Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Gilmore Girls
Rating: PG-13
A/N: This is a one shot. Lit. Jess thinks about him and Rory. I worked pretty hard on this, so reviews are always welcome. Lyrics from Jonny Lang song "Touch".
Title: Falling High
Tell me why do I always have to tell you how I feel?
Can't you see you're the one, the only thing
That ever meant something to me
And I need your touch to come alive.
In. Out. Breathe- no, stop- don't breathe, don't ruin the moment.
Is there something to ruin? Is there anything at all?
Stop asking questions. The moment's all you have and if you lose that you're left with nothing.
Like you began with. You began with nothing and now you have something that you know won't
last.
Is that any better?
Stop. Stop questioning, stop thinking; focus. Focus on this, on her, on the way she's looking at you.
You're the only one she sees- you know that, right? Right now, yeah, right then. She touched your face, she brushed away your hair. She wasn't thinking of anything other than that. She wasn't thinking of anything but your skin, your mouth, your taste... you know that. So why keep doubting yourself?
She just put her arms around you. Are you going to run now or wait until her fingertips brush your shirt? Either way, you know you're going to. You always do. You should make things easier on her. Take a step back, walk away. Why bother even touching her when you know that tomorrow, it's not going to mean anything at all?
Come on. Make your decision. Break her now or break her in a few seconds. But to you, a few seconds has always been more like a few months, right? Never able to stop things before they get out of control. That's what all the other ones say anyway.
You've never cared about what people had to say about you though. And it's not like you're going to start now. Go on. Touch her shoulder, make her think about you. Make her think that she's the only one who keeps you sane. Make her think that she's the one who knows you, who knows what makes you who you are. Make believe that she's all that's left. Pretend that she thinks you're perfect.
Sometimes you can find truth in the most absurd places.
She's cold and she shivers. You're so close to her, you can feel the shudders running through her body and up against yours. Is this what you wanted? To be able to feel and anticipate her every move? Lie. You know you want to. You know you will anyway.
There's a loss of control involved here somewhere and you can't figure out where.
She fingers the cigarette that's sticking out of your pocket, and takes it, threading it behind her ear. You smirk. She looks ridiculous, and worse than that, she knows it. You also know she looks damn hot, but you know she's not thinking that.
'You laughing at me Mariano?' she questions breathlessly, her eyes presenting a challenge. You shift on your feet, and lean your face towards her. You've never been one to back down from a dare. Brushing your lips against hers forcefully, you push her closer to you.
You were supposed to be off and running. Instead you're making out with her to get your damn cigarette back. You were never one for planning.
She smiles shyly at you and you feel like you're falling. Fucking falling, but at the same time it feels like you're high. Oxymoron. Too many of those in the world.
Don't breathe. Never, ever breathe again. When you breathe your mind clears and can startle some of the most perfect images that you'll see. Once you lose them they're gone.