his arms. She has long legs, like a model. This is his lover, Peyton Sawyer. It could never last.
But it does last. It lasts as they fall backwards onto her bed, bodies tightly interlocked. As his hands bring her to pleasure, and she feels as if the combination of the summer heat and the heat of their bodies are truly making her blood boil. As he enters her slowly, as if afraid she's going to break, even after their feverished touches of only moments ago. (He's bigger than Nathan, but she'll never tell him.)
She lets him take charge a little bit. Brooke hides that she's not a very interesting lover by changing her lovers frequently. Peyton is a very, very interesting lover.
He comes inside of her, no sheeth of plastic cutting down on any sensitivity. She's on the pill. The feeling is amazing. As their eyes meet, he loves her. As she thrusts her hips toward his, he knows she wants him as much as he wants her.
He touches his lips to her breast, touches the curves he's for so long only been able to look at.
They flip, and she's on top. They...
"Are you having a dream, Broody?" asked Brooke sleepily. Lucas eye's widen and hopes that she hasn't seen the obvious evidence of it.
"Yeah. All about you, baby." She snuggles up to him. She needs reaussurance. Peyton needs one.
He wants to sarande her at her window, procclam her love for all to hear.
He won't. He can't.
He never will.