Letter Never Sent (1/1)
Fandom: One Tree Hill
Pairing: Brooke/Peyton
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2400
Summary: Brooke reminisces in letter form.
A/N: Written years and years ago. Sorry about the large paragraphs, but they felt necessary at the time. Post 4x09, "Some You Give Away," right after the Ravens win the state championship. Except nothing ever happens to Hailey and Lucas. Brooke's POV.
Remember that time when we were eight and you broke your leg in the woods? It was some sunny summer afternoon. We were taking full advantage of it, playing tag, hide and go seek, running through the streams til we came to the woods. I had challenged you. I swore up and down you could never climb halfway up some tree. You knew I was only kidding, but you went along with it anyway, saying of course you could do it, you could get all the way to the top of the stupid tree. You did it too. I can still hear the way you yelled down that you owned me. Even then, you had your Peyton-isms. Then on the way down, when you were so close to touching the earth again, you fell. I can still feel the way my heart dropped in my chest. I ran over to you, sure you were dead, tears fogging my vision. But there you were, alive, laughing your head off at the fall and then the terrified expression on my face. I was glad I could make you forget the pain that I'm sure was excruciating.
That was us, you and me, before the awkwardness of middle school, and the boys of high school. It was just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be. A day without seeing you was rare. Saturdays were spent at the mall; Sundays were spent at your house. Weekdays were of course reserved for that place that no kid wants to go to. But we went, and we went together. Remember the first day in fifth grade when we found out we were in separate classes? I spent so long crying to my dad about it, purposefully annoying him so that I could have my way. The second day of school came and I was in your class for good. He had forced the principal to let me into your class, but of course I never told you that. I told you simply, "it was fate." You scoffed and didn't think any more of it. But I knew it was fate. We were supposed to be together. We were best friends.
But then he happened. I remember the first time you told me about him. It was one of the many times your car had broken down, only this time he had taken the call, he had come out to rescue you. You were seething when you had gotten home. But you weren't really angry. You were spitting venomous words, but it was only a cover. You were interested in him. He was different from you, from the world you knew. But at the same time, he was still so similar. He was you in pants, without the drawing thing and with the whole book thing. You both were perfect at the brooding thing. But you weren't meant to be together. At least, I didn't think so. So I stepped in. I couldn't let you throw yourself at him. He was Nathan's brother; they couldn't be that different. Nathan was bad for you, so Lucas was as well.
You tried. You tried so hard to stay away from him when we were dating, I know you did. But you couldn't help it. I was angry when I found out, sure. But not because Lucas had nearly cheated on me. Not the slightest bit. I was angry because you chose him over me.
Did you ever wonder why I couldn't commit to anyone? Why I never found myself really in love with a guy? Probably not, huh? I was me, being exactly the way everyone expected me to be. Brooke Davis. She couldn't possibly ever feel any real emotional connection with anyone. It just wasn't her. Everyone was wrong about me. You were wrong. I felt that connection, that love, that kind of love from such an early age. That feeling kept me from caring about anyone else. I cared too much about the person I loved to think about truly liking anyone else. I know, you're probably thinking, who could Brooke love? Why didn't I ever know? Why didn't she tell me? You didn't know because you're blind to it. I know other people knew. I could see it in the way they looked at me. If they could see it, I don't know why you couldn't. Maybe it was for the best. It did get us to where we are, didn't it?
It's you, P. Sawyer. It always has been.
After that first fight, after the whole you and broody thing, I missed you. I missed you so much. All the little things you were to me were suddenly gone. I could no longer steal glances at you, or watch you sleep in the morning. You were gone. No more strolling through the school hallways arm in arm. I know you always thought those were innocent things, the holding hands, the linked arms, the cuddling. But they weren't. I knew we'd never be together. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew it was the truth. But I still wanted you, I still wanted to feel your touch, to have you by my side when I woke up. I took what I could.
I kissed you once. No, not the dare night kiss. I suppose that makes twice. But that wasn't real, we both know that. Sure, I enjoyed it. But I wouldn't have done it if we weren't in the competition with the boys. You were taking care of me after some party. I was drunk, but I was still aware of myself. You had managed to get me away from the booze and the boys enough to get me back to your place. We had just gotten into your room, my arm slung around your shoulders, you trying desperately to support my weight, knowing my legs couldn't handle it. I told you how pretty you were in my drunken slur. You had said that I was pretty too in that way that you talk when you're talking to a kid. I knew you didn't understand. I couldn't find the right words, just an incoherent babble, so I tried to show you instead. I kissed you. It was the only time I've ever felt something during a kiss. It felt so right. At the time, I thought I felt you kiss me back. But now I know it was only the alcohol. I told you I loved you as you helped me lay down on the bed, but you didn't understand. You said you loved me too using that tone again. Not long after, I was asleep.
That morning, I lied. You asked if I remembered what I had done the night before. I remembered everything. I remembered the way your lips felt against mine, the taste of them, the way your body felt pressed up against mine. But I said no. You told me what had happened, complete with laughter. I offered up my own, but inside I was dying. The thought of me kissing you was funny to you. I knew then that the kiss really did mean nothing you. You never kissed me back, never even thought about it. We were just friends.
You're probably thinking right now that that explains a lot. That's why I didn't go to the movies with you and Haley that night. That's why I didn't see you for a week after that. I was scared. Scared that I might break down and cry right in front of you. I didn't want you to have to put up with that. It wouldn't have been fair to you. You could've consoled me all you wanted, but I never would've told you why I was crying. Then you would feel like I didn't trust you, or we really hadn't fixed our friendship like you thought we had. I didn't want to screw us up again. So I stayed away, thinking that would be for the best.
You came to me after a week of me avoiding you. I was at home alone, wondering what to do about you, when you popped into my room. I remember making some remark about how the roles are usually reversed. Then you said something about how I was avoiding you, so you had to come see me. You asked if I was mad at you. I could tell in your eyes you were afraid. Of what, I don't know. I told you we were fine, I was just going through some things. You knew that wasn't the truth. You asked me flat out what was going on. I could've told you, probably should've. But I didn't. I lied, told you everything was fine, everything is always fine with Brooke Davis. I think that was when you realized something really was going on with me. It was the first time you knew I had something to say but I refused to say it. But you let it go.
You told me once you had a song in your collection for every emotion you could feel, every situation you could find yourself in. I wonder now if there's a song for us. Girl falls for boy. Boy falls for girl. Girl refuses to let boy in. Boy goes out with girl's best friend. Girl's best friend goes out with boy because she's in love with girl. Sounds like it should be some song by one of your emo bands. Do the Get Up Kids have a song that fits the bill?
I'm sure you've at least got some song that states exactly how I feel right now. I bet you've got a million of them. Every album comes standard with at least one song about a broken heart, right? This is the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole life. But it's the right thing to do. I have to do it. I can't stay here anymore. There's nothing for me here.
I'm not mad at you. I don't resent you. But I have to get away from you, to see if I can get over you. I need to do this for me. I need to find where I belong in this world and how I can be happy. I need to rely on myself for once. But you... you've got him to get you through this now, now that he's gotten smart and realized it's you he wants standing beside him. You'll always have him. Never shut him out again, Peyt. He is the right guy for you, I know it. Don't let him go. Let me go instead.
You'll try to find me. At first. You'll call my cell phone, leave message after message begging me to come back. You'll e-mail me, hoping I'll read them and come back. I will. I will read them and say to myself that doing all of this isn't worth it. I'll pack up half of my things from my new residence to drive right back to you. But then I'll stop. Because I'll remember that you're with him. I'll go to bed, wishing things could be different, wishing, hoping, praying that everything could work itself out. But in the morning, I'll unpack all of my things and vow never to read another one of your e-mails, only to go through the process all over again a few days later.
If this letter finds you, it will be through some kind of miracle. After reading what I've written so far, I realize that the honesty is overwhelming. I trust you more than anyone, but I don't know that this is really the right way to say goodbye. I'll probably leave some short note saying I'm done with Tree Hill, don't try to find me. But for now, I hope to find the courage to mail this to you. I can't face you now, not before I leave. I'm too afraid I'll change my mind. I'll probably drive by the cafe, I think that's where you are now, just to see you one last time and then drive quietly away into the night with absolutely no destination in mind. I don't know where I'll end up, but I'll make it work, because I have to. I have to go.
So this is it, P. Sawyer. This is where you and I end. I might come back to this town searching for you some day. Some day long in the future when I know I'm over you. I'll come back when you and Lucas are married, and have a few little blonde runts of your own. I'll meet them and then you'll send them upstairs to their rooms so the grown-ups can talk. I'll take notice of the things about you that have changed, and the things that could never change. I'll note how your features have changed, how your face has matured with age but how your eyes still sparkled like they did when we were eight. We'll sit in an uncomfortable silence- our first- before you'll ask me why I left. I'll make up some lie, swearing internally that the truth will go with me to my grave. You'll buy it because that's the easy thing to do. You don't know me anymore, you haven't seen me in so many years. It's best to let it go. You won't feel that I owe you anything anymore. We'll talk about nothing for a few hours and then I'll leave, with promises to keep in touch. But we'll both break those promises. You'll have your new life, a life without me, and you'll assume that I've got my own. We won't be the teenagers we were before.
I know this is childish and selfish of me. I should just be able to take this, take you two being together like an adult. I really am happy that you're happy. There's nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But I don't trust myself around you. We've both seen what I can do, the damage I can cause. I don't want to hurt you again. I don't want to have the chance. Just know that your happiness means the world to me.
I love you, Peyton. I always will.
Pairing: Brooke/Peyton
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2400
Summary: Brooke reminisces in letter form.
A/N: Written years and years ago. Sorry about the large paragraphs, but they felt necessary at the time. Post 4x09, "Some You Give Away," right after the Ravens win the state championship. Except nothing ever happens to Hailey and Lucas. Brooke's POV.
Remember that time when we were eight and you broke your leg in the woods? It was some sunny summer afternoon. We were taking full advantage of it, playing tag, hide and go seek, running through the streams til we came to the woods. I had challenged you. I swore up and down you could never climb halfway up some tree. You knew I was only kidding, but you went along with it anyway, saying of course you could do it, you could get all the way to the top of the stupid tree. You did it too. I can still hear the way you yelled down that you owned me. Even then, you had your Peyton-isms. Then on the way down, when you were so close to touching the earth again, you fell. I can still feel the way my heart dropped in my chest. I ran over to you, sure you were dead, tears fogging my vision. But there you were, alive, laughing your head off at the fall and then the terrified expression on my face. I was glad I could make you forget the pain that I'm sure was excruciating.
That was us, you and me, before the awkwardness of middle school, and the boys of high school. It was just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be. A day without seeing you was rare. Saturdays were spent at the mall; Sundays were spent at your house. Weekdays were of course reserved for that place that no kid wants to go to. But we went, and we went together. Remember the first day in fifth grade when we found out we were in separate classes? I spent so long crying to my dad about it, purposefully annoying him so that I could have my way. The second day of school came and I was in your class for good. He had forced the principal to let me into your class, but of course I never told you that. I told you simply, "it was fate." You scoffed and didn't think any more of it. But I knew it was fate. We were supposed to be together. We were best friends.
But then he happened. I remember the first time you told me about him. It was one of the many times your car had broken down, only this time he had taken the call, he had come out to rescue you. You were seething when you had gotten home. But you weren't really angry. You were spitting venomous words, but it was only a cover. You were interested in him. He was different from you, from the world you knew. But at the same time, he was still so similar. He was you in pants, without the drawing thing and with the whole book thing. You both were perfect at the brooding thing. But you weren't meant to be together. At least, I didn't think so. So I stepped in. I couldn't let you throw yourself at him. He was Nathan's brother; they couldn't be that different. Nathan was bad for you, so Lucas was as well.
You tried. You tried so hard to stay away from him when we were dating, I know you did. But you couldn't help it. I was angry when I found out, sure. But not because Lucas had nearly cheated on me. Not the slightest bit. I was angry because you chose him over me.
Did you ever wonder why I couldn't commit to anyone? Why I never found myself really in love with a guy? Probably not, huh? I was me, being exactly the way everyone expected me to be. Brooke Davis. She couldn't possibly ever feel any real emotional connection with anyone. It just wasn't her. Everyone was wrong about me. You were wrong. I felt that connection, that love, that kind of love from such an early age. That feeling kept me from caring about anyone else. I cared too much about the person I loved to think about truly liking anyone else. I know, you're probably thinking, who could Brooke love? Why didn't I ever know? Why didn't she tell me? You didn't know because you're blind to it. I know other people knew. I could see it in the way they looked at me. If they could see it, I don't know why you couldn't. Maybe it was for the best. It did get us to where we are, didn't it?
It's you, P. Sawyer. It always has been.
After that first fight, after the whole you and broody thing, I missed you. I missed you so much. All the little things you were to me were suddenly gone. I could no longer steal glances at you, or watch you sleep in the morning. You were gone. No more strolling through the school hallways arm in arm. I know you always thought those were innocent things, the holding hands, the linked arms, the cuddling. But they weren't. I knew we'd never be together. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew it was the truth. But I still wanted you, I still wanted to feel your touch, to have you by my side when I woke up. I took what I could.
I kissed you once. No, not the dare night kiss. I suppose that makes twice. But that wasn't real, we both know that. Sure, I enjoyed it. But I wouldn't have done it if we weren't in the competition with the boys. You were taking care of me after some party. I was drunk, but I was still aware of myself. You had managed to get me away from the booze and the boys enough to get me back to your place. We had just gotten into your room, my arm slung around your shoulders, you trying desperately to support my weight, knowing my legs couldn't handle it. I told you how pretty you were in my drunken slur. You had said that I was pretty too in that way that you talk when you're talking to a kid. I knew you didn't understand. I couldn't find the right words, just an incoherent babble, so I tried to show you instead. I kissed you. It was the only time I've ever felt something during a kiss. It felt so right. At the time, I thought I felt you kiss me back. But now I know it was only the alcohol. I told you I loved you as you helped me lay down on the bed, but you didn't understand. You said you loved me too using that tone again. Not long after, I was asleep.
That morning, I lied. You asked if I remembered what I had done the night before. I remembered everything. I remembered the way your lips felt against mine, the taste of them, the way your body felt pressed up against mine. But I said no. You told me what had happened, complete with laughter. I offered up my own, but inside I was dying. The thought of me kissing you was funny to you. I knew then that the kiss really did mean nothing you. You never kissed me back, never even thought about it. We were just friends.
You're probably thinking right now that that explains a lot. That's why I didn't go to the movies with you and Haley that night. That's why I didn't see you for a week after that. I was scared. Scared that I might break down and cry right in front of you. I didn't want you to have to put up with that. It wouldn't have been fair to you. You could've consoled me all you wanted, but I never would've told you why I was crying. Then you would feel like I didn't trust you, or we really hadn't fixed our friendship like you thought we had. I didn't want to screw us up again. So I stayed away, thinking that would be for the best.
You came to me after a week of me avoiding you. I was at home alone, wondering what to do about you, when you popped into my room. I remember making some remark about how the roles are usually reversed. Then you said something about how I was avoiding you, so you had to come see me. You asked if I was mad at you. I could tell in your eyes you were afraid. Of what, I don't know. I told you we were fine, I was just going through some things. You knew that wasn't the truth. You asked me flat out what was going on. I could've told you, probably should've. But I didn't. I lied, told you everything was fine, everything is always fine with Brooke Davis. I think that was when you realized something really was going on with me. It was the first time you knew I had something to say but I refused to say it. But you let it go.
You told me once you had a song in your collection for every emotion you could feel, every situation you could find yourself in. I wonder now if there's a song for us. Girl falls for boy. Boy falls for girl. Girl refuses to let boy in. Boy goes out with girl's best friend. Girl's best friend goes out with boy because she's in love with girl. Sounds like it should be some song by one of your emo bands. Do the Get Up Kids have a song that fits the bill?
I'm sure you've at least got some song that states exactly how I feel right now. I bet you've got a million of them. Every album comes standard with at least one song about a broken heart, right? This is the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole life. But it's the right thing to do. I have to do it. I can't stay here anymore. There's nothing for me here.
I'm not mad at you. I don't resent you. But I have to get away from you, to see if I can get over you. I need to do this for me. I need to find where I belong in this world and how I can be happy. I need to rely on myself for once. But you... you've got him to get you through this now, now that he's gotten smart and realized it's you he wants standing beside him. You'll always have him. Never shut him out again, Peyt. He is the right guy for you, I know it. Don't let him go. Let me go instead.
You'll try to find me. At first. You'll call my cell phone, leave message after message begging me to come back. You'll e-mail me, hoping I'll read them and come back. I will. I will read them and say to myself that doing all of this isn't worth it. I'll pack up half of my things from my new residence to drive right back to you. But then I'll stop. Because I'll remember that you're with him. I'll go to bed, wishing things could be different, wishing, hoping, praying that everything could work itself out. But in the morning, I'll unpack all of my things and vow never to read another one of your e-mails, only to go through the process all over again a few days later.
If this letter finds you, it will be through some kind of miracle. After reading what I've written so far, I realize that the honesty is overwhelming. I trust you more than anyone, but I don't know that this is really the right way to say goodbye. I'll probably leave some short note saying I'm done with Tree Hill, don't try to find me. But for now, I hope to find the courage to mail this to you. I can't face you now, not before I leave. I'm too afraid I'll change my mind. I'll probably drive by the cafe, I think that's where you are now, just to see you one last time and then drive quietly away into the night with absolutely no destination in mind. I don't know where I'll end up, but I'll make it work, because I have to. I have to go.
So this is it, P. Sawyer. This is where you and I end. I might come back to this town searching for you some day. Some day long in the future when I know I'm over you. I'll come back when you and Lucas are married, and have a few little blonde runts of your own. I'll meet them and then you'll send them upstairs to their rooms so the grown-ups can talk. I'll take notice of the things about you that have changed, and the things that could never change. I'll note how your features have changed, how your face has matured with age but how your eyes still sparkled like they did when we were eight. We'll sit in an uncomfortable silence- our first- before you'll ask me why I left. I'll make up some lie, swearing internally that the truth will go with me to my grave. You'll buy it because that's the easy thing to do. You don't know me anymore, you haven't seen me in so many years. It's best to let it go. You won't feel that I owe you anything anymore. We'll talk about nothing for a few hours and then I'll leave, with promises to keep in touch. But we'll both break those promises. You'll have your new life, a life without me, and you'll assume that I've got my own. We won't be the teenagers we were before.
I know this is childish and selfish of me. I should just be able to take this, take you two being together like an adult. I really am happy that you're happy. There's nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But I don't trust myself around you. We've both seen what I can do, the damage I can cause. I don't want to hurt you again. I don't want to have the chance. Just know that your happiness means the world to me.
I love you, Peyton. I always will.