Outside the room, Lucas could have sworn he had had a heart attack. Brooke… loves him? "Shocked" was a bit of an understatement. How could Brooke have kept anything like this under wraps for so long? Even she couldn't do that for so many years. Thoughts and ideas and contradictions ran rampant through Lucas's brain, going too fast for him to even latch onto and consider. Not really thinking through his clouded mind, Lucas looked into the room, and was almost as shocked as he had been thirty seconds ago.
Brooke was standing with her back to Jamie, in that vulnerable, scared way that Lucas had grown accustomed to, but that he hadn't seen in a while. A silent tear was rolling down her crumpled face.
"Uncle Lucas?" Jamie said, breaking the seemingly perfect silence, stillness.
Lucas quickly withdrew behind the safety of the wall. For a second, he thought that Jamie had spotted him, until he realized that Jamie was just confirming Brooke's answer. Although his mind was swimming, Lucas still heard Brooke whisper, "We—we shouldn't talk about his anymore, ok?" Brooke breathed in with a small laugh, and Lucas could see her in his mind's eye: desperately trying to compose herself, her back still to Jamie, wiping her eyes and smiling to try and rid hers face of red eyes or any sign of sadness, withdrawing back behind her network of protective walls. Lucas, though he was behind the wall, could still see all of her features clearly in his head. He should have; he knew them almost as well as his own.
Within a second, Lucas realized that he didn't want to be here when Brooke came out; joke or no joke, he didn't want to face her after a revelation like that. That's why he jumped when Brooke said, "Ok, Jamie, I'll be downstairs if you need me, but try not to need me." Brooke laughed out these last few lines, but it was a high, obviously forced laugh. Lucas quickly ducked, and flew silently down the hall, and he didn't stop when he reached the door. He threw it open as quietly as he could and darted outside. He hadn't brought a car, so Lucas just kept right on running.
It's funny, really, when emotion fuels a person's energy, makes them feel alive. Lucas had read stories about mother's who had lifted cars off their children in a crisis, or other things like that. But the next day, when they tried to do it again, they wouldn't be able to move the car an inch. This was what Lucas was experiencing now; maybe not on that level, but he could feel the energy coursing through his veins, pumping through his body.
This was the same thing that had happened on the eve of Keith's death: after the news, after the shock had cut through his body and anger, sadness, fear had all set in, Lucas had risen from his bed, slowly, silently, and walked through the kitchen where his mom was sobbing on the table. He ignored her, striding with his jaw set right to the back door, where he threw it open and stood there just for a minute, observing the world without Keith. Lucas couldn't understand. The earth should have stopped, people should be inside, didn't they realize that he was gone? Even the sweet night air seemed heavy and sour. The tree's overhead seemed to sway with a sickening, poignant motion: back and forth, back and forth.
And that was when he ran.
Lucas didn't know where he was going. On the contrary, he just wanted to go somewhere and not think, just be alone. He had yelled at Brooke earlier, and now as he thought about it, the gravity of that weighed down on him, adding to his bowed shoulders. There was something comforting in the steady tattoo of his feet pounding on the pavement, each separate step a small release of his sorrows, each increase in speed a relief. Before he knew it, had had run five miles and he was breathing hard, but while he was running, a manic electricity had possessed him and pushed him, fueling his legs and body.
He was doing that now. Running, not from something, but with something.
Faster and faster, until the world flew by him at a blur and he was no longer in control
Even at the speed he as running, it took him over ten minutes to get home. Panting hard, not realizing how he had been gasping for breath on the run, Lucas staggered into his room and collapsed onto the bed, completely and utterly spent emotionally and physically.
Hours later, or it could have been seconds, Lucas would never know in the darkness, he rolled off his bed. Hours of idling had never done him good; so for lack of anything better to do, he wandered around his room. Finally, his eyes alighted on the closet.
Of course, what better way to distract myself than dig through that mess, Lucas thought to himself, and he kneeled down, opening the wooden doors. What a thing to be doing, in the midst of deliberations like his.
"Old shoes, a basketball," Lucas murmured, "A report card— ooh boy, that's not great." It was from senior year, during basketball season. Between practice and Brooke's "study sessions" (which consisted of nothing even resembling studying), Lucas hadn't really found any time to study, so his grades had slipped a little. Brooke may have become more chaste since her first heartbreak, but there had always been that sexy, seductive aide of her flitting just beneath her virtuous surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge. And, Lucas thought with a grin, we certainly had a lot of moments.
A few more minutes of digging rewarded Lucas with a Carolina poster, a license plate that he had been looking for, an old, heavy shoebox covered in dust, another pair of shoes (When was the last time I cleaned this out? Lucas thought), and finally a cell phone that must have been from junior year, back in '06.
Half laughing over a photo album that he had thumbed through, Lucas made to open the heavy shoebox.
As soon as he saw the contents of the box, it slipped from his grasp.
"There are 82 letters in this box, and they're all addressed to you. I wrote them all this summer, one a day, but I never sent them because I was afraid."
"Brooke—"
"I was afraid of getting my heart broken again, like before? Cos you hurt me so bad, I was afraid to be vulnerable. And I was afraid of you, and the way that you make me feel. And I know that doesn't matter now, after what I did, but I just thought you should know. This is how I spent my summer, Luke. Wanting you. I was just too scared to admit it."
She had left his doorway without another word, knowing that he probably wasn't going to say anything either. Hell, she would be surprised if she didn't find the letters in the garbage can tomorrow morning, after what she had done.
But Lucas knew he would never do that. No matter his anger at her, he never would. They would be with him forever.
Countless, multi-colored envelopes littered the floor around his bed. He lifted them with shuddering hands, almost afraid to touch them because they seemed so fragile. It wasn't that they were physically delicate; they were an extension of the vulnerable girl who had written them, therefore transferring some of that openness into her writing. He placed them back into the box carefully, wanting to preserve that openness as much as he could.
When everything was returned, Lucas sat back on his bed with a sigh, the box still on his lap. Brooke.
"How many moments can you look at and say, "That's where it all changed?" Well, you just had one."
"I've never given a rat's ass before," … "I give a rat's ass about you, too,"
"I want to know everything about you,"
"People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end,"
"I really liked being the girl behind the red door,"…. "I'll miss the girl behind the red door,"
"I wasn't ready to lose you"… "I wasn't ready to be lost. Thank you, Luke."
"What I wanted? I wanted you to fight for me…"
"I'm the guy for you, Brooke Davis,"
"…because you kink your eyebrow, when you're trying to be cute? Because you quote Keimu even though I've never actually seen you read. And because you miss your parents but you'll never ever admit that. And because, we're both, gonna get pneumonia, but if you need to hear why I love you, I can go on all night."…"You did pretty good."
"I promise to rescue you, as long as you rescue me back," …. "I promise."
Brooke. Crazy, insane, wild-child Brooke Davis.
The girl he wasn't meant to be with.
It was supposed to be simple: He and Peyton were meant to be…
"I'll be seeing you…"
"You can't control love, you know?"
"I want this, and I want it with you. All of it."
"It's you, Peyton…the one I want next to me."
"If I said I loved you right now, would you hold it against me?"
"I think we've waited long enough,"
Prom night. Derek. Everything they shared seemed to be a symbol of Lucas and Peyton. Destiny, people said. But Lucas always thought that destiny would have never thrown in Brooke Davis…
Lucas fell back onto his bed, mind spinning in a million different directions.
Peyton…
Brooke…
"So, how am I doing so far?"
Mouth and Millicent walked down the road, away from the restaurant, hand in hand. The dark and broody mood that Lucas was in right now, miles away, was the exact opposite of the couple. They were in a light, fun humor, laughing and talking, away from all the drama.
"Well, I think you are doing excellent, Marvin," Millicent answered. "What's up next?"
Mouth smiled. "The Riverwalk. C'mon." He turned and led her across the street.
A few minutes later, Millicent breathed in the fresh air that was rising off the cold river. The two sat on the waist high railing that ran the entire length of the Riverwalk. "How about I get us the quintessential 'date ice creams'?" Mouth offered, and Millicent laughed. "Ok, then, I'll be back in a minute."
Watching him, Millicent thought Mouth looked very handsome in his dark jeans and plain, button-down black shirt. It was a simple, classic look that worked very well with Mouth. Millicent was wearing a knee-length dress that Brooke had given her just that afternoon, especially for the date.
It wasn't that it was their first date; rather that Mouth made it sound so… distinguished, that she thought she should dress up more than usual. And she was glad she did. Her whole ensemble fit quite well with Mouth and the date, classy but casual, dressy and relaxed; it just worked.
Well, it did, until Mouth came back with the ice creams. "Hey, I got you—" As he walked forward he, in classic Mouth fashion, tripped.
It was almost like Millicent was watching from afar. The ice creams didn't arc melodramatically through the air, twisting and convulsing like in the movies; they shot like arrows right into her chest, splattering. But of course, it didn't end there. Mouth, in a desperate, involuntary attempt to stay upright, grabbed onto Millicent. Millicent, in an alarmed, frightened effort to grab him, put one of her hands behind her to steady herself.
Not realizing that there wasn't anything behind her, Millicent put all her weight on the hand that was on the non-existent rail behind her.
And fell into the river.
Luckily, this section of the river was wide and shallow, and Millicent dropped right into a waist deep, sandy bed.
"Millicent!" Mouth shouted, taking off his shoes, thinking that she must have fallen into an eddy when he didn't hear her voice. He quickly jumped onto the rail, the froze. "Crap," he muttered, looking at the dark water. Mouth had never been good in these sort of situations. He—
"Jump, boy! Your dame has fallen into the goddamn river!" Came a heavy Irish voice from behind him.
"What?" Mouth said right before he jumped the ten-foot drop.
The murky water swirled around him as he made his way to the top, where light was filtering down from the walk above him. Though it was only waist deep right below the bridge, Mouth had jumped into deeper waters and swum to the base of the Riverwalk. "Millicent? Millicent!" Mouth cried in a desperate panic when he reached the surface and didn't see her. He spun rapidly in the water, trying to part it as if Millicent was hiding right below the surface.
"Right here," called a laughing voice from under the bridge. Mouth turned to see a soaked Millicent waving at him from some rocks.
"Oh my god, are you ok?" asked Mouth, coming over and panting in relief.
"I'm fine, I was just counting the time until you jumped in. It was about eighteen seconds; what took you so long?"
Mouth laughed in nervous relief, not thinking of anything to say. "It's because the damn boy panicked before he jumped!" yelled the Irish voice from above them. Mouth bit his lip and looked up before returning his gaze to a giggling Millicent. He shrugged a sheepish apology.
"It's alright, I knew you would," Millicent told him, standing up. "Just like you're going to catch me!" Without warning, she leapt into the air and into the water next to him.
Laughing, the couple wrapped their arms around each other, feeling completely alien to this adventurous spirit that was flowing through them. However, Millicent decided to act on it. Leaning in, she kissed Mouth gently while the dark water churned around them, sparkling with the reflections from the many lights on the Riverwalk.
"Oi! Are you two coming up, or should I come back tomorrow?" It was the man from above, leaning over the rail and holding a rope out to the pair. Mouth grinned, looking up.
"We'll be up in a minute!" Then he kissed Millicent back.