I Will Keep the Bad Things From You
A/N: I Updated sooner than I thought I would, just cause I love this story a lot. You won't be waiting too long on Soon Enough, even though, yes, I know I said I would UD last night.
Patience is key.
Thank you to all my lovelies, especially Cami, Chey, Cas, and Leah, who get the pleasure of listening to me ramble on about this story like 24/7. I thank you all for putting up with my antics.
xo
Emma
Chapter 2
For Blue Skies
It's been a long year, since we last spoke
How's your halo?
Just between you and I
You and me and the satellites
I never believed you. I only wanted to, before all this
What did I miss?
Do you ever get homesick?I can't get used to it
- Strays Don't Sleep
The weekend goes by and on Tuesday, 4 days after the incident, the morgue calls.
Brooke is eternally grateful that she picks up the phone, rather than Lucas or, worse, Karen. She keeps her composure long enough to get out a few full sentences, and to hang up in a professional manner, but once the call is over she barely makes it to the bathroom before she's heaving into the toilet. Nothing comes out except water. It isn't until now that she realizes she hasn't eaten in two days. She sinks to the floor, leaning her back against the cool tile of the bathtub.
The knob to the bathroom door turns, and she doesn't have time to pick herself up off the floor before he's standing right there in the doorway. She looks up at him – taking in his wrinkled shirt and boxers – his facial hair starting to grow in ever so lightly, his hair mussed on the top of his head.
"Hey." His voice his raspy from his lack of speech in the past few days, but it still sounds soft and soothing as he kneels down next to her on the floor.
She feels ashamed for crying, and she feels ashamed for being so fuckingtired, but as the tears pool down her face and she tries to brush them away with one hand, he takes her hand in his and tries to soothe her.
She feels ashamed that he has to rescue her, when right now, it should be the other way around.
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She goes for a run later that afternoon, stopping by her eerily empty apartment to change into sweatpants and a vest. The cold air stings against her cheeks and she runs until her lungs burn, pushing all of her anger and exhaustion into the pavement beneath her.
The familiar ring of her cell phone interrupts her run, and she pauses by the side of the road to answer.
"Brooke?" Haley's soothing tone drifts across the line.
"Hey Hales," she breathes heavily, trying to catch her breath, putting a hand to the stich in her side.
"I was just calling you to check up on you. I stopped by the apartment yesterday to pick up some clothes to bring to Nathan's, and you weren't there."
"Yeah, I've been trying to help out Lucas and Karen."
Brooke wants to ask how Haley is, how Nathan is, how Deb is, before she realizes that the question in general is stupid. Nobody is fine. Nobody is gonna' be fine for a long time. So instead, she asks the next question that pops into her mind.
"Can I come over?"
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Of course Haley doesn't object. Nathan is the one to answer the door, and he gives Brooke a soft and understanding nod, before once again ascending the stairs, calling for Haley, and locking himself in the bedroom.
There is a long much-needed hug and then Haley digs the ice cream out of the freezer, because they both agree it will make them feel better. Even so, neither of them are hungry (It's too cold outside for ice cream anyway) and it ends up sitting forgotten on the counter.
They curl up under the blankets in the living room, and turn on the TV. Nothings on but daytime soaps so they turn down the volume and start talking.
They talk for what seems like hours. In these moments, bundled warm and safe under the blankets in Haley's living room, listening to one of her best friends soothing voice move softly through the air, Brooke is happy. In these moments, she doesn't want to return to the cold, dark house, where the fiancé of the deceased isn't much but a shadow in her bed, and the nephew's eyes are blank, not really seeing much of anything anymore.
She doesn't want to be reminded.
The dark moves in, and Brooke sees Haley's eyelids begin to close. Brooke checks the time on her phone. It's 6:48.
"I should probably get going."
Haley doesn't object, just nods. They stand from the couch. "Hey," says Haley, taking Brooke's arm. "Have you been to see Peyton?"
A lump settles in Brooke's throat. She falters slightly. "No, uh, I haven't gotten a chance. I was thinking maybe tomorrow."
"Okay, well, I'll go with you. I haven't gotten a chance to see her yet either. I was gonna' wait until she got discharged – hospitals, you know, I hate them. But if you're going, I might as well."
"Yeah." Brooke gives a small fake smile. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
As she steps outside, she realizes that she's going to have to face what she's been avoiding all week. Seeing her best friend. It makes Brooke feel angry at herself, in a way. That she's basically ignored Peyton, who could have very possibly died, in favor of taking are of Lucas.
But is that really it? Is that really why she hasn't been to see Peyton? No, she ultimately admits to herself as she picks up a light jog. It's because if she steps into that hospital, smelling the sterile environment that makes her gag, she's going to feel guilty. If she has to see goldilocks lying in a hospital bed, with her leg bandaged up, she's going to feel guilty. If she has to be reminded that she just left her best friend behind, she's going to feel guilty.
She already feels guilty enough.
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Instead of going back to Lucas', her feet propel her back to the apartment. She unlocks the door, steps into the chilly and empty living room, unzips her vest, and opens the refrigerator. Her hunger has finally crept up on her, but even as she digs into week-old sesame noodles and a diet coke, she doesn't feel any better.
Brooke figures that maybe she should just give Lucas some time. That maybe she's been too overbearing. Maybe he just needs space. So she turns on the television and tries to put her mind on something other than Lucas. But even though her favorite show is on, she can't really focus on Ross and Rachel, and whether or not they were on a break, so she turns off the TV and goes to bed.
It's 8:17.
She pulls on an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Crawling under the crisp and cold sheets, her hand brushes across the pillow on the left hand side that always smells like Lucas.
As she pulls the pillow close to her, and breathes in his smell of peppermint and soap, she all of a sudden feels very alone. The moonlight is shining in through the shades, sending stripes of light across her bed. The rest of the room is dark.
She tries to relax as her head falls across the pillow, but all Brooke can really concentrate on is the red light of her alarm clock.
8:19
8:24
8:37
Somehow she has fallen asleep because she awakes with a start when the door to the apartment slams shut. Sitting up in bed, Brooke glances quickly at the clock.
11:03.
"Brooke!"
She's a little more than shocked to hear Lucas' frantic voice echoing through the apartment.
"Brooke! Are you here?" His words sound strangled and on the edge of hysteria. She scrambled from the sheets and runs into the hallway.
"Luke, what's wrong?" She moves quickly to where he stands in the living room.
He sinks into a chair and grabs on to her arms. "I fell asleep, and when I woke up, you hadn't come back, and you weren't picking up your phone, and I…I just got so scared." His voice shakes and when he finally looks up at her, Brooke is stunned to see that he's crying.
"Broody," she says soothingly, putting her hands on his knees. "It's okay, I'm here."
He nods, trying desperately to swallow his tears. "Don't…just don't…" his voice shakes. "Don't scare me like that again. I – I can't lose you. Not you too."
She tilts his chin up. "Hey." He tries to look past her, but she forces him to put his eyes on her. "Hey," she soothes. "You are not going to lose me." Her last statement is firm, sure, because she knows he needs it to be sure.
She's caught off guard when his lips fall on to hers. It's not a peck, it's not emotionless. The kiss is soft, full. He lets his palm cup her cheek as she begins to cry as well, and tears mix along both their faces. He gently slips his tongue inside her mouth and she steps closer to him.
The kiss is long, and they both eventually break away in need for air. Their foreheads rest against each other, and they just stand like that for awhile, lost in each others eyes, lost in each others tears.
Eventually he takes her hand in his, leading her into the bedroom. They lay down in the sheets which don't feel nearly as cold anymore, and this time Brooke doesn't need the pillow to catch his scent – peppermint and soap.
He pulls her body as close as possible to his, and she lets him hold her as tightly as he needs to as they both drift into a long awaited peaceful sleep, because she's letting him know he's not going to lose her.
He can'tlose her.