DISCLAIMER: Popular and its characters are the property of Ryan Murphy. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Season 3 ending.

Bulletproof... I Wish I Was
By gilligankane


You can see it in the back of your mind; when you close your eyes it plays against the backdrop of your eyelids, like a movie that you already know the ending too, but you still can't help but watch.

People used to say that car accidents were fascinating; that you couldn't pull your eyes away even in you tried too.

And you never thought they were right.

Except now you do.

Because Brooke is standing in front of the car and her eyes are wide open and you can't do anything but stare.

Your feet are rooted to the cement sidewalk and you're staring, completely unaware of everything, except, maybe Harrison behind you, screaming out Brooke's name.

Or maybe it's you screaming.

The lights bore down on Brooke and it snaps you out of the stupor you've fallen into and before you can even think about the consequences, the results, the way this could end, you're pushing off the sidewalk and moving into the street.

When your hands land on Brooke's body – one hand pressed against her arm and the other against her hip – you simultaneously push her away and pull her closer.

She ends up out of the way though and that's what's important, right?

You barely take a breath – it's half an inhale – before the car slams into your left side.

You barely say the words – you get as far as "I Lo…" – before the 4-door sedan shatters your hip bone and you feel it crack all the way through your pelvis.

You barely get a second – to think, or scream, or cry – before you feel yourself sliding across the pavement.

Somewhere in between the world spinning and your eyes sliding closed with Brooke caught in behind your eyelids, you dimly think that telling Brooke that you loved her; that you couldn't ever want Harrison because you loved her would have hurt less than this.

You feel Brooke pressing her hands everywhere against you, and you've had this dream before.


Before, you were smiling and laughing and not sprawled out on pavement and there was no blood and no crying and no one was frantically calling the police and the way Brooke was calling out "Sam" sounded so different.

It would have been easier to just tell Brooke.

It would have hurt less.

The End

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