AN: Hello, this is my new story. The idea came to me this afternoon. It's very close to me. It is a TRORY, they're my favourites! Also, this is the first story I've written in the first-person, it gives it almost a journal-like quality in the prologue. Anyway, R&R to let me know if I should continue it!
Disclaimer: I don't own GG.
My cell phone was ringing in my bag. The caller ID said it was Lane. She'd be calling to see how the trip to Boston was going. I sighed, I didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment, anyway, I'd be seeing her soon enough. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the bus window as Boston's city streets gave way to barren highway.
Despite the events of the past few days I smiled a tiny, rueful smile. The realisation had finally dawned on me, as the bus roared to life, that I, Rory Gilmore, had just gotten my love story. It was what I'd wanted for so long, what I thought I'd had with Dean and then Jess. But they never set my heart racing this way, never made me so angry I screamed and raged, never held me while I calmed down, never told me how perfect we were for being so wrong, never showed up at my door at 4a.m., never looked at me from across the crowded room with those huge blue eyes. They could never compete with him, the only thing that scared me was that nobody would ever again.
What was it that the cab driver had said the other night? That cities were never finished, there was always something else to be built upon, something to be perfected. That was their constant, like death and taxes, I had half-heartedly joked and he'd looked at me strangely.
Maybe that was a good metaphor for the joke her life had become in the past few weeks. That she was the city, never finished, always being built upon. That way, everything that happened to her to try and tear her down, just needed a renovation. That was it, she just needed a renovation.
It was a strange, bittersweet feeling. At the same moment that I realised I was in love, I was hit with the reality that he wasn't. That I was resigning myself to pining for something that was impossible. Could I be that person? Happy purely because he was happy…without me? Too many questions without answers for now. And who knew? The poet's heart in me still whispered dreams in me ear where he came after me because he couldn't leave without me…my poet's heart, while it whispered, would have to be enough.
AN: Let me know what you think by reviewing, next update should be up in the next day or so!