So I really shouldn't be starting a new story, but this had been in my head. Hopefully it will be a short-ish story. Was meant to be a one-shot, but it just seems to keep going!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gilmore Girls.
Lying on an unmade bed, beer bottle dangling loosely his fingers and simply inhaling the scent of the bed, her scent, Tristan contemplated how he had reached this point in his life. He had taken the past month off from work, citing the need for a long-term personal life and that time had been spent either blissfully in a drunken oblivion, or completely drowning in the strength of his memories. He supposed it was a forgone conclusion. This broken boy was simply broken beyond repair. Destined to break everything around him. Forever alone.
As he rolled his head to the side, he caught sight of a photograph lying flat on the bedside table. A sign of happier times, Tristan could vaguely recollect throwing a bottle at the picture in one of his moments of despair, at one of those points where he was halfway between drowning and oblivion. How the fates were cruel, offering a taste of happiness when it was universally known that he would never be able to keep it.
Reaching over to pick up the photo, Tristan was swept into memory. It had been a beautiful day and she had been the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was perfection in that moment and in so many other moments in his life. He recalled his feelings of elation and slight disbelief that she had chosen him. That she was committing to him. Forever. Tristan should have known that forever and happiness didn't go together. It wasn't too long before he screwed it all up.
They had two amazing years together. Tristan had become comfortable and was even content. So naturally, he began looking to wait for the other shoe to drop. Perfection never lasted. Something always came along to screw it all up, and in this case that something was Jess Mariano. He moved to New York and, all too conveniently in Tristan's opinion, ran into Rory at work. Tristan quickly learned that during his hiatus from his Mary's life, Jess was the guy that was just the right amount of bad boy to win her over. They arranged to catch up often, something Tristan wasn't completely comfortable with but couldn't bring himself to object to. His job as the rising young star at a law firm wasn't exactly giving him lots of time to spend with his wife, so he figured it was fine, as long as her time with Jess wasn't chipping into Tristan/Rory time. November rolled around and suddenly Rory was more distant. She was less interested in sex, less receptive of his affections.
At the time it had all seemed so clear to Tristan. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Of course she was having an affair. He worked all the time and they both had society breeding in them, so it was natural for them to eventually lapse into the type of society marriage he hated. So instead of confronting her about it, Tristan channelled his energy elsewhere, into having his own affair. An eye for an eye was his personal justification. However, it turned out that it was easier said than done, as literally every part of his body was completely devoted to his girl.
Lying on the bed, even through the haze of the beer he had consumed, Tristan could clearly remember that night. The night where the shit hit the fan. They were attending a work function of hers at the paper; Jess was to be there as he was the celebrated guest columnist of the evening. Tristan had been downing lots of beer and wine all evening, figuring the only way to get through a night of celebration for his wife's paramour was to be at least mostly drunk. Rory had given him a look, silently questioning his behaviour while denying offers of flutes of champagne. Tristan just shook his head in response. Rory chose not to question it further, instead telling him she was going to go congratulate the paper's newest acquisition and would be back later. She needed to tell him something important. Tristan nodded in understanding and with a quick squeeze of her hand, Rory disappeared into the well-dressed crowd.
The rest was a bit of a blur. He remembered standing at the bar, his vision getting hazier. He remembered a girl in a red dress approaching him and then dragging him up the stairs. However, the thing he remembered the most clearly, the memory he'll never forget for the rest of his life was the look on her face, when she pushed open the door to the bedroom. Her face conveyed her emotions perfectly. Disbelief, horror and then absolute devastation. It had been the most sobering moment of his life. She had turned quickly, running down the hall and it took him a few seconds to throw the unknown girl off him, pull up his pants and race down the hall after her. He didn't care that they were at a society party at her boss' house. He didn't care about his appearance or about the gossips speculating about what had occurred. All he cared about was the brunette who was running down the hallway. The brunette who caught her heels in her dress. The brunette who tumbled down the stairs.
Putting the photo down, Tristan sat up on his bed, tearing himself out of his memory. It was all too hard. Quickly stripping, Tristan turned on the shower as hot as he could and stood under the burning water, accepting the physical pain as a welcome change from his constant emotional pain. She hadn't been having an affair. She had been pregnant. Jess' girlfriend was an obstetrician who had been helping her out. She was going to tell him the night of the party. She had lost the baby from the fall. These thoughts circled around his head, making him scream out loud. His life could have been so different at that moment. He could be lying in bed, Rory beside him while he stroked her swollen belly. Maybe he would've been able to feel the life they had created kicking inside her. Instead, Tristan was alone. Completely alone, defeated by fate and doomed to be miserable. This couldn't be it. This shouldn't be it. Stepping out of the shower, Tristan quickly dried off, slipping into a pair of boxers and retaking his place on the bed. There wasn't any point in trying to do anything else. Suddenly the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. For a moment Tristan considered answering the door, but this thought was quickly quelled. Misery, despite what everyone says, doesn't love company. He then heard a key in the door, and hesitant footsteps echoed upstairs from the front hall. Knowing it could only be one person who had a key, Tristan rushed downstairs.
"Ror???"