AN: I'm not extremely sure where this came from, but it had a lot to do with Down by Something Corporate and She's Gonna Break Soon by Less Than Jake. This is extremely AU. I just want to warn you, Rory's character is very distorted, especially in this chapter, because of her situations. Don't worry, those will become clearer as this goes along. Rory and Jess are 17. Jess hasn't been sent to Luke's, and they both live in New York, but haven't met.
Also...my other story is not abandoned. I'll be getting the next chapter up soon, I just already had this written.
Sins of Angels
Chapter 1—Places that I haven't been
The whole was filled with smoke and lies.
She could hardly breathe.
Rory glanced around the room and sighed. The usual gaggle of drunk teenagers crowed an apartment that most of them couldn't dream of affording. Never mind that, they could settle for the mindless party crashing and booze mooching.
She wrinkled her nose at that thought, knowing that she would have to be included in that group. Rory didn't know why she had a right to such high and mighty thoughts. She was no better than anyone else in this room; they would all end up the same.
Failures.
Isn't that all anyone ever got out of life? The feeling that they wouldn't ever succeed, even if they died trying-which usually, they did.
She hadn't always felt that way. When she was younger, oh, she had thought she could do anything. Go to Harvard, own a spacey Victorian, hell, be the freaking president.
How naive.
No, she had learned. She was never going to be more than what she was now. No use to kill yourself tying to beat out fate.
When Rory had started junior high, she was the best reader in her class. No one else had read the Fountainhead at nine, heck; most were struggling through the Babysitter's Club series at 12. Yet, she was placed in the "slow" English class, one for kids who learned at a slow pace, with everyone else from her neighborhood.
Sometimes expectations were set by the guidelines of reputation. Sucky, but depressingly true.
Fine. They wanted a slow pace; she'd give them a slow pace. She had stopped caring, or at least pretended to. It had literally pained her at first to not do her homework. But it wasn't like anyone would care anyways. She wasn't expected to do it. Let her fall in line with the stereotypes. It was time to stop fighting them, they would win eventually.
Rory had started partying for the sole purpose of distracting herself from failure. It was the same thing every week. She would dress in a way she didn't particularly care for. Then her "friends" (what were friends, really? Why get attached? Wouldn't you get the same benefits without the hurt in the long run if you kept mere acquaintances?) would herd her off to some rich kid's apartment, filling the rest of the night with alcohol, cigarettes, and faceless guys. She had been wary at first, but joined in soon enough, letting her emotions drown in the alcohol.
After a while, morals didn't bother her.
But it was all fake. That's what it came down to, really. Everyone was faking laughs, faking friendships, faking passion. It was sad, really. Everyone pretending to have the things they were lacking. Building up fake reputations.
Damn those reputations.
She sank into a too-soft armchair, grabbing a beer from a nearby table. She scanned the room for guys. That seemed to be her only goal these days, being able to score better than her friends.
At least she had a prayer of achieving this.
She spotted a guy across the room from her. He was by himself, much like Rory. He had dark features, wavy hair that stuck out everywhere. He too looked bored with the whole setting.
They made eye contact and, familiar with the routine, he came towards her.
Rory quickly downed the rest of her beer, a last attempt to drown any thoughts left.
Story of her life.