A\N: Oh dear. I'm going the way of the dark. Gilmore Girls. Oh well, It's just a silly one-shot, and probably will do no harm to my Harry Potter street cred. I hope.
Disclaimer: Erm… do you even do these for Gilmore Girls fics? Amy Sherman-whatsywhosit owns the rights, though, so read 'em and weep…
Jess toyed with the paper cup in his hands. The coffee inside that had been hot at seven that morning was cooling and no longer gave him a reason to be there. Sitting in the middle of Weston's. Alone. Taking up one of Fran's tables. In fact, Fran was glaring at him.
Fran didn't glare at just anyone, either. You really had to piss her off. And he had. Or, rather, Rory had. Except nobody could glare at Rory, because she was wonderful, Yale Girl, always doing something right. The whole stinking town were her cheerleaders.
Suddenly, there was quiet, breaking him out of his reverie. And there was Yale Girl herself, standing, mouth agape, holding a not yet full cup of coffee. She was still beautiful, yes, and Gypsy was right, she had cut her hair. But somehow, her being there peeved him. It peeved him down to the core. Because, somehow, her standing there like a superhero in cords, gaping like only a truly brilliant person can, and holding a cup like a freaking pro made him feel obsolete. Here was the person he had come back to see, and she was exactly the same, similarly perfect, ideal in parallel.
And there he was, exactly the same, ideally unemployable and uninterestingly grouchy.
And he decided he had two options: sit and gape like fish, feeling archaic and confused, or he could do what he did, which he regrets.
He could stand up and leave.