You'd Have to Stop the World Just to Stop the Feeling

Peyton isn't sure how long she's been sitting on her kitchen floor sobbing. But she knows that the bottle of pinot noir she opened as soon as she got home is now half-empty. She still can't believe she did it. Lucas proposed to her, and she said no. After everything they've been through, from petty arguments to near-death experiences, he came to her, asking to spend the rest of her life with her, and she said no. She's broken. She's a mess. She's a fool. If she told any of her friends about this, they would be bewildered and furious. What's wrong with her? Lucas is all she's wanted and needed for so long, so why in God's name would she say no to the request that would honour that and seal that in place for good? She's made a lot of mistakes. She knows she has. She could never feel content about Lucas being with anybody else, and yet, when he finally chooses her, she's still not satisfied. She's a bitch. She's ungrateful. She's a lot of things. But she doesn't understand why. She doesn't mean to feel this way, but she does, and she lets those feelings rule her life.

She doesn't know what she wants. What she knows is that she misses her friends dearly. Moving to LA, while initially thrilling at the prospect of launching her music production career, soon became very lonely. It's not that she wants to go back to high school. She's not one of those people. But she misses the ease of all the people she cares about living close by. It made keeping in touch so easy. Even with the internet, everyone is busy. Everyone has their own lives, their own jobs, partners, aspirations. They have their own friends, too. However, Peyton can hardly consider the coworkers she goes out for drinks sometimes friends. They don't know her. They only know the cheery facade she puts up every day to mask how downright miserable and lost she is. They are not people she can call right now when she is at her lowest. Only one person, one person, has ever been capable of consoling her when she's like this: Brooke.

But she hasn't spoken to Brooke in over two years. All of their endearing and well-meant promises to stay in touch didn't hold up for long. She doesn't harbour hard feelings. She knows from the entertainment section of the news and the internet that Brooke's out there doing big and wonderful things and she couldn't be happier for her. There are rumours of every A-list star under the sun Brooke may or may not be dating, but Peyton usually ignores those in favour of praising her achievements. Brooke is on her mind more than she would like to admit. She always has been, even when she's been in a relationship. Once upon a time, she might have liked to think that feeling was reciprocated. But now, she's sure Brooke has bigger and better things to do than talk to her washed-up, lame, backstabbing best friend from high school. Peyton is almost certain that Brooke has moved on, and she wouldn't blame her for it. That's what most people do when they want to make something of themselves: they leave their small town, reach for the stars, and never look back. That's what Peyton tried to do, too, although a fresh start was not the crux of her motivation. The truth is, she wanted to leave Tree Hill, so she could try to leave her feelings for Brooke behind, the ones she's always denied. But she's not a teenager afraid of what people will say anymore. She's a damn adult and she should act like it. That fateful game of spin-the-bottle ten years ago or so has not left her mind.

Peyton's eyebrows raise as the bottle precariously lands so the neck is pointing at her and the base is pointing at Brooke. Some of the boys cheer and wolf-whistle. When she looks up at Brooke, she rolls her eyes at their immaturity, but then meets her gaze with a warm and comforting smile. Her pulse is racing. She isn't quite sure why. She didn't feel this way with any of the boys. Then again, while she's kissed a few boys, she's never kissed a girl. And she isn't really sure how she feels about kissing her best friend. But Brooke doesn't seem to be worried, kneeling and leaning over the bottle towards her. Peyton mimics her movement, wiping her palms on the hem of the skirt she's wearing. She hesitates as Brooke tilts her head and leans in, which only eggs the boys on more. But when Brooke cups her face and pulls it towards hers so their lips can meet… all of her fear disappears.

Brooke tastes like cherry Chapstick and smells like the vanilla Victoria's Secret body spray she bought her for her birthday. Her lips are soft and full. She's gentle with her. Tender, even. It's not like when Tim kissed her two rounds ago with far too much tongue and enough onion on his breath to nearly make her gag. This is different. It's… nicer. It makes sparks fly in a way that she's never felt before. It makes her heart soar, so much so that she's a little dumbfounded as Brooke pulls away with a grin before turning to the boys.

"See? It's not a big deal. So, next time the bottle lands between two of you, don't complain!"

Everything changed after that kiss and Peyton tried desperately to push those newfound feelings down, lest she risk ruining her friendship with Brooke or having all of Tree Hill Middle School out her as some kind of dyke. That insecurity never left her. When Rachel made that remark about her and Brooke being best friends with weird lesbian energy, it took everything in Peyton not to get defensive, wanting to protect that vulnerable little girl who didn't know how to grapple with those feelings. It wasn't like she had parents to talk about sexuality with, either. Her father struggled enough to give her the talk. He ended up finding a book at the library and leaving it on her bed one day. He meant well when he told her she could ask him anything, but that didn't end up happening out of awkwardness on both their parts. She would like to think if either of her mothers were alive or in her life, she might have been able to confide in them. Hence, she was left to her own devices. When nobody was looking, she would rent movies like But I'm a Cheerleader or The Incredibly True Story of Two Girls in Love or go to the tiny LGBT section of the library, praying that nobody would see her. These moments of curiosity were always succeeded by staunch moments of vehement denial or justification. She would invent some bullshit to explain why she was watching or reading those things, and leave it at that.

Denial worked for a little while, but when Brooke and Lucas got together, it made her realise she was trying to keep a flimsy lid on a boiling pot of unrequited love. Somehow, through shoving down her feelings, it ended up converting into some desire to be with Lucas. But it wasn't about Lucas. It never was. Somehow, despite the alcohol fogging her brain, she has hit a point of enlightenment. She never kissed Lucas or tried to lure him because she was jealous of Brooke. No… she was jealous of Lucas. She was angry and hurt by the idea of someone else taking up Brooke's time and hugging her and kissing her and loving her because she wanted it to be her instead. It didn't excuse her behaviour. She was a terrible friend to Brooke during those times. But now she finally understands why: her heart wants Brooke Davis. Brooke Davis is the one she wants to be with.

As uplifting as it feels to have answers, it is just as heartbreaking to realise it changes nothing. She is still alone. She highly doubts that Brooke still holds onto these memories with as much emotional charge as she does. And although the rumour of Brooke having a female companion springs up every now and then in the occasional trashy tabloid, she has never exactly confirmed if she likes girls, let alone likes her. But now Peyton is filled with a desire to know if maybe, just maybe, she's wrong. She's lost Lucas now. He's never going to get over the heartbreak she's just caused him. She's tired of lying to herself and to the world. She wants to scream it from the rooftops. She wants to live her truth.

So, by this newfound courage and the liquid kind, too, she finds Brooke's number in her contact list. This is not the first time she's done this. About six months ago she tried to call Brooke, but hung up as soon as the dial-tone started. But she calls her now. It goes to voicemail. It's two in the morning, so she's probably out at some big celebrity party or asleep. But Peyton clears her throat and starts to speak after the tone.

"Hey, Brooke, it's me. Well, I'm sure that's obvious." She laughs a little, nervously. "Unless you don't have my number saved anymore… which is fine! I wouldn't blame you if you had."

She shakes her head. Since when is she this awkward? As she continues to speak, her word vomit only becomes worse.

"I, uh… Lucas proposed to me tonight. And I said no. And… And I know that's a big deal. But I realised why. I don't love him. I don't love him…." She takes a breath. "Because I love you. I always have. I… I'm in love with you, Brooke Davis." 

Her voice starts to shake the more she pours her heart out. She knows she'll end up crying, but she's too far into this to care. 

"You're the light in my life. You're the only person I feel like I can be myself around. I look at you and everything feels okay. I'm so lucky to have you in my life. You've been there for me in ways that nobody else has. And I hate that I haven't been as good a friend to you in return. I'm sorry for taking Lucas away from you. It was wrong of me. And I know now that it's because I didn't want anybody else to have you except me. It doesn't make it okay. I hurt you. And I hate that so much. But…"

Peyton feels a lump at the back of her throat.

"But I'm tired of lying to myself. All this time, it's been you, Brooke, that I've wanted to spend my life with. You're everything to me. Life without you feels like everything is in black and white. You make me happy. I miss you… so damn much." 

She wipes under her eyes.

"A-And maybe you don't feel the same way. And that's okay. I… I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable or making you feel weird. You can delete this message and move on if you want. It's fine. I just- I'm sorry. I know this is a lot. But I just… I need you to know how I feel. Because the way I look at you and think of you is not the way most girls think of their best friend. And a big part of me wants to believe that's true in reverse. Because, if it is… that would be so wonderful and make me so happy. But if it isn't… that's okay. It… it's fine, and I'm sorry for bothering you but–" 

"I'm in LA," a voice answers on the other line, startling her. Peyton is so consumed by tears she is almost confused as to whose voice she is listening to. But who else could it be? "Peyton, can you hear me?"

Peyton opens her mouth a few times before the words come out. "Brooke?"

"Yeah, it's me," she confirms. Peyton's heart is racing. "I… I'm in LA for a fashion show. Where are you?"

This can't be real. Brooke couldn't have actually picked up the phone, let alone asked to come over.

"I-I'm at home," Peyton says, dumbfounded.

"Text me your address. I'll be there." There's an assurance to her voice, like she's telling her everything will be okay, that she's safe, that she's here for her and it makes her heart flutter.

Brooke hangs up and Peyton does as she asked with shaking fingers. She feels a sudden urge to clean up her apartment but, at the same time, Brooke has seen her at her worst and never judged her, and vice versa. She doesn't move from the floor until there's an urgent knock at the door and she somehow remembers to walk again, opening up with trembling fingers.

Her hair is shorter now. Her signature makeup look is the same, but a little more refined, mature, really, making her aware of how much time has passed. She's wearing a cocktail dress that looks beautiful on her, but Peyton would say the same if she had showed up in her pyjamas. Peyton's raggy t-shirt and jeans look pathetic by comparison, yet Brooke looks at her like she's a princess. Brooke looks like she's been crying, too, but also very much relieved. Relieved, like… her words meant something to her.

And Peyton doesn't need to sit there and wonder whether she's interpreting this correctly because, within seconds, Brooke's mouth is on hers. She can't help but think of that first kiss all those years ago. Some things have changed: she tastes the slight bitterness of MAC lipstick and the perfume is something from Dior or Estée Lauder. There are no voyeurs here. However, the feeling in her body of comfort, of safety, of permission to be vulnerable, is the same. The softness is, too, even though the passion is fiery. The world could be crashing and burning right now, but it wouldn't matter because she's kissing Brooke and she's loved and it's everything she wanted and more.

The kiss feels like eternity, in the best way possible. When they eventually part, without haste, Peyton is brushing a hair from Brooke's face and Brooke's hands cup her cheeks in a way that's more comforting than she would ever know.

"Yes," Brooke says, unable to contain her smile. "To all of it. Everything you said… I feel the same way. I was just– I was afraid. But not anymore. Because I love you, P. Sawyer more than anything else in the world."

Peyton's eyes crinkle, and for the first time since she left Tree Hill, she feels like she's living the life she wants.

"I love you, too, Brooke Davis."