Note: A little late posting this, but I hope to get back on track for November.

Of Masks and Salutations

Prompt: Goodbye

This Is Not Goodbye

Dates with Sam are a little strange. There are no goodbyes, no nervous moments on the front steps, no final words before turning away. Sure, Sam lets go of Brooke's hand when they enter the house, but she takes it right back as soon as they're upstairs and out of the parents' view.

"Goodnight," Sam says, when they're outside Brooke's room, and even though she leans in for a kiss, they both know this isn't goodbye. Brooke watches Sam's door close before slumping against the wall and biting her lip.

They're in pyjamas minutes later, standing side by side, brushing their teeth and trying not to stare at each other's reflection in the mirror. Brooke knows their date is over, but it doesn't feel that way to her. She grabs Sam's hand when they're both done, pulls her close and crushes their mouths together again.

The other kiss was for the date. This one is just for being here, because Brooke still remembers the first time they went out, remembers the smell of Sam's hair, the taste of her smile. Brooke remembers wishing it could be first dates forever.

With Sam, she has exactly that. Their lives are so entwined that the dates never really end, one just flows endlessly into the next. For them, there are no goodbyes, and Brooke thinks she likes it.

Prompt: Hello

Day Two

Brooke is trying very hard not to think about yesterday.

Yesterday, Brooke got home to find Sam waiting for her. They'd promised that they would study together, but Sam hadn't had studying on her mind. Yesterday, everything changed, and Brooke discovered exactly what she and Sam really were to each other. If it wasn't for Brooke insisting they needed to study, they would have never stopped making out.

But that was yesterday, and Brooke is not supposed to be thinking about that. She's supposed to be thinking about chemistry, about stoichiometry and oxidation-reduction, because there's a test starting in two minutes and she needs to concentrate. She shouldn't be dreaming about dark hair and shining eyes, even if they haven't seen each other all day.

Still, when Sam does walk in, Brooke can't help the smile that spreads across her face. Sam sits down, smiles back, and Brooke's mouth is suddenly dry. Everything's different now.

"Hey."

Sam says hello like nothing's changed. Brooke forgets to keep breathing.

Prompt: Face

Dreams of Forever

Brooke has many faces, and Sam's seen them all. There's the one she puts on every morning before school, the flawless one she washes off at night. Sam doesn't like that one much. There's the face Brooke has for their parents. That one's fun and happy, completely adolescent, and not at all honest either. Sam knows those faces aren't for her.

Because late at night, when it's just Brooke and her, Sam knows all the masks are off and everything they see is true. In the dark, Brooke looks small and scared, every bit as nervous as Sam. Her eyes close when the brunette leans near, but their lips stop a whisper apart. Sam pauses, takes in the blonde hair and shaking hands, the ragged breaths and flushed face.

This is the real Brooke, the one that only shows when they're alone, the one for which Sam would give anything just to be around. This Brooke is simple, and beautiful, and so damn perfect that every time she smiles Sam dreams of forever.

Prompt: Space

Interstitial Thoughts

Ever since the accident, Brooke has learned to live every single moment of her life, not just the ones that stand out. Because the quiet bits -- the spaces in between -- are just as important as all the rest. Even now, in the stillness before dawn, Brooke is awestruck by first light creeping into the window, wandering across the bed to Sam's sleeping form.

The brunette doesn't stir, not when the sun climbs high enough to reach her face, not even when Brooke leans close and kisses her neck lightly. There's just the rise and fall of the sheets, constant and rhythmic. Brooke's hands slide underneath and encircle Sam's body. She places her head next to Sam's, breathes in dark curls splayed out on the pillow, and closes her eyes once more.

This space is calm and gentle, timeout from nagging questions and persistent doubts. In this early morning pause, there's only Brooke's arms around Sam's warmth, and the world beyond their room doesn't exist.

October 2008