One Tree Hill fic- (Brooke/Lucas/Peyton) Nobody Knows Me At All
Title: Nobody Knows Me At All
Rating: PG-13 (some language and sexuality, femslash)
Word Count:2,072ish
Pairing:Brooke/Lucas/Peyton triangle
Summary: AU. Brooke and Lucas are dating, however neither are happy in the relationship. Cheating is involved here, yeppers. (The big sections in italics are flashbacks.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing mmk?
Spoilers: You know who Brooke, Peyton and Lucas are? You are golden.
As you lay there next to her, you can’t help but wonder what it is that prompts you to come here night after night when someone is worrying about you. And you know that it’s wrong, but you do it anyways. And the reasons are completely lost on you, so you sigh quietly and look at her. But you don’t dare touch her now, because that could wake her up, and you’re not ready to see her shining eyes just yet. You’re too busy feeling guilt, pain and selfishness flow through your body. She mumbles in her sleep, which forces a smile to your lips. And somewhere in her incoherent words you hear her say ice cream.
Brooke walks down the road, ice cream cone held delicately in her hand. Some chocolate drips down and she lifts it to her mouth and juts her tongue out, licking it away. Even in the act of eating ice cream, she seems perfect. Brooke seems to have mastered the art of eating the dairy products with her tongue, leaving her lipstick perfectly placed. She’s the envy of every girl in town, and everyone knows it. That’s just the way it is.
Her other hand in intertwined with Lucas’ and it appears that they fit together perfectly. His larger hand, cradling her smaller one. But as much as they want to believe that they have no problems, they do. More than any ordinary couples, and they both try to convince themselves that it’s because their love is grander than most people’s, but it isn’t. And they hold hands anyway to keep up appearances and convince themselves that there is some sort of hope for them.
An older couple passes them on the sidewalk, cuddling. They smile at Brooke and Lucas, thinking how in love the two teenagers are, how they remind them of themselves when they were in high school. The older couple assumes that Brooke and Lucas are happy together, that they enjoy simple outings like this one, and hold hands because they want to, not because it is what’s expected. They are wrong. Because Lucas’ hand is cramping up and he longs to drop Brooke’s smooth perfectly manicured fingers forever. And Brooke’s hand is sweating bullets, and she didn’t even imagine it possible for a hand to sweat this much, ever.
Brooke and Lucas walk on, Brooke throwing all her pent up energy and sorrow on eating the melting substance perfectly, Lucas watching carefully for any sign that they can end this walk as soon as possible.
The girl lying next to you shifts in her deep slumber and you yearn to spoon her and cuddle with her, but you don’t. You can’t. And yet again, there is that voice nagging in the back of your head yelling at you. Telling you that it’s idiotic that you can sleep with her but not cuddle with her. Then again, if you make this all about sex, no snuggling and lovey-dovey acts involved maybe you’ll feel better. Because if you head down that path, you aren’t cheating because you love your lover, but because you hate your significant other, which is a definite possibility.
“What the hell is wrong with you Brooke?” He’s screaming at you louder than he should, but Lucas forgets to care for a moment. Menace and anger present in his eyes. “Flirting with my brother right in front of me? With Peyton there?”
Brooke knows her response, it’s customary, expected in this soapy novella that they are just two pawns in. She can even guess with close accuracy, how Lucas will answer her. So, she says her line flawlessly, dramatically, like any good actress would, “It’s all about your precious Peyton isn’t it Luke? What she thinks of you, of me, of us!”
Lucas just glares at the brunette, her hands firmly clenched into fists as she paces back and forth. He wants to claw his eyes out, secretly hoping that this is the end of it all, of this act that they are putting on. But he knows better than that. Brooke and Lucas are in a vicious cycle that neither can break loose from. Lucas can think of hundreds of ‘if only’s’, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
“God, I can’t believe you, the pot calling the pan black!”
“Kettle.” Lucas corrects her without a thought, Brooke just rolls her eyes, knowing that at this point in the argument he’s not going to counter at all. She wins, she always does. That’s just how it is when you’re perfect. He can see past that though, the flawless mask that Brooke puts on everyday. And maybe that contributes to the fact that he may hate her, and she may hate him. Because he knows her deepest secret, and she knows that he knows.
Finally, the urge is too strong and you run a hand through her bouncy blond curls involuntarily. Or voluntarily, you are not sure at this point. But the simple act of her thick locks tangling around your fingers makes you move closer and closer to her. Because you have to face it sometime, that she entices you and you cannot resist her. Even though you wish you could. Because you keep telling yourself this is all about physical attraction, okay and maybe a bit of revenge. Revenge for what exactly? The details are a bit sketchy. But then you hear her breath hitch in her sleep, and you hope she’s dreaming about you.
As Brooke finishes off her ice cream, they turn the corner sharply and Lucas is the first to spot Peyton and Nathan walking closer. Ecstatic that he has a reason to drop the brunette’s hand, Lucas yells a “hey” and greets both Nathan and Peyton with a hug. Brooke quickly follows suit. A distraction from this hellish evening is more than welcome as Lucas begins to talk basketball with his brother and Brooke and Peyton wrap their arms around one another.
The two best friends walk aimlessly down the sidewalk, holding one another, and Lucas looks on wistfully, and he wishes her could touch her like that again. Milliseconds later, he realizes that he will never be able to, chokes back a sigh and continues his conversation with Nathan.
“Dear God, Peyton I cannot stand him at all.” Brooke confides in the blond girl, knowing that she will be there to help her and comfort her and tell her everything is going to turn out fine, even if they both know it’s a lie.
Peyton sighs softly, squeezing Brooke’s waist, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he can’t stand you either?”
The words are crushing and they seem to weigh Brooke down. She almost feels as though she’s drowning and no one is there to save her and make her breathe again. But Peyton hugs her and wipes away the few tears that force their way from the back of Brooke’s eyes. And Brooke is surprised by this. Not by the fact that Lucas hates her, because that she knew already, and she already knew she hated him in equal measures. The enmity between the couple seems unmatched, and they both know it, they are both used to it.
Brooke doesn’t understand the feeling of utter sadness at the harsh verbalization of Lucas’ emotions. And maybe it is because someone else spoke the words, or the way Peyton said them, but it hurts. And after a minute or so, Brooke is relieved to know that instead of sadness, she feels emptiness and nothingness. She whispers to Peyton that they can head back to the boys now, and so they do.
Suddenly, you’re shocked to discover that at some point you fell back asleep and are now spooning your lover. Hands and legs tangled with hers. You inhale deeply, trying to memorize the way she smells at 5:30 in the morning. And the only way to describe it is good. Because she smells like she always does, she smells that unique her scent. And it makes you happy. And then you’re aware of your skin against hers.
She’s kissing you passionately, deeply, and you kiss her back, hands twisting in her soft blond curls. You slam her against her bedroom door, her hands playing with the fabric at the bottom of your shirt. You cannot believe this is actually happening. You haven’t been kissed like this in such a long time that it makes you ache all over.
And if you had any time to think this over at all, you would think about the person waiting for you a few streets over, the person who you didn’t call back tonight. You would ponder on the fact that you feel trapped with them, and that it is worth looking like a jackass to be here right now, instead of their, with them.
And if you had even more time to comprehend what you’re doing right now and the blond’s tongue wasn’t dancing with your own, you’d think about why you’re doing this. You’d wonder if maybe it’s because you hate your partner, because that would make sense, but you sort of believe that that cannot be it. You would entertain the idea that you could be with the blonde in her bedroom because this is some sort of revenge for the relationship you are ensnared in. Or it might just be because you are feeling extremely horny tonight, but you doubt that more than the other possibilities.
However, there is not time to think when your body is firmly pressed against hers.
You can hear her wake up, the way her breathing changes from slow and even to faster and unsteady clues you in instantly. You want to be positive that this change is because she is now aware of your closeness, but you do not want to get your hopes up either. She grabs your hand and squeezes it lightly, assuring you that she is no longer sleeping, like you didn’t already know that. This causes a smile to drift onto your lips and you snuggle into her neck, because you figure by now, your snuggling rule is broken anyway.
“How’d you sleep?” Your lover rolls over slowly and you back away a little so she doesn’t accidentally elbow you in the head, because it has happened before.
“Okay.” You answer her, and are immediately sucked into her eyes. They hold so much of whom she is, her emotions and fears and longings and loves. You can’t help but be transfixed by them; because you think they make her irresistible. They enhance her charm and sarcasm and make you want to hug her, cry with her, make her feel better when she is having an off day.
Today, they look sad. And you don’t have to ask, because you know that the cause of her pain is you. And she isn’t asking you to leave your significant other, because she knows that you just can’t do that, but she wants you to return her feelings somehow, and she doesn’t just want sex from you. You know it, you can sense it, and you can see it in those two big pools of hazel.
“That’s good.” She tells you, but you know that it’s killing her, the way that you are studying her, but you can’t help it. Because looking into her eyes, it dawns on you that she’s looking straight back into yours. And nobody has really looked into your eyes in as long as you can remember. And you feel truly loved. It seems fitting, because she’s the only person in your life who has ever made you feel this way. Comfortable.
The blond leans over and gives you a peck on the lips. And it sends shivers down your spine and makes your heart rate accelerate. The emotions running through every nerve in your body feel unnatural and welcome and you experience an epiphany. That this, right here in this bed with the blond, is what love feels like. Because you love her right back.
“I love you Peyton.” You tell her with a small little grin, and she looks like she’s in awe of you. Obviously, Peyton was not expecting you to muster up the courage and emotions to speak those words. The glow that spreads through her makes your smile even wider.
“I love you too Brooke.” She whispers backs.
Rating: PG-13 (some language and sexuality, femslash)
Word Count:2,072ish
Pairing:Brooke/Lucas/Peyton triangle
Summary: AU. Brooke and Lucas are dating, however neither are happy in the relationship. Cheating is involved here, yeppers. (The big sections in italics are flashbacks.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing mmk?
Spoilers: You know who Brooke, Peyton and Lucas are? You are golden.
As you lay there next to her, you can’t help but wonder what it is that prompts you to come here night after night when someone is worrying about you. And you know that it’s wrong, but you do it anyways. And the reasons are completely lost on you, so you sigh quietly and look at her. But you don’t dare touch her now, because that could wake her up, and you’re not ready to see her shining eyes just yet. You’re too busy feeling guilt, pain and selfishness flow through your body. She mumbles in her sleep, which forces a smile to your lips. And somewhere in her incoherent words you hear her say ice cream.
Brooke walks down the road, ice cream cone held delicately in her hand. Some chocolate drips down and she lifts it to her mouth and juts her tongue out, licking it away. Even in the act of eating ice cream, she seems perfect. Brooke seems to have mastered the art of eating the dairy products with her tongue, leaving her lipstick perfectly placed. She’s the envy of every girl in town, and everyone knows it. That’s just the way it is.
Her other hand in intertwined with Lucas’ and it appears that they fit together perfectly. His larger hand, cradling her smaller one. But as much as they want to believe that they have no problems, they do. More than any ordinary couples, and they both try to convince themselves that it’s because their love is grander than most people’s, but it isn’t. And they hold hands anyway to keep up appearances and convince themselves that there is some sort of hope for them.
An older couple passes them on the sidewalk, cuddling. They smile at Brooke and Lucas, thinking how in love the two teenagers are, how they remind them of themselves when they were in high school. The older couple assumes that Brooke and Lucas are happy together, that they enjoy simple outings like this one, and hold hands because they want to, not because it is what’s expected. They are wrong. Because Lucas’ hand is cramping up and he longs to drop Brooke’s smooth perfectly manicured fingers forever. And Brooke’s hand is sweating bullets, and she didn’t even imagine it possible for a hand to sweat this much, ever.
Brooke and Lucas walk on, Brooke throwing all her pent up energy and sorrow on eating the melting substance perfectly, Lucas watching carefully for any sign that they can end this walk as soon as possible.
The girl lying next to you shifts in her deep slumber and you yearn to spoon her and cuddle with her, but you don’t. You can’t. And yet again, there is that voice nagging in the back of your head yelling at you. Telling you that it’s idiotic that you can sleep with her but not cuddle with her. Then again, if you make this all about sex, no snuggling and lovey-dovey acts involved maybe you’ll feel better. Because if you head down that path, you aren’t cheating because you love your lover, but because you hate your significant other, which is a definite possibility.
“What the hell is wrong with you Brooke?” He’s screaming at you louder than he should, but Lucas forgets to care for a moment. Menace and anger present in his eyes. “Flirting with my brother right in front of me? With Peyton there?”
Brooke knows her response, it’s customary, expected in this soapy novella that they are just two pawns in. She can even guess with close accuracy, how Lucas will answer her. So, she says her line flawlessly, dramatically, like any good actress would, “It’s all about your precious Peyton isn’t it Luke? What she thinks of you, of me, of us!”
Lucas just glares at the brunette, her hands firmly clenched into fists as she paces back and forth. He wants to claw his eyes out, secretly hoping that this is the end of it all, of this act that they are putting on. But he knows better than that. Brooke and Lucas are in a vicious cycle that neither can break loose from. Lucas can think of hundreds of ‘if only’s’, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
“God, I can’t believe you, the pot calling the pan black!”
“Kettle.” Lucas corrects her without a thought, Brooke just rolls her eyes, knowing that at this point in the argument he’s not going to counter at all. She wins, she always does. That’s just how it is when you’re perfect. He can see past that though, the flawless mask that Brooke puts on everyday. And maybe that contributes to the fact that he may hate her, and she may hate him. Because he knows her deepest secret, and she knows that he knows.
Finally, the urge is too strong and you run a hand through her bouncy blond curls involuntarily. Or voluntarily, you are not sure at this point. But the simple act of her thick locks tangling around your fingers makes you move closer and closer to her. Because you have to face it sometime, that she entices you and you cannot resist her. Even though you wish you could. Because you keep telling yourself this is all about physical attraction, okay and maybe a bit of revenge. Revenge for what exactly? The details are a bit sketchy. But then you hear her breath hitch in her sleep, and you hope she’s dreaming about you.
As Brooke finishes off her ice cream, they turn the corner sharply and Lucas is the first to spot Peyton and Nathan walking closer. Ecstatic that he has a reason to drop the brunette’s hand, Lucas yells a “hey” and greets both Nathan and Peyton with a hug. Brooke quickly follows suit. A distraction from this hellish evening is more than welcome as Lucas begins to talk basketball with his brother and Brooke and Peyton wrap their arms around one another.
The two best friends walk aimlessly down the sidewalk, holding one another, and Lucas looks on wistfully, and he wishes her could touch her like that again. Milliseconds later, he realizes that he will never be able to, chokes back a sigh and continues his conversation with Nathan.
“Dear God, Peyton I cannot stand him at all.” Brooke confides in the blond girl, knowing that she will be there to help her and comfort her and tell her everything is going to turn out fine, even if they both know it’s a lie.
Peyton sighs softly, squeezing Brooke’s waist, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he can’t stand you either?”
The words are crushing and they seem to weigh Brooke down. She almost feels as though she’s drowning and no one is there to save her and make her breathe again. But Peyton hugs her and wipes away the few tears that force their way from the back of Brooke’s eyes. And Brooke is surprised by this. Not by the fact that Lucas hates her, because that she knew already, and she already knew she hated him in equal measures. The enmity between the couple seems unmatched, and they both know it, they are both used to it.
Brooke doesn’t understand the feeling of utter sadness at the harsh verbalization of Lucas’ emotions. And maybe it is because someone else spoke the words, or the way Peyton said them, but it hurts. And after a minute or so, Brooke is relieved to know that instead of sadness, she feels emptiness and nothingness. She whispers to Peyton that they can head back to the boys now, and so they do.
Suddenly, you’re shocked to discover that at some point you fell back asleep and are now spooning your lover. Hands and legs tangled with hers. You inhale deeply, trying to memorize the way she smells at 5:30 in the morning. And the only way to describe it is good. Because she smells like she always does, she smells that unique her scent. And it makes you happy. And then you’re aware of your skin against hers.
She’s kissing you passionately, deeply, and you kiss her back, hands twisting in her soft blond curls. You slam her against her bedroom door, her hands playing with the fabric at the bottom of your shirt. You cannot believe this is actually happening. You haven’t been kissed like this in such a long time that it makes you ache all over.
And if you had any time to think this over at all, you would think about the person waiting for you a few streets over, the person who you didn’t call back tonight. You would ponder on the fact that you feel trapped with them, and that it is worth looking like a jackass to be here right now, instead of their, with them.
And if you had even more time to comprehend what you’re doing right now and the blond’s tongue wasn’t dancing with your own, you’d think about why you’re doing this. You’d wonder if maybe it’s because you hate your partner, because that would make sense, but you sort of believe that that cannot be it. You would entertain the idea that you could be with the blonde in her bedroom because this is some sort of revenge for the relationship you are ensnared in. Or it might just be because you are feeling extremely horny tonight, but you doubt that more than the other possibilities.
However, there is not time to think when your body is firmly pressed against hers.
You can hear her wake up, the way her breathing changes from slow and even to faster and unsteady clues you in instantly. You want to be positive that this change is because she is now aware of your closeness, but you do not want to get your hopes up either. She grabs your hand and squeezes it lightly, assuring you that she is no longer sleeping, like you didn’t already know that. This causes a smile to drift onto your lips and you snuggle into her neck, because you figure by now, your snuggling rule is broken anyway.
“How’d you sleep?” Your lover rolls over slowly and you back away a little so she doesn’t accidentally elbow you in the head, because it has happened before.
“Okay.” You answer her, and are immediately sucked into her eyes. They hold so much of whom she is, her emotions and fears and longings and loves. You can’t help but be transfixed by them; because you think they make her irresistible. They enhance her charm and sarcasm and make you want to hug her, cry with her, make her feel better when she is having an off day.
Today, they look sad. And you don’t have to ask, because you know that the cause of her pain is you. And she isn’t asking you to leave your significant other, because she knows that you just can’t do that, but she wants you to return her feelings somehow, and she doesn’t just want sex from you. You know it, you can sense it, and you can see it in those two big pools of hazel.
“That’s good.” She tells you, but you know that it’s killing her, the way that you are studying her, but you can’t help it. Because looking into her eyes, it dawns on you that she’s looking straight back into yours. And nobody has really looked into your eyes in as long as you can remember. And you feel truly loved. It seems fitting, because she’s the only person in your life who has ever made you feel this way. Comfortable.
The blond leans over and gives you a peck on the lips. And it sends shivers down your spine and makes your heart rate accelerate. The emotions running through every nerve in your body feel unnatural and welcome and you experience an epiphany. That this, right here in this bed with the blond, is what love feels like. Because you love her right back.
“I love you Peyton.” You tell her with a small little grin, and she looks like she’s in awe of you. Obviously, Peyton was not expecting you to muster up the courage and emotions to speak those words. The glow that spreads through her makes your smile even wider.
“I love you too Brooke.” She whispers backs.