Author's Note: Well, I'm back. As are Tristan and Rory. I hope you guys are still willing to read this. *Laughs* It began somewhat alternate universe-ish anyway, and it's continuing just like that. As much as I love Jess (and ooooh, I do love Jess...) Tristan will always be the best. Call me crazy.
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May in Connecticut was chilly, chillier than it should have been, chillier than it would have been. But maybe it was all for good; she had heard that those long black robes could get stuffy.
The CD player in the his BMW was smooth, wafting through the speakers as she closed her eyes, shoulders finally dropping as her whole body seemed to relax. His was a long line in the driver's seat, leanly at ease as he shifted and cornered toward the school. The front of the parking lot was filled up already, the expensive cars of their peers glistening softly in the late May light. Shafts of sun dropped onto the smooth metal as he pulled easily into a spot.
He didn't say "we're here", he didn't say "wake up", he just unbuckled and stepped out of the car.
She didn't want to wake up.
"Get up," he told her harshly. Rory didn't react. He was baiting her.
"Noooooo." The long moan was quiet.
His reaction was much different than hers. It was a good thing her eyes were closed, he thought carefully.
"Rory! Get out of the car!" he told her, poking her in the side. Rory jumped, her eyes flying open.
"Stop it, you jerk," she said with a laugh. "I'm getting out, I'm getting out."
The walk into school was almost deserted. As usual, most everyone else had arrived, safe and sound, having not been subjected to Tristan's driving as Rory was. Tristan had the habit of arriving late. And Rory had the habit of taking forever to get ready. And the both had the habit of fighting about that in the car everytime. So life went on, eh?
The groups of students were milling around in the Chilton Great Room, moving in circles, in the intricate dance of meeting people, seeing faces, shaking hands, whispered words that was so familiar. And Tristan was dragged into that, flowing along with the current of gestures, phrases, a touch here, a laugh there, and the manly bravado that floated through the flirtatious swirls of the dance.
She stood off, with Paris, and watched.
Waited.
Through the reception and the practice, he filled her mind. She laughed at him, she sighed over him, she stared at him even when he looked back.
"What are we going to do?" Paris quiered. On the inside, Rory gazed at him and died.
"I don't know. Lord...I...I don't know." Her voice almost broke. There was something in her chest, something weighing her down, making it hard to breath, hard to see. Her head hurt. She wanted to cry.
"I want something more. I want insurance..." Paris trailed off softly.
"To know that this isn't the end?" She lost him in her trail of vision. Gave up looking for him, for a moment. "To know that we'll...be together...sometime?"
"God, why does this stupid thing make everyone sentimental?!" Paris ground out roughly. Both quietly brushed at their eyes, turning into themselves, trying to hide it.
An hour later, they were finished. She had long since sat down, it was too painful to stand on the shoes that had been surreptitiously stolen from Lorelei's closet. Rory uttered a quiet laugh. It almost sounded derisive, but the laugh was soft, bubbling up from her, but tamped down.
She was happy; that thing inside her weighed down even as this elusive elation seemed to flit around her.
It was getting darker outside, now, the twilight approaching. Tristan was holding court with four girls, surrounded by batting eyelashes, gentle giggles, provacative sighs and pouted lips. Guys looked on in awe sometimes, talking under their breaths about him as the girls pressed on. Each came closer to Tristan; it was as a magnetic field drew every girl in the room. Some came and stayed, some passed by to flirt, some promised him later, some reminded him of before. Rory just sighed. She was ready to go.
He edged out of the group when he caught her eye, and inside that elated bubble seemed to flow faster for a second.
"You ready?" Tristan asked brusquely, rolling his eyes. Baiting her again. She played back, into his hands.
"I've been ready for half an hour, Tris," she glared back. "Coming?"
His leer was what she was waiting for. "Not til after you do," he suggested.
"'Cause you're a gentleman like that," Rory tossed out.
"I'll be anything you want me to be," he answered. Their gazes were more tense with the second, and he followed quickly with a sharp turn. "Name that movie."
"Pretty Woman." His challenge lit her face in a smile. The air outside was colder still. His arm wasn't around her, because they weren't like that.
They couldn't touch, because the electricity was still there. His arm would have easily gone around another girl, another friend, even Paris. His sexual innuendos were rare now, to her, because people had talked. Even while she didn't, and he didn't, people knew what had happened, and worse, people knew what wasn't happening. So she was cold, and he didn't warm her up. Rather,
"I'll turn on the heat for a second when we're in the car."
That was enough, that he noticed, sometimes. She sighed.
"What?"
"It's sad."
"Don't tell me you're getting sentimental now," he unknowingly echoed Paris.
"Look!" Rory started, getting worked up quickly. He growled a harsher sigh.
"No, Tristan, look. We're going to be...done. You'll be gone. I'll be gone. Our lives are spread out before us and I'm scared to death because you're not sitting in front of me like you have been! You're not there! I'm seeing the whole picture, cloudy as it may be, and you're not even near it! You've...you've, like, disappeared. And you know what? I don't care what you think. I'm upset. I'm depressed. I'm losing one of my best friends in the world, because you'll go on and be incredible and I'll lose you completely. I never knew what I had until I met you, and you make me feel amazing and awful in one sentence. You...drive me crazy. You're like my brother. And we're going to be gone. On Friday we will walk that line and be finished. You'll disappear with all those girls this summer, you'll go up to the Hamptons or something and...I'll be without you. Whether you're depressed or not, I am. This is crazy. I'm crazy," Rory finally finished as they pulled into his driveway.
They got out, carefully, as if nothing was wrong, and walked through to his bedroom. The walls were covered in pictures, in plaques, in life. She knew the room, because she had put those things there. She'd slept in that bed (without him) and folded those blankets and cleaned that closet and vacuumed that floor and organized that desk and borrowed those clothes. It felt like hers, almost, she thought with a laugh.
"I just...I just don't want it to happen. We're done, Tristan. Let's just have sex...don't you think it'd be a nice ending?" Even the slight laugh that hinged on the edge of her words didn't hide them. They both knew there was meaning there.
"Okay, Rory, this may sound...understand this..." he put his hand over hers and she was shocked, gasping almost inaudibly when she looked into his ice blue eyes. "You're my One-Of-These-Days girls. We don't need an ending. And we won't have an ending. I'm saving myself for you. I may sound like a jerk, but I'm waiting. I can't have you now, when I'm here, like this. I'm saving our relationship until it can be good...until I can be good. The idea of loving you, not like a sister but as you, the idea of loving you the way I know you want me to, isn't new to me. I just don't pay attention to it. I don't let it ruin me, because it would ruin you. But one of these days, Rory, I won't fight it anymore, and you won't fight it, because we won't have to be careful about what people say and think and don't think. You won't have to cry when you kiss me. I won't send you into a slide of depression because I've been a jerk. One of these days, I'll be good for you, and you'll be good for me, and it'll work. Because it has to. Because we have to. We're right. We're not right now, not like that. You know it wouldn't work, even though you want it to. Somewhere in me, I want it to too. And that's why I'm saving me, and saving this. Because...one of these days, Rory. You are that 'one of these days'."
They both knew there was meaning there, too.
_________________________________________________
May in Connecticut was chilly, chillier than it should have been, chillier than it would have been. But maybe it was all for good; she had heard that those long black robes could get stuffy.
The CD player in the his BMW was smooth, wafting through the speakers as she closed her eyes, shoulders finally dropping as her whole body seemed to relax. His was a long line in the driver's seat, leanly at ease as he shifted and cornered toward the school. The front of the parking lot was filled up already, the expensive cars of their peers glistening softly in the late May light. Shafts of sun dropped onto the smooth metal as he pulled easily into a spot.
He didn't say "we're here", he didn't say "wake up", he just unbuckled and stepped out of the car.
She didn't want to wake up.
"Get up," he told her harshly. Rory didn't react. He was baiting her.
"Noooooo." The long moan was quiet.
His reaction was much different than hers. It was a good thing her eyes were closed, he thought carefully.
"Rory! Get out of the car!" he told her, poking her in the side. Rory jumped, her eyes flying open.
"Stop it, you jerk," she said with a laugh. "I'm getting out, I'm getting out."
The walk into school was almost deserted. As usual, most everyone else had arrived, safe and sound, having not been subjected to Tristan's driving as Rory was. Tristan had the habit of arriving late. And Rory had the habit of taking forever to get ready. And the both had the habit of fighting about that in the car everytime. So life went on, eh?
The groups of students were milling around in the Chilton Great Room, moving in circles, in the intricate dance of meeting people, seeing faces, shaking hands, whispered words that was so familiar. And Tristan was dragged into that, flowing along with the current of gestures, phrases, a touch here, a laugh there, and the manly bravado that floated through the flirtatious swirls of the dance.
She stood off, with Paris, and watched.
Waited.
Through the reception and the practice, he filled her mind. She laughed at him, she sighed over him, she stared at him even when he looked back.
"What are we going to do?" Paris quiered. On the inside, Rory gazed at him and died.
"I don't know. Lord...I...I don't know." Her voice almost broke. There was something in her chest, something weighing her down, making it hard to breath, hard to see. Her head hurt. She wanted to cry.
"I want something more. I want insurance..." Paris trailed off softly.
"To know that this isn't the end?" She lost him in her trail of vision. Gave up looking for him, for a moment. "To know that we'll...be together...sometime?"
"God, why does this stupid thing make everyone sentimental?!" Paris ground out roughly. Both quietly brushed at their eyes, turning into themselves, trying to hide it.
An hour later, they were finished. She had long since sat down, it was too painful to stand on the shoes that had been surreptitiously stolen from Lorelei's closet. Rory uttered a quiet laugh. It almost sounded derisive, but the laugh was soft, bubbling up from her, but tamped down.
She was happy; that thing inside her weighed down even as this elusive elation seemed to flit around her.
It was getting darker outside, now, the twilight approaching. Tristan was holding court with four girls, surrounded by batting eyelashes, gentle giggles, provacative sighs and pouted lips. Guys looked on in awe sometimes, talking under their breaths about him as the girls pressed on. Each came closer to Tristan; it was as a magnetic field drew every girl in the room. Some came and stayed, some passed by to flirt, some promised him later, some reminded him of before. Rory just sighed. She was ready to go.
He edged out of the group when he caught her eye, and inside that elated bubble seemed to flow faster for a second.
"You ready?" Tristan asked brusquely, rolling his eyes. Baiting her again. She played back, into his hands.
"I've been ready for half an hour, Tris," she glared back. "Coming?"
His leer was what she was waiting for. "Not til after you do," he suggested.
"'Cause you're a gentleman like that," Rory tossed out.
"I'll be anything you want me to be," he answered. Their gazes were more tense with the second, and he followed quickly with a sharp turn. "Name that movie."
"Pretty Woman." His challenge lit her face in a smile. The air outside was colder still. His arm wasn't around her, because they weren't like that.
They couldn't touch, because the electricity was still there. His arm would have easily gone around another girl, another friend, even Paris. His sexual innuendos were rare now, to her, because people had talked. Even while she didn't, and he didn't, people knew what had happened, and worse, people knew what wasn't happening. So she was cold, and he didn't warm her up. Rather,
"I'll turn on the heat for a second when we're in the car."
That was enough, that he noticed, sometimes. She sighed.
"What?"
"It's sad."
"Don't tell me you're getting sentimental now," he unknowingly echoed Paris.
"Look!" Rory started, getting worked up quickly. He growled a harsher sigh.
"No, Tristan, look. We're going to be...done. You'll be gone. I'll be gone. Our lives are spread out before us and I'm scared to death because you're not sitting in front of me like you have been! You're not there! I'm seeing the whole picture, cloudy as it may be, and you're not even near it! You've...you've, like, disappeared. And you know what? I don't care what you think. I'm upset. I'm depressed. I'm losing one of my best friends in the world, because you'll go on and be incredible and I'll lose you completely. I never knew what I had until I met you, and you make me feel amazing and awful in one sentence. You...drive me crazy. You're like my brother. And we're going to be gone. On Friday we will walk that line and be finished. You'll disappear with all those girls this summer, you'll go up to the Hamptons or something and...I'll be without you. Whether you're depressed or not, I am. This is crazy. I'm crazy," Rory finally finished as they pulled into his driveway.
They got out, carefully, as if nothing was wrong, and walked through to his bedroom. The walls were covered in pictures, in plaques, in life. She knew the room, because she had put those things there. She'd slept in that bed (without him) and folded those blankets and cleaned that closet and vacuumed that floor and organized that desk and borrowed those clothes. It felt like hers, almost, she thought with a laugh.
"I just...I just don't want it to happen. We're done, Tristan. Let's just have sex...don't you think it'd be a nice ending?" Even the slight laugh that hinged on the edge of her words didn't hide them. They both knew there was meaning there.
"Okay, Rory, this may sound...understand this..." he put his hand over hers and she was shocked, gasping almost inaudibly when she looked into his ice blue eyes. "You're my One-Of-These-Days girls. We don't need an ending. And we won't have an ending. I'm saving myself for you. I may sound like a jerk, but I'm waiting. I can't have you now, when I'm here, like this. I'm saving our relationship until it can be good...until I can be good. The idea of loving you, not like a sister but as you, the idea of loving you the way I know you want me to, isn't new to me. I just don't pay attention to it. I don't let it ruin me, because it would ruin you. But one of these days, Rory, I won't fight it anymore, and you won't fight it, because we won't have to be careful about what people say and think and don't think. You won't have to cry when you kiss me. I won't send you into a slide of depression because I've been a jerk. One of these days, I'll be good for you, and you'll be good for me, and it'll work. Because it has to. Because we have to. We're right. We're not right now, not like that. You know it wouldn't work, even though you want it to. Somewhere in me, I want it to too. And that's why I'm saving me, and saving this. Because...one of these days, Rory. You are that 'one of these days'."
They both knew there was meaning there, too.
