DISCLAIMER : Once again, I re-iterate : I don't own anything here. Check
Palladino and the WB.
"Your blood in mine."
-Jonathan Davis of Korn
Yearning. Rampaging through him. Yearning. Ice in his veins. Yearning. Blazing in his soul. Brown silk flashed before him, the canopy of her hair. Lithe movements serenaded his eyes and he drank the picture, sipping from this mirage in the desert. Let him delude himself that the view was exclusively his, by divine rights. Soft light shadowed his gaze, the colours of the room swirling in mock imitation of the dancers dispersed across the floor. Kirk's whip of a body pranced by and he snickered. A dance marathon. Only in this town, he knew, and only because her presence warranted his. At the thought of her, his body pulsed and his eyes returned to her, swaying with her mother as her gaze was locked firmly on Bag Boy. He laughed inwardly, as Bag Boy made him conscious once again of Shane's fingers gliding up and down his arm. They both served the same function, he supposed, although with him, there existed no illusions where Shane was concerned. All his delusions lay at the feet of that dainty red-clad goddess who was monopolising all his attention.
A whine of complaint accompanied the impatient tug on his hand and he let his eyes slide to the blonde leaning against the wall. Gently, he stroked her fingers to placate her and the petulant smile she offered him was enough assurance that he could continue his observation in peace for just a while longer. Taylor stood at the podium, which, he supposed, was where Taylor belonged: an image of authority but not authority itself. His uncle was conveniently located just to the side and he was certain that merely the smell of Luke's blend would keep Lorelai active enough to be competition for Kirk. Luke's temperament was a reflection of his own: riveted to the Gilmore duo who both seemed oblivious to their surroundings save for Kirk and their fan club of one in the bleachers. Incapable of resisting the almost tangible pull she radiated towards him, he approached, like a moth to a flame, knowing of his weakness, indulging it, tormenting himself, but only within the realm of his mind. He would not let the barrenness encompass his life and display itself. The fact that it roamed freely within his inner sanctum of thought was more than enough concession.
"Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Security! Security! Security!" sailing from Taylor's mouth announced his presence in a most apt fashion. The flame hovered before him, the temptress of a beacon, beckoning, enticing and he reached out to embrace her, to drown in her lavish ardour, to bury his head in the inviting crook of her neck and be held; to depart from this Saharan existence for but a moment; to inhale her fragrance and breathe her in. . . to have her essence mingled with the very blood he felt vitalising him. His eyes screeched to a halt on Bag Boy and he retracted his thoughts, with just a whisper of her warmth embedded in his skin. It was enough to inflame him, he recognised as he sat down, his gaze meeting her slit glance, making him seek shelter in the vapidity of Shane, ensconced beside him, knowing it was a lost cause even before his lips met hers; knowing he could not ignore blazing Aurora, searing his skin as she twirled about; knowing that it was all temporary and he could not refute truth; knowing that as she danced, her eyes raked him; knowing after this meaningless interaction with the blonde, his eyes would be loathe to leave his nymph of a brunette; knowing. . .knowing. . . Serenity encased him as he dropped his gaze on her pristine face. Serenity mingled with the intense sensation of feeling alive. His peace, his sanctity, his volcano, all cavorting in one being. She scorched him again with a glance, blue eyes meeting brown and just as quickly as he met her, she escaped, thoroughly unnerved by his blatant appraisal. Hours waned like the waves kissing the shore, and he remained oblivious to it, thinking only of her tempestuous decorum, smoldering, indignant flame now, and then frost in another instant, irked by Shane's fawning attention on him, unaware of his thoroughly lacking interest in anything but the flush in her cheeks. His eyes landed on the curve of her jaw, capturing the soft hue of the flowing light, as it ached to be touched. Almost as if she felt his caress of a glance, her eyes drifted over to him. He saw the internal havoc of the roller-coaster emotions; for him it was almost tangible.
Had he come here with the sole intention of flustering her? Was that not obvious? It certainly had not been for the remarkably superb dancing, although Kirk's athletics provided quite the enjoyment. As he once again gulped in the quaint picture she formed before him with her period attire and hairstyle, he thought of her inability to hide her reaction. Those raging spots of colour on her cheeks were due to more than applied make- up. In fact, it seemed her entire body was glowing with ire and frustration. Her eyes spiked venom in his direction and he coolly returned her level gaze, wanting, needing this, or any form of contact.
A blaring, hideous sound crashed through his trance and he watched with interest as Rory spoke to her mother, her exhausted face paling interestingly as she lagged behind Lorelai, pushing herself to keep up. The most entertained grin adorned his face as he followed the fascinating display of the Star's Hollow contenders rushing about the room like a stampeding her of terrified elephants. Shane leaned over to him, openly deriding the sudden activity and sneering at Rory in particular. He slanted her a look of heightened disgust, though she was unconscious to it. At the end of the crazed dash, yet another ghastly horn reverberated in the large room as Taylor announced the ten minute break. He disengaged himself from Shane and slipped out of the gymnasium, in his dire need of refreshment.
He had seen Lane and call him masochistic, keeping in mind their last encounter, but he decided to approach her. She was after all, the guard of the free food. He could not prevent the comments and questions about Rory as they slipped from his lips. Then again, whom was he kidding? Wasn't that why he had conversed with Lane in the first place?
As he stood watching Lane's mother leave, he felt her: his dawning sun. His eyelids kissed, leaving him in darkness and he inhaled languorously, revelling in the fact that every nerve ending was now teemingly alert, tensing his spine, splaying his muscles. It was vivacity embodied, induced by the sense of her. When he turned around, as he was bound to, he knew exactly which dishevelled dancer would greet his sight. The first razored comment she directed at him sparked his wit into action and he found himself yet again enjoying living, breathing, feeling. Sunlight dripped inside him and flared, radiating and seeping forth to skim the frontiers of his skin; gently stroking as it undulated beneath the heated whisper of her glare. He was very aware of a towering Dean behind her, which made their altercation all the more exciting. It allowed him to further demonstrate a point he had been proving since last year
JESS: So you can't control when you look at me, but you have to force yourself to look at him? Sorry, man. That's cold.
How did one explain the power of life given by a single look of ocean-deep eyes? How did one possibly limn the gorgeous feeling of losing oneself in the incalescence of a moment? As he saw the fury written across her face, a smile paraded within his being. He succumbed to the relish of knowing that he created this tempest within her. It was knowledge he savoured, to be tasted, to bask in. To heighten the scene a little further, he grabbed Shane when she made her appearance and kept his arm around her, just barely restraining his laughter as he saw Rory defiantly do the same with Dean in response. And he knew. He knew that the kindle burning within him was not a solitary being; it was, in fact, the extension of the vehement passion seething within her; one force, one energy, one entity inhabiting and uniting their two corporealities.
His parting remark of "See you in there" held more meaning than it seemed and they both knew it.
*~*~*~*
Endless, he thought. Her power of charm was endless. She was livid, perfectly livid, with him, no less, and still she held him there, trapped, chained, almost willingly so. Fury, ire, and suddenly pain. The fortifying banter abruptly ceased and he felt the crevices opening as he observed the suffering swimming in her eyes.
He saw her running out of the gymnasium and his heart went with her, recalling the forlorn on expression on her face. Instinct directed his steps and he sauntered, wanting to give her time before he made his appearance. When he arrived at the bridge, his favourite place in the tiny town, there she sat, legs hanging out over the water; a picture of a defeat and sadness. He observed her in silence, hands in his pockets, as compassion ran through him. She looked so fragile, so delicate. Her radiance had diminished not in the slightest and the magnetism drew him, compelled him. The will to comfort her was powerful, yet he could only do what she would permit. He stepped forward and their eyes met; he was forced to look away. Words suggested themselves in a variety of forms, delaying his response, but he decided on voicing the truth of his emotion. She would be used to it by now.
JESS: Dean's a jerk. Yelling at you like that, breaking up in front of everybody. . .the guy's a total jerk.
RORY: No, he's not. He's right. Everything he said. All those things about you and me, all those things about me lying to him, and messing with his head. He was right. Well, wasn't he?" She looked at him and he did not say anything. How could he? A year's worth of life was finally coming to fruition and it left him stunned. He simply looked at her, assessing and enjoying this moment of actually knowing, without fail, without hindrance, the beauty of her surrender. His silence seemed to add torture to humiliation. "Fine, he was right about me, then. Now go away."
The words were hard to deliver. Hard to pronounce after all this time of keeping them confined to a corner of his brain, for her sake. Always for her. Since he was not known for his eloquence, he remained true to form and conveyed it simply but meaningfully, so that she would understand and know, as he had since the beginning.
JESS: He was right. . . about all of it.
RORY: So, what now?
JESS: You're definitely broken up with Dean?
RORY: Yeah, I'm definitely broken up with Dean.
JESS: Okay. I have to go take care of something then.
He felt her eyes lingering on him as he walked away and only when he was out of her sight did he stop and turn around. The moon bathed her in its lustrous glow, and he smiled, genuinely, and from his core; a smile for him and him alone. Water seeped in and he felt the oases of his mind's landscape, as they sprouted and flourished, vast silver pools reflecting the beauty shrouding them both. He stared, gaining strength, as his once flaccid being was filled and replete; as the hollowness disintegrated and vanished.
*~*~ A/N: That was the final chapter. Any and all feedback shall be welcome. I'd just like to say that, for those of you who thought I should have been original, I agree. I was very lazy *smile * It's just that these aren't my characters and so, I don't feel like taking liberties with them; especially not when I like them as they are. I hope everyone enjoyed. Overwhemling gratitude to Jade, who reviewed every chapter; Satz, who did the same and much more; and Diana for sharing my appreciation of Tool and A Perfect Circle. As you can tell by the quotes, they have quite the influence. To everyone who reviewed and even those who read and did not review, thank you for sharing your time with me,
"Your blood in mine."
-Jonathan Davis of Korn
Yearning. Rampaging through him. Yearning. Ice in his veins. Yearning. Blazing in his soul. Brown silk flashed before him, the canopy of her hair. Lithe movements serenaded his eyes and he drank the picture, sipping from this mirage in the desert. Let him delude himself that the view was exclusively his, by divine rights. Soft light shadowed his gaze, the colours of the room swirling in mock imitation of the dancers dispersed across the floor. Kirk's whip of a body pranced by and he snickered. A dance marathon. Only in this town, he knew, and only because her presence warranted his. At the thought of her, his body pulsed and his eyes returned to her, swaying with her mother as her gaze was locked firmly on Bag Boy. He laughed inwardly, as Bag Boy made him conscious once again of Shane's fingers gliding up and down his arm. They both served the same function, he supposed, although with him, there existed no illusions where Shane was concerned. All his delusions lay at the feet of that dainty red-clad goddess who was monopolising all his attention.
A whine of complaint accompanied the impatient tug on his hand and he let his eyes slide to the blonde leaning against the wall. Gently, he stroked her fingers to placate her and the petulant smile she offered him was enough assurance that he could continue his observation in peace for just a while longer. Taylor stood at the podium, which, he supposed, was where Taylor belonged: an image of authority but not authority itself. His uncle was conveniently located just to the side and he was certain that merely the smell of Luke's blend would keep Lorelai active enough to be competition for Kirk. Luke's temperament was a reflection of his own: riveted to the Gilmore duo who both seemed oblivious to their surroundings save for Kirk and their fan club of one in the bleachers. Incapable of resisting the almost tangible pull she radiated towards him, he approached, like a moth to a flame, knowing of his weakness, indulging it, tormenting himself, but only within the realm of his mind. He would not let the barrenness encompass his life and display itself. The fact that it roamed freely within his inner sanctum of thought was more than enough concession.
"Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Security! Security! Security!" sailing from Taylor's mouth announced his presence in a most apt fashion. The flame hovered before him, the temptress of a beacon, beckoning, enticing and he reached out to embrace her, to drown in her lavish ardour, to bury his head in the inviting crook of her neck and be held; to depart from this Saharan existence for but a moment; to inhale her fragrance and breathe her in. . . to have her essence mingled with the very blood he felt vitalising him. His eyes screeched to a halt on Bag Boy and he retracted his thoughts, with just a whisper of her warmth embedded in his skin. It was enough to inflame him, he recognised as he sat down, his gaze meeting her slit glance, making him seek shelter in the vapidity of Shane, ensconced beside him, knowing it was a lost cause even before his lips met hers; knowing he could not ignore blazing Aurora, searing his skin as she twirled about; knowing that it was all temporary and he could not refute truth; knowing that as she danced, her eyes raked him; knowing after this meaningless interaction with the blonde, his eyes would be loathe to leave his nymph of a brunette; knowing. . .knowing. . . Serenity encased him as he dropped his gaze on her pristine face. Serenity mingled with the intense sensation of feeling alive. His peace, his sanctity, his volcano, all cavorting in one being. She scorched him again with a glance, blue eyes meeting brown and just as quickly as he met her, she escaped, thoroughly unnerved by his blatant appraisal. Hours waned like the waves kissing the shore, and he remained oblivious to it, thinking only of her tempestuous decorum, smoldering, indignant flame now, and then frost in another instant, irked by Shane's fawning attention on him, unaware of his thoroughly lacking interest in anything but the flush in her cheeks. His eyes landed on the curve of her jaw, capturing the soft hue of the flowing light, as it ached to be touched. Almost as if she felt his caress of a glance, her eyes drifted over to him. He saw the internal havoc of the roller-coaster emotions; for him it was almost tangible.
Had he come here with the sole intention of flustering her? Was that not obvious? It certainly had not been for the remarkably superb dancing, although Kirk's athletics provided quite the enjoyment. As he once again gulped in the quaint picture she formed before him with her period attire and hairstyle, he thought of her inability to hide her reaction. Those raging spots of colour on her cheeks were due to more than applied make- up. In fact, it seemed her entire body was glowing with ire and frustration. Her eyes spiked venom in his direction and he coolly returned her level gaze, wanting, needing this, or any form of contact.
A blaring, hideous sound crashed through his trance and he watched with interest as Rory spoke to her mother, her exhausted face paling interestingly as she lagged behind Lorelai, pushing herself to keep up. The most entertained grin adorned his face as he followed the fascinating display of the Star's Hollow contenders rushing about the room like a stampeding her of terrified elephants. Shane leaned over to him, openly deriding the sudden activity and sneering at Rory in particular. He slanted her a look of heightened disgust, though she was unconscious to it. At the end of the crazed dash, yet another ghastly horn reverberated in the large room as Taylor announced the ten minute break. He disengaged himself from Shane and slipped out of the gymnasium, in his dire need of refreshment.
He had seen Lane and call him masochistic, keeping in mind their last encounter, but he decided to approach her. She was after all, the guard of the free food. He could not prevent the comments and questions about Rory as they slipped from his lips. Then again, whom was he kidding? Wasn't that why he had conversed with Lane in the first place?
As he stood watching Lane's mother leave, he felt her: his dawning sun. His eyelids kissed, leaving him in darkness and he inhaled languorously, revelling in the fact that every nerve ending was now teemingly alert, tensing his spine, splaying his muscles. It was vivacity embodied, induced by the sense of her. When he turned around, as he was bound to, he knew exactly which dishevelled dancer would greet his sight. The first razored comment she directed at him sparked his wit into action and he found himself yet again enjoying living, breathing, feeling. Sunlight dripped inside him and flared, radiating and seeping forth to skim the frontiers of his skin; gently stroking as it undulated beneath the heated whisper of her glare. He was very aware of a towering Dean behind her, which made their altercation all the more exciting. It allowed him to further demonstrate a point he had been proving since last year
JESS: So you can't control when you look at me, but you have to force yourself to look at him? Sorry, man. That's cold.
How did one explain the power of life given by a single look of ocean-deep eyes? How did one possibly limn the gorgeous feeling of losing oneself in the incalescence of a moment? As he saw the fury written across her face, a smile paraded within his being. He succumbed to the relish of knowing that he created this tempest within her. It was knowledge he savoured, to be tasted, to bask in. To heighten the scene a little further, he grabbed Shane when she made her appearance and kept his arm around her, just barely restraining his laughter as he saw Rory defiantly do the same with Dean in response. And he knew. He knew that the kindle burning within him was not a solitary being; it was, in fact, the extension of the vehement passion seething within her; one force, one energy, one entity inhabiting and uniting their two corporealities.
His parting remark of "See you in there" held more meaning than it seemed and they both knew it.
*~*~*~*
Endless, he thought. Her power of charm was endless. She was livid, perfectly livid, with him, no less, and still she held him there, trapped, chained, almost willingly so. Fury, ire, and suddenly pain. The fortifying banter abruptly ceased and he felt the crevices opening as he observed the suffering swimming in her eyes.
He saw her running out of the gymnasium and his heart went with her, recalling the forlorn on expression on her face. Instinct directed his steps and he sauntered, wanting to give her time before he made his appearance. When he arrived at the bridge, his favourite place in the tiny town, there she sat, legs hanging out over the water; a picture of a defeat and sadness. He observed her in silence, hands in his pockets, as compassion ran through him. She looked so fragile, so delicate. Her radiance had diminished not in the slightest and the magnetism drew him, compelled him. The will to comfort her was powerful, yet he could only do what she would permit. He stepped forward and their eyes met; he was forced to look away. Words suggested themselves in a variety of forms, delaying his response, but he decided on voicing the truth of his emotion. She would be used to it by now.
JESS: Dean's a jerk. Yelling at you like that, breaking up in front of everybody. . .the guy's a total jerk.
RORY: No, he's not. He's right. Everything he said. All those things about you and me, all those things about me lying to him, and messing with his head. He was right. Well, wasn't he?" She looked at him and he did not say anything. How could he? A year's worth of life was finally coming to fruition and it left him stunned. He simply looked at her, assessing and enjoying this moment of actually knowing, without fail, without hindrance, the beauty of her surrender. His silence seemed to add torture to humiliation. "Fine, he was right about me, then. Now go away."
The words were hard to deliver. Hard to pronounce after all this time of keeping them confined to a corner of his brain, for her sake. Always for her. Since he was not known for his eloquence, he remained true to form and conveyed it simply but meaningfully, so that she would understand and know, as he had since the beginning.
JESS: He was right. . . about all of it.
RORY: So, what now?
JESS: You're definitely broken up with Dean?
RORY: Yeah, I'm definitely broken up with Dean.
JESS: Okay. I have to go take care of something then.
He felt her eyes lingering on him as he walked away and only when he was out of her sight did he stop and turn around. The moon bathed her in its lustrous glow, and he smiled, genuinely, and from his core; a smile for him and him alone. Water seeped in and he felt the oases of his mind's landscape, as they sprouted and flourished, vast silver pools reflecting the beauty shrouding them both. He stared, gaining strength, as his once flaccid being was filled and replete; as the hollowness disintegrated and vanished.
*~*~ A/N: That was the final chapter. Any and all feedback shall be welcome. I'd just like to say that, for those of you who thought I should have been original, I agree. I was very lazy *smile * It's just that these aren't my characters and so, I don't feel like taking liberties with them; especially not when I like them as they are. I hope everyone enjoyed. Overwhemling gratitude to Jade, who reviewed every chapter; Satz, who did the same and much more; and Diana for sharing my appreciation of Tool and A Perfect Circle. As you can tell by the quotes, they have quite the influence. To everyone who reviewed and even those who read and did not review, thank you for sharing your time with me,