AN: I wrote this late last night and I was in the OTH writing mood so here I am with this piece here and seeing as firstly I don't have a beta and secondly I wrote this at five in the morning, I'm guessing there might be mistakes in here but I take full responsibiility if there are some. Anyway, on with the story...
The dull persistence of the common noise irritated her beyond words. The chirping of the morning birds felt harsh and metallic, forced out by the repetition of their days instead of the happiness of life. As if there was such a thing as happiness?
The dark shadows covered her body, the overly bright light from window were the only thing seeping through seeming to hit only the small drifts of her lower calves that weren't covered by the rough blanket that was not her own.
It was a harsh dull day for Peyton Sawyer as she woke up once again in the empty bed of Nathan Scott.
They say that high school is meant to be the best years of your life, but she could help but wonder as her eyes drifted to the mirror, that if these were the best years of her life then what hell was the rest of her life going to consist of?
This was not the life she wanted; not the life she craved. For a high school cheerleader, life was expected to be easy. But then again high school cheerleaders were considered easy. And maybe she was becoming that. She settled for this life, she settled for a man who didn't love her and basically used her as a trophy, she settled for a life without love.
She laughed to nothing and nobody, the silence being her own friend and enemy at this moment as her eyes quickly darted away from her own reflection.
No wonder she couldn't stand to look at her reflection in the mirror, because the girl looking back at her everyday wasn't a girl she wanted to know. Hell, when she looked in the mirror she wanted to punch it, break it into a million pieces and leave someone else to clean up the mess but she wouldn't do it. She was the cheerleader dating the jock…
She had an image to maintain.
Lucas Scott stared up at his ceiling listening to the simple beating of his heartbeat as the morning light streamed in through his window. He regretted leaving the curtains open. The light seemed too bright to his eyes, it slowly crept in forcing a headache to seep through his thoughts. He turned his back away from the harsh morning light and groaned as sleep caught up with him.
It was too early, he decided. Way too early.
Then again he had been out on the River Court to three in the morning. It was his own fault if it was too early and he knew it…unfortunately.
"Lucas, get up. It's time for school." A voice rang through his tired haze as for a single fleeting moment he had been on the verge of sleep.
He sighed, letting his eyes adjust to the harsh light before he slowly sat up letting his hands rub over his tired eyes as if trying to soothe his tired mind.
He was unsuccessful.
Groaning one final time, he got up and reluctantly prepared himself for another day. He foot hovered midair as his eyes lingered on his reflection. Like a slow trance he was pulled into a rollercoaster of thoughts. He wished the man staring back at him had the answers to life's greatest mysteries. He wished he could see truth and courage in his reflection, but when his foot made contact with the wooden panels of his floor, he was sprung out of his trance and he realised two simple truths one more.
He wasn't that guy and this would be another day where he wouldn't talk to Peyton Sawyer.
She had always been into her music. She had always been into her art. They mattered to her, both of them, but art had always been her fondness. The one release she had. She wanted her art to matter. To someone, to anyone, she just wanted it to change someone's life even in some small way. As long as her art mattered to someone then that was all that was important.
She turned at the entering figure to the room, still sweaty from his run, "Nathan…"
He stopped from his journey towards the shower and dragged his feet over to her, an action she pretended not to notice, "Yeah?"
She bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn't let him look at her art. It wasn't as if he cared, but maybe some small part of him did and she was willing to take a chance. She slowly picked up the sketch, letting her fingers graze over the corners for a moment until a bored cough brought her back into reality, "What do you think of this?"
He glanced down, his eyes gliding from the sketch back up to her quickly, not bothering to pay any attention to the little bit of her soul that she had drawn. Her heart sank a little more into its dark hole, already knowing what exactly was wrong with this scenario. Nathan didn't care about anything other than himself.
"It's nice." It was like salt being poured into the wound. He turned and walked away, adding as an afterthought, "Bit of a stupid caption though."
Might as well prod the wound with a stick while you're at it.
A single tear plopped on to her latest drawing at the sound of the shower running. Of course her art didn't matter to anyone. How could she have been stupid enough to think otherwise, especially when Nathan Scott was involved?
"Hey do you want to join me in here?" She heard him shout above the sound of falling water.
With that she carefully placed her drawing in her bag, grabbed her jacket harshly from his bed and walked away, slamming the door with as much force as she could muster as she went.
She had done this a couple hundred times, all the time hoping that this time – just this one time – he would chase after and say something to show her that he cared. He never did and every day a small part of her died inside because of it.
One day she would walk out that door and never give a second glance to Nathan Scott ever again and quietly inside, she was praying for that day to come soon before her heart was too broken for anyone to repair.
Literature always mattered to him. Basketball always mattered to him. Yet whilst literature let him delve into another world, let him lose himself like a dancer caught up in the music, his one true love was always basketball.
Yet when he came across a certain line or phrase or paragraph, he couldn't help but think that he wants to live through a moment like the one just described on paper just so he can sum it up in a brand new quote of his own that's as perfect as the one he has just read.
So far he hasn't had much luck on that so far.
So he lets basketball be his release for life. He might not live through many memorable moments, but one day – one day very very soon - he knew he would that would all change and basketball would be the reason for that. At least he hoped it would be in some way, shape or form be involved in that change he hopes will occur.
Basketball has been such a big part of his life that it defines him. He can't imagine a life without basketball and he doesn't want to imagine it if he's truthful so he loses himself as he shoots a hoop and smiles knowing that one day, everything's gonna change.
And when the ball comes clattering at his feet, he'll look up and see her sometimes driving her car, music pumping out louder than he cares and one day soon he hopes that instead of driving on by like she normally does, Peyton Sawyer will look up and notice him and in the blink of an eye…
Everything's gonna change.
He knows it. He sure of it in fact, more than anything else in his life because he knows that one day in the future, soon or far away, Peyton Sawyer is going to matter to him and he'll be able to sum up a perfect quote with her involved.
He smiles as he slowly turns and walks to school knowing that everything will change. One day soon, everything's gonna change and he'll be ready, but will she?
AN: I'm not sure if I should keep this going or just leave it as a oneshot, but I don't really write much OTH so who knows where I could end up with the story, but tell me what you think regardless. :)