Soon Enough

A/N: I spent my evening writing this update. It's been forever and a day, and I just felt so shitty after that recent Mark interview, where he basically shattered all of BLers hopes. I won't go into a rant, because that will last for pages and pages, but the least I could do is give you guy something to read. Maybe it will help to live in the fictional fictional world, for a little while reminiscing in what BL could be, if "4 years later" was written by us fanfiction writers. Anyway, enjoy, although this chapter is a little bit emo.

Chapter 14

Where Love Went Wrong

Nathan Scott likes to think that he's over beating people up. Haley changed him, way back in high school, and definitely for the better. He likes to think that nowadays, he stays out of drama. He likes to think those things. But they aren't true.

He and Brooke had never been particularly close. When they were younger – yes. They had grown up together, gotten drunk for the first time together, and, on one stupid occasion, slept together. But since they were probably 13 or 14, he can't think of more than a few meaningful conversations the two have shared.

It's a shame really. He's come to the conclusion that he and the dimpled brunette distance themselves from each other because they are both ashamed of their pasts. They have seen each other at their worst's, and neither of them want to be reminded of what life was like before they formed their tight group of friends.

But it's times like these – when someone hurts the girl that he grew up with – that he gets angry. It's times like these – when someone insults the girl that his brother is too scared to admit he loves – that he wants revenge. It's times like these that force him to make stupid decisions. Like sneaking out of the house.

He feels like he's cheating on Haley, in a way. Which is an absurd thought, really. Since the last time he even thought about having sex with another woman was when, last year, Haley had made him make an elevator list of the women he was allowed to sleep with, if they had been stuck in an elevator. Her list was composed of Matt Damon, Christian Bale, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and John Mayer.

"So basically anyone that was in Oceans 11," he had said in a drone, causing her to defend herself with numbers 2 and 5.

Nathans list wasn't exactly unpredictable. Kate Bosworth, Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Aniston, Kate Hudson, and Gwyneth Paltrow. He had considered putting Taylor James on the list as a joke, but Haley would have most likely retaliated with Christ Keller, and he didn't exactly need another can of worms opened.

It's been so long since he's lied to her, and what he has to do is absolutely necessary. Brooke had gone home with Lucas, and Nathan knows that never in his right mind would Lucas leave Brooke, even it was to seek revenge on the guy who had hurt her. So it's Nathan's job – he's taken it upon himself to protect his family – and that doesn't just mean Haley and Jamie. But all their friends – even Peyton, wherever the hell she disappeared to.

He checks The Riverside first, the hotel he had heard that jackass was staying. But according to the receptionist, he hasn't returned for the evening. So Nathan heads across the street to the Blue Post. He'll stay out all night, and check every bar in town if that's what it takes.

The Blue Post is muggy with cigarette smoke, and seems to have gotten slimier since the last time Nathan was in here – which was, if he was accurate in his estimates, four years ago. It takes him less than a minute to find the head of shaggy hair, slumped over at the bar, downing a Jack Daniels.

"You have two options," Nathan says, sliding on to the stool next to him. "One: You can walk quietly out the front door with me so we can talk in the parking lot. Or two: you can force me to cause a scene. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for your so-called reputation.

Miles Ackerman is a big name in the male modeling industry lately. He's been in plenty of Calvin Klein ads – enough, at least, for Nathan to have already labeled him as a douche bag, without even knowing about his relationship with Brooke.

"Let me guess…" Miles swings on the barstool to face the younger Scott brother. "You're sleeping with her too."

"I'm not passed kicking your prissy little ass all the way back to the 5th avenue apartment your daddy pays for."

Miles is silent, simply picks off the label on his beer. Then he speaks. "You know…I can understand why you want to beat me up, man. But see…I don't care about being an asshole. Instead of attempting to beat the living shit out of me, though, I thought you'd like to know a little bit about your so-called friend."

"I'd like to think I know Brooke Davis a hell of a lot better than you do."

"Maybe you do," Miles shrugs. "But you didn't spend almost a month with her when she was in deep."

"What do you mean?" Nathan doesn't mean to sound so curious, but he can't help it.

Miles laughs. "According to her mother, when I met Brooke, she had been going through a lot of shit for the past year. After she spent the night with some guy and broke up with her sissy "virgin" boyfriend. All I wanted to do was sleep with her. I mean, she was hot, right?" Nathan feels his fist clenching. "But she came with all this baggage. She was drinking all the time, and taking like 18 different anti-depressants. So, even if she had let me screw her, most nights she passed out the minute she got home."

He can't listen to this anymore. Listen to the rant of a guy who seems to know Brooke better than anyone in Tree Hill. Or rather, know the way she spent her past four years. And suddenly, Brooke Davis isn't the girl Nathan knew in high school. Suddenly, he's scared for her.

"Still want to beat me up? Or do you want to hear more?" Miles laughs – or cackles more like it, and returns his attention to the basketball game currently playing on the television screen.

Nathan stands – pissed off, bitter, confused, upset. He turns to go, but in a moment of weakness, refocuses his attention on Miles, and throws a punch to the model's jaw.

Miles falls of the barstool with a groan, and the bar erupts with confused yells, and a handful of whooping from drunk businessmen looking to watch a fight. He doesn't pick himself up, but Nathan doesn't stay to finish. He's out the door without a backwards glance.

;;;

She's in his bed – her short locks spread across the pillow she used to love. He had given her some shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in, with assurances that he would spend the night on the couch. But she had made that little "guh" sound that he loved so much, and asked him to stay with her. He had promised, not only because there is no way in the world he could deny her anything, but because he missed lying next to her in bed, listening to her breathe – softly, slowly.

He comes back from the bathroom, pulls his shirt over his head, and lies down next to her. The air is awkward, mainly because both are trying not to think about the kiss they shared only minutes ago. The ceiling fan is on, moving around the hot August air, and both lie atop the sheets, rather than under them.

"Luke? Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"How's your eye?"

He laughs. "I think I'll be okay…how're you doing?"

"I think I'll be okay."

"Look, Brooke…"

She interrupts him. "I'm sorry, Lucas." Her voice cracks as she speaks.

Lucas turns his head to look at her. She's staring straight at the ceiling, her eyes glossed over. She looks so lost, but then again, he can't remember a time recently where she didn't look lost.

"For what?"

"For…for you having to step in with Miles. It's not really your job to rescue me," she adds as an afterthought.

"Really? I kind-of remember promising you that I would."

Brooke turns her head and their eyes meet. He's immediately transported back 4 years to a night similar to this, when he had told a pretty girl that he would protect her.

"Sometimes I just wish you could rescue me."

"From what?"

"From all of it."

"Okay then. I will. If you promise to rescue me back."

"I promise."

"That was a long time ago, Luke."

"That doesn't make it any less important."

Brooke sighs. He wonder's how they got here – reminiscing on a relationship that was supposed to be over in high school.

"It's still important," he reiterates, swallowing slightly.

"But it's not!" Brooke exclaims, sitting up in bed. He finds her with his eyes through the dim moonlight. She runs a hand through her hair. "Why do you keep getting caught up in things that happened years ago? We were in high school, for god's sake!"

"You can't pretend that our relationship didn't happen, Brooke," Lucas answers, sitting up in bed as well.

"Yeah, just like you can't pretend you're relationship with Peyton didn't happen."

She said it. And the room seems to grow colder. She opens her mouth to speak again, but then shuts it, and averts her gaze to her lap.

"And just like you can't pretend we didn't kiss an hour ago."

More silence. And then, she stands. "I shouldn't have agreed to stay," she mutters, flushed.
"Brooke..." Lucas protests, but she's already pulling the t-shirt over her head to reveal her black bra. She reaches for her dress and holds it in her right hand.

"You want to know why we didn't work as a couple, Lucas?" She puts her hands on her hips and Lucas averts his gaze, in order not to stare. "Because of things like this! You never understood me, I never understood you, and we didn't understand each other's insecurities!"

"You mean your stupid childish insecurities when it came to Peyton?" he spits out harshly.

She yanks the dress over her head and pulls off the boxers she was wearing. "You know what? Yeah! Do you want to know why I was so insecure about you and Peyton? Because you guys had this epic love story, and I was the ditzy whore who just fell in to your life! When it comes down to it, no matter how hard you tried, you could never love me as much as you loved her!"

Lucas stares at her, standing there, party dress wrinkled, mascara smudged. And he wonders, who could he have ever not loved her? "You know what? Yeah. You're right. I couldn't. I didn't love you as much as I loved her." He pauses. "I loved you more. Brooke – you don't get it. You were the first girl I ever really dated, the first girl I slept with, but most importantly, you were the first girl I ever fell in love with. If you are so insecure to think that I was in love with Peyton junior year, then you're seriously mistaken."

Brooke looks away from him, a fire entering her eyes. Then she speaks softly, slowly. "I liked to think you wouldn't cheat on me for anything less than love."

He sighs – defeated. Nothing he can say or do will change her mind.

"I don't want you to think that I never loved you," he finally manages to say.

"Then what do you want, Lucas? What exactly is it that we're doing here? Because until you can answer me that, there's no reason that we should be having this conversation."

"Do you even know what you want?" he retorts, unable to answer her question.

"I want things to be like they used to."

She says it so quickly, that it shocks him. Lucas is unused to Brooke being this upfront about her emotions, but she's staring him down in such a way, that he almost has to look away.

"When? How they used to be when? When we were together?" he takes a step towards her.

"Sometimes," she concedes. "But that's not what I mean. I want things to be how they used to be when I didn't feel."

"How can you even say that?"

"I'm tired of feeling bad" she responds, in choked words. "It's better to feel nothing at all. It's easier." Her voice is starting to crack.

"It's not easier, Brooke." He shakes his head and puts his hands on her hips.

"I can't…I c-can't." She begins to cry, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. He envelops her in his arms for a few moments, her small frame shuddering as she sobs. The once quiet house is filled with the sound of her quavering voice.

He begins to undress her again – pulls the dress back over her head. He picks up the clothing she had cast away on the floor and gently helps her back into the t-shirt and shorts. She's still crying – her face red and wet with her tears, and all Lucas can do is guide her to the bed.

Brooke doesn't protest, although he has assumed she would. He lies her down across the mattress, and wraps his large frame around her smaller one. His entire body shakes with her sobs, and his heart breaks a little more with every one of her tears.

He holds on to her tightly, as her sobs eventually subside and she slips into a restless sleep. And even after that he holds on, because even though she is the one who needs him right now, he still needs her.

;;;

It's one of the more cloudy days lately, and the overcast sky doesn't do much for her current emotional state. Brooke can barely think, let alone drive, and she has to consider it a miracle that she makes it to Nathan and Haley's in one piece. The house seems fairly silent as she pulls up the driveway, but then again, it's barely 8 in the morning on a Sunday.

She sits in her car for a few minutes, just staring at the house of a family who somehow managed to pull it all together, before making the decision to actually approach the steps to the front door. She doesn't want to ring the doorbell, but she realizes she doesn't have to, as the black oak door opens, and a small blonde boy steps out.

"Aunt Brooke!" Jamie squeals, running in to her arms.

Brooke smiles, a soft one meant only for Jamie, as the hugs the little boy. "Hey buddy, how're you doing?"

"I'm okay," Jamie shrugs. "But mommy and daddy aren't up yet. Were you looking for them?"

Brooke looks up at the second floor windows, somewhat absentmindedly, and then turns her attention back to Jamie. "No, actually, it's okay. I actually kind-of wanted to talk to you, if that's okay."

Jamie shrugs, and Brooke kneels down on the grass. He's standing on the first step to the porch, so when she's kneeling, they are pretty much at eye level.

"You know how much I love you, and how much I love spending time with you, and your mom and dad, and uncle Lucas and Skillz and Mouth. But there are some people back in New York, the city I came from, that need me to be there for them."

Like who?

"You're leaving?" Jamie asks, dejectedly.

Brooke nods, a defeated sigh escaping her lips. "You probably won't see me for awhile, buddy. But I promise that I will come back to visit you as much as I can, okay?"

"I'm gonna' miss you, Aunt Brooke," Jamie says, matter-of-factly, and Brooke's heart breaks a little bit.

"I'm going to miss you too, James Lucas Scott. But, I need you to do me a favor."

"No problem. Team Brooke!" Jamie exclaims excitedly, and Brooke has to chuckle a little.

"I need you to take care of Uncle Lucas for me. He may not admit it, but he needs someone to look after him. Do you think you can do that, little guy?"

Jamie nods vigorously. "You can count on me, Brooke." He pauses. "Were you ever in love with Uncle Lucas?"

Brooke averts her gaze downwards. "Maybe I still am," she says, wiping the tears that have started to form in her eyes."

"Are you sad, Aunt Brooke? Is that why you're crying?"

"Yeah, something like that," she whispers.

;;;

Lucas wakes up abruptly, to an empty bedroom, bathed in the dim light from the overcast day. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the form he was curled around is now gone, but that she's left a scent of lilacs and strawberries. The part of the bed she was lying on still feels warm.

He realizes that he had expected this. Expected her to pick up and leave, because she was ashamed of confronting him after last night. Ashamed of letting him see her broken and vulnerable. But he hadn't expected to feel so empty without her. He had woken up numerous times in the night, relishing in the feel of her body flush up against his, in the feel of her even breathing against her chest.

She's left him a note. He can see it from where he lies in bed, propped up on the bedside table, and he already has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They hadn't even slept together, and it still feels like her running away after a one-night stand.

He manages to stand up and drag himself into the kitchen. It isn't until he's got a cup of coffee in one hand and is sitting at the table, slightly more awake, that he works up the courage to open the letter. It says "Lucas" on the front, in sloppy writing, that is so uncharacteristic of Brooke. But then again, lately Brooke hasn't been the girl he thought he knew.

Lucas,

Sometimes, in the past few years, in the middle of a huge fashion show, or a stressful meeting, I would close my eyes and think of you. Sometimes I'd wonder where you are – coaching at basketball practice, or maybe taking Lily to the park. Perhaps you would be at the Rivercourt with Nathan, or throwing milk balloons with Haley on the roof of Karen's café.

Sometimes, I'd think of what we used to be. When we both had plenty of affection to go around, and were so head-over-heels in love, that we were too blind sighted to see the rest of the world.

But the rest of the world exists, Lucas. People get in the way, and things get in the way, and life gets in the way. And more often then not, the person you think you're destined to be with, slips away from you.

For you, it was Peyton. And before you freak out, and burn this letter, along with those other 82, just listen. In the beginning, it was Peyton. You guys were soul mates – destined to be together from the day you told her that her art matters.

But then we happened. And your whole view on destiny and love was rearranged. Suddenly, it was all about us. Eventually, it turned back into being about Peyton, but for awhile, it was only you and me, Luke.

For me, it was you. This may hurt to hear, or you may love to hear it, but you were the only boy I ever loved. The only one I could ever give my heart fully to. And it hurt, because I always knew that part of yours belonged to someone else.

I'm not writing this to you to tell you that you love Peyton. I'm using you and my best friend as an example of a relationship that was supposed to be meant to be, until life got in the way. And suddenly, it wasn't.

Like with us. I love you Lucas. And I know that I always will. But it's not just about us, and what you want, and what I want. It's about what the world let's happen. And I can't live anymore of my life in the kind of amazingly painful love that came with being with you.

I'm going back to New York. My time in Tree Hill has been amazing, and you've given me so much. But Luke, learn to live, and learn to be happy. I don't know when we'll see each other again. And if you love me, if you really love me, let go of me.

xoxo

Your Pretty Girl