I don't know, I just felt like writing this. Set to Rilo Kiley's Under the Blacklight.

Breakin' Up.

Brooke swung her feet idly over the smooth water below her. It rolled gently, carrying away brown leaves and shards of green grass, the muddy water moving and flowing and always coursing. She wanted to dip her feet into it, but it was too far down. She had always been slightly shorter than average, and it had never bothered her. It was just another challenge to overcome, another fact to face. They made her stronger.

She wiped a finger under her eye, trying to smear away the mascara lines she knew were there. She didn't know she had been crying until she'd felt the warm wetness cascading down her cheeks. Streaks of black stained her fingers and she wiped against her eyes urgently, trying to make the marks disappear.

She was fifteen and it was her first real break up.

Her shiny golden top picked up the moon's rays as she sat in half-darkness watching shapes move beneath her feet. Every now and then a car roared above her, clunking and bouncing across the bridge she hid under. There was a stick poking into her back and she was sure there was dirt on her new jeans. She had discarded her heels on the side of the road when she climbed down. She just wanted to be alone. Or that's what she thought, until a warm body landed beside her.

Petyon was always calm and in control now. Brooke remembered when she hadn't been, because she had been there to pick up the pieces that Peyton had cut off from herself. They were still together, still best friends forever, and Brooke knew they always would be. Peyton held out her pale hand over Brooke's lap without speaking, let it hover there until Brook reached up and grasped it. They sat there in silence until Brooke sighed. Peyton looked over and brought up her hand, wiping at the last bit of black from beneath Brooke's dark eyes. Brooke looked up at her with sad, puppy dog eyes.

"He's just a boy." Peyton told her. She offered the brunette a soft, gentle smile. "You still got me." She told her cheerfully. Brooke gave her a tear-stained smile and squeezed her hand once, looking away. Peyton paused. "Brooke?" The brunette didn't answer. Peyton reached out and cupped the girl's jaw in her hand, turning her face toward her. She met her eyes and spoke seriously. "You've always got me, you know."

"But do I really?" Brooke asked hesitantly, her hand still wrapped up in Peyton's, her face in the other girl's hand. Peyton scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. Brooke moved instinctively, pressing her lips against her best friend's before she could think of anything else to do. It was warm and sweet, and sticky with a hint of the beer Brooke had been drinking. Peyton's mouth was warm and soft and tender against her own. It made her stomach flip flop until she forgot to breathe and she closed her eyes to savor the feel. Peyton, hand still in Brooke's and the other on her face, kissed her back and Brooke forgot all about boys and broken and mascara lines.

When Peyton pulled back, she was breathing a little harder and she kept her face close, under that dark bridge with the water running beneath their feet.

"Yeah, you do."