Author's Note: Still plodding along, writing some, discarding other stuff.
I had no idea that writing fic is exhausting! Please review, I'm sure that
you guys all know how good it is to get reviews on your crummy little
chapters.
Tristan planted his foot, the car screeching out of the drive, accelerating down the highway without thought. He drove in the blue darkness, his headlight's beams. He drove aimlessly, without destination, his goal to reach someplace quiet, where there were no painful memories, no superficial laughing faces, just - quiet.
The car turned left, turned a right. All the roads looked familiar. He drove on wanting to find a path that he did not recognize, a place where he wouldn't be Tristan DuGrey, the one and only son, heir to the DuGrey fortune - but a nameless face, where nobody would remember him the next day. A smaller, less trafficked road was leading onto the left, looking infinitely more inviting than the large highway. Tristan twitched his flicker and turned onto it. The occasional headlight cast a pure white light on his pale face. The road came to an end, a fork. Left or right? He turned right again, driving on.
A large billboard accosted him, "Welcome to Stars Hollow". Tristan drove on, his mind not piecing the two together. The street was littered with people, a recital taking place. Young children, the elderly, couples. He felt envious of all, the children had their entire lives in front of them, the elderly with wisdom and the couples with.love. He tore his eyes off one particular couple, they oblivious to the young boy staring jealously at them. He drove on searching for a quiet spot. A small park was up ahead, deserted, the streets standing in cool silence, the majority of people down at the center.
He stopped the car, and stumbled out, his legs cramped from his long, aimless drive. He walked to the swings, his expensive sneakers glistening with the moisture. Tristan stopped and sat on one of the wooden swings, engravings streaked across it. He gripped the cold chain, his feet scuffling on the ground, the swing shifting slightly. He hung his head back, staring up at the stars. They seemed so close, so close he could reach up and pluck one off the inky sheet, holding the warm light in the palm of his hand. He dropped his head, reality kicking in. He had a life. Life where stars were millions of miles away, untouchable to humans. A life where anger and fury engulfed him, without relief. He dragged his feet in the sand, creating patterns.
******
Rory shut the white gate bordering the Kim's house.
"Thanks for coming over." Lane stood on the other side, her glasses perched on her pert nose.
"Not a problem. See you tomorrow after noon?" Rory pulled her coat tighter.
"Oh, yes! Bold and the Beautiful return!" Lane squealed in delight, her hair blowing madly.
"Lane Kim! Come inside this instant! You'll fall ill." The bellows of her mother reached their ears. Lane's face screwed up.
"Gotta go. My mother thinks that I'm a consumptive nature. This is why she wants me to marry a doctor, or become one. Either way, she wins." Rory smiled wryly.
"See you" Lane called over he shoulder as she hurried into the house. Rory turned and started making her way down the street, intending to reach home before she was blown away. Clad only in jeans, a long sleeved turtleneck sweater and her coat, the wind cut through her, chilling her to the bone. She quickened her pace, forcing her numb feet to move briskly.
Rory stilled when she saw the familiar outline of a car. She frowned. What is he doing up here? And at this time? She checked her watch. 10:46 pm. Her eyes squinted to see it he was seated in the car, vision strained. It was empty. She looked up, searching the immediate surrounds for the car's owner. There he was, sitting on one of the swings, his shoulders stooped, as if he had a great weight on them. He looked surprisingly small, not the strong athlete profile that was boasted at school. Without thinking, she walked towards him, her mind forming senseless words. She shook them out of her head, their meanings useless. Instead, she asked the question that was the most obvious.
"Tristan? What are you doing here?" he jumped slightly, her voice floating from behind him. Rory? How did she know - then his mind clicked. Rory lived in Star Hollow, the park was in Star Hollow. It's only natural that Rory would be walking past the park at 11 at night. He cursed silently, kicking himself for his carelessness. He'd let himself get lost in his thoughts, the outside world had lost all meaning. He pulled the visor up.
"Jeez Mary, you almost scared the crap out of me." Tristan twisted around, his eyes meeting hers. She stood in the moonlight, in the deserted park, the recital's commotion dying in the background, the residents retiring.
"What are you doing here?" she persisted.
"To see you of course. School just isn't enough." Came his lighthearted response, the habitual grin plastered on his face, expecting an icy remark.
"Oh." She came around and sat on the other swing. He looked up at the sky again.
"Nice night huh?" he remarked, his breath making condensation droplets in the air.
"You didn't answer my question" Rory looked at him, her face turned. Tristan dropped his head, swiveling it to look at hers. Looking into those eyes he knew that she didn't believe his given response. He sighed, the visor slipping down.
"Just wanted to drive, escape things for a while, what with finals and all. I had forgotten that you lived here, I - you must think that I'm some crazy stalker." Tristan felt like an insect under inspection.
"No" she replied, her eyes never wavering. "I don't think that you're a stalker, and I don't think that finals is your problem." She remembered that chilling look in Biology.
He smiled wanly, regretting her ability to read into things, but somehow welcoming the fact that she cared enough to do it.
"Yeah, well, I felt that I needed a change. I didn't really want to be in my house at the moment." He grimaced, his mother's superficial laugh replaying in his head.
"Oh" Rory didn't know what to say. A few moments of awkward silence passed.
"Why?" the one syllable word, but the start of a speech that would take years to say. He couldn't even comprehend why he was spilling to her. Would she understand?
"I don't feel comfortable in my house at the moment." I don't feel comfortable any of the time, he muttered to himself. Rory shuddered. Imagine not being comfortable in your own home. Her house was her solace, her escape from school, Paris, the snobbery, the social classes - Tristan? No, not anymore. She looked at him again, a wave of compassion flooding her.
"Cold?" Tristan noticed her convulse.
"No, but you are" she reached out and touched his hand, holding onto the chain.
"Why don't you come back to mine for a while? Have some coffee?" Rory offered hastily, the words stumbling over each other, forgetting the fact that they had to get up at 6:30 in the morning for school the next day. He stared incredulously.Rory, offering him entrance to her domain. Out of pity? Most likely. Still, it was better that freezing to death out here or going back to that cold mansion that he refused to call home. He smiled uneasily accepting her offer. He felt slightly uncomfortable, wondering if he'd made the right decision. Her own smile assured him. She rose from the swing, the chains clinking. She made her way to his silver Jaguar, silently inviting him to follow.
His car smelt of leather, and a light trace of his cologne. She sniffed it in, taking note on the way he eased the car onto the road.
"Left...right - the house with the brown jeep at the front." Tristan quietly complied, the indicator flicking on and off. The light was on in the lounge room, Lorelai was still up. Probably waiting for her to come home. Still, she was glad that her mother was still awake, her habit to babble would surely keep the conversation going. He switched the car off, opening the door. What are you doing Rory? Well, it was too late now, she couldn't just tell him to leave. Rory got out of the car, walking on the worn path, leading to the house. What if there's clothes lying around? Some underwear? A faint colour flushed her face, remembering the time Dean had dropped by unexpectedly, a hot pink G-string tossed casually on the sofa. It was a playful present that he mother had brought her, whilst away on a business convention. Most mothers get their offspring t-shirts, or a new CD, but she carted home a G-string. Or what if he thought her house cheap? Small? Messy? Messy it was even by her standards. So - oh God. Rory pushed open the front door, unlocking it with her keys.
"Mom?" Rory called out. They could hear loud thumps. She frowned and looked at Tristan.
"I warn you, my mother is the best mom out there, and my best friend, but if you're not used to her, she's a little intimidating." Rory took off her coat.
He listened some more, the thumps interrupted with a painful "Ow!" and muffled obscenities. Rory followed the vibrations into the lounge room - her mother standing on the coffee table, in her pajamas, one foot on the chair by the fire. She looked up when her daughter entered.
"Mom, what are you doing?"
Lorelai was panting from the exertion. "I'm trying to make one circuit around the lounge room without touching the floor, but I keep on failing on the right corner, I think we need a second t.v." she wiped of slight perspiration from her forehead.
"Hmmm, no, I think you just need to get off the coffee table before you break your ankle." Tristan stood silently behind Rory, his eyes hungrily devouring the contents of the room, studying the lamps, the photo arrangement on the mantelpiece. Rory cleared her throat.
"Um, Mom, this is Tristan" Tristan stepped out of the shadows, into the glow of the living room's light, Lorelai seeing him for the first time. The look that passed over her face was comical, first shocked, then embarrassed for her dress, or lack of. But she shrugged it off within seconds and extended her hand.
"Tristan. Pleased to meet you, I assume that you are the same Tristan that is the star in some of Rory's most interesting stories?" Lorelai smiled at him.
"Ah, maybe." He eagerly responded, his face breaking out into a smile.
"Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" Lorelai offered, mentally calculating what and if there was anything on the cupboards.
"Sure" Lorelai smiled and looked pointedly at Rory, her eyes commanding her to follow. Rory followed obediently, leaving Tristan seated on the couch.
"Okay, feeling sorry for a guy is one thing, but bringing him home to meet me late at night is another thing. Are you dating?" Lorelai asked in a hushed whisper, opening the cupboard, reaching for mugs.
"No. No!" Rory shook her head vehemently "He'd driven to the park around the corner, and I saw him there on the way home from Lane's - as too impulsive wasn't I?" Rory groaned, looking at her mother.
"Well, yeah - why did you invite him?"
"He had that look again"
"The look?"
"You know."
"No, I don't otherwise I would be able to understand what you are saying by saying something like 'Yes, Rory, I do understand' "
"The look! I was telling you about at Luke's? Remember?" Rory filled the pot at the sink. "Oh, that look."
"He was telling me about how he didn't want to be in his house at the moment.and that look! And I didn't know what to say - and - oh I'm not making sense am I?" Rory frowned in confusion.
"No, you're making perfect sense. You're lucky that I had decided not to put a facemask on tonight, other wise your new pal here would have run away screaming. He's kinda cute too. No wonder all the girly girls chase him."
"Okay, hush now," Rory hissed "He can probably hear you."
Lorelai picked up two mugs and stepped to the lounge, Rory on her heels.
Tristan sat on the couch, thumbing through a photo album, looking at snap shots of a giggly baby, a innocent 6 year old, a fresh faced teen. He stopped at a picture of Rory in her Chilton uniform, presumably her first day. His memory flashed back to her first day, the first words, the smirks, the open offers. Remembering the pleasant surprise when she rejected his advances, looking at him as one would a rodent. He no longer saw her as a conquest, though there was no deny that she was, at first. Instead he saw her as a person that he wanted to value, have meaningful conversations with. He admired the way she carried herself, running with the others but not of them. The fluttering crowds, the jostling girls, all vying for his attention faded in comparison. He remembered the horror he felt when he realized that she may turn her back to him for the last time, but he hoped against hope, clinging to the possibility that they may be friends one day, however distant it may be. He couldn't stop the innuendo-laced words, the leering glances, it was his only way to communicate. But he kicked himself every time words flew from his mouth, regretting the meanings, wanting to freeze them in mid air and change them.
He flipped the page, a picture of her in a blue dress presented before him. Her smile wide, the skin glowing with excitement. The infamous scene materialized before his eyes, the tension he felt standing inches away from Dean, the silence in the room so thick, you could have cut it cleanly in two with a knife. He couldn't remember why he did that, making an embarrassing scene like that. Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the happy couple shifting on the dance floor, sharing a private moment, tuned out to the noise around them, all attention on the other. He was jealous, jealous of the closeness, the unaccustomed feeling of another having what he really wanted, and a goal unattainable, beyond his reach. He didn't see the girl Rory, or the boy Dean, rather he saw the picture of true love, not a fake superficial love, but an authentic emotion. All he had ever experienced was the feelings of carnal lust, the uncontrollable need to search for real affection.leaving him cold.
Those emotions translated into dislike for Dean, burning in his barren heart, hating the dark haired boy for holding onto the gift so tightly in the palm of his hand, in fear of losing it, but loose enough to taunt others. He felt mad at himself, not at Dean, his fury unleashing on himself. He pushed him, or so it seemed, but in his mind, he was pushing himself away - Dean's 'You will not come near her ever again' ringing clear in his head. The words stilled him, his fury subsiding, doused in the truthfulness of the words. Maybe he would never get the chance of experiencing real appreciation, love. It was like fate telling him that his chance was lost.
He shivered and quickly turned again. Pictures of Rory and Lorelai, Rory and Luke, Rory and Lane, just Rory. A dress that reminded him of something. Tristan swallowed dryly. The kiss. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, feeling ashamed of his impulsive action. He felt remorse for doing it to this very day, or so he thought he would. But things had changed. Rory accepted him, their relationship moving to a different level. He was convinced that she would loathe him even more, expel him forever, but he couldn't be more far from the truth. An awkward friendship was in its first tentative steps, testing the boundaries, looking always to the future, not at the past.
Lorelai walked in Rory closely following. He sealed the album with a snap and placed it back on the coffee table.
"Thanks" Tristan accepted the mug that she offered him.
"Sorry if it's too strong," Lorelai bit back a laugh at the strained face before her "Rory and I are so used to it like this, we forget about the outsiders"
"Whoa" he spluttered the harsh taste spilling around in his mouth.
"You like?" Rory grinned.
"Ugh, sure" he swallowed with difficulty, placing the mug on the table, putting as much space between him and the potent drink as possible.
The three of them sat in the lounge room talking, the fire crackling and the wind ruthlessly wailing around the roof. Tristan felt oddly settled, his mind slowing down to an easy pace. He listened with interest to the conversation, often the audience to the two bickering with each other, arguing over petty matters.
"So are you ready and freaking out for finals Tristan?" Lorelai turned to him.
"Yes.but I think that Rory is stressing out more than me" he smirked, glancing at her. "No, you've mistaken me for Paris" Rory lied
Th other two stared at her, their eyes disbelieving.
"Okay fine. I am a little."
"Pffft. A little? All I hear about is finals in 40 days, 20 days, 15 days, 6 days.you do realize that my head is going to implode? I even dream about you telling me that there are finals in 6 days and then, to my horror, I wake up and there you are, calling in my ear 'Finals in 6 days!' "
Tristan chuckled, the visual there. Lorelai drained her cup, and glanced at the clock. 11:33pm. She stifled a yawn. Tristan saw that it was his cue to leave. He rose from his seat, reluctantly, wanting to stay. He doesn't want to leave, thought Lorelai with some surprise.
"No, why don't you stay for the night Tristan?" he paused, checking to see if he had heard right.
"Pardon?"
"Why don't you stay?" Lorelai picked up the empty mugs, carrying them into the kitchen "You and Rory can leave a little earlier on the morning and drive to Hartford, pick up your uniform and head to school." She finished yelling from the kitchen
Tristan looked at Rory, his eyes questing.
"What is it with your Mom?" he asked in a hushed whisper. Rory grinned at him.
"She likes you." She quirked an eyebrow, looking at him seriously.
Lorelai poked her head around the corner where she was washing the dishes, her voice sounding far away.
"That is, if you want to"
Do I want to? Tristan chewed his lip for a moment. Two choices. Go back to that graveyard, where thousands of skeletons were hidden, decaying, where the wind was not kind, nor the refection in the mirror. Or stay here, in this strangely comforting house, where everything was the epitome of belonging, comfort.
"Sure, I'd love that," he called back, within 5 seconds. He turned back to Rory "That is, if it's ok with you" he said, apprehensively.
Rory unfolded her legs and hopped off the couch, walking to a hall closet, her socked feet slipping noiselessly on the floor.
"It's late, it's cold, and it's a long drive to Hartford, it's logical for you to stay. Besides, my Mom's word is law." Rory's last words were muffled by a shower of blankets that came crashing down upon her head, her energetic tug having disastrous consequences.
"Ahhh! Help!" she clutched her head, her mind spinning from the impact. Tristan grabbed two blankets that were flung on the floor, helping her up.
"You alright?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Fine, cept, I'm seeing two of you"
"Two of me? That can't be a bad thing" he grinned
"Ha ha" Rory scooped up the rest in her arms and walked back to the lounge, dropping the blankets on the end. "Bathroom's down there, kitchen's down there if you get hungry or thirsty, feel welcome to raid our refrigerator, even though there isn't much in it bar some really old pizza or chocolate spread - but what good is chocolate spread without toast?" Rory paused "Anyway, I think that's it."
"It's good for body art" Lorelai came out of the kitchen, smiling mischievously. She sighed warily and scratched her head.
"Rory's given you the run down, so we might as well hit the sack. See you in the morning kids." She leaned over and kissed Rory on the cheek. Tristan watched with envy the void in his heart cracking open a little deeper.
"Night Tristan" Lorelai bounded up the stairs. The two watched her go, an odd silence filling the room.
"You have the best mother, even if she's a bit weird. "Tristan was staring into space, his voice drifting like lost wood in a sea.
"Thanks," A red warning sign flashed in front of her eyes, stopping Rory from making some idle comment, her mouth clamping shut. "Hey, do you want to call home? Just so you're parents don't worry." She offered half- heartedly. Tristan frowned slightly, his forehead creasing.
"Nah, its not the first time I've done this."
"Okay"
The silence was horrible, the two standing at the opposite ends of the couch. Tristan's voice was tired, worn. Rory fidgeted her fingers tugging at one of the blankets, a loose thread irritating her.
"So? Are you okay here? You know how to make a bed?" God. How lame! She thought wretchedly.
"One question though. Where's your room? Just in case, y'know, I get cold, I could just snuggle in with you." The old Tristan was back, the cocky edge to his voice, smooth.
"Get another blanket "Rory said sarcastically. She turned and headed out of the lounge, towards her room.
Don't walk away from me! He cried inside, watching her retreat in pointed disgust. Too many people walk away from him, without a second thought, the protective wall rising another brick.
"Night Rory" he called to her back, the tone of his voice pinging on another note. Something twitched in Rory's mind, instinct, discernment? Without thought she turned around, walked back to where he was standing and pressed her lips to his sunken cheek, lingering for a few seconds. Tristan was stunned by her actions, heat suffusing around the delicate spot, like a hot iron. It wasn't the first time he had been kissed, but this was one that was sincere, emotion carried through that one little touch of damp lips. It was innocent. She wasn't asking for anything from him, instead, she was giving.
"Good night Tristan" and with that she turned and left, closing her bedroom door softly behind her.
Tristan looked about the room, nothing but the sound of the dying fire crackling and the wind whispering at the windows for company. A sigh escaped his lips, a small sigh of satisfaction twisting his face. He pulled off his sweater and his shoes and settled on the couch, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. He didn't feel tired.only an odd sense of fulfillment, a sensation that was alien to him. There was no expectations placed upon him, not critical eyes watching his every move - no judgmental thoughts, ready to size you up by society's standards. None of it, only clear eyes, sincere words the pure smiles.
******
Tristan lay there, time having no meaning, the clock hands crawling down the face, wasting the hours away. And he lay there, stretched out, his hands clasped behind his head, focused, but spaced.
A light flashed upstairs, and a door-cracked open. Lorelai's shadow slunk across the wall, tiptoeing down the stairs. She walked with little noise, and she turned to check the visitor that slumbered on her sofa. Only he wasn't slumbering as she had imagined. Blue crystals stared back at her, bright, with no sleep clouds. Had he even slept? She wondered idly.
"Can't sleep huh?" she whispered, coming over to the couch.
"No. Don't want to" he responded quietly.
"Oh? Why's that"
"Savoring the moment." A honest answer
"Huh. It's 4 in the morning and he's savoring the moment." She smiled. Lorelai sat down on the edge of the sofa. He said nothing in reply.
"Hey - I don't really know you, well, I don't know you at all, but I just want you to know that you are very welcome here. If you ever need some time out, swing by sometime. Rory's a good kid, she's a lot like me in ways, but in the most important, sensible areas she's not, which is a good thing. But honestly, I'm extending a invite to you - if at any time you need somebody to talk to, or just an unfamiliar area, feel free. "Lorelai paused, studying the image before her. She pondered whether or not she should go further. Tristan propped up on his elbows and looked directly at her.
"Why are being so nice to me?" he asked bluntly. Lorelai stopped and thought for a moment, figuring out what to say
"I grew up in Hartford." She went on, trusting her instincts. "And I always struggled with society, lesson after lesson in deportment, the expectations, the ways that you were put on a box. In ways, it was tougher on the girls - no matter how hard I tried to communicate with my parents, they didn't want to hear it, or couldn't understand. And I was suffocated," Lorelai paused for breath.
Suffocated. He knew how that felt. Tristan suddenly saw her in new eyes. She knew. She understood. "And then Rory happened. She was the best thing that happened to me. The best. Being a teenager is hard, and it's even harder if you've got no one to talk to. So, if you ever need to talk, let me know." Lorelai rose up, and patted his leg, watching him carefully.
"Thanks" Tristan shuddered at the eerie prickle at the back of his neck.
"Try and get some sleep, finals in a week"
Tristan planted his foot, the car screeching out of the drive, accelerating down the highway without thought. He drove in the blue darkness, his headlight's beams. He drove aimlessly, without destination, his goal to reach someplace quiet, where there were no painful memories, no superficial laughing faces, just - quiet.
The car turned left, turned a right. All the roads looked familiar. He drove on wanting to find a path that he did not recognize, a place where he wouldn't be Tristan DuGrey, the one and only son, heir to the DuGrey fortune - but a nameless face, where nobody would remember him the next day. A smaller, less trafficked road was leading onto the left, looking infinitely more inviting than the large highway. Tristan twitched his flicker and turned onto it. The occasional headlight cast a pure white light on his pale face. The road came to an end, a fork. Left or right? He turned right again, driving on.
A large billboard accosted him, "Welcome to Stars Hollow". Tristan drove on, his mind not piecing the two together. The street was littered with people, a recital taking place. Young children, the elderly, couples. He felt envious of all, the children had their entire lives in front of them, the elderly with wisdom and the couples with.love. He tore his eyes off one particular couple, they oblivious to the young boy staring jealously at them. He drove on searching for a quiet spot. A small park was up ahead, deserted, the streets standing in cool silence, the majority of people down at the center.
He stopped the car, and stumbled out, his legs cramped from his long, aimless drive. He walked to the swings, his expensive sneakers glistening with the moisture. Tristan stopped and sat on one of the wooden swings, engravings streaked across it. He gripped the cold chain, his feet scuffling on the ground, the swing shifting slightly. He hung his head back, staring up at the stars. They seemed so close, so close he could reach up and pluck one off the inky sheet, holding the warm light in the palm of his hand. He dropped his head, reality kicking in. He had a life. Life where stars were millions of miles away, untouchable to humans. A life where anger and fury engulfed him, without relief. He dragged his feet in the sand, creating patterns.
******
Rory shut the white gate bordering the Kim's house.
"Thanks for coming over." Lane stood on the other side, her glasses perched on her pert nose.
"Not a problem. See you tomorrow after noon?" Rory pulled her coat tighter.
"Oh, yes! Bold and the Beautiful return!" Lane squealed in delight, her hair blowing madly.
"Lane Kim! Come inside this instant! You'll fall ill." The bellows of her mother reached their ears. Lane's face screwed up.
"Gotta go. My mother thinks that I'm a consumptive nature. This is why she wants me to marry a doctor, or become one. Either way, she wins." Rory smiled wryly.
"See you" Lane called over he shoulder as she hurried into the house. Rory turned and started making her way down the street, intending to reach home before she was blown away. Clad only in jeans, a long sleeved turtleneck sweater and her coat, the wind cut through her, chilling her to the bone. She quickened her pace, forcing her numb feet to move briskly.
Rory stilled when she saw the familiar outline of a car. She frowned. What is he doing up here? And at this time? She checked her watch. 10:46 pm. Her eyes squinted to see it he was seated in the car, vision strained. It was empty. She looked up, searching the immediate surrounds for the car's owner. There he was, sitting on one of the swings, his shoulders stooped, as if he had a great weight on them. He looked surprisingly small, not the strong athlete profile that was boasted at school. Without thinking, she walked towards him, her mind forming senseless words. She shook them out of her head, their meanings useless. Instead, she asked the question that was the most obvious.
"Tristan? What are you doing here?" he jumped slightly, her voice floating from behind him. Rory? How did she know - then his mind clicked. Rory lived in Star Hollow, the park was in Star Hollow. It's only natural that Rory would be walking past the park at 11 at night. He cursed silently, kicking himself for his carelessness. He'd let himself get lost in his thoughts, the outside world had lost all meaning. He pulled the visor up.
"Jeez Mary, you almost scared the crap out of me." Tristan twisted around, his eyes meeting hers. She stood in the moonlight, in the deserted park, the recital's commotion dying in the background, the residents retiring.
"What are you doing here?" she persisted.
"To see you of course. School just isn't enough." Came his lighthearted response, the habitual grin plastered on his face, expecting an icy remark.
"Oh." She came around and sat on the other swing. He looked up at the sky again.
"Nice night huh?" he remarked, his breath making condensation droplets in the air.
"You didn't answer my question" Rory looked at him, her face turned. Tristan dropped his head, swiveling it to look at hers. Looking into those eyes he knew that she didn't believe his given response. He sighed, the visor slipping down.
"Just wanted to drive, escape things for a while, what with finals and all. I had forgotten that you lived here, I - you must think that I'm some crazy stalker." Tristan felt like an insect under inspection.
"No" she replied, her eyes never wavering. "I don't think that you're a stalker, and I don't think that finals is your problem." She remembered that chilling look in Biology.
He smiled wanly, regretting her ability to read into things, but somehow welcoming the fact that she cared enough to do it.
"Yeah, well, I felt that I needed a change. I didn't really want to be in my house at the moment." He grimaced, his mother's superficial laugh replaying in his head.
"Oh" Rory didn't know what to say. A few moments of awkward silence passed.
"Why?" the one syllable word, but the start of a speech that would take years to say. He couldn't even comprehend why he was spilling to her. Would she understand?
"I don't feel comfortable in my house at the moment." I don't feel comfortable any of the time, he muttered to himself. Rory shuddered. Imagine not being comfortable in your own home. Her house was her solace, her escape from school, Paris, the snobbery, the social classes - Tristan? No, not anymore. She looked at him again, a wave of compassion flooding her.
"Cold?" Tristan noticed her convulse.
"No, but you are" she reached out and touched his hand, holding onto the chain.
"Why don't you come back to mine for a while? Have some coffee?" Rory offered hastily, the words stumbling over each other, forgetting the fact that they had to get up at 6:30 in the morning for school the next day. He stared incredulously.Rory, offering him entrance to her domain. Out of pity? Most likely. Still, it was better that freezing to death out here or going back to that cold mansion that he refused to call home. He smiled uneasily accepting her offer. He felt slightly uncomfortable, wondering if he'd made the right decision. Her own smile assured him. She rose from the swing, the chains clinking. She made her way to his silver Jaguar, silently inviting him to follow.
His car smelt of leather, and a light trace of his cologne. She sniffed it in, taking note on the way he eased the car onto the road.
"Left...right - the house with the brown jeep at the front." Tristan quietly complied, the indicator flicking on and off. The light was on in the lounge room, Lorelai was still up. Probably waiting for her to come home. Still, she was glad that her mother was still awake, her habit to babble would surely keep the conversation going. He switched the car off, opening the door. What are you doing Rory? Well, it was too late now, she couldn't just tell him to leave. Rory got out of the car, walking on the worn path, leading to the house. What if there's clothes lying around? Some underwear? A faint colour flushed her face, remembering the time Dean had dropped by unexpectedly, a hot pink G-string tossed casually on the sofa. It was a playful present that he mother had brought her, whilst away on a business convention. Most mothers get their offspring t-shirts, or a new CD, but she carted home a G-string. Or what if he thought her house cheap? Small? Messy? Messy it was even by her standards. So - oh God. Rory pushed open the front door, unlocking it with her keys.
"Mom?" Rory called out. They could hear loud thumps. She frowned and looked at Tristan.
"I warn you, my mother is the best mom out there, and my best friend, but if you're not used to her, she's a little intimidating." Rory took off her coat.
He listened some more, the thumps interrupted with a painful "Ow!" and muffled obscenities. Rory followed the vibrations into the lounge room - her mother standing on the coffee table, in her pajamas, one foot on the chair by the fire. She looked up when her daughter entered.
"Mom, what are you doing?"
Lorelai was panting from the exertion. "I'm trying to make one circuit around the lounge room without touching the floor, but I keep on failing on the right corner, I think we need a second t.v." she wiped of slight perspiration from her forehead.
"Hmmm, no, I think you just need to get off the coffee table before you break your ankle." Tristan stood silently behind Rory, his eyes hungrily devouring the contents of the room, studying the lamps, the photo arrangement on the mantelpiece. Rory cleared her throat.
"Um, Mom, this is Tristan" Tristan stepped out of the shadows, into the glow of the living room's light, Lorelai seeing him for the first time. The look that passed over her face was comical, first shocked, then embarrassed for her dress, or lack of. But she shrugged it off within seconds and extended her hand.
"Tristan. Pleased to meet you, I assume that you are the same Tristan that is the star in some of Rory's most interesting stories?" Lorelai smiled at him.
"Ah, maybe." He eagerly responded, his face breaking out into a smile.
"Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" Lorelai offered, mentally calculating what and if there was anything on the cupboards.
"Sure" Lorelai smiled and looked pointedly at Rory, her eyes commanding her to follow. Rory followed obediently, leaving Tristan seated on the couch.
"Okay, feeling sorry for a guy is one thing, but bringing him home to meet me late at night is another thing. Are you dating?" Lorelai asked in a hushed whisper, opening the cupboard, reaching for mugs.
"No. No!" Rory shook her head vehemently "He'd driven to the park around the corner, and I saw him there on the way home from Lane's - as too impulsive wasn't I?" Rory groaned, looking at her mother.
"Well, yeah - why did you invite him?"
"He had that look again"
"The look?"
"You know."
"No, I don't otherwise I would be able to understand what you are saying by saying something like 'Yes, Rory, I do understand' "
"The look! I was telling you about at Luke's? Remember?" Rory filled the pot at the sink. "Oh, that look."
"He was telling me about how he didn't want to be in his house at the moment.and that look! And I didn't know what to say - and - oh I'm not making sense am I?" Rory frowned in confusion.
"No, you're making perfect sense. You're lucky that I had decided not to put a facemask on tonight, other wise your new pal here would have run away screaming. He's kinda cute too. No wonder all the girly girls chase him."
"Okay, hush now," Rory hissed "He can probably hear you."
Lorelai picked up two mugs and stepped to the lounge, Rory on her heels.
Tristan sat on the couch, thumbing through a photo album, looking at snap shots of a giggly baby, a innocent 6 year old, a fresh faced teen. He stopped at a picture of Rory in her Chilton uniform, presumably her first day. His memory flashed back to her first day, the first words, the smirks, the open offers. Remembering the pleasant surprise when she rejected his advances, looking at him as one would a rodent. He no longer saw her as a conquest, though there was no deny that she was, at first. Instead he saw her as a person that he wanted to value, have meaningful conversations with. He admired the way she carried herself, running with the others but not of them. The fluttering crowds, the jostling girls, all vying for his attention faded in comparison. He remembered the horror he felt when he realized that she may turn her back to him for the last time, but he hoped against hope, clinging to the possibility that they may be friends one day, however distant it may be. He couldn't stop the innuendo-laced words, the leering glances, it was his only way to communicate. But he kicked himself every time words flew from his mouth, regretting the meanings, wanting to freeze them in mid air and change them.
He flipped the page, a picture of her in a blue dress presented before him. Her smile wide, the skin glowing with excitement. The infamous scene materialized before his eyes, the tension he felt standing inches away from Dean, the silence in the room so thick, you could have cut it cleanly in two with a knife. He couldn't remember why he did that, making an embarrassing scene like that. Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the happy couple shifting on the dance floor, sharing a private moment, tuned out to the noise around them, all attention on the other. He was jealous, jealous of the closeness, the unaccustomed feeling of another having what he really wanted, and a goal unattainable, beyond his reach. He didn't see the girl Rory, or the boy Dean, rather he saw the picture of true love, not a fake superficial love, but an authentic emotion. All he had ever experienced was the feelings of carnal lust, the uncontrollable need to search for real affection.leaving him cold.
Those emotions translated into dislike for Dean, burning in his barren heart, hating the dark haired boy for holding onto the gift so tightly in the palm of his hand, in fear of losing it, but loose enough to taunt others. He felt mad at himself, not at Dean, his fury unleashing on himself. He pushed him, or so it seemed, but in his mind, he was pushing himself away - Dean's 'You will not come near her ever again' ringing clear in his head. The words stilled him, his fury subsiding, doused in the truthfulness of the words. Maybe he would never get the chance of experiencing real appreciation, love. It was like fate telling him that his chance was lost.
He shivered and quickly turned again. Pictures of Rory and Lorelai, Rory and Luke, Rory and Lane, just Rory. A dress that reminded him of something. Tristan swallowed dryly. The kiss. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, feeling ashamed of his impulsive action. He felt remorse for doing it to this very day, or so he thought he would. But things had changed. Rory accepted him, their relationship moving to a different level. He was convinced that she would loathe him even more, expel him forever, but he couldn't be more far from the truth. An awkward friendship was in its first tentative steps, testing the boundaries, looking always to the future, not at the past.
Lorelai walked in Rory closely following. He sealed the album with a snap and placed it back on the coffee table.
"Thanks" Tristan accepted the mug that she offered him.
"Sorry if it's too strong," Lorelai bit back a laugh at the strained face before her "Rory and I are so used to it like this, we forget about the outsiders"
"Whoa" he spluttered the harsh taste spilling around in his mouth.
"You like?" Rory grinned.
"Ugh, sure" he swallowed with difficulty, placing the mug on the table, putting as much space between him and the potent drink as possible.
The three of them sat in the lounge room talking, the fire crackling and the wind ruthlessly wailing around the roof. Tristan felt oddly settled, his mind slowing down to an easy pace. He listened with interest to the conversation, often the audience to the two bickering with each other, arguing over petty matters.
"So are you ready and freaking out for finals Tristan?" Lorelai turned to him.
"Yes.but I think that Rory is stressing out more than me" he smirked, glancing at her. "No, you've mistaken me for Paris" Rory lied
Th other two stared at her, their eyes disbelieving.
"Okay fine. I am a little."
"Pffft. A little? All I hear about is finals in 40 days, 20 days, 15 days, 6 days.you do realize that my head is going to implode? I even dream about you telling me that there are finals in 6 days and then, to my horror, I wake up and there you are, calling in my ear 'Finals in 6 days!' "
Tristan chuckled, the visual there. Lorelai drained her cup, and glanced at the clock. 11:33pm. She stifled a yawn. Tristan saw that it was his cue to leave. He rose from his seat, reluctantly, wanting to stay. He doesn't want to leave, thought Lorelai with some surprise.
"No, why don't you stay for the night Tristan?" he paused, checking to see if he had heard right.
"Pardon?"
"Why don't you stay?" Lorelai picked up the empty mugs, carrying them into the kitchen "You and Rory can leave a little earlier on the morning and drive to Hartford, pick up your uniform and head to school." She finished yelling from the kitchen
Tristan looked at Rory, his eyes questing.
"What is it with your Mom?" he asked in a hushed whisper. Rory grinned at him.
"She likes you." She quirked an eyebrow, looking at him seriously.
Lorelai poked her head around the corner where she was washing the dishes, her voice sounding far away.
"That is, if you want to"
Do I want to? Tristan chewed his lip for a moment. Two choices. Go back to that graveyard, where thousands of skeletons were hidden, decaying, where the wind was not kind, nor the refection in the mirror. Or stay here, in this strangely comforting house, where everything was the epitome of belonging, comfort.
"Sure, I'd love that," he called back, within 5 seconds. He turned back to Rory "That is, if it's ok with you" he said, apprehensively.
Rory unfolded her legs and hopped off the couch, walking to a hall closet, her socked feet slipping noiselessly on the floor.
"It's late, it's cold, and it's a long drive to Hartford, it's logical for you to stay. Besides, my Mom's word is law." Rory's last words were muffled by a shower of blankets that came crashing down upon her head, her energetic tug having disastrous consequences.
"Ahhh! Help!" she clutched her head, her mind spinning from the impact. Tristan grabbed two blankets that were flung on the floor, helping her up.
"You alright?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Fine, cept, I'm seeing two of you"
"Two of me? That can't be a bad thing" he grinned
"Ha ha" Rory scooped up the rest in her arms and walked back to the lounge, dropping the blankets on the end. "Bathroom's down there, kitchen's down there if you get hungry or thirsty, feel welcome to raid our refrigerator, even though there isn't much in it bar some really old pizza or chocolate spread - but what good is chocolate spread without toast?" Rory paused "Anyway, I think that's it."
"It's good for body art" Lorelai came out of the kitchen, smiling mischievously. She sighed warily and scratched her head.
"Rory's given you the run down, so we might as well hit the sack. See you in the morning kids." She leaned over and kissed Rory on the cheek. Tristan watched with envy the void in his heart cracking open a little deeper.
"Night Tristan" Lorelai bounded up the stairs. The two watched her go, an odd silence filling the room.
"You have the best mother, even if she's a bit weird. "Tristan was staring into space, his voice drifting like lost wood in a sea.
"Thanks," A red warning sign flashed in front of her eyes, stopping Rory from making some idle comment, her mouth clamping shut. "Hey, do you want to call home? Just so you're parents don't worry." She offered half- heartedly. Tristan frowned slightly, his forehead creasing.
"Nah, its not the first time I've done this."
"Okay"
The silence was horrible, the two standing at the opposite ends of the couch. Tristan's voice was tired, worn. Rory fidgeted her fingers tugging at one of the blankets, a loose thread irritating her.
"So? Are you okay here? You know how to make a bed?" God. How lame! She thought wretchedly.
"One question though. Where's your room? Just in case, y'know, I get cold, I could just snuggle in with you." The old Tristan was back, the cocky edge to his voice, smooth.
"Get another blanket "Rory said sarcastically. She turned and headed out of the lounge, towards her room.
Don't walk away from me! He cried inside, watching her retreat in pointed disgust. Too many people walk away from him, without a second thought, the protective wall rising another brick.
"Night Rory" he called to her back, the tone of his voice pinging on another note. Something twitched in Rory's mind, instinct, discernment? Without thought she turned around, walked back to where he was standing and pressed her lips to his sunken cheek, lingering for a few seconds. Tristan was stunned by her actions, heat suffusing around the delicate spot, like a hot iron. It wasn't the first time he had been kissed, but this was one that was sincere, emotion carried through that one little touch of damp lips. It was innocent. She wasn't asking for anything from him, instead, she was giving.
"Good night Tristan" and with that she turned and left, closing her bedroom door softly behind her.
Tristan looked about the room, nothing but the sound of the dying fire crackling and the wind whispering at the windows for company. A sigh escaped his lips, a small sigh of satisfaction twisting his face. He pulled off his sweater and his shoes and settled on the couch, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. He didn't feel tired.only an odd sense of fulfillment, a sensation that was alien to him. There was no expectations placed upon him, not critical eyes watching his every move - no judgmental thoughts, ready to size you up by society's standards. None of it, only clear eyes, sincere words the pure smiles.
******
Tristan lay there, time having no meaning, the clock hands crawling down the face, wasting the hours away. And he lay there, stretched out, his hands clasped behind his head, focused, but spaced.
A light flashed upstairs, and a door-cracked open. Lorelai's shadow slunk across the wall, tiptoeing down the stairs. She walked with little noise, and she turned to check the visitor that slumbered on her sofa. Only he wasn't slumbering as she had imagined. Blue crystals stared back at her, bright, with no sleep clouds. Had he even slept? She wondered idly.
"Can't sleep huh?" she whispered, coming over to the couch.
"No. Don't want to" he responded quietly.
"Oh? Why's that"
"Savoring the moment." A honest answer
"Huh. It's 4 in the morning and he's savoring the moment." She smiled. Lorelai sat down on the edge of the sofa. He said nothing in reply.
"Hey - I don't really know you, well, I don't know you at all, but I just want you to know that you are very welcome here. If you ever need some time out, swing by sometime. Rory's a good kid, she's a lot like me in ways, but in the most important, sensible areas she's not, which is a good thing. But honestly, I'm extending a invite to you - if at any time you need somebody to talk to, or just an unfamiliar area, feel free. "Lorelai paused, studying the image before her. She pondered whether or not she should go further. Tristan propped up on his elbows and looked directly at her.
"Why are being so nice to me?" he asked bluntly. Lorelai stopped and thought for a moment, figuring out what to say
"I grew up in Hartford." She went on, trusting her instincts. "And I always struggled with society, lesson after lesson in deportment, the expectations, the ways that you were put on a box. In ways, it was tougher on the girls - no matter how hard I tried to communicate with my parents, they didn't want to hear it, or couldn't understand. And I was suffocated," Lorelai paused for breath.
Suffocated. He knew how that felt. Tristan suddenly saw her in new eyes. She knew. She understood. "And then Rory happened. She was the best thing that happened to me. The best. Being a teenager is hard, and it's even harder if you've got no one to talk to. So, if you ever need to talk, let me know." Lorelai rose up, and patted his leg, watching him carefully.
"Thanks" Tristan shuddered at the eerie prickle at the back of his neck.
"Try and get some sleep, finals in a week"