Shelter
Flossie
Summary- Two years after leaving Chilton, Tristan comes back to find Rory. She's gone. And the soul reason for Tristan's whole life crumbles away from him.
Spoilers-Nothing after Run Away Little Boy.
Rating- PG
Disclaimer- Hopefully once the papers come in, I will officially own Chad Michael Murray. But thanks to the slow postal service, I've been forced to wait.
Author's Note- With any luck I've fixed up all the mistakes and things I didn't like in this chapter. Please review to tell me what you think.
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Two months after the play --Stars
Hollow
"You okay tonight? You seem a little lost."
Rory dipped her head a little, turning away from Dean.
"I'm fine, just a little tired."
"Oh, alright."
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Silence again.
Rory had been noticing it was happening a lot more lately. Dean kept saying she
was distant. Was she? Somehow it was like she didn't know anything anymore. It
all had to be told to her anyone but herself. Her mom kept worrying as well.
According to her, she had massive bags under her eyes. But when Rory looked in
the mirror, she couldn't see anything wrong. She couldn't tell there was
anything different; she sure didn't feel any immense change. She knew she had
been more tired lately, sure. But she had been sleeping a lot more now it was
school break, sometimes she would forget a word, or a place, but that was
normal wasn't it? Everyone forgets something every now and then. Don't they?
All of a sudden in these last few months everything was a question.
"What
do you want to eat?"
Dean handed her a menu, Rory reached over the table to take it from him, then suddenly clutched her hand to her forehead.
"What's wrong Rory? Are you okay?" Dean anxiously asked.
"I'm
fine; I'm just . . . excuse me." Rory stood up
faltering a little, and then straightened herself, took a deep breath and
walked towards the bathroom.
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Grasping the steel doorframe for support, Rory wet some toilet paper and
pressed it to her temple.
*I am not going to ask to go home. I am not going to ruin this night for Dean.
I am not going to ask to go home. I do not feel sick. I am not . . . *
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From a cubicle across from the basins, a lady heard a girl fall onto the cold tiles,
calling out, a waitress rushed in and tried to help her up. Rory's eyes
fluttered open for a
fleeting second; then they all disappeared.
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North Carolina
For a stranger looking in, the room looked as if no-one lived in there. More
like no-one would want to. The room lacked any colour, any character. A
wrought-iron bed was positioned in the middle of the room, clothed in plain
grey sheets and a pillow covered in plastic. Beside the bed was a simple table.
Across the room was a wooden chest of draws.
That
was it.
The only thing out of place was the two duffel bags sitting in a lonely corner. That was the dead give-away that some lonely person occupied this lonely room.
If
someone had looked more closely, the two bags wouldn't just be those with
clothes and a toothbrush. Nor would they not be. At the very bottom of one of
the bags was a small envelope. Inside this envelope was the only thing this boy
lived for now. For he had nothing else;
A photo.
After finding out his father was sending him to military school, this boy pined
for this girl. This particular girl never loved this boy. This girl had no
reason to. The boy was a jerk to the girl. But the boy had every reason to love
this girl. This girl was everything.
This
boy lived in darkness.
And little did the boy know, he would continue to.
Little did this boy know that his everything, his girl, would have the
potential to fade away until she would no longer hold the light that was so
evident in her photo.
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Chapter 2
Fading.