Disclaimer- I don't own anything.

Author's Note: Hey! I'm Grace, 13 years old, and this is my very first story. Of course I figured that my first story would have to be about the first show I fell in love with… One Tree Hill. Seriously it is such an amazing show with such amazing characters. Anyways this is my first attempt so please review and let me know what you think

-Grace

We all have a past, the pictures that fill scrapbooks, the smiles that twinkle in memories, the dances that fleet across the sky. They are reminders that although every person comes from a different place, raised in their own unique way, somehow, some way, we come into each others lives, and forever, there we stay.

[3 years earlier]

Soft and supple, the raindrops glide along the glass, leaving a reminiscent trace as they slip away. Her finger was like a magnet along the window, moving it along the droplets, predicting their path. And with one mindless flick, the raindrop slid from the protective glass and wavered before crashing below

And just like that one drop, a tear reached from her eye until it cascaded quickly to the floor and shattered.

But she took no notice, focusing only the sign across the street, swinging in the threatening wind, bending the dreamless chains until they rattled together, the white wood standing firm in its place. However, it wasn't the structure that held her interest, nor the smiling lips painted on a brightening face. It was a sole word, breathing fire down her neck, burning her saddened green eyes. Sold.

He had promised he wouldn't leave her, not when they held hands on the bus in kindergarten and not when her parents divorced, sending her into a destructive whirlwind. He had stood with his arms outstretched, waiting for her to fall, waiting to rescue. He was the structure in her impromptu existence. And with every laughing gesture, each interloping of fingers, he promised her, he would always be there.

But here she was, staring into a lonely abyss with no hand by her side.

He was gone, the sign said that much.

But for all her sadness, the tears were not of sorrow, but of anger and regret, momentous hatred.

Shuffling quickly to her feet, sniffing back the tears, she wiped her face, desperately ridding herself of these emotions. The wooden blinds slammed along the windowsill as she pulled the string, turning from her reflection. And as she fled through the tunnel of mysterious regret and pushed aside the beckoning fear, Brooke fell along her bed, closing her eyes, expecting that in the morning, her best friend would be by her side, laughing it all away.

But when she awoke, it was just as dark as ever

[Present Day]

"Making out with the toilet again Davis?" the voice violently shook her, reverberating her awake.

"Fuck," was the only word that her tongue could curl around, forcing it out like a bullet in a gun.

"Come on," the same voice summoned, only this time it was softer, friendlier.

But without a word, Brooke weakly raised her left arm, limply waiting for a hand to support it. "Thanks Peyton," she muttered, feeling her body being lifted from the cool tile.

"You are a mess," the blonde chuckled, supporting her friend, leading her from the bathroom. "You know, if you continue to party like this you won't be able to even remember high school."

"Thanks for the advice mom," Brooke smiled, feeling the pounding drum inside her temple.

"Anytime," she joked, allowing the brunette to curl up along her bed, grabbing tight to a pillow and resting her head.

And that routine provided structure, a consistency the Brooke thrived for. For no matter how much she drank, no matter what she put into her mouth, and no matter where she woke up, someone was always there to hoist her from the marble toilet and lead her away from the misery.

In the beginning her friends had accepted her partying was just her way to cope with Lucas moving. And had they had an ordinary friendship, the extent of her drinking wouldn't have been tolerated, but Lucas and Brooke were never just ordinary, nothing about their relationship was common.

But then her dad passed away and they just let her go. They figured drinking was her way of dealing with the pain because although she was not close with him after the divorce, at one point she had sat on his lap and kissed his cheek before bed. At one point they were tied with the same strings.

She never dealt with her dad's death, seemingly never shedding even a tear. Of course her friends were well aware that there was only one person that would be able to comfort her and sway the thoughts in her chaotic head. But calling Lucas, bringing him back into the situation would just reopen the wounds that had been shut. And what's the point when he would just have to leave once again?

So eventually, somewhere down the line, her behavior was accepted, and no matter what, someone was there to pick her back up, but nobody was ever there to stop her from falling.

"Was last night worth it?" Peyton asked as the two walked along the sidewalk later that day.

"I think so," Brooke chuckled, her arms filled with shopping bags, "But it all goes blurry after the shots of tequila."

"Too bad that is all going to come to an end once school starts, that tequila is going to have to go back in the cabinet," Peyton said sarcastically, knowing that in a few short weeks, partying would be reserved only for the weekends once summer ended.

"Yeah and you're Jagielski flirting will have to wait for the hallways," Brooke smirked, forcing her friend's cheeks to turn a light shade of pink. "Details please."

"There are no details because there is nothing going on between us," she tried to convince.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really Brooke."

"No dirty stories?" Brooke raised her eyebrow.

"I'm not you," Peyton laughed causing the brunette to join on in. "But I don't know. Jake's really sweet and hanging out with him is almost as fun as hanging out with you, but I have my hands full."

"Hands full… with what?" Brooke smirked with a wink, "Because he looks like he'd be a handful."

"Brooke!" Peyton slapped jokingly on the shoulder.

"Sorry," she laughed.

"I need new friends."

"Sorry , nobody wants you," Brooke teased.

"Gee thanks."

"Anytime," Brooke smiled, "But seriously, it's summer, what do you have your hands full with?"

"Well other than picking your ass up off the floor on a daily basis," Peyton glared lightheartedly, "Some of us are thinking about college."

"Always the responsible one," Brooke laughed, shifting her purse along her shoulder.

"Have you been thinking about it? I mean we are seniors."

"Peyt," Brooke sighed as she shook her head.

"Fine," she muttered knowing that she wasn't going to get anywhere with that topic. "So what's going on in your love life?"

"Nothing," Brooke answered quickly, nonchalant, "I don't want to be tied down."

"You'd tell me if you were seeing someone right?" Peyton asked, weary of how fast Brooke had replied.

"I will call you during the sex," Brooke smiled causing Peyton to cringe.

"You can wait until after," she chuckled as the two continued walking, feeling the summer beat along their bare necks.

It was late by the time Brooke eventually returned home, opening the red door to silence. But it was no surprise, the dead of quiet rushing to greet her presence. Her mom was never home, always out working, or whatever that entailed these days. She was never too sure.

However, Brooke never put too much thought into why her mom wasn't lounging on the couch with a magazine in hand, waiting for her daughter to return home. It was just accepted and she liked that. It gave her time alone.

Her room was a whisper, a secret that breathed throughout the house that nobody knew of. The wind that blew from the open window gently caressed her, embracing her as she walked along the carpet.

And slowly she crept down along her knees, her fingers along the glass, tracing outlines, remembering smiles.

"Dad," she thought to herself, allowing the tear to slide from her face, falling onto the frame of the picture of her nestled along his lap. And slowly her eyes retreated outside, across the street, to the house, the wrap around porch that had held her growing body so many times, the creaks that had sounded as she raced up and down the steps, and the stain by the door where she had spilled her pink lemonade. Only by now, the porch had been repainted, the stain disappeared, and the creak was long gone.

And normally her eyes only rested along the memory for a moment, she had memorized the scene too many times before. But this time, there was something different about the yard, something she had seen before.

The same white frame and sign, gently swaying, and a different but still similar smile printed along a glowing face. And the four-letter word printed in bold red letters, sold.

Author's Note-

Thank you all for reading and please review to let me know what you think. I know I am young but I hope that my grammar does not show that!! Everything will become clearer if I continue this! Also I am sure there are probably other stories of Lucas moving away and he and Brooke being best friends but I haven't read any so I hope that my beginning isn't too similar to any other stories!

-Grace