* * * * *
Something To Remember
by inmyeyes
Part 15
She leaned against the door frame, arms across her chest as she watched him. His head was bowed down, eyes on the piano keys even though she very well knew that he knew the song by heart. His back was hunched, the stance of a defeated warrior. Inwardly, she sighed, cursing Rory Gilmore for making him this way. He, of all people, should not be like that; he, the exalted Tristan DuGrey, should be out in the main room, laughing, flirting and being his usual charming self.
As the sad melody of the song lingered in the air, Paris lifted her hands and slowly clapped. The sound shocked him, that much Paris could see. She also saw how he didn't bother to conceal the hurt and confused expression on his face. 'Damn you, Rory,' she silently seethed.
"Paris," he said, softly, his smile not reaching his eyes. But his fingers kept on playing.
"Why in heaven's name are you playing Richard Marx?"
The question jarred him and his fingers fumbled, causing a loud note to ring in the small room. She saw him take a shaky breath before he started to play again; to Paris' trained ears, his playing of Bach was flawless but her heart noticed the clinical precision with which he hit the keys.
"What did you do, DuGrey?" she asked, walking over to take a seat next to him.
"I didn't do anything," he responded, keeping his eyes away from hers.
"So that must mean that Rory's tears didn't mean anything," she said casually, noticing his slight flinch at her words. "Yup, she must have been upset over nothing."
His fingers stilled. "Stop it, Paris," he said, his voice a low growl.
"Okay, fine," she acquiesced. She switched topics, "Are you okay?"
"It's nothing," he said, dismissively.
Paris nodded sagely. "Wow, it must have been a good deal of nothing that happened in here."
"Paris," he warned.
"Tristan," she said, copying his tone of voice. In the next moment, a cacophony of discordant sounds filled the room as Tristan banged his fingers against the keys in frustration.
"I kissed her, okay! Is that what you want to hear?" he blurted.
Paris' smile was wry. "No, it's actually not what I want to hear. But it's good for you to say it."
"Don't act like as though you're my therapist, Paris."
"Hardly," Paris scoffed. "I'm worse... I'm your friend."
Just as quickly as it came, his anger melted away. "What the hell did I just do?" he moaned.
"You kissed the girl whom you're in love with."
"At the wrong time, wrong place."
"I don't know about the place, but it was the wrong time," Paris agreed. "Look, Tristan... it's not the end of the world."
"It is," he protested. "Didn't you see her running out of here, crying? She was crying, for goodness' sake!" Hissing in frustration, he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to tug at his hair.
"And girls never cry after kissing you, right?"
Tristan turned his head and tossed her a dirty look. "Don't be snide, Paris. It's unbecoming."
In response, Paris rolled her eyes. "Don't be pathetic, Tristan. It's unattractive."
He shook his head, his smile mirthless. "I'm going home, I'll see you on Monday," he said as he got up.
She watched him walk across the room and only called out his name when he neared the door. He stopped, but didn't turn to face her. "Keep your chin up," were her parting words.
He turned slightly and tried to smile. Then he was gone.
(Later that night. Gilmore house. Stars Hollow)
"Are you just gonna sit there?" Lorelai waited for a response but got none; all that came out was a low sigh. Shaking her head, she inched closer to her daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Rory... you've been in this slump ever since you broke up with Dean. Tell me what's wrong."
"That's the problem, mom! There was nothing wrong about breaking-up with Dean!" Lorelai watched Rory with wide eyes, somewhat surprised by the outburst. She kept silent, knowing that Rory had more to say.
Rory jumped up from her spot on the couch, suddenly feeling the need to move. She started pacing back and forth, with Lorelai's eyes on her. "I knew the break-up was coming... I knew that it would end sooner or later, and I was wondering how it would happen." She broke off, her hands clenched as she remembered that night. "I didn't want to hurt him, mom," she finally said, her voice weak.
Lorelai reached out, grabbing Rory's hands and pulling her back onto the couch. Rory gingerly took a seat, but kept her eyes away from her mother's. "Rory," Lorelai began, her hands cupping Rory's face and forcing their eyes to meet. She wanted to cry at the heart-broken expression she saw. "What happened... happened. You can't change it and I'm sure it wasn't all your fault, honey."
Rory's eyes brimmed with tears and she blinked profusely, trying to get rid of them. "It was my fault, mom. I could have changed it. It shouldn't have happened the way it did."
"What hap-"
"He told me he loved me and I couldn't say it back, mom." The floodgate of emotions broke and the tears fell unmercifully. "I couldn't say it, mom... and the worst part was," she closed her eyes and took a halting breath. "The worst part was that I was thinking of Tristan."
"Oh, honey..." Lorelai enfolded Rory in her arms, hoping to ease some of the pain that she was clearly feeling. "Maybe it was better than you didn't just say those words, Rory," she said softly, her hands stroking Rory's back. "It would have been wrong to lead him on that way."
Rory pulled away from her mother and hastily ran the back of her hand across her cheeks. "I did care for Dean."
"I know you did. But "I love you" are weighty words to just throw around, Rory."
"Then why the hell did I think of Tristan when those words came to mind?"
Lorelai was silent for a moment. "I don't know what's going on with you and Tristan."
Rory sighed. She grabbed a nearby cushion and hugged it to her chest. "We kissed," she said simply.
"I know you guys kissed. You told me-"
Rory shook her head, smiling slightly. "No, mom... we kissed tonight."
"Oh."
"And I ran out of the room, crying."
"Not good."
Rory laughed, but the sound seemed hollow. "I know." She paused then spoke again, "What am I doing?"
"You're just trying to figure out what you're feeling," Lorelai answered, reassuringly.
She smiled at her mother's attempt to make her feel better. "Mom, from the way I've been acting... it seems like I already know what I'm feeling."
(The next day. Luke's. Stars Hollow)
"So what are you gonna do?"
Rory shook her head and laughed lightly. "Why does it seem like you're always asking me that?"
Lane shrugged. "I wanna know what you're gonna do. Plus, part of my best friend duty is to advise you. Without me, you might go do something stupid."
"Believe me, Lane. I've done my share of stupid things. I've reached my quota... so that means I won't do anything stupid until next week."
"And next week is tomorrow," Lane pointed out.
"Drats. Okay then, advise me, oh best friend of mine."
"I'm gonna need to hear your plans before I can advise."
Rory sighed and mindlessly fingered the strands of her hair. "I don't know. I should talk to him, I guess."
"You don't sound very convinced or enthusiastic," Lane commented.
"That's because I don't know what to say!" Rory exclaimed, wringing her hands. "You know how bad I am when it comes to guys."
Lane rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah... you're so bad that at one point of time, you had two guys after you. You must be completely hopeless."
"Not funny, Lane," Rory said, her face serious. "It's too complicated now."
"Is not," Lane argued. "You and Dean are no more. You like Tristan. Tristan likes you. There is no complication."
"He's my friend, Lane."
"There is no rule that says that you can't fall in love with a friend," Lane said. "I mean... c'mon, Joey fell in love with Dawson."
Rory snorted. "Yeah, a lot of good that did her."
Lane went on, undeterred. "And later, she fell in love with Pacey, who was a friend."
"Yeah, look how that worked out."
Lane ignore whatever rambling that Rory was doing. "You know, come to think of it... you and Tristan are very much like Pacey and Joey."
Rory groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I don't want to know, Lane. I just don't want to."
"And that would make Dean, Dawson."
Rory burst out laughing. "No way. Dean is in no way Dawson-like. At all." She pretended to scrutinize Lane. "Are you feeling okay? Did you eat your mom's tofu again? You know how it disagrees with you."
Lane gave a mock-glare. "I would never, ever eat that tofu. Ever. Don't say such things."
Rory shrugged. "Well, you were spouting Dawson's Creek nonsense. What was I supposed to think?"
"You're supposed to think-" Lane trailed off, her eyes on someone walking along the sidewalk. "Oh, here comes "Dawson" now."
Rory turned around in her seat and peered out the window, seeing Dean's familiar form. She jumped up. "Wait here, I need to talk to him."
"Are you sure-" Lane watched as Rory practically ran out the diner. "that's a good idea?"
The sound of the bell chiming as the door shut behind Rory was all the answer she got.
"Dean!"
She stood a few metres behind him and saw him stop when she called out his name. When he didn't turn around, she jogged over to where he was. "Um... hi." All she got in return was a blank, neutral look. "Dean, I think we should talk."
He shook his head, his floppy hair falling into his eyes a little. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his voice tight.
"I have a few things I need to tell you," she insisted, laying a hand on his arm. She hid the hurt that filled her when he flinched at her touch. "Please."
Dean sighed, meeting her eyes briefly. "Not now, Rory. I can't do this now."
She realized then how much she had hurt him and that knowledge made her heart clench. "Okay," she said weakly. She just stood there as he walked away.
(DuGrey residence. Hartford)
The loud ringing did nothing to alleviate the pounding in his head. With his head still buried under his comforter, his hand reached out and blindly searched for the object that emitted that offending sound. When he still couldn't locate it after a few seconds, he let out a loud groan and pulled the comforter down. The bright sunlight drifting in through the open window nearly blinded him, causing him to squint. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the telephone, its stark white a contrast to his dark sheets. Half-heartedly, he leaned over to reach for it, groaning again when his muscles stretched.
"This better be good," Tristan mumbled into the receiver as he lay back down on his bed and threw the covers over himself; retreating into darkness.
"Rise and shine, sweetheart," came the faux-cheerful voice on the other end.
Tristan just grunted and hung up. Barely three seconds later, the loud ringing started again. "What do you want, Paris?"
"Is that the way to greet a friend?" she huffed.
He rolled her eyes. "Good morning, Paris," he said, in a tone that reeked of practised politeness. "How are you doing?" Then he paused and let his irritation shine through. "What you do you want, Paris?"
"Wow, I've taught you well," she remarked, grinning. Her tone turned serious. "How are you feeling?"
"You called me at the crack of dawn to ask me that?"
"It's hardly the crack of dawn, Tristan," she replied dryly. "It's already well after noon."
" 'It's already well after noon.' Stop that. You sound like my mother."
Paris tsked. "Well, it's better than sounding like my mother."
"Well, I feel like crap, Paris. Thanks for waking me up."
"You're welcome."
He sighed. "Paris, I'm not in the mood right now. I'll talk to you later." He hung up before she could say anything.
He closed his eyes and willed for sleep to overtake him again.
Two minutes later, he reluctantly headed for the shower.
(Later that afternoon)
He had been reading- well, actually, he had been trying to read and trying to stop replaying the kiss in his mind- when the phone rang. Grateful for the diversion, he picked up the phone.
"What now, Paris?" he asked distractedly, fiddling with the controls of his stereo.
"Um... hi Tristan," came the hesitant voice.
"Rory?" was his surprised reply. He stopped playing around with the stereo and sat down at the edge of his bed, holding his breath.
She cleared her throat. "Yeah. I was wondering if..." she trailed off, and there was a short silence before she spoke again. "Could you come over? I think we should talk."
His eyes widened. "Talk? You want to talk?"
"Yeah."
Before he could think it over, he answered, "Okay."
(A little later. Stars Hollow)
Rory nervously twiddled her thumbs as she sat on the steps of the gazebo. Her right leg was bouncing up and down as her eyes scanned the area.
It had taken her ten minutes of staring at the phone and another four minutes of getting the nerve to dial all the numbers without hanging up. Then her heart had started pounding, the action intensifying when his smooth voice came over the line. She had somehow managed to stutter through her request and breathed a sigh of relief at his "okay".
And now, after four pep talks, seven cups of coffee and almost half an hour later, she was waiting for him at the gazebo. Mentally, she ran over the speech that she had prepared, knowing that the words would probably fly out of her mind and leave her speechless.
When she saw his car being parked in front of Luke's, she took one final deep breath and forced her clenched hands apart. As she watched his lanky figure walking towards her, she took in his appearance; the confident gait, the hands in his pockets, the small grin on his lips. When he stopped in front of her, his smile turned tentative.
"Hey," she said, smiling shyly.
"Hey." He sat down on the step next to her. He waited for her to say something and when she didn't, he asked, "So what did you want to talk about?"
She looked down at her feet. "You know what."
He bit back a sigh, not really wanting to have this talk. Somehow he knew that the talk wouldn't go his way. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "So..."
She tried to force the words out her mouth but they wouldn't come. Instead, out came, "It meant nothing, right?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to bash her head against something. God, of all the things to say! That wasn't what she meant to say; in fact she wanted to say the opposite. Oh God... she kept her head down, not wanting to see his reaction, not wanting to see the relieved expression on his face. But had she looked, she would have immediately taken back her words.
It meant nothing? The words pierced him, breaking through the armour that he had put up whenever he was around her. He wanted to close his eyes against the pain. 'Pull yourself together.' He did his best to sound unaffected, "Yeah... it meant nothing." He made sure that he didn't look at her, knowing that he would crumble and admit the truth to her if he did.
"Yeah," she echoed numbly. This was going wrong, this was completely different from what she had imagined it to be. She had to salvage this somehow but instead she said, "We're friends, right?"
Tristan tried not to wince at that word that haunted him and separated the two of them. "Of course, we're friends." It's just that I want more.
"Okay," she said. "Good." She didn't know what else she could say. And even if she did say something, she'd probably make the situation even worse that it already was.
The two of them just sat there in an awkward silence, both battling with inner frustration yet trying not to show it.
Finally, Tristan asked, "So... is that all?"
She bit her lip, the motion involuntarily drawing his attention. He tore his gaze away and waited for her reply. "Yeah... I guess."
He nodded briskly. "Okay. Good." He stood up and smiled, but his eyes didn't meet hers. "So...I'll see you in school."
She just sat there... unable to process what had happened, unwilling to believe that she had ruined things so much. When he was about twenty feet away from her, she stood up and called out his name.
He spun around but didn't get closer to her. "Yeah?" He grimaced at the hint of hope in his voice.
Again, she chickened out at the last minute. "Um... thanks for coming," was the lame sentence that came out.
The shake of his head was imperceptible. He couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to think that maybe she... he shook his head again, trying to get rid of those hopeful, optimistic thoughts. "No problem," he answered before turning on his heel and walked on.
* * * * *
"What's the emergency?"
Rory spun around on the stool and frowned. "I screwed things up. Majorly."
Lane hopped on the stool next to her friend. "What happened to 'I reached my quota. No more stupid things until tomorrow.'?"
Rory sighed heavily and leaned her head against the formica top of the counter. "It bit me in the ass."
Lane reached for the cup near Rory's head and took a sip of the coffee. "What did you do?"
"Itoldhimitmeantnothing," she mumbled, her hair covering half her face.
"What?"
Rory sat up again. "I told him it meant nothing," she repeated. At that, Lane gave her a hard smack on her shoulder. "Oww! What was that for?"
"That was for being stupid," Lane clarified. "Why did you do that? After all that gushing you did just now, which may I remind you was only about 4 hours ago, I thought you'd be ready to jump his bones."
"I know," Rory said miserably. "But somehow, all that just stumbled out and I couldn't take it back.
"Why not?" Lane demanded. "You could have just said, 'Tristan, I didn't mean what I said. What I really meant to say was that I love kissing you.' Would that have been so hard?"
"Lane!"
Lane smirked. "Don't look so outraged. You do love kissing him!"
Rory groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I don't have to tell him that."
"Nope, instead you tell him that it meant nothing."
Rory gave her a long look. "I hate your sarcasm."
Lane shrugged and just grinned. "You can dish it, but you can't deal with it. You just hate it 'cos I'm right."
The thud, caused by Rory's hard head hitting the counter, signified Rory's agreement.
"She's an idiot."
Lane nodded her agreement, even though she knew that Paris couldn't see her. "They're both idiots."
"You do realize that Rory's gonna have to make the first move, right? I don't think Tristan will want to put himself on the line like that again."
Lane sighed and twirled the cord of the telephone around her fingers. "Yeah... but after what happened today, I wouldn't trust her with it. She's gonna need reinforcements."
"Reinforcements?"
"Yup. That's where you and I come in."
"And what exactly are we gonna do?" Paris asked, her interest peaked.
"That's gonna depend on Rory."
Paris laughed a little. "So, we should just let them be idiots for a little while longer?"
"Definitely. At least... until one of them crumbles."
"What makes you think Rory will be the first?"
"Tristan's a pro at hiding his feelings. He can do it for a little while more. Rory... well, she's an open book sometimes."
"True."
"So, we'll just-" The sound of approaching footsteps alerted Lane. "Crap, I think my mom's coming. I'll talk to you again later."
Quickly hanging up, Lane stuffed the telephone underneath her pillow and feigned interest in her Biology textbook. Barely five seconds later, her mother entered the room.
Ten minutes later, she called Paris back and resumed their plotting.