Trashed and Scattered

“Hold the damn phone,” Joanna gasped dramatically into the phone. “You’re going away with a boy?”
Peyton smirked, “I don’t know if you can call them boys after age…I don’t know…Twenty?”
“Unimportant,” Joanna decided quickly. “What’s crazier to me is that the boy isn’t Wiley? Have you lost your mind, you impulsive shit?”
“I haven’t,” Peyton groaned playfully. “But he’ll be there. Jimmy will be there.”
“Wiley is cuter,” Joanna smiled. “Jimmy…What kind of name is that anyway?”
“Couldn’t tell you, Jo,” Peyton snickered. “Not his parent.”
She laughed, “I need to know what’s happening. You leave New York and suddenly you become interesting? He must be super cute. Brian, right?”
“Right,” Peyton nodded, leaning over the bathroom counter to adjust her eyeliner that had smeared following a particular aggressive sneeze.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Is he super cute?” Joanna repeated flatly, annoyed that she’d had to repeat herself at all.
Peyton felt herself blushing, leaning back to an upright stance, “Big time.”
“Oh my god,” Joanna gushed, her insides melting into a pit. “This is so exciting! Peyton’s going to have a boyfriend! After the whole Jared thing I thought you’d never—”
“Hey, woah,” Peyton pumped the brakes so hard Joanna flew through the excitement windshield. “I didn’t say any-fucking-thing about a boyfriend.”
Joanna paused, twirling her hands around in the air as she worked through the politest way to let her friend know she was a fucking idiot, “I don’t know how to say this nicely…So…I’m going to lean on my learned Peyton Winchester charm here…With your permission of course.”
“Go ahead,” Peyton laughed.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Joanna blurted out. “He’s cute and he’s asked you to go away for the weekend…And you agreed…Are you stupid, Peyton? You can tell me if you are. We can get you help.”
She grinned, trying not to let her best friend know just how entertaining she was to listen to, “I’m absolutely stupid. But…”
“But what?” Jo whined loudly.
Peyton was dreadfully stubborn, especially when it came to admitted she had any sort of genuine feelings for men beyond lust. After Jared, Joanna had suffered through and made peace with the fact that Peyton may never date again. Jo could hardly blame her; Jared had been a real piece of shit. He’d nearly robbed Peyton of her worth, a crime Joanna could never forgive.
But Joanna was elated to hear Peyton’s news of a weekend away at Big Bear—not that she knew was Big Bear was. Jo didn’t care that it was a ‘group thing’; Peyton had accepted a man’s invitation to spend time with him. That, as far as Joanna was concerned, was a big deal. Peyton, the ever-casual entity that she was, had breezed passed it like it was nothing. Just another day in the life.
“Brian is Jimmy’s best friend,” Peyton found herself frowning.
She immediately pushed herself from the bathroom, refusing to acknowledge the reflection staring back at her. She skirted into the bedroom, re-checking her bag for the thirtieth time that morning. Brian was sure to be pulling up any minute and Peyton wanted to be sure she was prepared. That hadn’t stopped Joanna from blowing up her phone, though. She’d been struggling with the time difference and the no calls before noon rule.
Mostly, though, she was struggling with the distance. She missed her roommate.
The apartment was far too quiet with Peyton’s constant grunts and groans and late-night stumbling. Joanna had had no one to bother or to pass a rushed breakfast to in the mornings. She’d buried her nose in her books to pass the time, but when the sun would set and her brain would rebel, Joanna longed for that human connection. The connection only Peyton could give to her, like a cosmic twin of epic proportions.
“Oh,” Joanna winced enthusiastically. “That is a downer.”
“No shit,” Peyton scoffed playfully. “The entire thing is wildly fucking complicated.”
Her friend sighed, “Well, besides the whole Wiley thing…Do you like Brian?”
Peyton opened her mouth to respond.
“No, wait!” Joanna hurriedly cut her off. “That’s not the right question! Do you like Wiley? Jimmy? Whoever?”
“I—”
A distinct knock at the door cut through Peyton’s thoughts. She couldn’t deny the relief, freeing her from the confines of Joanna’s curiosity—and Peyton’s actual feelings.
“Shit, I have to go,” Peyton rushed, pulling her bag over her shoulder and giving her mental checklist one last scan.
Joanna pouted, “But we were just getting to the good stuff!”
“Brian’s here,” Peyton informed her.
“Oh,” she lit up. “Do me a favor, get a good picture of him. I need to assess this guy’s quality.”
Peyton laughed sharply, “Trust me, he’s high caliber. Super smart, very witty.”
“And cute,” Jo added like it was the most important part.
“And cute,” Peyton smirked. “I’ll get you a picture.”
Joanna gushed, “I love when you get on board with the creepy stalker shit.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Peyton chuckled, bolting down the stairs as her bag thudded against each and every step. “But seriously, I have to go.”
“Have a good time!” Joanna shrieked. “Don’t get pregnant!”
Peyton stopped in her tracks, blindsided by her friend’s strange departure sentiment, “Don’t get—what the fuck is wrong with you?”
She laughed loudly in Peyton’s ear, “Love you!”
“I’m hanging up now,” Peyton grumbled playfully, flipping her phone closed and stuffing it into her pocket.
With a fury, she pulled open the heavy front door and was nearly toppled over by Brian’s exuberance. His hair was disheveled, like he’d just rolled out of bed and onto her doorstep. His doe eyes lit up as she smiled at him, muttering a formal hey.
“Ready to go?” Brian asked, partly covering a yawn with the back of his hand.
Peyton nodded, following him out into the chill morning air. Peyton was hardly ever awake this early, but for whatever reason her step had a spring to it. She was strangely energetic for just passed eight in the morning.
“I grabbed you a coffee,” Brian told Peyton tiredly as he waited for her to lock up her house.
She smiled at him over her shoulder, twisting the key inside the lock, “You’re a fucking angel.”
“Don’t I know it,” he grinned.
The two sauntered slowly down to Brian’s car, where he promptly stole Peyton’s bag and tossed it into the trunk. She climbed into the seat she’d been frequenting a lot lately, immediately perusing the CD collection that was scattered across the dash.
“I figured I’d save us the fight,” he laughed as he sank into the driver seat. “These are all the CDs I have. I’m sorry that there’s no Coldplay.”
“Fuck off about the Coldplay,” she snickered, her eyes scanning the cases curiously. “What’re you listening to now?”
“Still Mr. Bungle,” he told her with a shrug, roaring the engine to life.
She collected the cases into her hands and stuffed them back into the glove box. Brian was thrilled with her choice but decided he was far too sleepy to acknowledge it. Brian lit a cigarette as Peyton snatched the coffee sitting in the cup holder closest to her. She thanked Brian again for the delicious morning treat.
“Do we need to stop for anything?” he asked, pulling away from the curb and heading out onto the road. “We’ve got two hours ahead of us.”
“Snacks,” Peyton declared firmly.
Brian grinned over at her, gesturing lazily to the back seat with a flick of his head, “Got you covered, Winchester.”
Peyton’s eyes glimmered as she excitedly reached back and grabbed at the two plastic bags overflowing with deliciousness. Brian smugly nestled into himself, adoring the way Peyton ripped into each bag to survey the contents. She’d quickly grown comfortable with him, throwing polite pleasantries aside in favor of something real. It was as if they’d passed through forever in only a few short weeks.
“You really are a fucking angel,” Peyton snickered, ripping open a bag of miniature chocolate bars.
Brian watched her from his peripherals with a smidgen of horror, “That’s breakfast?”
With a mouthful of milk chocolate, Peyton laughed, “Fuck yeah.”
“I’m game,” he smiled, holding out his palm to her.
They indulged in the dessert quietly as they headed for the interstate. Brian drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel absently, grooving along to one of his favourite songs. It was Jimmy’s favourite too—and Jimmy was less than impressed with his guitarist friend as it stood.
He’d had no choice but to bring it up the night before when he’d found himself alone with Jimmy in the kitchen. Johnny had been bossing them all around, trying his best from his low stature to gain control over the group in preparation for their weekend getaway. Brian had wrapped up his tasks quickly and had retired to the kitchen for a fresh brew. Jimmy had sauntered in after him, unaware of Brian’s presence until it was too late.
“Hey,” Brian greeted his tall friend.
Jimmy grumbled a hello.
“Dude, are you avoiding me or something?” Brian dared to ask, cracking the top off his beer.
“No,” Jimmy replied.
He was.
Seeing Brian and Peyton so comfortably involved had proved to be too much for Jimmy. He was wildly jealous, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. He’d made his choice…he knew that too. And yet, it had welled up sincere heartache inside his chest to see Peyton grinning up at his best friend with such fondness.
“I’m pretty sure you are,” Brian pressed. “And I want to know why.”
Jimmy rolled his blue eyes, “Dude, it’s really not a big deal.”
“Is it Peyton?” he guessed. “I swear, nothing’s happening there. We’re friends.”
“Friends,” the drummer repeated lifelessly.
Brian nodded, “Yeah. I just think she’s cool. She doesn’t really know anyone here, so she’s slumming it and hanging around with me. We’re not…dating or anything…If that’s what the problem is.”
Jimmy sighed, sensing no point in lying to his best friend.
“It’s just…It’s Lexi,” Jimmy frowned.
“I know, dude,” Brian assured him. “We’re just friends.”
Jimmy knew Brian was a good guy—hell, he was the best guy. He’d made it painless to maintain friendship and they’d only grown closer with time. He knew Brian better than he knew himself—and he recognized that longing look in Brian’s eyes instantly when he’d seen it. Maybe they were just friends, but Jimmy wasn’t sure that’s all Brian wanted.
And he wasn’t sure that he should stand in the way. Maybe it was okay that Brian had found an interest in Peyton. Brian hardly found interest in anyone for very long—so, even if he and Peyton did engage on some sort of romantic bind, Jimmy wasn’t convinced it would last long. It was likely, he figured, that it would last longer if he’d insisted Brian and Peyton keep a distance. But, in that case, he’d always be remembered as the barrier that stood in the way.
Jimmy wasn’t ready for that kind of resentment to blossom between him and Brian—or him and Peyton.
Besides, Natalie was his partner in this life. She was the light that had kept him stumbling too far into the darkness. She was supposed to be permanent—despite the recent troubles. Natalie was worth holding onto, even if the grip was shaky and unsure. Jimmy knew he owed her more than some half-witted excuse to escape into the unknown without her. She should be permanent.
Peyton was not permanent; not romantically, anyway. A romance, Jimmy thought, would end up ruining their friendship. Not that he wasn’t doing a fine job of that himself. If Brian wanted to race against the clock, Jimmy didn’t think he should stop him. Peyton would leave and Brian would go back to himself—the girl in the middle would be a thing of the past. That was Peyton’s style anyway, to love and leave. Jimmy was sure she’d repeat history.
He was hell-bent on removing himself from the future pained equation. There was no way he’d survive that loss twice.
“Man, it’s all good,” Jimmy smiled shakily. “You guys can do whatever. Don’t cockblock yourself on my account.”
“I know you don’t mean that,” Brian challenged lightly, taking the first satisfied sip from the bottle.
Jimmy shrugged, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she and I are also friends. If you guys want to date or fuck or do whatever it is young, single people do…I won’t stand in your way.”
Brian was unsure what to do with the apparent offering. Was it a test? A blessing? He couldn’t know for sure.
“But if you hurt her,” Jimmy added more gravely. “I swear to god I’ll cut you.”
The sincerity dripping off the threat was enough to have Brian taking a half-step backward. Jimmy wasn’t particularly threatening to look at—and even on his worst day, Brian knew he could handle any violent advances Jimmy threw his way. But when it came to the Peyton/Lexi debacle, Jimmy laundered a newfound strength. Brian didn’t doubt for one second that Jimmy would kill him in every effort to defend Peyton’s honor.
“Like I said,” Brian opted with. “We’re just friends.”
Jimmy smirked, “Whatever, dude. That’s your business.”
Natalie bounded around the corner, stopping abruptly upon discovery of the two men hiding away in the kitchen. Her face fell into an irritated smile.
“Why do you two always seem to find hiding places while we’re all working?” she quizzed pointedly.
“It’s a kitchen, Nat,” Brian retorted with a grin. “This is hardly a hiding place.”
“Or it’s the world’s worst hiding place,” Jimmy added with a laugh.
Brian nodded, pointing his bottle in the direction of the drummer in acknowledgement of his revelation.
“You’re both idiots,” Natalie smiled. “Come help me with the coolers when you’re done your little break.”
“Sure thing, Nat,” Brian chuckled, waving as she disappeared once more.
Jimmy smiled down at his best friend, “That’s my business.”
“That it is, buddy,” Brian smiled back.
Jimmy patted his friend’s back with two distinct thuds before following his girlfriend’s trail out from Brian’s presence. Brian lingered on, digesting the strange conversation he’d just manifested with his best friend. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he was relieved to find himself relaxed.
After Mr. Bungle had rounded out its rotation, Peyton grew bored of it. Not that Mr. Bungle was capable of being particularly boring. Nevertheless, Peyton dove into the glove box to find a new soundtrack for their journey.
Brian eyed her curiously and quickly, maintaining his focus on the road as he maneuvered around a slow-moving Corolla. She flipped through case after case, considering a few but finding no anchorage in any.
“Oh,” Brian thought aloud. “Grab the bag behind your seat. I picked up a couple new CDs last night.”
Peyton was curious, immediately spinning around to struggle to reach. Her fingers laced around the white bag and she pulled it up to the front. She ripped it open and pulled out two cases, the one sitting on top lit up her soul.
“Bright Eyes?” she gasped enthusiastically. “You like Bright Eyes?”
Brian grinned, “No. Well, I shouldn’t say no…I’ve never listened to them. But you mentioned you liked them, so…”
Peyton hugged the CD close to her chest, like a child might suffocate their teddy. She was deeply touched—a trait she’d inherited from her youth, no doubt. Any gift, no matter its size or significance, left Peyton absolutely reeling from emotion. Joanna always told her that it was her best quality; her unfiltered and absolutely unbound gratitude. It worked well to keep Peyton humble.
“This is so sweet,” she smiled over at him, her eyes glistening with adoration.
Brian laughed, “You look like a fuckin’ kid in a candy store.”
“I’m really fucking pleased,” she snickered.
As she got down to business unwrapping the plastic locking away the brand-new purchase, her eyes happened upon the second album Brian had purchased. It horrified her to see it; an album that had once brought her so much joy was now a ghastly reminder of the mistakes she’d made.
“Are you bipolar?” Brian chuckled, watching as Peyton’s face shifted quickly from glee to horror.
She softened, “No…. I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Jimmy told me you liked that album. Did he lie? Did I get tricked?”
Peyton smirked, “No, you didn’t get tricked. I do…like this album. I love this album.”
“Then why do you look like I just shot your puppy?”
She shook her head, “That’s just my face, Brian. Jeez.”
She consciously rallied as she slid Sing the Sorrow into the glove compartment with the other albums she’d decided against. That particularly CD had been the soundtrack to her one night of bliss spent in Jimmy’s arms—she felt it would be immensely wrong to dive into it for the first time since while seated next to his best friend. Maybe she’d never listen to the album again.
Which was a real shame, given it was in her top five of favourite albums of all time.
Peyton pushed the loss from her mind, instead opting to enjoy the moment—and the company—at hand. She pushed the Bright Eyes CD into the stereo, slipping Mr. Bungle into the wrong case. Brian didn’t seem to care.
“Can I show you my favourite song?” she asked him happily.
He smirked, “Favourite Bright Eyes song? Or favourite song ever?”
“Maybe both,” she answered thoughtfully. “I really love it.”
“By all means,” he nodded, gesturing with his open hand to the stereo.
He lit a cigarette as she scrolled passed the first few songs until finally landing on one. She turned the knob with a fury, cranking the sound.
The sound of the singer’s voice pained Brian—it was shaky and uneven. But Peyton seemed to genuinely adore it, so Brian opened his mind as best he could. After thirty seconds of Bright Eyes, Peyton leaned in with her own offerings.
She sang loudly, staring at Brian as she made dramatic hand gestures.
“And I came upon a doctor, who appeared in quite poor health. I said there's nothing that I can do for you that you can't do for yourself. He said oh yes you can, just hold my hand, I think that that would help.”
Brian reached out and hit pause just as the chorus seemed to loom in the future. Peyton was appalled but Brian was stunned.
“You can sing,” he stated.
She laughed, “Everyone can sing, Brian.”
“You can sing well,” he challenged her blankly.
“And that was worth pausing my favourite song for? You don't pause good songs, Brian. That's like the cardinal rule of all music,” she grinned. “Some musician you are.”
He laughed, “And why aren’t you a musician?”
“Because I’m an artist,” she told him casually, reaching out and swatting his hand away from the stereo as she hit play.
She bounced in her seat along with the upbeat drumming and happy piano, despite the rather grim content the song held.
“He said I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure of it. Thank you, stranger, for your therapeutic smile.”
Brian wasn’t an instant fan of the band but he was a further fan of Peyton Winchester. Everything she did seemed to come so effortlessly; painstakingly perfect.
She continued to sing along, only focusing her attention back onto Brian as she settled into her favourite part of the entire song.
“That's why I'm singing baby don't worry, ‘cause now I’ve got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh.”
The smile that spread across her face was infectious. Soon enough, Brian was bouncing ever so slightly in his own seat. He took a long haul of his cigarette as he desperately clung to each and every word flowing from Peyton’s lips. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t designed them, she executed them with such feel that he could almost imagine she was singing just for him.
“And we'll keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve. Of love's uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain within a frame, like a painting on a wall, then I think we'd see the beauty then we'd stand staring in awe.”
Only an hour into their drive and Brian was already upside down, his heels over his head. He wasn’t sure what this weekend would have in store for him, but he was eternally glad that Peyton had agreed to come along. The reasons for which still eluded him—she hardly knew him but she was willing to trail to a cabin in the woods without much question. Maybe, he thought, she wasn’t so set in the friendship plot after all. He sure wasn’t.
And, with Jimmy’s blessing, he wasn’t sure he’d have to be.
Peyton loved that Brian was humoring her with his attention. The clenching of his jaw cried loud and clear his distaste for all things Conor Oberst. But she obviously adored it, which made it easy for Brian to sink his teeth into. That notion standing alone was enough to pick at Peyton’s security in their strictly friendship agreement that she’d signed under serious duress. But she needed more time to properly map the faults before she could make an informed decision of the best route to take.
She needed a sign.
Brian smiled over at her as she wrapped up her favourite tune, which was almost sign enough.
Peyton laughed, really belting it out for dramatic effect, keeping her green eyes locked on his gaze, “Our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges. Like a story told by the fault-lines and the soil.”

Notes

Breyton?... Pellivan?

I don't fucking know anymore.

xx