there was perhaps no one in the world peyton trusted more than brooke davis. at least, she had been the one person that peyton had put that kind of trust in that was actually a permanent fixture in her life. the rest were transient figures at best and were ghosts, in one sense or another, at worst. but here brooke was, at her side holed up in her bedroom, offering her shoulder to cry on both literally and metaphorically. peyton didn’t like to wallow, preferring to try and keep her head up and protect her pride and remain stoic as long as she could. but when it came to brooke, who’d seen her at her worst and vice versa, who’d stuck around through thick and thin ( even if peyton had more than once screwed up and risked their friendship ), there were exceptions to such rules. but even then, peyton tried not to drag brooke all the way down in her personal doldrums. there was a hint of levity in her tone as she leaned back against her pillows, stretching out and dropping her hands at her sides in resignation. “i just want a nice, easy life.” a life where the love of her ( albeit young ) life didn’t have to take off yet again, where her parents didn’t keep life-altering secrets from her, where everything was normal and she had more than one person she could really count on stick by her side. she looked to brooke with a tiny, sad smile, her eyes heavy. she spoke simply, as if she knew there was something in her point that brooke could agree with. “what’s wrong with that?”
@dahvis sent: 💬 for a starter based on random generated dialogue / accepting!
