Trashed and Scattered

Peyton had Brian drop her off at home. She was feeling suddenly ill from all the whiplash her childhood friend had subjected her to. While it was tempting to run off with Brian and start up some vengeance satisfying love affair behind Jimmy's back, Peyton simply had nothing left. The drummer had beat every last ounce of compassion from her bones.
As Brian pulled the car over to idle next to the curb, he couldn't help but linger in the weirdness that it was to pull up to Jimmy's parents' house...but not be there to see the Sullivans. He'd spent so much of his life wrapped up inside the house that it was surreal to think he was getting acquainted with someone that had shared that universe. She'd slid her hand down the same banister and she'd peered through the same windows, but all before he'd ever caught wind that the big white house existed at all. She'd seen it from an entirely unique perspective; one that Brian would never understand, despite his familiarity with the architecture.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Brian pressed, sensing disappointment from the beauty in the passenger seat.
She nodded absently, letting her eyes wander the aura of the porch light embedded in the house next door, "I'm fine."
"I know we don't know each other," Brian sputtered awkwardly, feeling like he had to muster up some sort of bridge. "But...If you need a friend, I'm here."
Her green eyes found him, looking almost playful again, "Is that what this is? Friendship?"
"If you want it to be," he shrugged.
The response made her laugh quietly to herself. It was a similar proposition to the one she'd pitched to Jimmy, and he'd happily snatched up. She didn't need another friend like Jimmy--he was enough work on his own, it seemed. What was once so effortless was now riddled with chaos. He'd complicated things so heavily that Peyton wasn't sure there could be a way out. Perhaps, she'd thought, things would have to stay inconsistent. Maybe that was all the constancy she could ask of Jimmy...and maybe that had to be enough.
"I do," Peyton nodded with a smile.
"Good," Brian mimicked her glee.
She gestured to her house with a lazy nod, "I should go in...But thank you...For today. I had a good time with you."
"I'm glad," he smirked. "I'm sorry that Jimmy's such an idiot."
"Don't be," she grinned, pushing open the car door with ease. "Like you said, if Jimmy wasn't an idiot, I wouldn't have gotten to know you."
Brian's heart fluttered as she offered a lazy wink and then climbed out from his reach. He waited until she had tucked herself behind the grey walls, and only then did he speed off. The gleam in her eye stuck with him all night; her cheeky grin tattooed into his thoughts. When he got home, he cursed himself for not asking for her number. He'd have another chance, he was sure. Next time he wouldn't let it slip by.
Peyton locked the door tightly behind her, pursing her eyes shut tightly as she heaved her back against it. She slid down the dark wood, finally letting herself release everything she'd been keeping shackled since Jimmy had dropped a bomb in her lap. The tears flowed softly, her sobs hardly audible at all; a trick she'd mastered after years of practice.
There were no words to describe just how insignificant she felt, huddled against her knees in the doorway of her very own haunted house. She felt foolish; she thought she could dominate this place, somehow make it bend to her whim if only she tried hard enough. While the house slowly faded into nothing but walls and floors, her control over herself seemed to spiral upward and out into every direction.
She cursed herself for letting Jimmy in so easily; she scolded herself for being so blind. Nothing good ever stays and she should have known better than to let herself become invested. But he wasn't just another one night stand...She knew that. Into her very core, she knew that.
There was something about Jimmy's touch that was electric. His eyes were like rhinestones, glimmering out of the darkness. She'd greedily scrounged up the comfort of Wiley, neglecting the obvious hangup to it all.
He wasn't Wiley anymore.
Wiley would have never discarded her that way. He would have never humiliated her--he would have protected her. He would have gone to the ends of the earth to ensure that she was o-fucking-kay. So what happened? Were the hands of time to blame? That girl latched to his life? What, she wondered, was the disconnect?
"Get up," she told herself sternly.
With one dedicated breath and a few blinks to regain control of her vision, her face straightened out.
The time to grieve for her failed friendship had come and gone, and she'd missed it. There was no point lingering on it after the fact; so, she moved on.
She picked herself up from the floor, dusted the wrinkles from her shirt, and headed for the shower. The salt of the sea had left its mark on her otherwise silky hair--and she was keen to be rid of it.
As the water washed away her day, Peyton let her mind run over the details of Natalie's existence. She was cute enough; a tiny specimen, fragile to look upon. She had a mouth though; Peyton would give her that. Clearly she lacked compassion, or a filter for that vile tongue...It wasn't entirely clear.
How ridiculous, Peyton thought. She's intimidated by a ghost. That, Peyton was sure, was the only logical explanation for Natalie's tangent. She, like Jimmy, had to annihilate it's worth; destroy any residue of importance so that she, and she alone, could reign supreme. If Natalie was threatened by an eleven year old girl, she had problems too wild for Peyton to get into.
Peyton had never been threatened by anyone. Envious, sure. Jealous? Maybe. She certainly felt a tinge of something green as she watched Natalie lean against Jimmy's strength. But threatened?
Peyton knew who she was. She'd slaved for years to find a sense of acceptance in herself. She genuinely liked who she'd become, flaws and all. There were no qualms for lacking skills, no regrets for failed relationships. Everything she'd done, or not done, had accumulated into her present. And while she didn't particularly care for the events shrouding her return to California, she couldn't deny herself the pride. Against all of her reservations, she'd come back and she'd conquered her demons. At least for now. But that's all she needed, now.
As she ran the towel through the long strands of hair, stepping into her bedroom in the suit she was born into, a distinct rapping at the window nearly cost her her life. She rapidly hid herself behind the cloth, whimpering as she struggled to catch her breath.
Jimmy's smug face appeared on the other side of the pane. Peyton had half a mind to pull the curtains together and leave him out in the cold. But one look into those blues and she was caving quicker than ever.
She slid the window open with a daring stare.
"Hi," Jimmy offered lamely.
"What do you want?" Peyton demanded impatiently.
He frowned, "Can I talk to you?"
"To whom?" she asked callously. "To me? I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. My mother always told me not to talk to strangers."
Jimmy scowled, "No she didn't."
Peyton grunted, giving her head a quick shake as she quickly released the window from her grip. Jimmy caught it by the bottom before it could seal her away from him.
"Lexi," he groaned loudly. "Five minutes. Please?"
Her leg gyrated subtly as she ran through the options. She'd never been able to say no to him.
She bent over, pulling the window back up just a crack, "I need to get dressed."
"I'll be here," Jimmy nodded enthusiastically.
Peyton pulled on a pair of sweatpants and tossed a sweater over her shoulders, zipping it up modestly as if she hadn't just been caught in the nude. She figured it was nothing he hadn't already seen.
She felt like a child again as she squeezed through the window frame and landed atop the roof. Jimmy had already stretched himself out, looking as if nothing had transpired. As if Peyton wasn't considering giving him a solid push.
"What do you want?" Peyton demanded the second she was settled.
"I'm so fucking sorry," Jimmy began quickly.
She rolled her eyes, "I don't do the whole 'sorry' thing when it's repeated behaviour. You're not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done the same shit to me...Twice...In one day."
"What did you want me to do, Lex? Tell my girlfriend who you are? Tell her what happened? You told me not to!"
"Don't you put that shit on me," Peyton warned venomously. "I'm not the one that cheated on my girlfriend. I don't owe her shit, Jimmy. That is entirely on you."
"I know," he growled. "...I know."
Peyton sighed, refusing to meet his gaze, "I don't think this is going to work."
"Please don't say that," Jimmy frowned. "I know I was an ass today...A big ass. Like Mrs. Bentz sized."
Peyton hated that she laughed, following it with a grumble, "She did have a big ass..."
"I'm so sorry, Lexi," he maintained. "I'm trying to figure out what to do...I want you in my life. You have no idea how badly...But it can't be as Lexi when Natalie's around. I know that's fucked up but...Fuck, Natalie's fucked up."
Peyton nodded, "I got that from her tangent about me."
"She wasn't always like that," Jimmy shrugged. "She used to be really sweet...I think I broke her. I do that, you know. I break shit. I'm breaking us as I speak."
She nodded again.
"Natalie would lose her mind," he breathed. "She'd never understand...and I don't think she should have to. Even if it doesn't work out and we go our separate ways...She doesn't need to know what happened. I don't want to ruin her."
"But it's okay to ruin me?" Peyton dared. "You have no regard for my feelings at all?"
Jimmy sighed loudly, stepping closer to his lost friend, "Of course I do."
"You have a really fucked up way of showing it," she noted callously.
He reached out and lifted her chin, she averted her gaze.
"Lexi, look at me," he instructed gently.
"No."
"Peyton," he tried more sternly. "It's still me."
She challenged herself to look him dead in the eye, biting back her rage as she countered, "Is it?"
But the familiarity was there. That endless eternal flickering of love beckoned her on, reminding her that he'd loved her once. He'd loved her entirely; bruises and all. He'd taken care of her for years...Did one bad day erase all of the good he'd done? All of the good she'd known?
"You hurt me," she said quietly.
He nodded, "I know."
"I'm just fiction," Peyton said, pain dripping from the words. "I don't matter."
"That's not true," he argued, biting back his own anguish. "You mean everything...You matter more to me than anyone in this world."
She wrinkled her forehead, "Except Natalie."
"Fuck Natalie," Jimmy groaned loudly.
"What are we doing?" Peyton asked, exasperated. "What do you want from me?"
He swallowed hard, "I want your forgiveness."
"It's going to take more than some bullshit apology to win that back," she informed him.
"I want to know you," he said, brushing past her hostility.
She shook her head.
"I want to fix everything that's broken," he told her, letting his hands cup the sides of her face.
"Jimmy, it's different now," she choked. "You made it perfectly clear today that I'm in your way."
His crystal blues melted before her, "You've never been in my way. I'm a fucking idiot. But my stupidity doesn't change the way I feel about you. It doesn't change who you are to me."
"And who is that, Jimmy?" she challenged. "Is it Peyton? Or is it Lexi?"
"Both," he answered firmly.
She took a deep breath, trying to verbalize every vile thought she wanted him to hear.
"You will always be my heart and soul," he said seriously, his eyes beating into hers. "Maybe it needs to be fucked up for a while. Maybe we need to really try at this for a bit...But don't think for a fucking second that you're not the only thing on my mind."
As she went to challenge him, he cut her off briskly.
"I don't care if we're five or ten or twenty...or fucking ninety," he continued. "You can be pushing me around in a wheelchair, maybe off a cliff...I'm not totally sure yet...But I will always feel the way I did the day that I met you."
Peyton felt herself falling into mush, desperate to be in his mind, "And how was that?"
"Like I'm home," he exhaled.
"Jimmy..."
"I know you better than anyone," he informed her. "And I know you think that I don't because we've been on different planets for a while...But I know where you got that scar on your forehead...and I know why you favor your left hand when you eat...and I know that you jump when the phone rings...and you use control as a way of covering up your feelings."
Peyton tried to shake her head, "Jimmy, I'm not--"
"You're not a bottle, Peyton," he said, nearly tripping over her name. "You're a fountain."
Her eyes began to well up as Wiley pulled her out from her anger.
"Be a fucking fountain with me," he pleaded, reading her face for a split second before pulling her into him.
She fought him for a second, screaming at herself to regain control. The name Natalie resounded over and over through her ears, echoing down her spine.
But as Jimmy's hands tightened their grip on her, she could feel herself reverting. It was as if nothing had changed; they'd been in that place since the beginning of time. They'd always been as one, stronger and impervious to pain.
"Jimmy," Peyton panted as she used both hands to push at his chest. "We can't."
He nodded glumly.
"If you want me," she started weakly but gave up immediately.
"Please don't ask me to do that," Jimmy finished for her. "I...can't...You're leaving."
Peyton could have cried from the frustration alone.
"Here we go," she groaned. "Running around in circles."
"This isn't what I came here for," he growled to himself. "I came...I just..."
"You just what?" she asked impatiently. "You want my forgiveness, Jimmy? Have it. I forgive you. You're forgiven. Feel better?"
He let his face fall, "No."
"That makes two of us," she concurred firmly, turning on her heel and pulling the window open once more. "I'm not doing this back and forth shit with you. It...It hurts. Every time we say goodbye, it fucking hurts. Please stop asking me to."
He nodded, taking the hit like he deserved, "I need you."
"Then be my friend," she offered, at a loss for anything else to say. "But be my friend, Jimmy. I won't have this conversation again."
"That's fair," he agreed.
She lingered, half through the window and half under the moonlight. Jimmy looked so perfect under the stars, the dim light taking years off his life. He looked just like a sweet boy she used to know. Somewhere deep inside of that tattooed and confused body, she was sure that boy still lived. She'd felt it. She'd seen it.
With a roll of her eyes, she hated herself, "Are you coming in or what?"

Notes

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