Wasteland

By: caramelo

I do not own One Tree Hill or anything related to it.

"You're always saving me, Luke," she says, reclining back against the cold brick of her empty house. Her voice is high and self-mocking as she reiterates the words she had told him on a day she doesn't normally allow herself to remember.

"Peyton…"

He is staring at her with pitying eyes that make her fall halfway in love and piss her off all at the same time.

Her frown curls into a disgusted sneer, and she takes another long drag of her cigarette, insolently blowing the smoke back in his face. She can see the way he watches her lips curve into a perfect O around the stick. She's crippled, after all, not blind.

"God, I'm such a fool," she mutters. A lifeless amusement enters her eyes as a bitter smile twists on her face. "But that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, right? A beautiful, little fool."

Lucas chuckles despite himself. "Since when do you quote Fitzgerald?"

Peyton shrugs. Her collarbone juts out sharply against her taut skin, and it makes him wince for a reason he is not completely aware of. "Since I started trying to impress you."

He says nothing, and her next words tumble out from her mouth in an impossible mess of bravery, regret, and bitter scorn. "I can't even believe I'm saying this crap," she berates herself. "Put a gun to my head, and shoot me. You're with Brooke. I know you're with Brooke. I'm a terrible friend."

"That's not true," Lucas protests, a second too late.

"You know it is," Peyton says. "But, to be fair, you're a terrible boyfriend too. You left her, Lucas. You left her and came to me during the most terrifying ordeal of our lives. She was all alone."

Anger enters his eyes, an intense fury pulsing from a dark place inside of him. She wonders if it's because he hasn't admitted this to himself yet or because he already knows it's true. He is struck speechless for a few moments, and when he finally opens his mouth, Peyton can feel herself leaning forward in anticipation for a reaction she can't even begin to predict. And, for the first time ever, he tells her something cruel.

"I didn't come for you."

The cigarette falls lifelessly from her frozen fingertips. Her eyes blink once, stricken, before she regains composure and puts all those walls back up to guard herself and her stupid, rotten feelings. Purposefully, she crushes her cigarette into the dirt with two firm stamps of her foot. She feels a bit like a child having a temper tantrum.

"You're a liar," she says in a trembling voice. "A goddamn liar."

Lucas starts to voice what she knows will be a protest, one she knows she won't be able to handle right now. A rush of adrenaline streaks through her and before he can finish his sentence, she flies into his arms, impervious to the pain that streaks through her leg as she does so. His words are bitten into submission by her lips and teeth, and she can taste the metallic tang of blood that isn't hers on her tongue. His rational senses melt away in a moan. Once she pulls away, he is breathless, staring back at her with rounded, lust-clouded eyes. His lips are pinker than usual, spotted with blooming red gashes where her teeth sunk in too far.

"Liar," she repeats softly.

Conscious thought lights his eyes. Lucas buries his head in his hands and makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Why are you doing this to me, Peyton?" he pleads despondently. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"Well, what is the right thing, Luke," Peyton demands. "Is it blindly staying with Brooke and leading out your perfect lives together? Is it? Or is it admitting to yourself that you and me have a connection, one that goes beyond destiny and fate and true love forever? Because we do have that connection, Luke. You felt it. The second I kissed you, just now and back in that godforsaken school, you felt it. And I did too."

Lucas is stricken dumb. No matter. She leans back against the wall and waits for her answer. Her arms are crossed over her chest. He isn't sure whether it's an aggressive or defensive gesture. She isn't either.

He refuses to look at her when he opens his mouth to speak very quiet words. "I won't hurt Brooke like that again."

The last light of vivacity left in Peyton's weary eyes abruptly extinguishes. "So that's your decision," she says flatly.

"It's not like that," Lucas starts, reaching out for her.

"No," Peyton says. She yanks away from him and scrapes her bare shoulder on the brick. Angry red scrapes appear that bite and sting and make her hiss out of surprise. "That's exactly how it is. Don't touch me. I want you to leave now, Lucas. Go back to Brooke."

"Peyton…"

"Go!" she explodes. It's the most emotion she has shown in weeks. "I don't want to see you anymore."

Lucas hesitates but he sees the grim determination in her eyes and knows it's a battle he won't win. "Okay, Peyton," he says resignedly. "If that's what you really want."

Her expression remains hard, shuttering any emotion deep inside of her. There was a time when Lucas would have fought anyway, would've tried harder. Both of them know this. The shooting changed something in him, just like it did her into this cold, unfeeling, immoral person. As if to flaunt her change, she takes another cigarette out of her pocket and tilts her head back in a pose of aloof attachment to the situation at hand.

He sighs and turns to leave. He walks up her drive slowly as if he still hopes that she will change her mind and take him back. It doesn't work, but he didn't expect it to anyway. Once he reaches her bent, rusty mailbox, she steels herself to spit out one last, hateful comment that even she knows isn't true.

"I don't need you saving me anymore, Lucas. I can do it myself."

Author's Note: My second LP one-shot, my second time trying out a new writing style. I don't know. Do you guys like it? Everyone had some type of reaction to the latest episode, and this is kind of mine I guess in an abstract way. Review please.