Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue.
A/N: I just wanted to write this pointless one shot to cure my writer's block. I had been thinking about it all week and I finally put it into words. I have seen where the people write things like this, but never make it a happily ever after. And as much as I love melancholy stories, I love happily ever after's even more. Again this is pointless; it has no certain storyline, but let's just say way in the future. It's definitely AU.
Thank you to my BETA, Cat.
-------------
\So lately, been wondering/Who will be there to take my place?/When I'm gone, you'll need love/To light the shadows on your face/
------------
I turn over in my bed and bury my face in blonde curls. It isn't Rory's hair, but if I close my eyes it can be. A gunshot goes off outside the apartment complex. She stirs in her sleep and jumps up, her brown eyes wide and alert.
I realize she isn't used to the noises that are going on at all hours of the night. I just kiss her bare shoulder, lightly.
"Did you hear that?" She asks me and I just shrug.
"Go back to sleep, it's nothing," I tell her and she lies back on her back.
I prop up on my elbow and look down at her, "Hey, it happens all of the time. Nothing to be worried about. We're seven floors up."
She just nods at me and pulls the sheets tighter around her.
I remember the first time Rory stayed in this bed with me. A gunshot went off outside and she'd jump, but not wake up.
I'd give a throaty chuckle and kiss the spot behind her ear. She'd turn to me with heavy eyes and a slight smile.
"You woke me up," she'd say and I'd laugh because something as simple as that could wake her, but a gunshot wouldn't.
She was never scared to be in downtown New York in this apartment with me. She would smile at its imperfections. The crack running down the ceiling, the way the bed squeaked when we got in and out of it, and the way the floor creaked as she walked to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
We'd stay up and listen to the couple above me fight, the woman below us sing, and the brothers beside us laugh and play loud music all night.
I smile and look over at Olivia beside me. She is still awake and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above me. "You need to get that crack fixed," she tells me before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
----------
The next night I lie in bed and wait for Olivia to get out of the shower. I remember the first time Olivia met Rory, we went to a restaurant for Olivia's 23rd birthday and she was there eating dinner with her boyfriend, Eric, and some friends.
I awkwardly introduced them, and hoped Rory would walk away soon before I decided to take her home instead. She then walked away, looking back at us at times.
One time Olivia caught me staring at her, but only tapped my foot under the table to get attention back on her.
That night she asked me who Rory was. When I asked her why she said I was distant and groaned Rory's name more than once during sex. I shrugged and said I was sorry. She sighed and said that didn't answer her question, then I snapped at her, telling her to drop the subject.
The subject was dropped.
Olivia walks out of the bathroom and interrupts my thoughts by placing a light kiss on my forehead.
She lies beside me and brushes out the tangles in her hair, "I want to travel the world," she says suddenly.
I look over at her. "Huh," I say and listen for her to continue.
"I wish I was someone, you know?" She says, sighing. And I look at her, wondering where the hell this is coming from and where it is going.
"You are someone," I tell her and she shakes her head.
"I wish I was someone else."
"Don't say that," I say, quietly.
She looks at me and her eyes are bright. "Why?" She asks me, curiosity drenched in her voice.
"Just ... because." Because I wish you were someone else, too. I leave it at that and I don't say another word to her.
----------
Olivia left three days ago; she says she wants to go home for Christmas break. I didn't stop her or even beg her to stay. I knew Rory would come anyways. She always does when she knows Olivia is gone and Eric had business trips.
Rory came to my house the night Olivia left and she says she wants to stay forever. I know she won't, she knows too, but it's nice to wish.
She walks into my bedroom wearing nothing, but my shirt and boxers. I laugh because it's so big on her, but looks so perfect. She smiles and gets in bed with me.
She kisses me softly and I return the kiss, running my tongue across her bottom lip. She parts her mouth, slightly and I take that as my opportunity to dive in and deepen the kiss. She grips at my shoulders and I lift her shirt over her head.
I screw my eyes shut as she takes off my boxers. I slide my boxers down her legs and kiss her neck, not opening my eyes once because I don't want this to not be real.
-----------
Afterwards, she places butterfly kisses all over my chest. She runs her hands up and down my sides and intertwines our legs together.
These are the times when Eric and Olivia are the least of our worries. We fall asleep holding each other, wishing the morning will never come.
I wake up to find Rory already awake, running her fingers up and down my stomach. I look at the clock and see that it's 3 a.m.
"I want to go," she says to me, barely audible.
"Where?" I ask her, running my hands through her hair. She seems startled that I answered her back; she must've thought I was asleep. I almost wish I was, so I could hear things that she would never say to me when I was awake
She swallows before answering, "Away. With you." I just nod. I think I would do anything for this girl.
"Are you sure? I mean, have you thought about this?" I ask her. It seems like we have this conversation every time she comes. It's like it is our ritual, after sex she says she wants to be with me … forever. She never follows through with it.
But, it's something about tonight. Something that makes me believe that this time she isn't lying. This time we'll possibly go away together.
Olivia is not a true love. Not even close, there will be other Olivia's, but never another Rory.
"I've been thinking about it all night … and I want to go." Rory stands up and wraps the sheet around her.
I watch her, amused. She gets dressed quickly and throws clothes that she left in my third drawer into a bag.
She catches me staring at her and puts her hands on her hips, "Are you going to get up and pack or not?"
"You're serious this time?" I ask her and she continues packing as an answer. I get up and slide on my boxers, "Where can we go?"
"I don't know … we can go anywhere, Texas, Florida, Louisiana, Georgia, Kentucky, Paris, Australia. It doesn't matter, as long as I am with you."
"What about Eric?" I ask her, honestly wondering what she will tell him.
"I don't love him, Jess. Not like I love you," she says it so easily, but the phrase still makes me burst inside.
We rarely say 'I love you' to one another. We just say it on occasions. We keep it a sacred phrase, saying it all of the time wears out the meaning. We know we love each other and we know that we always have and will.
I just nod and pack up my bag, "I need to write a letter to Olivia, don't I?"
"That's awful cold, don't you think?" She asks, incredulously.
"Leaving without notice is even colder," I state, nonchalantly.
She nods, how could she argue with that? I grab a pen and write out meaningless words to Olivia, trying to make it seem like it is hurting me to leave her. I must sound horrible, my words are flat. I know when she reads it she will know why I left. She knows I love Rory, without me even having to say it.
I ponder for a bit wondering whether I should put 'Love, Jess' or 'Sincerely, Jess' maybe even 'Thanks for being a distraction, Jess'. I put the pen down and leave it with no signature. She knows who wrote the note, what's the point in rubbing it in her face that I am the one leaving her?
------
It's 5 a.m. and we are driving down the interstate. She's resting her head against the rain streaked window. I smirk at her and rub my eyes; at least she gets to sleep.
I look ahead at the road and watch as the windshield wipers throw the rain out of my way.
Shakespeare once said: 'The courses of true love never did run smooth.' If that didn't explain what I had with Rory Gilmore, I don't know what did. Our course never ran smooth. But now, now I think it might.
----------
A/N: So not my best, but not my worst. Again, this is just a pointless oneshot, so if you happen to hate it I will not be offended. Review, please!