Finally an update. Sorry for the delay, just had a lot going on ! Again thanks so much for the reviews, you really don't have any idea how much it means to me. You guys are great ! I would list your names, but I don't want to upset anyone.. I hope that you continue to like it. I only have a couple more chapters left, so hang in there!

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn black

Lucas stood in the middle of the room, his head reeling from what had just taken place. The moment he had dreaded for so long had come and gone. And surprisingly enough no blood was drawn.

With a smirk, he walked over and closed the door that Brooke had left open on her way out. It was like her to have the final word and then make a grand exit.

He turned and leaned against the door. Peyton still has feelings for me. He was still in some form of shock over that revelation too. His heart had been trying to tell him that maybe she felt the same about him, but his head kept pushing those feelings away.

"But what do I do now?" He questioned to the empty room. With a sigh, he pulled himself off the door and looked over at the clock on his night stand. 11:13.. Peyton would be here soon and he still had a lot to do to get ready for their "lunch date".

A smile breaking on his face, he walked over to the grocery bag and picked it up off the floor.

He knew he could have things ready in about 20 minutes, but he wanted to shower before she got there. He walked in to the kitchen and turned the oven on, allowing it time to preheat while he was in the shower.

He quickly walked into the bathroom, pulling off his shirt on the way. He actually felt nervous about her coming over. As if they hadn't spent the night together.

"You didn't know then what you know now" he quipped as he drew back the shower curtain and stepped in to the tub.

Black

Black.. that is the mood she is in, that is the color she is painting with. As she dips the paintbrush into the dark liquid, she thinks black is the color of death.

The color she is most familiar with.

So it is no surprise that she is painting over the remains of her friendship, the end of an era.. a decade long friendship, with Black paint.

Maybe Brooke was right, maybe she is selfish, because it just doesn't hurt like she thought it would. Has her heart finally shriveled and died in her chest? Has it gone black just like the rest of her world?

Closing her eyes, she can still see the image of Brooke in his arms. Shaking her head she tried to dislodge the image as she moved over to the closet doors.

She hates these doors, hates what they represent. The funny thing is that she has hated them ever since the day Brooke had strolled in and written on them. "Without my permission" she adds with a grimace. That was just like Brooke though, to do something just because she wanted to, not bothering to wonder if anyone else might have an objection.

"Bitterness doesn't become you Sawyer" she quipps as she dips the brush in to the paint and removes the excess on the sides of the drip pan.

Taking the brush in herhand she starts on her own door first, with wide strokes she watching the black paint flow over the door. Quickly covering Jake's name, she felt a pang of regret in her heart. Why couldn't he be the one? She questioned as she watched his name disappear beneath the dark liquid.

Why couldn't it be as easy as just making up your mind and saying okay HE is the one I am going to love?

For a while she thought she could, hoped that he could love enough for the both of them. That his love for her would hold them together. That it didn't matter that he didn't make her pulse race. So what that she didn't smile when she said his name. She could learn to live with the fact that she didn't crave to be near him when he wasn't around.

But it wasn't enough. In the end her traitorous heart had betrayed her. Her subconscious had spoken the words she had feared to utter out loud.

"You said "I love you" ..."You said "I love you, Lucas"

Hearing her cell phone ringing brought her out of her thoughts. She dropped the brush in the pan and walked over to her desk. Picking it up, she flipped it open.

((LUCAS Home calling))…

With shaking hands she shut it back. Looking at the clock on her desk it read 11:42. With a strangled laugh, she choked "Don't want to hear about why lunch isn't happening. I am surprised you came up for breath" Shethrew the phone back on the desk and walked back to the closet doors.

Shaking her head, she looked at the door almost completely covered with paint and sighed. Enough was enough, she thought with a smirk. "I screwed up" she half laughed, "time to suck it up and move on."

Sliding the brush back into the paint,she pushed the paint around the pan. Feeling the quiet finally seeping in, she glanced up at her stereo. Dropping the brush once again, she moved over to it and flipped it on.

Turning the music up, She heard the familiar sounds and immediately felt better. She felt as if her music had become almost a stranger to her. Brooke couldn't standher musicand she hadn't wanted another "your going to go deaf" lecture from her father, so she hadn't listened to it.

"But they are gone now" she snarked as she reached over and turned it up a little more. The music blared through the house, the familiar rhythm flowing through her, she turned and looked at "her" door.

Taking the brush she covered her name and immediately felt a little vindicated. "The sad part is I think I called her my best friend more out of habit than the term of affection it was supposed to be." She says out loud as the black paint began to cover Brooke's name.

How strange was it that the simple act of covering a mistake could free your soul like that.

"You were my disease, but I am finally free of your septic infection" she sung out the lyrics to the song as she finished painting the door.

Laying the brush down and stepping back, she took in the sight. The paint was streaked and too light in most places, but the quick paint job was temporary. She would replace it with something better.

She just needed to figure out what that something better was.

Hearing her stomach growl in disapproval she glanced over at the clock again. 12:15 .. no wonder she was hungry.

With a grin, she thought about a cheeseburger and fries with vigor. Grabbing her keys off the desk she headed out the door. She could satisfy her belly while the paint dried and she came up with something to replace the memories.While she was out she might as well grab a gallon of ice cream and a movie, she thought as she walked toward the door, Nothing helped inspiration like ice cream.

Jogging down the stairs, she didn't hear her cell phone ringing as it lay forgotten on her desk.

Please review, I know, I know I sound like a broken record, but I really enjoy hearing what you think! M.