Title: All the Things You Are
Author: Christina
Summary: Definitely not a light read... not really angst, but not light and fluffy either. It has a dark edge, and it's from Tristan's POV. Complete. I've never done a one parter before, and it feels good to have it finished!
Pairing: No pairing
Disclaimer: The characters and events of Gilmore Girls are not mine.
"All the worlds a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
they have their exits and their entrances,
and one man in his time plays many parts."
-William Shakespeare
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was all just a game.
There was no love, no hate, only indifference. Everything and everyone in Tristan's life had been like that. Cold and impersonal.
Except Rory Gilmore. She hated him. And he fed off of it hungrily. Somebody had actually expressed an emotion towards him. It wasn't a good emotion, but nonetheless, it showed somebody cared enough to have feelings toward him. Sure, he knew that she had just said it to appease her cave man boyfriend, but it still hurt.
Hate, love, what was the difference? Tristan didn't love Rory, why should he care if she said she hated him? That was why it was all the more confusing when Tristan's heart plunged straight into his stomach when he heard the scorching, scathing words, full of loathing. That feeling in his heart could only be one thing: It breaking. How was that possible? She was a game, a conquest, just like everything else in his life. It stayed simple that way. No ties, no emotions, no nothing. Just a cold empty world, filled with people that passed him by, not touching his life in any way.
After Rory's proclamation of hate for him, he had gone out of town to clear his head and figure things out. He went to New York, where he had screwed countless, nameless, faceless girls, who all eventually molded into one girl.
Her.
Every single time he had sex, he would see her face. It was rooted into his brain, and when he closed his eyes, images of her were burned onto his eyelids. He'd see her screaming in ecstasy, her nails clawing at his clothes, begging for more. Then he would open his eyes.
It was then that the real world, where Rory Gilmore was miles away, would come crashing back to him. He was then back in his apathetic, unresponsive world, filled with meaningless possessions and toys.
Redheads, blondes, and brunettes. Big and small. The pretty, and the not so pretty. All nothing. Nothing to him, nothing to her.
She didn't care. She had acknowledged that the second time he called her Mary. Why should she care if he was seducing all of the female population in New York? She didn't have any emotional ties connecting her to him in any way at all. She had no reason to care. She hated him.
So why did Tristan keep seeing her disapproving face as he enticed another victim? Why did he care so much about what she thought?
Because he was getting his emotions mixed up. Somewhere along the way in his game, he had screwed up. Took a bad card. Lost a turn.
Now he was paying for it. All because he was only human. See, Tristan was the typical male. Wanting what he couldn't have. Hell, he was the typical female too. Wanting what was just out of reach. It's a universal thing that is not defined by sex, race, or age. By the age of three, every child has learned what it is, the unquenchable desire for that cookie that their mother just won't let them have, until after dinner. As time marches on, that unreachable desire remains. It is the cookie that changes. It changes to just about anything. Girls, money, jobs, anything.
After all, it was lust he felt, not love. No, Tristan had built his wall up so strong and sturdy that nobody was able to get in, and break down his defenses.
So it all came back to one question.... Why did it hurt so damn much? If he didn't give a shit about anything or anyone, why did it hurt every time he relived that moment? The moment when she had said she hated him?
It was because he was only human after all. And when it came right down to it, he would much rather live in indifference, because then and only then, he could still be in his fantasy world, where he actually had a chance with Rory Gilmore. Where it was her clawing at his clothes and screaming in ecstasy for him. Not Dean. Him.
It was all just a game. A game that Tristan discovered that he was the pawn, and Rory had all the cards in her hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author: Christina
Summary: Definitely not a light read... not really angst, but not light and fluffy either. It has a dark edge, and it's from Tristan's POV. Complete. I've never done a one parter before, and it feels good to have it finished!
Pairing: No pairing
Disclaimer: The characters and events of Gilmore Girls are not mine.
"All the worlds a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
they have their exits and their entrances,
and one man in his time plays many parts."
-William Shakespeare
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was all just a game.
There was no love, no hate, only indifference. Everything and everyone in Tristan's life had been like that. Cold and impersonal.
Except Rory Gilmore. She hated him. And he fed off of it hungrily. Somebody had actually expressed an emotion towards him. It wasn't a good emotion, but nonetheless, it showed somebody cared enough to have feelings toward him. Sure, he knew that she had just said it to appease her cave man boyfriend, but it still hurt.
Hate, love, what was the difference? Tristan didn't love Rory, why should he care if she said she hated him? That was why it was all the more confusing when Tristan's heart plunged straight into his stomach when he heard the scorching, scathing words, full of loathing. That feeling in his heart could only be one thing: It breaking. How was that possible? She was a game, a conquest, just like everything else in his life. It stayed simple that way. No ties, no emotions, no nothing. Just a cold empty world, filled with people that passed him by, not touching his life in any way.
After Rory's proclamation of hate for him, he had gone out of town to clear his head and figure things out. He went to New York, where he had screwed countless, nameless, faceless girls, who all eventually molded into one girl.
Her.
Every single time he had sex, he would see her face. It was rooted into his brain, and when he closed his eyes, images of her were burned onto his eyelids. He'd see her screaming in ecstasy, her nails clawing at his clothes, begging for more. Then he would open his eyes.
It was then that the real world, where Rory Gilmore was miles away, would come crashing back to him. He was then back in his apathetic, unresponsive world, filled with meaningless possessions and toys.
Redheads, blondes, and brunettes. Big and small. The pretty, and the not so pretty. All nothing. Nothing to him, nothing to her.
She didn't care. She had acknowledged that the second time he called her Mary. Why should she care if he was seducing all of the female population in New York? She didn't have any emotional ties connecting her to him in any way at all. She had no reason to care. She hated him.
So why did Tristan keep seeing her disapproving face as he enticed another victim? Why did he care so much about what she thought?
Because he was getting his emotions mixed up. Somewhere along the way in his game, he had screwed up. Took a bad card. Lost a turn.
Now he was paying for it. All because he was only human. See, Tristan was the typical male. Wanting what he couldn't have. Hell, he was the typical female too. Wanting what was just out of reach. It's a universal thing that is not defined by sex, race, or age. By the age of three, every child has learned what it is, the unquenchable desire for that cookie that their mother just won't let them have, until after dinner. As time marches on, that unreachable desire remains. It is the cookie that changes. It changes to just about anything. Girls, money, jobs, anything.
After all, it was lust he felt, not love. No, Tristan had built his wall up so strong and sturdy that nobody was able to get in, and break down his defenses.
So it all came back to one question.... Why did it hurt so damn much? If he didn't give a shit about anything or anyone, why did it hurt every time he relived that moment? The moment when she had said she hated him?
It was because he was only human after all. And when it came right down to it, he would much rather live in indifference, because then and only then, he could still be in his fantasy world, where he actually had a chance with Rory Gilmore. Where it was her clawing at his clothes and screaming in ecstasy for him. Not Dean. Him.
It was all just a game. A game that Tristan discovered that he was the pawn, and Rory had all the cards in her hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~