Title: Finding Yourself
Author: Newyorkgurlie a.k.a. Amanda
Rating: PG-13, for some language and mentioned death (if that made any sense…)
Pairing: Trory, with Brooke/Jess and Java Junkie undertones
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything related to Gilmore Girls or One Tree Hill, but I blatantly stole Brooke's name from them… Yeah, sorry about that, WB heads! Anyway, try and sue me if you want. I have sixty dollars to my name and I'm not giving them up without a court order, so…
Dedication: To Jamie a.k.a. Mrs. Lafferty, because I love you bunches and you're my partner in One Tree Hill obsessed crime! I, a.k.a. Mrs. Murray (soon to be Mrs. Brody because I'm having an affair with Adam. Shh! Don't tell Chad…), think you're the best-est best friend a girl could ask for!
Author's Note: So, second story added for the day. Maybe I can make you're dreams come true and update Thus, With a Kiss, since that's been on my to-do list for six months now? Eh, we'll see. Well, this is the story that I was talking about in my AN for That Summer Day… Shameless plug! Shameless plug! Can we say shameless plug?!? I have no sense of pride, because if I did, I wouldn't be plugging my stories wherever I went! Okay, so basically, I already have this story written on paper up to chapter six and it will be updated most frequently since it needs to be for school. So don't worry about me leaving you hanging, which is my infamous thing to do. I know this is kind of short, but I took out some parts that I didn't like very much… Enjoy!
Chapter One: The Despondent Life
Tristan Dugrey woke up on a serene Monday morning feeling anything but, already wanting the day to end. His lackadaisical mood was like that of every other morning of his pathetic existence. As he depicted the way his day was going to unfold in his mind, he slumped/rolled out of bed and onto the slovenly floor of his upstairs bedroom in the cold, unwelcoming manor. He was rankled once more when he found that all his books had been confiscated; he suspected his father had told the help to get rid of this reading because, according to him, "he shouldn't be spending so much time on stupid books that won't do him any good in the long run."
"Figures…" he trailed off, embarking down a profuse trail of mutinous thoughts against all his screwed family and so called friends. He rebuked their existence in his mind, not having the audacity to do so out loud. Or maybe he did, but society was cruel and would frown upon such an outburst, making his life more unbearable than it already was. I can't deal with this anymore, he thought loudly in his head, and entertained the idea of running away, leaving behind all his problems and being free. He didn't have any reason to stay.
"Well, accept maybe Brooke, but I can take her with me!" he thought childishly. Right, how would you survive? Obviously daddy would cut you off, and most employers don't hire runaway sixteen year olds without any working experience, his conscience told him. Again he fell into a state of putrid hate of the world around, filled with obnoxious dumb asses who he couldn't care less about.
"I hate having to be so conscientious all the time. Why do I have to care all the time?" he asked, hurling one of his many football trophies into the mirror hanging on his wall. Looking down at the pieces of broken glass, he saw his face – a handsome face that made girls swoon – turn grotesque to him within a second of looking at it. His worst nightmare was coming true. He was turning into his father and could do nothing to stop it. Almost losing all hope, he could have never have imagined who he'd meet that day. She would change him forever – show him the hope of being able to find his true self before he fell through the cracks in his despondent life.