A/N: I never ever thought I'd write a story that was post season 6, but here it is. This is my season 7—the shortened version— and how I feel the L's could/should have handled things. This story is a lot different than ones I've written previously: a little more angst and alternating POV's with much shorter chapters to keep the story moving forward.

Holy shit, my head is pounding. What happened last night? Maybe if I keep my eyes closed the pain will go away. Yes, because that's how hangovers work, Lorelai. Get a grip. You can do this. Tequila. There was definitely tequila and not enough water. And, oh my God, I'm naked. Why am I naked? Christopher. I came to see Christopher. Oh no, please tell me we didn't. Please, please, please. This is his guest room, and I didn't want to sleep in my dress. That must be what happened. I was too drunk to drive home, and I crashed here. Wait, is that G.G.? And Christopher? I definitely heard Chris's voice. I was right. We slept separate, not together.

I finally peel open my eyes as I hear the bedroom door open and G.G. ask, "Who is that?" I lie still, not moving a muscle, hoping that if I don't move or make a sound they'll go away. I just want them to go away. Chris shushes her and tells her it's me. Aunt Lorelai? Since when…I can't think about that right now. My heart feels like it will beat right out of my chest as I listen to Christopher try his best to send his daughter off with the nanny and leave me in peace. The door finally closes, and I'm able to relax a tiny bit. My stomach is churning, I need to get out of here as soon as…

I feel the bed dip and the covers pull back. A bare arm wraps over my waist, and it takes everything in me not to lean over the side of the bed and puke. He grabs my wrist gently and rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. It's in that moment that I remember exactly what happened the night before.

It was comfort I was seeking out. A friend. A person who reassured me only hours before that he would always have my back as I would for him. I didn't want to be alone, and I told him that. The tequila went down so easily, and it left me tingly but numb at the same time. I wanted to feel something, anything. I wanted to feel on the outside what I was feeling in my head for months and months: out of control. There's only so much bottling up a person can do when it comes to their emotions. Sooner or later the pressure of it all causes an explosion. Lying in bed naked with Christopher is the unfortunate result of that explosion.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice low and hoarse. I sit up quickly, pushing Christopher's arm away, and the room starts to spin. This isn't right. None of this is right. Leaning forward with my face buried in my hands, I try to collect myself.

"Hey, it's okay," he says soothingly, but it only makes me feel worse. "G.G is gone for the rest of the morning. We have the apartment to ourselves." He sits up, scooting closer, and starts to place tiny kisses on my bare shoulder.

"Don't," I say sharply. Taking the sheet with me, I stand and turn around to face him. "This was not supposed to happen. What am I doing here?" It takes everything in me to not cry. I'm afraid if I do I'll throw up for sure. That would put the final nail in this coffin of humiliation that I've found myself in.

"You came to me, Lor. I thought this is what you wanted." He hesitates as a thought suddenly occurs to him. "Don't you dare blame me. I did not force you to drink a bottle of tequila and I did not force you into bed."

"I'm not saying you did. I'm saying—" My phone starts ringing before I can finish talking. It's muffled but nearby. After plucking my clothes off of the floor, my phone tumbles back down and lands near my bare toes. The display says RORY, and there's no way I can face her right now, so I silence the call.

"Lor," Christopher pleads as if he's the one in absolute turmoil over the situation. "Come back to bed. This is just the tequila talking. Once you've had some rest and maybe something to eat—"

"No!" I shout. He needs to take the hint, and I don't know how else to get my point across. After a few deep breaths, I finally look up at him. "This was a mistake, Chris. I shouldn't have come here, I shouldn't have stayed here, and I shouldn't be here now."

Clutching my belongings to my chest, I make a beeline for the bathroom on the other side of the room and lock the door. Only then am I able to finally let the realization of what I've done sink in, and it hits me full force. There is no way out of this situation. It's irreparable. I think you've officially hit rock bottom, says this little voice inside my head. I tell it to shut up as I quickly dress in yesterdays clothes. Two aspirins—make it three for good measure—and a swish of mouthwash later, I walk back into the scene of the crime. The bed is now empty, thank God, and I spot my car keys lying on the floor next to the nightstand. I creep down the quiet hallway, and I'm caught off guard by the sound of Christopher's voice from inside the kitchen.

"Are you sure I can't fix you anything? You really shouldn't be driving like this."

"I'll be fine. I need to get home. Rory's probably worried sick, and I have enough to deal with without the whole town knowing I didn't come home last night."

I turn to leave, but not before he gets in one last word. "I don't see the big deal, Lor. You told me you two were done."

I sigh and close my eyes briefly. How was it possible to fall for such a selfish person all those years ago? Why did I never see what everyone else saw? Christopher was like a drug, but not the kind that would hurt you. It was the kind that put you in a trance, and while inside that trance, you hurt other people around you. Only when that drug wears off are you able to see what happened. He was exactly the drug I needed in dealing with my grief over Luke. It felt good in the moment (him coming to Lane's wedding and our fun banter at dinner last night with my parents), but once it wore off, all that was left was a feeling of disgust and dread. That's what being in a relationship with Christopher felt like. I would be damned if I let that happen again.

Finally I open my eyes and say, "You wouldn't see this as a big deal, Chris, that's the problem."

I climb into my Jeep and blast the A/C. The tequila is starting to radiate from my pores, and I hope I can make it back to Stars Hollow without having to pull over and puke. Against my better judgement, I check my phone. Five missed calls: three from Luke and two from Rory. Shit. Even with the A/C on full blast, I feel as if I'm suffocating. I unzip my driver's side window and breathe in the warm, May air.

I decide to pull into a gas station off of I-84. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and I'm incredibly thirsty. As soon as I put my Jeep into park, my phone goes off once again. It will only make things worse if I continue to ignore it, so I decide to answer when I see that it's Rory once again.

"Hey, kid!" I can't help but cringe at the sound of my own fake, high-pitched voice.

"Mom? I've been trying to reach you, were you sleeping?"

Oh, how I wish I was. "No, hon, I'm driving. Is everything okay?"

I can hear her sigh with relief, and it hits me again how badly I've messed up. "I'm fine. A little bummed about Logan being gone, but um, Luke called me this morning. He said you didn't come home last night. He sounded pretty worried, Mom. Where are you?"

Shit, shit, shit. I guess they call it the walk of shame for a reason because that's the only thing I feel right about now. "I'm on my way home…from Hartford. Look, it's a long story, I'm sorry I worried you, but I can't talk about it right now. I promise I will fill you in when my head is no longer spinning, okay?"

Please take the hint, Rory. "Okay. Are you and Luke all right, though? He said you guys had a fight outside the diner, and you left."

All of these questions. "Rory…" I let the silence linger for a second until suddenly the taste of stomach acid and tequila hits the back of my throat. I'm able to get in an "I gotta go" before hanging up and throwing up out of the side of my Jeep. Classy, Lorelai. After purchasing two bottles of water and a packet of cheese crackers from the gas station, I get back on the road and head home. Now that I have something in my stomach, and I'm a little bit hydrated, I can start to figure out what exactly I'm going to do.

Chris was right; I did tell him that Luke and I were over. I keep telling myself this to try and temper down the feeling of guilt coursing through me. A part of me knew that he wouldn't want to elope. I didn't care, I had to try something. He seemed so content with how things were, and I hated that. Why couldn't he see that I was suffering? Why didn't he notice that I was pulling away just like he did? Are you blind? He has April now, he doesn't need you, says that annoying voice inside my head. That's a lie, he did need me. That birthday party was a disaster, and he called me for help. It's not my fault that he didn't run it by Anna first. Why was I put in the middle of that argument? If the only problem in our relationship was Anna and April, getting married would have solved that. Why couldn't Luke see it that way?

Suddenly my conversation with Carolyn in the backseat of her car last night floats to the surface. I was so excited that she gave me one more thing to blame my parents for that I didn't take what she said at face value. I use marriage as a solution to a problem. Why didn't I see this before? It all makes sense now. I got pregnant; I was told to marry Christopher. Max and I were fighting; I said I would marry him to put a stop to it. Rory bailed on me to go and live with my parents; I ask Luke to marry me so that I would feel happiness instead of pain. And last night, I expected Luke to marry me right then to solve the Anna/April problem. Maybe the anecdote I thought Carolyn had given me was actually a hand grenade. I tossed it into the middle of my relationship with Luke and blew it into a million pieces.

Luke tried to call you, remember? Maybe you didn't completely ruin everything, says the voice. I feel like there is no way to salvage my relationship with Luke. Not now. It would take a special kind of human to look past what I've done and see things for what they really are: a jumbled up mess caused by two people who used to be so in sync, but who've lost their footing along the way. I love him deeply, but I can't continue feeling crappy and neglected. I had no choice but to end things. I'm not so sure Luke will see it that way. Are you sure he knows you're over? Damn that little voice.