Trashed and Scattered

The house was strangely quiet. It had been two days since she'd seen Jimmy and Peyton couldn't quite shake the void he'd left in his wake. She gently scolded herself; reminding herself that the house had been nothing but quiet before they'd abruptly been reintroduced. But the silence was deafening, acting as the perfect acoustics for her thoughts to bounce off of.
He possessed her every waking second. From the playful glint in his eye to the feel of his hands on her skin, down to the security she felt creeping deep inside her bones. It had been so long since she'd felt so effortlessly safe...Nearly thirteen years.
"Stop," she grunted at herself as she rolled more paint onto the brush.
She'd pushed herself back into the rigor of home renovations; it was, after all, her purpose for being there. With all of the excitement Jimmy had brought into her life, she'd almost lost sight for a second. With a purposeful sigh, she dropped her activity and raced to the stereo. No way was she willing to subject herself to A Fire Inside.
Nothing from nowhere, I'm no one at all.
A frown toyed with the ends of her lips as she reluctantly flipped away from anything to do with Sing the Sorrow. What once had given her so much joy, now was a reminder of an indulgence that had cost her sanity. Every moment since her fleeting night with Jimmy felt sincerely hollow. Like she'd been void of any real excitement in her life until he'd sprung himself into it. As if every day of her adult life had somehow been leading up to that very moment that their lips had met. She let herself feel it, basked in its glory and its misery, and then pushed it aside once more.
This had become a routine, growing in its repetition with urgent rapidity. By day one, she was tired of it; and yet, it went on.
She let herself play with the idea of fate; of soulmates and of star alignments. She let herself consider the remote possibility that she and Jimmy were meant to be...But Natalie's face quickly reminded her of her place in this world. Her home in New York solidified that nail in the coffin. But it didn't do a damn thing to deter that nagging sensation at the back of her neck that she was denying something that could be more. More than it was. More than she was. More than they'd ever been...to anyone else or each other.
If he wanted her, Peyton rationalized, he would have abandoned the blonde by now. She was sure she would have tossed anything aside that stood in the way of the electric sparks Jimmy conducted inside her core. There could never be anything like that storm, of this she was certain.
She'd considered the waiting game...But quickly realized that nothing good had ever come of waiting for someone to adore you back. Not that adoration was the real issue at hand; she was sure Jimmy felt every ounce of the unfiltered affection she'd been harboring since their eyes had met. But it wasn't enough. That chemistry wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to abandon his life--and it wasn't enough to abandon hers.
"I'm so fucked," she half-laughed to herself, switching her soundtrack over to the newest album Coldplay had put out.
She could practically hear Jimmy cackling at her preferences but she didn't care. X&Y poured out of the speakers and enveloped her in understanding. That was the thing about music, she thought fondly, it encapsulates all.
I want to love you but I don't know if I can. I know something is broken and I'm trying to fix it; trying to repair it any way I can...
Peyton forced herself to continue on with her labor of obligation. Her dad had called earlier in the morning to check in with her progress. She'd intentionally left out the distraction of the previous few days, sticking to the facts and the need to know details. Her original timeline had been far out of whack; she didn't anticipate leaving by the end of the month like she'd originally planned. That was out.
She was annoyed to find that it didn't bother her.
After a second coat was painted to near perfection across each of the living room walls, Peyton abandoned her work. She collapsed into the rickety chairs out back and let herself enjoy the setting sun. The breeze was chilly and she'd considered skulking back inside to retrieve a sweater. But she knew she'd just be distracted by the impending workload and quickly convinced herself to simply stay. Enjoy the moment, even if it wasn't entirely comfortable.
As the sky shifted into a beautiful assortment of yellows and the deepest red the artist had ever seen, a series of grunts and wheezes sounded from the yard next door. Her past told her it was Wiley, up to no good; her present told her the fence wasn't high enough. But as her lives collided, a set of long fingers curled over the top of the wooden wall, and soon a set of crystal blue eyes were peering over at her. They lit up as her emerald gaze met his curiosity.
"Hi!" he greeted happily.
Peyton found herself grinning, amused endlessly by the head floating at the top of the planks.
"I'm coming over!"
She laughed, finding no use in agreeing or disagreeing. The boy she'd known would do what he wanted, and she figured the man she was getting to know wasn't much different.
He pulled himself to the top and teetered there with terror in his eyes. Peyton held a hand to her lips as her lungs took in a breath and held it. He looked like an alley cat that had lost a limb but operated on pure determination. He was shaky and unsteady as he pushed himself over the top and landed as ungracefully as ever. His back his the ground with a loud and cracking thud.
"Jesus!" Peyton gasped, bounding out from her chair and over to investigate the fallen gazelle.
He groaned, a playful grin stapled to his face despite the pounding in his spine, "No, not Jesus. Jimmy. Though, I can see how you could mix it up so easily."
"Are you paralyzed now or what?" Peyton half-laughed, trying her best not to in case he'd actually fractured more than just his ego.
"Yep," he nodded sullenly. "So, I guess I'm a lawn gnome now. I'll need a tall red hat and some boots."
Peyton smiled, "Can I paint your cheeks red too?"
"I'm a lawn gnome, Peyton," he informed her. "Not a fucking streetwalker."
"Lawn gnomes are upright," she informed him right back, feeling somehow ten again.
He laughed sharply, "Good point."
She extended her hand to him, giving her head a shake as he groaned in agony as his fingers wrapped around her wrist. With a forceful pull, Jimmy was on his feet once more. He shook the grass from his jeans with a scoff.
"I almost died," he told her with wide eyes, admiring the distance he'd fallen. "Did you see me almost die?"
She nodded, hiding her amusement, "I saw."
"And you did fucking nothing to stop it," he gasped. "You're sadistic."
"I am," she finally laughed. "I love to see you in pain."
Jimmy shook his head, "That's fucked up, man."
She bit her tongue as the urge to remind him that he'd intentionally caused her pain surfaced and enraged itself. There was no point in drudging through the battle again; and she didn't want to.
"Where've you been?" she asked curiously as she slowly meandered back to her chair to finish watching the sun set itself behind the horizon.
He shrugged, following closely behind, "Escaping from the afterlife. It's trying to pull me back though, as demonstrated by my near death experience two seconds ago."
"Is it quiet there?" she asked pointedly, collapsing back down. "Cause if so, I think I may have just been there, too."
"Ha-ha," Jimmy smirked, sinking down onto the deck boards as if they were his own personal lounger.
"What're you doing here?" she asked curiously. "Do you just live at your parents house now or what?"
He smirked up at her, "Wouldn't that be cool? We could relive our childhood...as adults."
Peyton cringed. There was nothing about her childhood she longed to relived. Wiley, she supposed; but even that had changed with time. It had aged and faded and manipulated itself into something else. Something ugly and torturous. She was pained by its difference.
"Right," Jimmy thought aloud with a chuckle. "You had a shit childhood. Let me rephrase: we could redo our childhood!...As adults."
She'd love a redo. If only it could have been that simple. Sometimes she would wonder what it would have been like if her mother had left one night and she'd been able to start over without ever leaving her life. Would things have still ended up so strangely disconnected? Would she have married the boy next door like she'd been so sure she would? Looking at him then, she'd never felt further from her former compulsions. This wasn't the boy she'd marry; this was the boy that would marry someone else.
She probably wouldn't even be invited.
"Weird," was all Peyton offered; too far gone within her own thoughts.
Jimmy eyed her strangely, poking at her knee with one long finger, "What's wrong?"
"Are you going to marry Natalie?" she asked blatantly.
A subtle grin spread across his face as he found sanctuary within her jealousy.
"No way, man," he waved her off.
Peyton released the breath she didn't realize she'd still been holding.
"I'm already sworn to someone," he winked.
She felt her cheeks flush as she slipped back into the past. But the black ends of his hair mixed with the metal bar hanging from one end of his ear to the other brought her back. She caught herself admiring how he'd grown.
"Sorry I've been missing for a couple days," Jimmy said as he turned to watch the same scene that had beckoned Peyton outdoors.
She shrugged, "It's all good."
"I've been dealing with some shit," he told her. "It took longer than I thought. My brain's not as quick as it was in my youth."
"In your youth?" Peyton laughed. "I forgot to wish you a ninetieth birthday, huh?"
He nodded, meeting her gaze with a dramatic pout, "I'm eighty-nine, Peyton. Can't even keep my age straight. I'm disappointed in you."
"Old man Sullivan," she smiled. "Please forgive me."
"I do!" he announced happily, sinking back onto his palms as he let himself marvel at the beautiful array of colours stretched out across the sky.
Peyton ignored the weight of his words, assuming they weren't as pointed as she'd received them to be.
But Jimmy had meant it exactly the way he knew she'd hear it.
"Beautiful, hm?" Peyton thought aloud, following Jimmy's gaze upward past the stars hidden behind the dying daylight.
He nodded.
"I didn't realize I missed California at all," she confessed oddly. "But watching these sunsets is...weirdly addictive."
"I could never leave," Jimmy acknowledged. "Even when I'm touring, I always look forward to coming back to this. You just can't find shit like this anywhere else in the world."
She hadn't seen much of the world, but what she'd seen had secured his thoughts as fact in her mind. But there was nowhere else in the world that held a Wiley either, she thought. That was the only word that California had produced from her mind in all those years. Like a tragic game of word association; an entire state was caught up in the blues of one boy.
And now one man.
"How're your parents?" Peyton asked, feeling nostalgic.
Jimmy scoffed with a laugh, "Why?"
"Why not?" Peyton challenged. "I'm assuming you were just visiting them."
He shook his head, "Nope."
"You just use their property as some weird door to me?" she countered with a laugh. "You know I have a front door, right?"
"That would be weird, man," Jimmy argued. "Use your front door...Pft. Who are you, Peyton Winchester?"
She snickered quietly, "Fair enough."
He let silence fall between them, enjoying the quiet moment at her side. It was all he'd thought of for days--he just wanted to be near her. That's about as far as he'd gotten in his life plan. He'd never been one to plan anything, so the decisions he'd been facing had been a challenge to say the least.
He'd basically gotten nowhere with them. But he'd made one move that he was curious to see how it would play out. It would, at the very least, offer perspective; which he could use.
Peyton was wondering about Jimmy's presence. He hadn't been visiting his parents? Then why was he always using their door and not hers. Why couldn't he come to see her like a normal person? Like a friend?
Natalie, she assumed immediately. But assuming she wasn't hiding out in the bushes across the street, how would she know which house Jimmy had gone to? Where did Natalie believe Jimmy went when he'd leave? Was he honest? Did he lie? Did it matter?
She decided it did.
"Where does Natalie think you are right now?" Peyton asked, trying her best to sound neutral.
Jimmy almost smiled, "Home."
"Liar, liar," Peyton sang antogonizingly.
He shook his head with a smug grin, "No pants on fire here."
Peyton challenged him with her face.
He laughed, admiring the soft light reflecting the beauty in each of her features. He'd been looking forward to this moment all day--it had been good luck that he'd found her outside. It was so much more of an impact to deliver a bomb beneath the brilliance of a California sunset.
"I am home," he told her sternly.
She cocked an eyebrow, "I'm pretty sure you don't live here."
He laughed, "Nah. But I do live over there," he said as he gestured lazily over the fence.
"I was joking about that," Peyton offered confusedly.
Jimmy nodded, "Yeah, but I wasn't."
"You..."
Jimmy smiled widely, "Moved in with my parents, yeah."
Peyton's jaw dropped just a little.
"Just temporarily!" Jimmy hurried. "I'm not a fucking freeloader, I swear!"
"Wh...Why?"
He shrugged, "The view's better here than my shitty house."
"Jimmy," she pressed.
"I'm having my kitchen redone," he offered but it reeked of lies.
"Jimmy," she urged again, a bit more amused this time.
He smiled, "My parents are in Europe for the next few weeks...So..."
"So?" Peyton scoffed.
"I needed some space to write," he shrugged. "I need less distractions. And my house is full of distractions."
Peyton felt her throat catch, "Is Natalie coming?"
He shook his head, refusing to meet Peyton's gaze, "Nah. She's a distraction."
"And she's...okay with that? With you bailing on her?"
"I'm hardly bailing," he informed her quickly. "But I told her I needed some space, yeah. She was cool about it...It isn't the first time I've disappeared for the sake of music."
He had simply neglected that Peyton was a serious catalyst in his newfound need for quiet. The timing was undeniably perfect and he was thrilled with himself when he'd come up with the new plot.
"Music," Peyton said flatly.
He nodded, "Yup!"
She fell back into a turmoil-ridden silence.
"And while I do that, we can redo our childhood!" he grinned excitedly at her, trying his best to lighten the conflict written all over her face.
She was at a loss for words.
"Don't be so dramatic," he laughed, pushing at her leg playfully. "I'll just be next door. It isn't like I'm moving in here."
"Same fucking thing," Peyton finally spoke, half-amused and half-terrified.
It was easier to be removed from him when she had Natalie to lean on entirely.
"Maybe I'll see you at my window some time," Jimmy grinned. "I might even let you in."
Peyton laughed, leaning down to slap him lightly on his tattooed arm, "Shut up. Of course you'd let me in. Scaling that fucking tree is enough of an admission to justify opening the window!"
"True," he agreed with wide eyes. "I did that shit way more recently than you did; it was way easier when I was nimble!"
"In your youth," Peyton encouraged with a playful smile.
He sighed with relief, "Exactly!"
The two friends exchanged knowing glances, moving passed them without mentioning a thing.
Jimmy was playing with fire and he knew that. But he was determined to find out if his soul was calling out for something unfinished or if his heart was calling out for something more. His goal was perspective; he needed direction. This was the best, and most creative, way he could think of to try and gain either. He wanted to know what the grass was like on the other side of his uncertainty. He'd tried stability and he'd tried chance. Now it was time to remove himself from what he thought he knew and search for a sign out on that horizon. Maybe it would take a while, but one way or another, he was determined to get a hold on what his future looked like--alone or otherwise.
And there was no better view of his life than from across that sturdy oak.

Notes

Oh shit. (What's in the bucket).

The plot thickens. Not chickens.

xx