Author's Note(s): - English is not my first language. But I just can't write anything decent in German. I despise the language, I hate how the words sound and feel. So, please be gentle :)
 - I haven't watched Gilmore Girls in a loong time. I saw a few re-runs on TV recently and thought I'd give writing a try. I used to, and I loved it, so I figured, why not. Sorry if I don't have the character down as I used to. As I said, it's been a while.
- This story is like an introduction for another story I'm working on. I figured it was necessary to read first. I'm not too fond of posting a story and then posting how it all started. This is not Star Wars, duh.

Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own anything related to the TV series. I only own the characters that I've made up.

Save all your prayers,

I think we're lost today,

There's no morning after,

No one's around to blame

In Flames – Dead End

He watched her sleep. Her chestnut hair covered the pillow, looking like spider legs around her head. Her eyes were closed, a little frown on her forehead. He wondered what she dreamed about.

She wore one of his t-shirts, which was too big for her and made her look even thinner. She looked fragile, with her pale skin, the big t-shirt.

He hated that he had to leave soon. He was already completely dressed and had spent the last thirty minutes watching her. He didn't know when he'd come back and he wanted to take her all in. Her smell, her body, her taste. He hated the fact they only saw each other when he was in town.

He sighted, softly stroking her cheek.

Her eyes flattered open. She looked confused, but then smiled. "You're still here."

"Disappointed?"

"Not at all," she glanced at his watch. "How much time do you have left?"

"About forty minutes."

"I'll drive you," she offered, smiling sadly.

"You gotta get to work, don't you?"

"I don't care."

"I do," he kissed her forehead "Don't get yourself in trouble over me."

Her smile got even sadder. "I miss you already."

This was just too much. He hated to leave without knowing when he was coming back. He hated to know he broke her heart every time.

"This was a beautiful weekend, you know. Just perfect."

He tried to smile. "It was."

She set up straight, crossing her legs and grabbing his hand. "Can't I just come with you? I'll look for work in New York."

"You'd have to leave your family."

"I can't leave my mother now," tears formed in her eyes. "But I can't let you leave. You don't even know when you'll be back. I don't know when I'll get to visit. This is too hard."

He cringed. Was she breaking up with him? "So...," he began, his voice weak.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I love you. But it hurts so much. When you leave … it breaks my heart. I can't move. You can't. We both just suffer."

"So this is it?"

She remained silent.

He stood up, grabbed his duffel bag and walked to the door. He turned around to see her looking away. He sighed, opened the door and left.

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