Chapter 6: All I'm Losing Is Me

Lucas sat out in the middle of the court. Historically, his normal perch would be on the sideline picnic table, but that position just didn't seem right for the occasion. He really wished he had a basketball right now so he could mindlessly stroke jump shots until the sun came up. It would clear his head, albeit temporarily, but he knew he needed to think while the events were still fresh in his memory. Though he didn't know if he could really forget what had happened, possibly for quite some time.

He reviewed the Peyton-Brooke "stand-off" (he couldn't think of a better term at the moment) in his mind's eye. Approaching it like a film director, he tried to rotate the images floating through his head as if he had control of a video camera of his life. He wanted to consider every angle, every possibility. Even so far removed from that moment, the tension was palpable. He tried to identify the source of the greatest tension. Was it Peyton finally opening herself to him, only to instantly realize he was not alone in that room? Was it Brooke recognizing that the first object of Lucas' heart had returned to reciprocate at the worst possible time? Was it Peyton and Brooke suddenly having to confront a serious challenge to the integrity of their famed "hoes-over-bros" motto? These were all significant, but he knew where the greatest tension was. It was inside him, captured succinctly by the tortured look he knew he must have had on his face.

He envisioned it as a sort of battle. Lucas versus Lucas. A theoretical boxing match is an apt metaphor, he thought. Let's run with it. In one corner, a boy long afraid to feel, the outcast in a small town, with (thus far) only one significant girl-boy relationship. And that was more of a brother-sister thing than anything romantic. Appearing on the scene is a girl he had always felt a connection to, who was just as scared as he was. A sudden crash of those two personalities, a crash that had awakened his heart. But she hadn't been ready, or at least ready to admit that she was ready. That brought him to the boy in the other corner. A boy who had been hurt but now knew his heart could make him feel more alive. And another girl who had showed him a different side of himself, helping him appreciate the spice of life. She had allowed him to feel despite the desire to bury himself in the pain of his life. He didn't quite look at her the same way he looked at the previous one – the one who had rejected him – but could he? Lucas watched the two imaginary boxers duke it out for a few minutes, neither one really able to gain a noticeable advantage. Shaking his head, Lucas decided to change his methodology.

He asked himself the fundamental question at the heart of the situation: was this a matter of choice, or a matter of feeling? He knew he could rationalize any decision, of that he was confident. But is this really a decision? Or do I already know the answer, and I just need to recognize it? There was also the separate but very relevant issue of Peyton and Brooke being best friends. If they talked it out and determined their friendship was most important, what he thought wouldn't mean jack. Wow, what a mess. I could be here all night and be in the same predicament I was when I started. Or I could make it even worse with my tendency to over-analyze. Just as he resigned himself to that fact, his thought-trance was broken by the loud rumble of an arriving vehicle. Lucas looked up. "Keith?"

x x x x

Peyton put the finishing touches on her sketch. She was quite satisfied with the result. Drawing for her was a way to record the events of life in a different way, a way in which she was talented and expressive. And to try and capture the rare moments when you really felt like a part of something larger than yourself. Or re-live an awkward love triangle. Placing her sketch pad on her desk, she flopped on her bed, eyes wide open but not focused on anything in particular. It was one of the few times in her life music was not playing in her room; it would normally be drowning out the noise of her ambient thoughts. Tonight, however, her thoughts were anything but ambient. Instead she was alone with her confusion, frustration, and fear. And her feelings. Where's life's rewind button? Someone else pressed play and I can only watch events unfold in front of me. And wait.

x x x x

Brooke felt free. Free, in this case, involved sampling foamy beer from a keg, four shots of who-knows-what, and a raging dance party at who-knows-where. Her problems were forgotten. It was as if moving with the music in her inebriated state released all the tension out of her life. Even after the last chord faded, replaced by typical party noises – young voices in conversation, the crinkling of potato chip bags, the occasional annoying pop song masquerading as a cell phone ring tone – Brooke continued to sway gently to a beat only she could hear. This is what I need. To feel serene and alive. To feel nothing.

x x x x

Keith walked over to the visibly distraught form of his nephew. Composure, he reminded himself. No yelling until we get the situation all talked out. "Thought I'd find you here," Keith said, in a rather harsh tone despite his mental reminder.

"Keith, I know I'm supposed to -- "

"Lucas," Keith cut in. "I don't want to argue. I just want to talk ... like we used to? I know something is going on. You going to tell me or do I have to wring it out of you?" He smiled a bit to indicate he was only joking.

Lucas knew he had been engrossed in his ruminations and had no idea how late it was. Secretly, he was glad Keith was here. It stopped him from agonizing over the situation endlessly and probably tail spinning into hopelessness. He knew he'd treated his uncle – practically his dad, despite the existence of Dan Scott – poorly and he wanted to make amends. "I'd like that," Lucas said gratefully as he stood up and brushed off his jeans.

"Alright then. Let's get home, I'll make some coffee, and we can sit down and talk awhile." Keith and Lucas climbed into the trusty red tow truck and headed off into the night.

x x x x

Dan sat back in an easy chair, clutching a tumbler in his right hand. He loved this routine of his – a nightcap of scotch, sometimes two, in the darkened trophy room of his magnificent home. It helped him relax, especially after difficult days like today. Nathan just doesn't understand. I'll have to make him see the big picture so he doesn't live a life of bitter regret. I know what is best for my son, and if Deb can't reconcile with that reality...then what? He loved Deb still, but he didn't need her questioning his every move. He knew exactly what he was doing. Dan resolved to try and patch up their relationship, so that they could present Nathan with a united front. He took another swallow, the alcohol smoothing the frayed edges of his life. Calming him. Reassuring him.

-Note: Chapter title from a song of the same name by Saves The Day.