Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill or the lyrics of the amazing song Red to black by Fort minor.
AN: First of all, I wanna say thank you to everyone that reviewed and/or put this story to alerts, I really did not expect this kind of a response. It made me smile. And the credit for me grinning at my monitor like a complete idiot goes to you guys so thanks for that :)
Chapter 2: Red to black
He's dying to get away
let the pain of yesterday go slipping thru the cracks
Hiding himself away
watching all the memories fade away
from red to black...
-BL-
Irritated and more than a little worn out, Lucas rubbed his tired eyes for the fifteenth time that night, turning on his king-sized bed in order to face his only companion on that rainy Sunday evening - the blank screen of his laptop that lay a few inches away from his face. The old bed squeaked under restrain as he tried to get into a more comfortable position in order to see the screen better, hoping that this way he'd finally be able to get some job done. But instead he found himself staring absently at that blinking cursor that mocked his inability to write. It flashed in steady, even intervals, matching the beating of his heart on this slow afternoon.
Which was a good thing, most days. He was grateful. But at what cost?
Breathing didn't equal living in his book. He was disappearing slowly, with every day that passed without a line written, without that excitement that made his heart beat just a little faster, like on those evenings at a club dancing, your eyes closed, moving to the rhythm of the music as your heart fought to catch up until you were out of breath.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way.
Actually, that was a lie.
It was a cold, late evening much like this one, when a certain dark haired girl ran down the wet, muddy road away from him, upset and determined as he run after her praying he'd make it in time, his heart beating fast in his chest, a feeling of complete dread coming over him at the thought that this was the end of it all. Their relationship and his life, all at once.
But then he caught up, stopped her from running any further and tried to get his heartbeat under control, struggling to get the words out, offer her an explanation and breathe at the same time. Finally, she let him speak and he smiled as her facial features softened. She stepped closer reluctantly, putting her small hand on his chest, over his heart, and kissing him deeply, leaving him breathless all over again.
Her hand was warm against his chest.
She could feel every heartbeat, he could tell as she gave him a look full of worry that he shushed with another kiss, pulling her closer.
He was too tired to tell her it had nothing to do with HCM but he was sure it had a lot to do with those hazel eyes bringing forgiveness and hope that they might just make it and that his heart was still safe with her.
But it was also on a dark evening, much like this one when she looked at him telling him it was over, that his heart just stopped fighting, stopped beating in that peculiar way and all he could do was stand there, frozen, too shocked to say anything, to fight. It was the one thing he still couldn't forgive himself, his complete resignation with everything she threw at him that evening, the sheer inability to remember a single reason why he shouldn't let her walk out that red door.
I wanted you to fight for me, she has told him once and he hasn't, so now all he could do was try to forget.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, he closed his laptop knowing he'd be unable to move any further than that blank page and the accusing black pointer. With a quick move he turned the lights off and buried his head under the covers, closing his eyes, hoping sleep would help him clear his head and think of something else. Like his book.
He didn't want to admit that something that happened years ago still affected him. So many things have happened since then, things that were more serious and significant than a 'high school romance'. Or so he wanted to believe.
-BL-
His sleep was interrupted by a dull, muffled sound that just wouldn't go away no matter how many pillows he pulled over his head. Giving up, he pulled his hands up, rubbing his eyes, in order to chase the sleep away as he realized that the annoying sound from the distance was actually his cell phone ringing in the hallway, still lying in the pocket of his jacket.
Lucas stood up, stumbling over his shoes as he hurried to answer. With an annoyed sigh he pulled it out and pressed the red button, putting the phone to his ear.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," said the cheery voice on the other end.
"Hey, Linds."
"So, by the sound of your voice I'd say you woke up around 5 minutes ago."
"Actually, two and I have you to thank for that."
"You're welcome, darling. So, you were up till what… three?" she guessed. "I assume you finally made some progress with that infamous book of yours?"
"I wish," he said with a sigh.
"A chapter at least?" she asked, always the optimist.
"No."
"A page?"
"Nope."
"A line then?" she tried.
"No."
"Oh, it's worse than I thought then," she sighed dramatically.
"Thank you for your reassurance, helpful as always."
"Of course, that's what I'm here for. Now go get some coffee and then get back to work."
"How about you come and join me for that coffee?" he asked with a smile.
"Sure, I'll be right there, just let me book a flight from NYC to Tree Hill and I'll meet you at the café in about…um, four hours!"
"I'll take that as a no then."
"Unfortunately, unless they invent teleportation in the next half an hour. Or time travel."
"That would come in handy for a few things right now. Like a certain book…"
"Sadly, that's not going to happen any time soon so I'd say it's a good thing we broke up before this or I'd have to end it now since you're poor and all."
"I guess so. Glad you can see something positive in this, by the way."
"I have my new therapist to thank for that. Maybe you could see her to help you with the book."
"If I spend one more night staring at a blank screen maybe I will," he said honestly. Lately, he has really started to doubt his future as a writer. Thank God for that assistant coach job at UCLA, otherwise he'd really be poor.
"Let me know if you change your mind, I'll give you her number."
"Yeah, sure. Talk to you later."
"Don't call me until you write a page at least."
"Oh, I'll talk to you in a month then."
"Don't even joke about that Luke."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he said before hanging up. In this mess that he called his life, he was grateful for the small things like the friendship with his ex-girlfriend who apparently had enough grace to tolerate his sorry ass even after everything he did. If he'd been in her place, he'd never spoken to him after all that went down on that particular evening. A night that turned from a casual movie and popcorn into a verbal fighting match that ended with a lot of hurtful words and a slammed door.
With a sigh he threw the cell on the bed and hurried to the bathroom. A shower and a nice large mug of fresh black coffee from the nearest cafe were the only things he could stomach right now; book deadlines be damned.
-BL-
Later that morning Lucas sat at the booth by the window, a mug of warm coffee between his palms, eyes focused on some distant unknown spot outside. It was a work day so there were not a lot of people on the street and he found the sight of an almost empty, silent street oddly calming.
It was because of things like this that he came back here, to Tree Hill, even if it was just for a couple of months. There were not a lot of mornings like this in L.A., the city that rarely slept. Sure, it has been his home for the last few years but no time spent there could even get it to even compare to his real home, this little town in North Carolina.
Lindsey Strauss, his editor and now a good friend, has almost had a heart attack when he announced a couple of months ago that he was taking a break from his job at UCLA and going home for an indefinite period of time. But after the initial shock, she calmed down and let him explain the reasons behind this sudden change of heart. The truth was he's become a cliché – the writer who lost his inspiration going back to his rots in search of it.
He sure as hell won't find it in L.A., surrounded by all those flashing lights and faux celebrities. All he found there was a hangover and shallow relationships. It made him feel like he was in High school again, getting that spot on the basketball team and trying to fit in with the rest of the team. There were other reasons that led him to make such a decision, circumstances that he didn't want nor had the strength to contemplate then. All he wanted to do was get on the first flight to Tree Hill. And hours later when he stepped off the bus in his hometown it was already a little easier to breathe.
But recently Lucas started to feel that anxiety and unease creep up on him slowly, a sign that even though he was home it didn't mean all his problems were resolved. Just the opposite. It reminded him of all the things he was trying to run away from when he moved to the West coast.
So just as he started pondering a trip to L.A. his best friend has called him before, demanding his presence in Tree Hill this weekend because she was getting married (again) to her husband of more than six years and his baby brother, Nathan Scott. The two have decided to renew their vows on the day of their sons, Jamie's' fifth birthday.
Speaking of his best friend…
"Hello stranger."
The cup from his hand almost ended up on the floor as he turned to face the person that interrupted his thoughts.
"Hales," he greeted the brunette. "Didn't see you there."
"Well, you're awful jumpy this afternoon."
"And you're really loud," he commented. "What are you doing here, don't you have classes?"
"I could ask you the same thing mister," she shot back.
"Skillz is working today so I'm free," he announced.
"Isn't that convenient? Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury, but I do have a launch break that I decided to use up on you after I saw you staring through that glass like someone had just kicked your puppy. So here I am, hoping to grab some sandwich while I'm listening to you mope. I'm neat like that."
Sometimes he hated how well she knew him.
"I'm fine, it's just that I woke up an hour ago and didn't have any caffeine yet," he explained pointing at his half full cup of java. "And I don't mope."
"Uhm."
"Don't you hm me. That's the truth."
"Fine, whatever you say broody."
He almost flinched at the familiar nickname. It seemed that these days, no matter how hard he tried to escape her he couldn't. He turned back to the window grateful for the waitress that came by at that precise moment making Haley change the subject and order a cup of coffee and a launch special, giving him just enough time to mask the hurt on his face caused by the words she inadvertently spoke.
"Luke?"
"What?" he asked, looking rather lost at his friend.
"I just asked would you like to order something."
"Just a refill would be fine thanks," he said politely looking at the blonde girl with a big smile on her face.
Haley gave him the 'what the hell is up with you' look but he just shrugged it off, avoiding her worried eyes.
"So, we're all gathering at Tric tomorrow at seven sharp, don't be late. Everyone is coming, including Brooke," she said quickly. She thought she heard him say something but he didn't repeat his words, so she continued. "And by Brooke I mean Brooke Davis, your ex-girlfriend, a girl you've been pinning for the last I dunno- eight months or is it years?"
"Where did you come up with all that nonsense?" he said with a frown.
"I think I know you well enough to know things like that. Besides even a blind man would see that you're miserable," she quipped.
"So much for you being on my side."
"I am on your side. And that's exactly why I'm telling you, you can't go on like this."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uhm."
"Enough with that already!" he said, a little louder than he intended.
"I give up. I'll see you at seven then," she said with a sigh.
"At seven?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, it's at 8.30 but you and I both know it's physically impossible for you to be on time so for my sake let's pretend it's at 7 so there actually may be a chance of you being there by eight," she said quickly, and he couldn't help but smile at his best friend.
"Alright. Seven it is," he said, giving in.
"Great," she agreed, smiling as he turned to the window again.
Something had to be done about this whole situation. Haley was sick of the good old brooding routine her best friend seemed so fond of lately.
-BL-
Brooke Davis was irritated. No, actually she was exasperated to a point where not even a fresh dose of caffeine and her favorite macaroons could remove the wrinkles on her forehead.
First her flight got delayed for more than two hours. Then they lost her luggage and finally found it after 45 minutes of 'detailed and thorough search'. Yeah right. Then when she came to rent a car there were no available cars left except for a Mercedes SLK cabriolet with a clutch, which she didn't know how to drive at all. If all that wasn't a sign for her to pack up and leave, she didn't know what was. Maybe a motel she was staying at? It was kind of a dump and apparently the only place with any vacant rooms left in Tree Hill. Who knew her home town was such a hot vacation spot?
But despite everything she chose not to read too much into all that and be an optimist for a change. After all she was finally home. And in the end, if it weren't for bad luck Brooke Davis would have no luck at all.
After managing to maneuver the car into the parking lot pretty successfully (meaning both rear view mirrors were still intact and there were only a handful of visible scratches on the side) with her bag in hand and the rest piled up in the back of the rental she walked into the motel lobby letting out a sigh.
"Welcome home Brooke," she said softly to no one in particular.
This whole day was almost like walking down a very uneven road in the dark, hoping you wouldn't trip. And she knew all too well, once you fall in Tree Hill, you never fully recover.
She just wished she hasn't chosen to wear her red four-inch peep toed shoes on this particular day.