Title: Wistful
Author: Grlufear
Rating: R very hard R
Disclaimer: I'm just a girl stuck two years in the past. These characters aren't mine. If they were...Tristan would still be there (and I'd watch more often).
Feedback: It is appreciated greatly though I suck at replying.
Tristan Dugrey is not someone who can be saved. It's taken Rory Gilmore something like three years to figure this out. Three years remembering that last kiss filled with longing and ending.
But figure it out she has, so there is no regret. Now that she's been out in the world and is experienced in the ohsohighschool definition of the word, she can see things clearer. She no longer regrets not taking Tristan up on all of the things that his pouty lips and rich boy charm promised her.
It was touch and go for a while. Mostly because she knew that things with Tristan would never be as complicated and painful as they were with Dean and Jess and so many Yale boys with their desperate intellectualism. Tristan was wonderfully simple, just sex and good times.
But she knows better now. Knows that Tristan was never simple. She can see now, back past the years, all of the hunger in his gaze that had nothing to do with her body or his or how the would have fit so exquisitely together.
She can tell now, exactly how it would go. His lips at her ear whispering assurances as his hand slid up her thigh. She'd be red-faced and fumbling, slightly ashamed because she's a good girl, and good girls don't do this. He'd pretend at nonchalance because well hell, that swagger in his step came from experience if talk around the girl's locker room meant anything. Really he'd be nervous, anticipating getting his fingertonguewhatever between her thighs, the chance at sweet salvation that would never come.
Tristan is a corrupter, a defiler. He was made for it in the same way that Rory's wide eyes and petite body were made to be targets for corruption. Never the two should meet. It's something he's always wanted to change and something that Rory used to regret. But more than that it is the truth, the kind of truth that has a haunting finality about it.