Trashed and Scattered

“It’s basically just one gigantic mess,” Peyton half-laughed, giving her head a dissatisfied shake as she ran through the course of her weekend history.
Jonas smirked, leaning back into his chair with his arms folded across his chest, “I’ve never known you to keep things simple.”
“Oh, fuck off,” she snickered. “I’m the master of collective control.”
He smiled, “Not so much when it comes to the male species.”
She narrowed her brows at him in preparation for wild scolding but quickly lost her urge, “That’s fair.”
“So tell me,” Jonas eased, letting his arms slip to his thighs as he leaned toward the mystic beauty sat across from him, “did you come back here for that guy?”
Peyton’s head fell limply to its side, “I didn’t come back here for anyone.”
He cocked a suspicious grin, cynicism dripping from his brows, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” she insisted lazily. “I’m just here to get the work done and get out.”
“And yet…” he started but trailed off quickly.
Peyton squinted over at him, “And yet?”
“Here you are,” he finished with a shrug. “Seems a bit…permanent.”
“It’s not permanent,” she dismissed. “It’s…short-term permanency—if we’re going to throw that heavy word around.”
Jonas laughed, “Whatever it is, I’m glad for it. It’s nice to have you around, Pey.”
“Even though I’m basically just a piece of furniture?” she smirked.
He smiled, “Even then.”
It had been four days since she’d escaped the Hell of Big Bear. It had been four days since she’d seen Jimmy or heard Brian’s voice. She’d buried herself in the chaos of Jonas’ shop, busying herself with cleaning and sketching and hourly coffee runs. She hadn’t exactly drummed up much business for herself in Orange County, which made for long days spent mostly void of any tattooing. The occasional walk-in would grace her chair, though, which helped to fill the monotony.
Call it naivety or call it romanticism, Peyton had spent her down time tucked away in the corner of the shop, slaving over a draft to fill Brian’s sleeve. She wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again to gift it to him or that he’d ever trust her enough to let her carve it into his skin, but she’d told him she’d create it. And create it she did.
Her eyes danced up to the clock hanging above the doorway, shocked to find the day had slipped away with her notice. Jonas followed her gaze with curiosity, surprising himself with the late hour.
“How do we end up here until eight every night?” he laughed, offering a lazy wink as her emerald eyes shifted to him.
She smirked, “I guess we like each other.”
“Woah, Peyton,” he teased, dramatically tossing his hands up in defense. “You’re already involved in some weird triangle shit, let’s not make this into a square.”
She exhaled deeply, climbing to her feet and landing an open palm on the back of her friend’s head, “You’re an asshole, you know.”
“I know,” he grinned proudly.
“And it isn’t a triangle,” she informed him as she began collecting her things, tucking her sketchbook beneath her tattooed arm. “All three parties have to be interested in one another to make a triangle. Haven’t you seen literally any rom-com ever?”
Jonas nodded, “I have…Are you actually that naive? Or are you just being modest? I can’t always tell with you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely confused but intrigued.
“It seems like you’re interested in both base points,” he told her, drawing a triangle into the air between them. “And they seem to be interested in you.”
She shook her head lightly, “Just Brian.”
Jonas pushed his brows as high up his forehead as they’d go, silently challenging his friend.
“Just Brian,” she reiterated. “Did you not listen to a word I said? Remember that whole speech Jimmy fed me about how he hates me? Remember that? Or, oh I don’t know, his girlfriend?”
Jonas pursed his lips, shrugging with a turn of his palms.
“You’re annoying,” she told him with an irate laugh. “I’m going home.”
He laughed, “See you in the morning, Trouble.”
“I’m hardly trouble,” she called over her shoulder.
“Heart killer!” he bellowed after her as she quickly slid through the glass door and let it slam shut behind her.
Peyton shuffled her belongings into the back of her rental, securing her sketchbook as if it were some family heirloom. In some ways it was, unbeknownst to the young Winchester. As she climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted the car into drive, her mind floated back to the first night she’d seen Jimmy. She ran through their conversation and she lost herself in the atmosphere of it all. Things were so simple beneath the moonlight. It had been so damn easy to forget her place and to let go of the reins. It was nearly impossible not to drown in his oceanic blues.
But then her focus shifted forward, resting on his callousness and uncertainty. She dissected his affection for Natalie and her adoration of him. His words echoed through her mind, that you broke my fucking heart. Was there ever a return trip from that sort of heartache? Once you’d broken something, was it possible to repair it to its former glory? Would it ever be as it was?
Despite the lingering looks and longing touches, Peyton was sure of one thing: Jimmy had let her go. He’d tired of their charade with a particular rapidity and now he was done.
Why do I care?
With a dedicated turn of the dial, she cranked the radio and let the deplorable tunes drown out her mind’s wandering.
She pulled up to her childhood home just before nine, letting her eyes float over to the neighboring white house. The lights on the main floor flooded out into the yard, painting a contrast to the evening sky. Jimmy’s car lay dormant in its place, which had Peyton smiling for a quick second—before she caught herself. Before her thoughts could catch up and remind her that he wasn’t hers to smile for.
With a sigh, she crawled out into the night, gathering her belongings from the back before hurrying inside her dark home. She headed straight upstairs, fumbling around in the darkness with only the light from her cell phone. Part of her hoped she could fly under the radar; she wasn’t quite ready to illicit Jimmy’s attention. She wasn’t sure what to say to him—she wasn’t sure how to proceed.
She made herself a nest of creation inside her stiff bed, sitting cross-legged as she cracked her black book open. Brian’s tree stared up at her, gleaming with its brilliant depression. She ran her fingers along the shaded edges, the corners of her lips falling like the limp branches. The fond part of her reached for her cellphone, lingering over the call button with rue and resistance. Like Jimmy, she wasn’t sure what the hell to say to Brian. Would he want to hear from her? He could have called…
Feeling suddenly alone and inconsolably lonely, she dialed the only number she knew held a friendly voice on the other side.
“Well, well, well,” Joanna bellowed into the speaker. “Look who it is!”
Surprising herself and her best friend, Peyton’s voice limped out weakly, “Jo…”
“What’s wrong?” she snapped; her attention immediately pulled from irritation to concern.
Peyton’s eyes moved frantically around the room, as if the empty walls might somehow offer a revelation. All she came up with was frustrated tears brimming along her dark lashes.
“I want to come home,” she managed, trying her best to keep her voice leveled and composed.
Joanna frowned, sinking down onto her bed, “What’s going on, P?”
Peyton groaned to herself, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning,” her best friend smiled, offering reassurance to Peyton’s troubled heart even from all those miles apart.
Peyton walked Joanna through the entirety of her time spent in Huntington Beach. Despite how brief of a time it had truly been, it felt somehow like forever. With each wind of her tale, Peyton felt less and less in control of her own life. She wasn’t sure how things had gotten so bad, but she wished desperately that she could go back in time and change it all. If ever she got the chance, she’d take that trip each and every time. She never would have stepped foot in California. She would have let Wiley die as a memory, clutched tight to her chest.
The reality of what he’d become for her was nearly enough to kill her. She’d taken down a genuinely kind soul in the process—and that was the direct casualty. As Peyton explained Natalie, the crazy and psychotic being that she was, she couldn’t help the crushing guilt that ran across her chest.
“Peyton,” Joanna spoke as her best friend worked herself into a frenzy of blame. “Can I ask you something?”
Peyton took a deep breath, “Of course you can.”
“Did you do it?” Jo asked slowly. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Who?” Peyton replied with a humiliated honesty.
Joanna choked, “You slept with Brian?!”
“I was getting there,” Peyton half-laughed.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” she giggled, giving her head a shake.
Peyton sighed, “I assume by your reaction that you meant Jimmy.”
“Which is Wiley,” Joanna reiterated. “Right?”
“Mhm,” Peyton hummed, letting the truth bubble up in the back of her throat with a bloody fury.
Joanna hesitated, “So…Did you?”
As Peyton opened her mouth to divulge the truth, a thunderous boom erupted through her empty home. Her nerves spiked as each hair on her body stood on edge. As Joanna continued to press, Peyton hushed her. She fell into a stunned silence, straining to listen through the void. Another distinct bang sounded.
“Jo, I have to call you back,” Peyton said quickly, instantly collected and calmed.
She flipped her phone shut without another thought, stuffing it into her back pocket as she crept from her bedroom. The thudding continued with a rage as she tip-toed down the hall and down the first few steps, crouching down to get a look at the origin of disruption. The front door bent and bellowed with violence as a dark figure threw themselves against it from the other side. Peyton’s heart leaped from its cage as she turned, tearing back down the way she’d come just in time for the door to fly from its hinges and slam against the interior wall.
Without giving it any conscious thought, Peyton flew through her room, tossing her sketchbook beneath the bed as she quickly pushed the window open. Bending her body in the most unnatural ways, she squeezed herself through the opening and firmly pulled the glass to the pane. Lit only by the moon seated in the clouds, Peyton shimmied her way down the roof and across the bark of her favourite tree. Her hands shook as she released her grip from its limbs and stepped onto the Sullivan roof for the first time in thirteen years. There was no time for sentimental reflection; the urgency pulsing through her veins pushed her straight to Wiley’s window.
Her fingers laced themselves around the wood, instinctively assuming the lock would be unlatched. As the glass slid up into itself, Peyton thrust herself through the opening without a second thought. She tumbled to the floor, tangling herself a heap of fabric and panic. With a frustrated flail, she freed herself. She leaned toward the glass, looking down at the house she’d abandoned. One by one, each light turned itself on. There was no denying her sanity at that point.
The new perspective offered reality to Peyton’s racing mind. Her ears rang out as she realized then just where she was. She backed away from the window in a dizzied daze, glancing around the darkened room with the eyes of a child. The curtains were lighter than they’d been and Wiley’s desk had vanished. But everything else…
It’s all the same.
But it wasn’t the same. This wasn’t Wiley’s home anymore. Peyton had just thrust herself into Jimmy’s den. This wasn’t the safe haven she’d found refuge in all those years ago. This wasn’t a place of undying trust and understanding. There would be questions. Jimmy would have concerns. He would want answers.
“He’s still Wiley,” Peyton whispered to herself, desperate to get away from the window and into the safety she’d used to escape to.
With quick steps, Peyton sodded out from the bedroom, surprising herself with a mental map of the Sullivan home. It’s funny the things we remember.
She glanced around the hallway, searching for signs of life. A distinct thumping sounded through the house—far more rhythmically than the thudding that had her running away moments before. With a flash bulb of understanding, Peyton hurried down the stairs and through the main floor. She ignored the lights of the living room and the glow from the kitchen, jogging down the hallway and down a second set of stairs. The thumping grew louder and louder as Peyton abandoned her insecurities.
As her feet planted themselves against the cold concrete, the noise was blaring. But there he was.
Tucked into the corner, bashing sticks against a white drum kit, her Wiley sat. Perhaps it was the weight of the weekend, or the weight of the world, but in that moment, Peyton could think of nothing else to do. Wiping at her tears, she made her way quickly across the room, eyes set on her childhood lifeline.
The figure caught his attention with an alert panic. His limbs seized as his eyes settled on the intruder, narrowing to focus without prescription aid. But it didn’t take much more than a half-second to place that level of urgency radiating throughout the aura. He’d know Lexi anywhere.
He ripped the headphones from his ears, climbing to his feet just in time to catch Peyton in his arms as she buried herself into his chest. Stunned for only a moment, he soon softened. He wrapped his long arms around her trembling body, squeezing her closer.
“Someone’s in my house,” she told him softly.
“What?” he demanded, pulling away to look at her. “Who?”
She shook her head, “I don’t know.”
“We need to call the fuckin’ cops,” he told her sternly, making to move past her to get to a phone.
But she wrapped her hands around his arm, pulling him back to the place with her, “Just let it happen.”
“Lexi,” he insisted. “We’re not letting someone rob your fucking house.”
“It isn’t my house,” she reminded him gently. “Let them take whatever they want. I don’t care.”
Jimmy frowned, “Lexi…”
“Please,” she swallowed. “I just…I don’t know what kind of shit my mother is in. I can only assume they’re looking for money…or her…or drugs. I really don’t know. Let them take whatever they need.”
“But your stuff,” he pleaded.
She shrugged, “Is replaceable.”
“Well fuck,” he exhaled. “What do we do?”
“Can I just hide out here?” Peyton asked, suddenly feeling far more vulnerable than she had as she’d thrown her caution to the wind.
Jimmy smiled, instinctively pulling the frightened brunette back into his arms, “Of fucking course you can.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Peyton whispered weakly, digging her hands into his back.
“So, you came here,” he replied fondly.
She smirked, “Old habits, I guess.”
Jimmy laughed, “No shit. We’ve only done this once or twice.”
“I know we had a fight…and that things got kind of crazy…”
“We don’t have to talk about that now,” he sighed.
Peyton nodded, disappointed as Jimmy slipped his arms back to his sides. He narrowed his eyes at her as if to judge their situation with more accuracy. There was so much he wanted to say, but at the moment, he could think of nothing more than how perfectly intricate her features were. His eyes grazed the healing series of scratches Natalie had left on her cheek. Like the Lexi he’d known, she didn’t even seem to notice.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, falling into his own old habits.
She smiled widely, her heart flickering with conflict, “Starving.”
“I’ve got pizza upstairs,” he told her, gesturing subtly to the stairway. “It’s pepperoni and bacon, your favourite.”
“Perfect,” she smirked.
The two made their way toward the staircase, falling in and out of awkwardness as they walked. Standing at the base of their ascend, Jimmy spun around. He stared deep into Peyton’s green eyes, searching for the courage to say the absolute only thing that came to mind.
“You can always come to me,” he said sternly. “Always.”
Peyton’s eyes glimmered as she smiled, “The window was unlocked.”
Jimmy laughed, her mind’s process never ceasing to entertain him. With a firm nod, he melted beneath her gaze.
“Of course it was.”
Peyton’s guard dissipated under the warmth of his crystal blues, “Wiley…”
“Come on,” he pressed lightly. “Let’s get you fed.”

Notes

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