. Summary: This is two challenge pieces I did from Pages of True Love spliced together.  It's Pacey's thoughts throughout the Longest Day.

I was never good at keeping promises; I think it was some sort of control issues I developed at a young age, my wish to rebel against my father and his authoritive title. Laws equals promises to the government, my father is an enforcer of those, and I rebel… promises are just plain bad, that’s my point.

But he already knew that.

I remember this time when we were eleven and I promised him I’d walk with him to science class but Cynthia Williams was crying in the corner and I went to wipe away the tears leaving him to walk alone. I was selfish then, because it’s not like I was worried that she was crying, it was because I was hoping she would like me if I made her feel better.

But he knows how that turned out.

When we were eight and I promised to see Hook with him on Sunday afternoon because he was busy on Saturday, but on Saturday night Doug offered to take me with him. He was a senior in high school and he was offering to take his dorky little brother with him to the movies on a night that he could be making out with girls at the ruins, or daydreaming about Mr. Gold knowing deputy Doug, but he took me and I went without him. The next day when we went to see it and these two kids in front of us were arguing about the ending and I cut in with my own opinion he knew that I broke my promise.

But he forgave me.

This time when we were nine and I promised I’d never take anyone else to the fort ever, that it was our secret hiding place. The place where only best friends could reside. I took Will Krudsky with me to find my old baseball card when he came to visit over the summer, we wound up hanging out there all day and just before we left I saw the oath we had taped to the tree. It killed me inside.

But he understood that.

Then just this past month, I told Joey about our agreement, one of the only promises I’ve ever kept to look out for her and he didn’t get mad. I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to make her feel as much as she makes me feel no matter what emotion it was. And it worked, but I broke my promise to you.

But he let it go.

He calls me loyal, he calls me trustworthy and I wish I could be that to him, but I can’t, I can’t keep promises, not when my heart’s on the line.

Technically I never made this promise to him, I guess it’s an unwritten law, and you know how much I hate those. But she’s different, she’s worth it all.

But he already knew that.

My eyes drift over that same white house that looks over that same glistening creek.  The phrase mi casa es su casa is no exception to the Leery household.  The fridge is always stacked with my favorite flavored Snapple even though not a single one of them will go near it.  The pantry always has a box of Fruity Pebbles lined up next to the Cheerios, Corn Flakes and Crispix with a tin of sugar placed next to it.  This house is my sanctuary a place where I can feel like someone cares.  A place where I can go when there's no where left to turn.

Then why does this place suddenly feel so foreign?  The boat still lulls in its hibernation along the subtle waves waiting for the final inclinations of spring to set it free from its protective docks.  The glow from his window casting shadows through the shade, the faint outline of childhood toys and movie paraphernalia surrounding the familiar frame.  

And the ladder still climbing up the wall, an invitation to everyone who's ever met Dawson Leery.  I can feel the creaking rungs beneath the soul of my feet and a million memories flood my brain.  There are sticky fingers and ice cream covered faces, there are toy airplanes, heavy swim trunks and courageous flights from the fourth or fifth rung.  Yet I can't bring myself to climb it, I feel that I've lost all right of access to it.  That my invitation is now null and void snatched away by the pretty girl who accidentally gave it to the wrong boy.

I can feel my palms getting sweaty as I tuck them into my pockets rocking on my heels as I continue to stare at that house.  Thoughts of haunted mansions and ghouls and goblins fill my head as I relate these to fears.  I remember when we were young and we'd sit on the edge of his yard, me, him, and Joey huddled behind a bush on the border staring up at the Ryan's home next door.  The pending fear that at any moment Mrs. Ryan would fly from the attic on her witches broom setting an evil spell on us for eternal damnation, that fear was nothing compared to this.

My chest tightens as I suck in a deep breath taking that first tentative step to his door.  I’m washed over with a million shades of guilt as I step into his house, pictures and gadgets, my whole life reeling in my thoughts, but that was the past, there’s always the future.

I was never good at keeping promises, never will be, but he'd already come to expect that.

His door is open ajar, just like it always is and when I peak through the crack he just looks up and smiles and my heart breaks into a million pieces.  “Hey Pace,” he says lightly, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

I look at the television and then back at him, “What can a friend not invade another friend’s house randomly without an incentive anymore?”

He chuckles, “I almost forgot who I was talking too.  You want to come in?”

I force a smile, tugging at the corner of my lips but it barely registers, “Sure,” setting myself in his director’s chair I pick up that old ET doll tossing it in my hands.  “So what’re you watching?”

“Philadelphia Story,” he explains as Katharine Hepburn and Jimmy Stewart dance drunkenly in the garden.  I feel like Jimmy Stewart, the awkward invader who was dumb enough to fall for Kathy, who was so witty and sassy and never had a chance against the cunning Cary Grant.

My palms are getting sweaty again so I set the ET doll on the shelf wiping my hands against my jeans.  “You all right?”  Dawson cocks a brow looking at me.

“Fine, man I’m fine,” my voice cracks and I already know he sees through my act.

“So how’s Joey?”  He asks flipping the channel for something new.

My eyes widen and suddenly I forget how to breathe, “Joey?  Why would I know anything about Joey?”

He furrows his brows, “I was just wondering how she was, she’s been spending most of her time with you lately, in fact I’ve barely talked to her since Aunt Gwen’s.”

I panic, “Neither have I.”

“What about you,” he adds, “How have you been, we’ve hardly spoken since our little camping trip down memory road.”

I begin to wonder if he knows, if he’s pulling my leg, taunting me beyond belief, “I’ve been fine.  Will’s still in town and he can never take enough attention,” I laugh uneasily.

He sits up on his bed looking at me strangely, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He knows me too well and that’s why this is so hard, “Actually I am,” I say a little stronger, “better then I’ve been in a long time.”

He nods, “You seem happy,” he smirks, “meet a girl or something, I haven’t seen you this nervous since Andie.”

“Something like that yeah.”

“Who is it Pace,” his grin widens, “is there a new member of the teaching staff you haven’t told me about?”

I look down unable to meet his eyes, it’s now or never I decide and the sooner I get this over with, the sooner this misery ends and a new begins.  “It’s Joey actually,” I mumble.

He narrows his eyes, “What?”  I’m not sure if it’s incredulous or if he honestly can’t hear me.

I swallow heavily, “Joey actually,” I say a little more confidently.  “I’ve fallen completely and hopelessly in love with Joey Potter and I think she may be falling too.”

“What do you mean by that, Pacey?”  His voice is tight and I’m afraid he may kill me.

“We’ve uh,” I trail off, “We’ve been seeing each other for about a week now, Joey and me, we’ve been a couple.”

He looks down clasping his hands together; the hum of the TV has been drowned out by the deafening silence and I realize that this is it.  Those sixteen years of friendship have gone out the window over a girl we couldn’t keep our minds off.

Suddenly he looks up at me pursing his lips before he cracks a smile.  "Vaya con dios, Pace," he says to my surprise, a soft grin seeps through my lips.  "I had my shot at making her happy, now why don't you give it a try?"

“You mean it’s okay?”  I ask still in shock.

“You can’t help falling in love, right?”  He shrugs.  “Joey’s a great girl Pace, and you, you’re a great friend and if she had to end up with anybody, I’m glad it’s you.”

“But I don’t want to step on any toes, knowing your two’s history,” I explain.

He nods rubbing his hands together, “I couldn’t hold onto her forever.”

“So you’re okay with this?”  I ask cautiously standing from his chair.

“I’ll get used to it,” he nods.

I grin again, “Thanks man.”

I head for the door but his voice stops me, “I was thinking about getting the whole gang together, have a movie night for old time’s sake.  Will you be there?”

“Sure man, I’ll be back later.”

“Bring Joey,” he adds and suddenly I’m walking on the clouds because everything will be okay.

~*~

I rub my nose in the cotton of the flower, the smell of fabric drowning out the hint of perfume the spurt to make these things appear life like.  Joey always told me she hated the gestures of flowers.  That it was rather strange offering somebody a rotting plant as a symbol of love, when it’s in the process of dying that the petals once full of life have been suffocated all in the name of empty gifts.  I asked her what she thought about the plastic kind and she told me that she and Bessie used to run around the fabric shops their mother would drag them to and make bouquets of them.

I knock on the door of the Potter B&B holding the plastic rose behind my back.  She’s the one to answer as she reads my face gauging for a response.  “Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says back.  “How’d it go?”

I present the rose taking a step closer the radiating heat off her body mending with mine.  Her eyes trail up my chest to my eyes the swirling grays and greens and hazels knocking me off guard as I wait for her to say something.  She breaks off contact looking back down at the plastic flower, “Did you talk to him?”

I nod, “He wants us to go over to his house for a movie.”

She knits her brows, “Did you tell him?”

I smile, “Yeah and he thinks it’s great.”

She still doesn’t believe me, “Are you sure you told Dawson Leery and not someone like Jack McPhee or a random stranger?”

“No,” I wrap my arms around her waist the flower tickling her shoulder blades, “I went up to the infamous Leery Bedroom, told him our predicament and he told me that if I make you happy he’s all for the Joey and Pacey Entente.”

"So everything's okay?"  She catches her breath, a hidden pocket of air that she didn't know she held.

"Everything's perfect," I beam.

"That it is," she finishes, kissing me.

~*~

My eyes drift over that same old house, and part of me thinks that everything will work out for the best.  That Joey and I can be together while maintaining our friendship with Dawson.  That he'll be happy for us, that we'll be happy.  But the other part of me knows that things will never be the same.

My eyes fall on your front door and I take a few steps forward, ready and strong to say those four words.

"Pacey, wait," Joey catches my arm, "We can't do this."  Maybe things aren't so perfect afterall.